Shadow of the Avatar

Chapter 35 -- The Soothsaying of Liandra Idundaughter

Loric has an ingenious means of torture. Employ a cook who makes food so good you eat yourself into near unconsciousness...

--Wren

Dinner. Wren would never think of the word the same way. Cassandra and Desiray lived. Their family lived. The whole night-time meal was an experience that Wren could only describe as magical. The dusky-skinned cook, whose name Wren learned was Vera, zipped around the room like a lightning-bug--filling cups, taking platters from the table, and bringing in other meal courses. It was easy to tell everyone in the family loved the lady, and she earned every bit of it with a dynamic energy made Wren tired merely watching her. Could this really be an every-evening experience?

Vera heaped five courses on Wren's plate all of which, by the same coincidence as the sticker-berry wine, happened to be well-liked meal items. There was breaded snapping-fish, ocean claw-bug meat in red sauce, spear-greens, mashed tubers, and baked yellow-melon. The greens were tender, the tubers beaten smooth and running over with poultry gravy. It all looked and tasted as if bells went into the preparation of each item. The more amazing thing was that few people seemed to be eating the same things.

With Everia sitting between her and Jharon, Wren had difficulty speaking with him, especially since Sindra and Drucilla capitalized on having him next to them, and kept him engaged. Cassin and Annawen who sat in the next two positions didn't seem at all put out that their partners were speaking with Jharon and not them.

Everia had taken an interest in her food, chewed in silence, leaving Wren to get in a few snatches of conversation with Jharon.

The Ishtar priest appeared to be enjoying himself immensely. He spoke with Sindra and Drucilla, engaged in some odd debate about Silissian entropic philosophy (whatever that was).

"I hope you don't mind," a male voice said from behind her.

Wren looked up. She blinked and looked again. Nothing looked like that. Certainly nothing that ever wanted to sit next to her. He was breath-stealing. She had thought that Caldorian and Sebenreth had been beautiful, but this auburn-haired young man was a paragon. His long hair was pulled into a tail and clasped in the same fashion that Jharon kept his. He wore a dark blue kilt and an open-front tunic with lapels chased with gold braiding. A blue jewel had been pressed into the flesh under his right eye, and a small gold ankh hung from his left earlobe.

For a moment, Wren wondered if any of these children were actually born, but instead leaped fully grown from someone's dreams. How could one family have so many awe inspiring beauties?

"Lady?"

She realized she was staring. "Oh--sorry--certainly."

"Wren," Everia said beside her. "That's my brother, Darin'kel. Darin, this is Wren."

Darin nodded, seating himself next to her. "Sorry, I'm late," he said. He reached for his empty goblet. Before his hand reached it, Vera zipped in and filled it from her seemingly bottomless pitcher.

How did she do that?

He didn't seem at all surprised that his cup had spontaneously filled and took a sip from it.

"Why were you late?" Everia asked.

"High Priestess Drak'Malan kept me over."

"Again?"

He nodded.

Balancing a tray with different serving dishes, the cook came by and doled out three different kinds of vegetables and two kinds of meat onto his plate. Wren didn't recognize any of it.