If Aja opened her mouth to answer, she would vomit.
The man with the sign of the baboon painted below his eyes tapped his lower lip, staring at Aja. “And that bird amulet. Did this forgetful servant see it but yesterday….”
Aja dashed away. She could no longer stand their stares. If only they had scorned her. They didn’t care about her, only what she had eaten. They would’ve rather met a dinner menu. How could she ever speak of the Banquet? She couldn’t boast of what had killed her friends. No, Aja would never tell another soul.
Down another street, and then she had to stop for breath. She worried someone else would try to confront her with kindness.
Her heart lifted in an unexpected spiral when she spotted one of the guests, the swordsman. He’s alive? His back was to her, and his scimitar with its pyramid etchings and hieroglyphs was strapped from shoulder to hip. He wore a braided wig of black this morning in the fashion of the capital. He was speaking to the man with the baboon designs painted on his face, but Aja had to interrupt.
“How did you escape the….” She choked back her words when the guard turned to her.
This man had matching eyes, both irises black. His face was too round, his chin too soft to be the swordsman. He wore a sweeping plate of gemstones across his chest. He had to be one of the empress’s guards, just not the one Aja knew.
“That’s her.” The man with kohl-shaded eyes pointed at Aja. The royal guard glared at her, and so did three other hulks like him. They wore similar fan plates of gemstones over their chests. The others had axes bigger than Aja.
“Where’d you get that necklace?” A royal guard clamped his fingers over Aja’s wrist. His grip ground the bones in her hand together. She forced herself not to let go of the Cheese of Life.
“The Midnight Banquet,” Aja said, “but you shouldn’t go there. The Chef—”
“Take us.” Another guard gripped the back of her neck and shoved her forward.
Aja led them to the warehouse. Two of their gem-and-bronze axes smashed open the door. The royal guards stepped into the gloom.
“You said there was a banquet here?”
Shoulder-high urns packed the warehouse. A camel symbol was painted on each along with numbers. Aja’s nose prickled with the scent of salt.
“These weren’t here last night,” Aja said. “There’s a kitchen below. That’s where the empress is. Now won’t you let me go?”
The royal guards dragged her between the looming urns. The stair steps chill-stung the soles of her feet, and she yanked against the heavy hands holding her.
“We can’t go into the kitchen. He’ll kill us all and—No!”
A guard shoved the door open. Aja cringed, turning away from any incoming blast of steam.
“Mighty cold for a kitchen,” the royal guard said. He lifted a reed torch. It illuminated more urns. No steam. No oven fire. Only a cellar.
“It’s gone,” Aja said.
The coldness of the floor shivered up her legs until her shoulders shook and her teeth chattered. The warehouse smelled of dusty dryness, not of fine dining. There couldn’t have been a Banquet here. Aja must’ve hunger-dreamed it all, but, no, she couldn’t have imagined so much.
Fingers reached from the shadows to tighten around her throat. A royal guard’s scented oils made Aja’s eyes water. He asked, “Now, girl, you ready to tell us what really happened?”
What could she say?
They ripped the bird necklace off her. She was thrown into the cellar.
“You know what happens to idiots who lie to us? They’re drowned in sand.”
“Or executed by scorpion sting,” another royal guard said.
“No, it’ll be more painful than that for her.”
“And longer. The vizier will think of something new for a girl strutting around with the stolen jewels of a kidnapped empress.”
The burrowing hurt in Aja kept her from speaking above a whisper. “I tried to save her. I—”
“Me, I don’t have the vizier’s gift for punishments.” The guard’s torch stained the cellar roof with smoke. “Maybe it’ll be drowning in scorpions.”
“Better remember who took the empress by the time we’re back.” The guardsmen tromped out of the cellar. They took the torch. The light from the closing door narrowed to a sliver of red.
Before it slammed, the last guard said, “Or everyone will cheer as you die.”
Aja was imprisoned in darkness.
She heard something heavy dragged against the outside of the door. Fumbling her way toward it, she pressed her ear against the metal coldness. The occasional ping of a guard’s pole axe struck the stairs leading up to the warehouse. He was pacing up and down. From what Aja had seen of this cellar, there was no other way out.
Aja wept in the pitch black. Between the urns of salt, she cried for the empress and her beautiful voice. For the swordsman and his lighthearted strength. For Solin and his grace on crutches. For Old Janny and even for the lord. He was creepy, but he had been right about the Chef.
Aja had wanted to stop the Chef from killing. Now she would only be known as a girl who had murdered the empress for her necklace.
In a way, Aja would be famous.
She hated herself for crying, for sitting there in the dark, helpless. She slammed her back against an urn. Even that she could not budge.
Something dug into her hip. She bet a scorpion had bit her. Or, worse, an asp. It would serve the royal guards right if they found her here dead and bloated.
Touching her side, she found something tied to her belt. It felt like ice but harder and heavy as the gold bracelets on her wrists. It was long, with metal teeth at one end. Its handle was pronged like a sunburst.
Aja held the key to the kitchen.
The surprise jolted through her, and she dropped the Cheese of Life. She scrounged in the dark, fingers sliding over the floor until she found the lump again. But the key! The djinn must’ve given it to Aja along with all the jewelry. With that key she could open a door to the kitchen. She had seen the djinn do it.
The possibility of entering the Chef’s kitchen was too frightening. She couldn’t move, couldn’t even cry. The Chef might hear her. She couldn’t guess what he could do. She clutched the key until it grew hot. Its teeth dug into her thumb.
Why’d she give me this? The djinn must have believed Aja would want to steal into the kitchen, to help the other guests, perhaps to free the djinn too by breaking her lamp. She must think I’m crazy.
Aja had no magic to combat the Chef’s. She only had a bit of cheese. Aja didn’t even know how to use a sword or any proper weapon. She had only fought off an alley dog once using a roof tile. There was no way Aja could rescue all her friends from the Chef.
She only knew she wanted to.
Her brow pressed against the coolness of the cellar door. She spun the key back and forth in her hand, willing herself to jam it in the keyhole.
It won’t work. Or, if it does, you’ll just see them all dying and not be able to help.
She could wait there in the cellar with the salt. She wouldn’t have to do anything more, wouldn’t have to see the Chef ever again, and she could have her infamy. If she wanted something else, she would have to turn the djinn’s key.
Aja’s head trembled from side to side. “Try it, Aja. You need to. You have to. He could be cooking them right now.”
That last thought made her scream. She stabbed the key into the door, felt the heat as metal melted around it. She twisted it, heard the “thud-thud-thunk” of tumblers sliding into place. They sounded like caskets closing on her future.
Redness traced around the doorframe. Light that had not been there before leaked from chinks in the hinges. Her nose wrinkled at a whiff of cumin.
Aja panted, blinking furiously. This wasn’t really happening. Her muscles felt wrung-out. She couldn’t open that door. Not alone. But there was no one else. The guards were all on the wrong side.
If anyone else could save th
e guests, she would’ve pushed him through the door, locked it, and slunk off to live the rest of her life in happy solitude.
Aja leaned forward, hands braced on the door. She shoved.
Digestion, Part II:
The Kitchen
A monster brass stove hissed with steam and pulsed with heat. Pipes wormed from the stone floor, around stalagmites, into the oven. The chimneys reached their metal arms into the darkness of the cavern.
This place felt deep down to Aja, far from daylight, close to the heart of the world. The rock itself singed her bare feet, so she tiptoed. She could not bring herself to run toward danger.
To her right, a golem turned a spit. The featureless man worked without pause or change in pattern. Aja slapped her hands over her mouth. She dared not look at what turned above the fire, but she had to. A bulky body dripped with seasoning, ladled by another golem. The roasting thing was a giant boar.
Aja’s heart raced fast while she crept slowly past the ovens. She could see a glimmer in the next chamber. Her bracelets clinked against each other, and she stopped dead. Her gaze whirled back to the golems. Had they heard? Zinging barbs of tension coiled and thrashed inside her.
The golems continued their labors.
Aja wouldn’t depend on any more divine favors. She slipped off her bracelets one by one, placing them onto stalagmites. Yesterday, Aja could never have abandoned such treasures. Now she breathed easier without their weight. The bands of gold circled the stakes of rock. The cave formations cast toothy shadows, and strips of red light sawed back and forth across Aja.
A rolled-up rug leaned against the wall. Its tassels were familiar. Aja hugged the magic carpet. She tried to push it, spread it open. Maybe it could carry them all to safety, if only it weren’t too heavy to move. No, she had no idea how to control it. The djinn had always done that. Aja would have to leave the rug for now. She snuck past and ascended a stair to the next room.
The walls glittered. She guessed she had entered a crystal cavern. Her eyes adjusted, and she saw that shelves surrounded her, towering into the chamber’s unseen heights. Bottles and jars crowded every space. Spices filled some with yellows and reds. A green slime glowed in one. Another held what looked like long hairs, and its bottle was etched with a stylized sphinx.
Aja peered at the glassware. She needed to find more essence of the nine-tailed fox for the guests. Only that would cure them of the bloating. The jars were labeled with carvings, designs that the Chef would know. Even if Aja could recognize the mark, she feared she would spend days searching for it among the thousands. On one shelf, a globe of light crackled within glass. Another bottle held lumps that looked too much like warts. Aja clutched her quaking stomach. The next jar shimmered with mist.
Water flowed somewhere nearby with a sound of slithering. A louder noise startled Aja, a shriek. The empress’s voice. The girl’s cry broke like shattering crystal chimes.
Aja’s hands clawed her ears. She backed into something hard and cold. It was a table. Or an altar. At its center rose a pillar that bristled with knife handles. Hooks held implements that could be used for cooking or torture. Metal grater, two-pronged poker, clawed spoon, tongs, and spiked mallet.
Aja clambered onto the countertop to reach the tools. She wanted something that would hurt. The empress’s cry still ricocheted within Aja. The Chef deserved a pummeling for that. She ran a finger over the mallet’s head, feeling the rows of pyramid spikes.
A gleam of glass caught her eye as she scooted off the countertop. Someone had left out a bottle. The etching on it looked like a sharp-eared dog with nine tails. The fox essence! Aja clutched the jar against her chest. The djinn must have left it here to be found.
Crouching, Aja moved into the next room toward the source of the empress’s cry. The cavernous hall was a maze of cages. A chimera behind one set of bars growled at Aja, but without much spirit. Its asp tail hung limp from lion shanks. A phoenix huddled within a prison of dripping stalagmites. Over them all stretched a giant’s shadow. Aja crept around a pond-sized vat and stole a glimpse toward a flickering light.
The Chef sharpened a knife near the empress. A golem held her pinned with one arm, and its other lump-of-clay hand gripped pliers. The metal pinchers were clamped on the empress’s tongue.
Aja could guess all too well what the Chef planned to cut with that knife. A whetstone scraped down the curving razor. He rotated the blade in the lamplight, eyeing the edge.
Gripping her mallet, Aja shuffled forward. Then she retreated. She inched forward again. Smash his knees out from under him. His back was to her. She could hit him and perhaps run away from his long arm. The blade in his hand looked sharper than the ones he had used to carve the terror bird in a flurry. He could mince Aja. She leaned against the stone of the vat, hand clamped to her mouth, her chest heaving.
The whetstone stopped its keening. The Chef lifted his nose and snuffled. He turned toward Aja.
What? No! She ducked behind the vat. Her heart thumped against her ribs. She couldn’t attack the Chef, not alone. She scanned the cages, spotted only a multi-headed scaled beast. The guests—her friends—were nowhere.
Lamplight wavering over the floor revealed streaks of blood. The stains had not had time to dry, and the dribbles ran to a metal door. Cringing, Aja padded toward it.
She reached the door, looked through its window. Inside, a candle shed a ribbon of smoke that hung motionless in the air. She had to think some sort of magic had frozen the flame in place. Nothing moved. The stillness inside was like a grim painting. Carcasses of meat hung from the ceiling. Below and between the butchered animals sprawled Old Janny, Solin, and the swordsman.
Just bloated, she hoped. Not all dead. She only had cheese enough for one.
Brightness flared behind her, and she heard the djinn’s voice crackling with resentment. “Yes, Master?”
The Chef asked, “You sent the girl back to her city? Aja.”
“I did as you asked.”
“Then why do I smell her?”
Aja choked down a groan. She gripped the door latch, but before opening it she eyed the hinges. They could squeal. She kicked a loose rock into the chimera’s cage. It lifted its lion head, and the roar covered the noise of the opening door.
The candle brightened, and its smoke wavered back into motion. Everything had been locked in stillness, and opening the door had freed them. Aja knew she couldn’t let it close behind her. Leaving the door ajar, she hurried to the swordsman.
His mismatched eyes flickered up to her. She dribbled fox essence into his mouth, and he was aware enough to swallow. His abdomen shrank back to normal size. He no longer had his sword, and that worried her. She carried the bottle next to Solin. He clung to his crutches with a death grip. She tipped the fox potion into his mouth.
A whimper led Aja to a darker corner, where she found Old Janny. The nine-tailed bottle helped her too, and then Aja searched for the lord.
The swordsman shambled to his feet. He swayed forward and grabbed a cleaver imbedded in one of the carcasses. “He took the empress as a second course.”
“And the lord was the first?” Aja asked. She wavered over a pool of blood. The lord lay crumpled at its center. She didn’t look too closely, but the emptiness of his sleeves might mean his hands had been cut off. He seemed dead. Nothing about him moved except a blackness swirling in his eyes.
“Don’t help him.” Solin hauled himself upright on a crutch. “He’s the same as the Chef.”
“Not in every way.” Aja remembered how the lord had stopped her bleeding nose, had talked to her when all else wanted to eat her foot. She pressed the Cheese of Life between the lord’s painted lips. “He’ll know how to stop the….”
The Chef’s face loomed on the other side of the door. His breath blasted steam against the window.
Aja flung her arm toward the door. “He’ll close us in!”
The swordsman hurled himself against the door. He strained against the Chef, but the sword
sman’s sandals slipped back on the blood. He was losing ground. Solin came up behind him.
“Mind for a mind,” the hexer said. He collapsed onto his crutches as a snake of magic tore from his throat. The red viper snapped around the door at the Chef.
The Chef vanished before the hex could reach him. With nothing blocking the door, the swordsman forced it wide. He charged with his cleaver held high. Aja peeked out after him, gripping the mallet. She was pressed against the doorway when Old Janny squeezed by. She moved fast for someone her size, bounding away between the cages.
“Ryn!” The swordsman ran toward the golem that held down the empress.
The voice of the Chef boomed. “Return them to the time vault.”
“Yes, Master.” The djinn swept up Old Janny, carrying her like a leaf in a gust.
Old Janny’s legs pumped in the air. “Put me down you windy wench.”
The swordsman had almost reached the empress when the Chef reappeared. His hulk lunged from the shadows with a sweep of knife. The swordsman parried the first cut with a clang, but the Chef’s razor was everywhere. It whistled in a shredding fury.
The swordsman fell back and into the arms of the djinn. She carried two people as easily as one.
Aja had taken three steps forward to help fight the Chef. She stopped. If the Chef could beat back a trained fighter, she dared not go within slicing distance. She needed a better way.
She slammed her mallet against the lock on the chimera’s cage. Once free, the monsters might eat the Chef. Metal pinged against metal. Nothing broke. The cage stayed shut, and the chimera reached a lion’s paw between the bars to swipe at her. She had to scramble away.
Bronze-reinforced crutches rang on the floor, and Solin loped past her. She saw he had recovered from his last hex. He spat another.
The Chef dodged it by hurling himself behind the vat, and the djinn scooped up Solin. He swiped at her with a crutch. It passed through her as if through a flame. The crutch burned. The djinn seemed not bothered at all.
The djinn, she’s the key. Aja remembered the djinn had said how to release her from being a slave. Destroy the lamp.
Magic Banquet Page 19
