by G. Howell
It was something I’d found myself doing on more than one occasion.
The row of buffet tables were a destination to aim for, so that’s where I headed. The tables were a barricade of white-brocade spanning a side of the room. From doors beyond them a continuous stream of servants carried silver trays and dishes to restock depleted supplies on the tables that were almost a wall of flesh. Okay, perhaps that was a bit of an exaggeration, but they’re a race of carnivores so of course the dishes were predominantly meat, or at least parts of animals. Racks of ribs stood next to spreads of sliced kidneys. There were strips and cubes of raw flesh, kebabs with other kinds of dripping gobbets on them. Some kind of small bird had been roasted in honey and arranged on platters. With the heads still on, of course; no point in throwing out the crunchy bits. There were trays of filleted fish spread out on green leaves; stews that were more like goulashes or gumbo; bite-sized bits of liver; stuffed lungs and stomachs; very suspicious-looking sausages; tureens of brains; a tray full of eyeballs and tongues; oysters that were probably of the mountain variety; grilled ears and fried blood cakes in honey... the sight would have sent a vegan running screaming. As it was, my appetite took a dive.
I avoided the raw stuff. Likewise the unknown sauces and marinates. There were some meats that were cooked enough to be palatable. There were also some vegetables and grain products. Not many, but a few. I also steered clear of the pies – there was no telling what gastronomical surprises were hidden inside them – and found a few pastries that looked edible. But what was far more interesting to me was the alcohol, which was as artfully arranged as the food. There were wines, varieties of brandies and sherries and other varieties of fermented and distilled grains, fruits, berries and so forth in a variety of glasses, goblets and tumblers. A majority were metal or ceramic, but there were also a great number of glasses that must have cost a small fortune to produce if each one was hand blown. Those were arranged so ranks of candles sent light sparkling through vary-colored liquids. And sure enough I found some broad, shallow glasses of Haisa, this time with the citrus her Ladyship had told me about.
“Where did you learn about that?” a voice asked. Chaeitch had materialized from the crowd and was blinking at my hand squeezing citrus into the glass.
“I had a good teacher,” I said and sipped. Uhnn. Strong stuff. Like tequila. Perhaps some salt wouldn’t go amiss.
His muzzle wrinkled and he picked up a glass himself. “I wouldn’t have thought she’d have much experience with this. It’s not cheap.”
“Her business,” I shrugged, not correcting his misunderstanding. “Skoll,” I bade him and tossed back another mouthful.
“You be careful,” he admonished as he sipped. “We don’t need you drunk tonight.”
“Oh, I think he can handle himself,” another voice said. The crowd had parted from around lady H’risnth and her own escort and now formed a psychedelic backdrop of swirling colors and textures, like spectators milling around a particularly interesting accident. “He’s quite the connoisseur. Besides, I think he’s big enough to put a handful of those down and keep on going.”
She gleamed in white and gold as she approached me. Brilliant white leather, of some variety so fine that at first glance it could be mistaken for cloth, hung draped in artful criss-crossing loops and swirls across her body, the individual strands overlapping into a garment that was as much space between the material as the material itself. Gold trim glittered on the edges of the swirls as she stepped up to me, her features pursed in a pleasant smile. “Ah Ties,” she said. “Ah Rahy,” and offered her hand. I juggled my drink and took it, not quite sure what I was supposed to do. Kiss it? That was meaningless to them, and might even be considered impolite. I settled for a small bow over it instead, inclining my head to the Rris queen.
“Such formality,” she said as she withdrew her hand. She sounded amused. “You’ve been teaching him things, ah Ties?”
“That he learned on his own, Ma’am,” Chaeitch said.
An ear flicked. “Any other tricks you can do?”
“Well, apparently I’m quite entertaining at parties,” I replied.
“A,” her Ladyship sniffed. “Quite. Yet I note you’ve stopped baring your teeth at liege lords. That must be why your associates let you attend. For which I suppose we should be grateful: a farewell without the guest is a little pointless.”
“This is for me?” I gestured at the milling room, a considerably portion of which was watching me. “I’m flattered.”
Lady H’risnth huffed again and stepped past me to picked her own glass from the table. Her furry fingers wrapped around the hand-crafted vessel, cupping it as she raised it and flicked a delicate pink tongue into the liquid. Her eyes were on me as she lapped. I had a mental image of a lion at a watering hole and swallowed.
“It’s a shame there couldn’t be more time,” she said. “There were more than a few who were promised a chance to see you. This… settles that agreement.”
Albeit not in the way they’d originally envisioned. “That’s going to make them happy,” I observed.
“Probably not,” she replied, missing or ignoring my sarcasm. “And now I had better go and soothe some ruffled hides before I am accused of monopolizing your time even more. Please, drink; eat something. Enjoy yourself. Perhaps there will be time to talk some more later, Mikah.”
“Ma’am,” I sketched a bow again and she flashed a glimpse of white teeth at me; just a quick copy of one of my expressions that was becoming known to them. Then she stalked off into the crowd. I stared after her, then shook my head quickly. “I need some air,” I muttered in English. Chaeitch cast me a quizzical look and spattered after me as I headed to the open balcony doors. I didn’t look but I knew the Mediators would be close behind.
Outside was an improvement. The night air was still and cool and didn’t carry the fug of several hundred Rris and burning tallow. Apparently quite a few of the guest preferred it as well: the terrace was busy, in a way peculiar to a species with very well-defined personal space. Rris were spreading out, small groups conversing quietly in and between the dim pools of orange light from oil lamps hanging from arching wrought iron sconces around the periphery. Some folk had drifted down the few steps to the gardens. Out in the moonlit fields I saw the surreal shapes of costumed Rris talking or just strolling through the high grasses. I found myself an out-of-the way spot over by the railing with its balusters carved into ranks of herons or some such; a place in the glow of a lamp where I could rest my glass on the broad stone parapet and look out over the night scene.
Chaeitch propped himself up against the balcony alongside me. Out of the tail of my eye I could see his features: lit by the oil lamp over my head, profiled against a dark sky as he gazed out into the darkness. He lapped at his own drink. Once. “Nice evening,” he said conversationally.
“A,” I replied. “It is.”
A pause.
“So, what does it say?” he asked quietly; scarcely a whisper I could barely hear.
I bit my lip and ran through a permutation of answers before deciding not to make an even bigger fool of myself. “You saw?”
“A,” he replied just as soto voce. Never glancing at me.
The scrap of paper her Ladyship had pressed into my hand was folded into a tiny pellet. Using one hand, keeping it hidden from the Mediators lurking behind us, I worked it open to see the tight cross-hatching of Rris handwriting. My reading skills weren’t that advanced. I sighed and took another drink. “I don’t know.”
He snorted quietly. “Do you want a smoke?”
I started to say no, then caught his glance. “I think I could do with one.”
He spent a while calmly going through his little ritual with his pipe and his dried leaf in its little gold container on its little gold chain. When the bowl was glowing, he inhaled once, then ag
ain, and exhaled a pale cloud and handed the pipe across. I partook, just a bit. What would the onlookers think? Seeing the industrialist sharing a pipe with me? I didn’t really care. I inhaled, held it for a few seconds, then passed the pipe and the note back to him.
“Huhnn,” he growled after a few seconds of seeming to contemplating his smoke.
“What?”
“She assures me that this is not a political or business matter and requests that I be discreet,” he muttered. I grinned into the darkness. That was wiped away when he continued, “She wishes to meet with you later. Privately.”
“Oh.”
“Be near the stairs after the call for the second hour. A servant will provide an excuse for you to leave. Don’t worry about your escort.”
I took another slug of high-octane alcohol. “This seems like a very bad idea,” I sighed.
“It is,” he agreed.
“I shouldn’t do it.”
“Certainly not,” he agreed.
“So I’ll just ignore this.”
“Huhn, no. That would be very impolitic.”
I felt my own forehead crease. “Is there something I’m missing here?”
“She is a Queen, you know,” he said. “And she has a reason. It could be profitable to see what it is.”
“You’re saying I should go.”
“No,” he said. “You shouldn’t, but you have to.”
“And do what?”
“Have fun, I think,” he said and flashed me a tongue-lolling leer.
I stared out at the hills, dark and indistinct in the feeble light from the moon. I could see a Rris noble out there, hunched over by an ornamental planter. Spray glittered momentarily as he took a leak before straightening and readjusted his clothing. Nobody seemed to give a damn, and neither did I. I was more concerned about this little meeting her Ladyship wanted. How was she going to distract the Mediators? Chaeitch was involved, but she’d anticipated that. He’d given me up once, was that going to happen again? Has she anticipated that as well? She’d said the meeting wasn’t to be about politics or business, and I doubted it was going to be about cooking or the best way grout her tiles, and that didn’t leave many other options. Was it some kind of a ploy to trick to work me into a situation where I could be blackmailed or worse?
“Don’t look like that,” Chaeitch chittered. “You’ve got the constables to make sure you don’t come to any harm.”
Both of us turned to look at the pair of Mediators lurking a half-dozen steps behind us. Jenes’ahn cocked her head and frowned. “Is there a problem?”
“Mikah doesn’t like these affairs,” Chaeitch said with an airy gesture. “Crowded. Too many people. He gets nervous.”
There were a couple of chitters from nearby Rris who overheard this.
“Oh, thank you,” I grumped to Chaeitch. “Tell the world.”
The Mediators stared levelly. “All right,” Rohinia said. “If he doesn’t go out of his way to upset people by through acts such as, say, conspiring in corners with individuals already considered to be receiving preferential attention, then he has nothing to be concerned about.”
I leaned sideways toward Chaeitch and stage-whispered, “I think they may be referring to you.”
“Huhn,” Chaeitch snorted and looked at me. “You should move around and talk to people. That is why you’re here after all.”
“If they’re willing to.”
“Go,” he said, “See you later. Around about second hour good?”
I sighed. “Okay. Until then.”
He patted my arm, settled his pipe in his mouth and then turned and sauntered off. A couple of Rris in expensive waistcoats intercepted him at the edge of the crowd and they had a few words and then wandered off into the throng.
I drained my glass and then did the same.
There was more talking. I encountered some of the representatives I’d been meeting with over the past few days. There were greetings and small talk and gradually, inevitably, the conversations all came around to the question of when some decision might be made. Each time I redirected them to the mediators and their Guild. “We’ve got your requests,” was all I could say. “Once the Guild sorts through what you want and what can be done for you, then they will contact you. I’m afraid I don’t know how long that will take.”
And they looked past me at the Mediators there and decided that further questions on the subject could wait.
“That is the truth?” I asked Rohinia when I had the chance for a quiet word. “Should I be saying that?”
“You’re doing fine,” he assured me.
“They will get annoyed if it takes too long,” I said. But I was used to a society where people expected full color pictures to be created within a day. Here, nobody would consider that possible. They knew patience.
“Probably,” he agreed. “But all have agreed to the terms set by the Guild. There’s historical precedent for our involvement.”
“The charter?” I asked.
“Huhn.” He regarded me calmly for a second and then asked, “What do you know of that?”
I shrugged. “A bit. What I do know is… confusing. I don’t know if my kind would use such a solution. Not better or worse, I just don’t think it would work with my kind.”
He and Jenes’ahn exchanged looks. “I think you’re going to have to tell us a great deal more about your kind,” he said.
I nodded. “Perhaps I should write a guide.”
“That would be useful.”
I blinked. He was absolutely serious. “Umm, that was a joke. I have enough trouble reading your writing.”
“Huhn, there will be enough time on the journey back to Shattered Water for you to explain it to us. We’ve been told a great deal that seems… improbable.”
Oh, joy. Something to look forward to. I signed an acknowledgement and decided it was time for a refill.
At that late hour the guests had made a serious dent in the liquor supply, but staff were still bringing out trays of glasses to replace the loses and there was a more than adequate selection left. I picked another tumbler of Haisi, weighing the crafted glass in my hands before taking a sip, then a deeper belt. Shouts came from somewhere in the crowd behind me, sounding alarmed. I turned, as did just about everyone else, including the Mediators; spinning and tensing as glass broke and voices rose. I could see it was from the midst of a disturbance off in the confusion of brilliantly attired furry bodies, but couldn’t see just what the upset was. Was it a distraction to get me out of there? If so, the Mediators were moving toward the racket, but Rohinia took two steps and then abruptly stiffened and twitched around, his eyes raking across the room behind me. I also looked around and saw that the only other person who wasn’t interested in that disturbance was the Rris over to my left, the servant who was stalking toward me. For the first half second I wondered what he wanted, before the wrongness of the situation set in: everyone else was looking toward the commotion while this one’s eyes were set on me. And then his right arm shifted marginally and I saw the silver line of the knife held low and dangerously. And then everything suddenly seemed so slow as the Rris took another step closer and my hand had just plucked the candlestick from the table beside me and I raised it up and blew hard, spraying a mouthful of undiluted Haisa through the flame.
It wasn’t a hot spike of flame. It was more of a hot fog, a flash of incandescence. But it roiled out across the Rris’ face. There was a cry and reflexive recoil and when - a split second later - the flame evaporated the Rris was recoiling and was in no position to defend himself when I followed through, stepping forward and clocking him hard enough across the side of the head with the candlestick to bend the silver. The sound of the knife clattering across the tiles seemed very loud.
I didn’t see what happened after
that. The Rris went sprawling. There was a lot of shouting and bodies milling around and then a lot of armed and armored Rris grabbed me and hustled me away.
------v------
I’d been in that room before. It was the study where Lady H’risnth had commissioned the picture of herself that evening of a very similar ball oh-so long ago. That night, though, I hadn’t been hastened here by anxious guards, their claws snagging my cloths as they hustled me through narrow halls that lacked the ostentation of the more public areas. The guards rushed me in there and quickly checked the room, closing the balcony doors and windows and then half of them left. Four of them stationed themselves around the room, watching me.
There were candles and lamps lit and with the balcony doors closed and the drapes pulled the room was stuffy. There was a tray on the desk with bottles and glasses on it. Bowls held apples, oranges, bread, cheeses, pastries, berries and beans and other portions that might appeal to someone who wasn’t a carnivore. And on a stand over there was a neatly framed picture. It was one of the preliminary sketches I’d done for her ladyship: an unostentatious black on white, a few simple strokes depicting a figure at a railing. Strangely enough that disturbed me more than the fact that someone had tried to kill me. In fact, that all seemed quite remote.
The door banged open and Lady H’risnth stalked in - her fur quite literally bristling through the loops and swirls in her white garment - and snarled to the guards, “Outside, now.”
When the door closed behind them she leaned against it and faced me. Her ears went down flat. “Plague and rot, Mikah. Are you all right?”
“A, I’m fine,” I said, and was surprised at how strained my voice sounded. I pointedly looked at the objects on the desk. “Please tell me this had nothing to do with you and your little plan to get me up here.”
