The Tribunal

A Meal Among Strangers

The table was set when the Patrons arrived. It was laden with meats and gravies, savory vegetables and sweet rolls, creamy casseroles and pizzas, dishes of fish and pastas, anything the Patrons could possibly want was there. Sat in the center of the table was a stately arrangement; wisteria dripped onto the white table cloth, crowned with heather and goldenrod, and ringed in snowballs, marigolds, and thrift. It looked like a table set for a feast of a hundred kings, but there were only seven who sat at the table.
     At the heads of the table sat Sors and Memori, on Memori’s left sat the three women – Del, Susanna, and Hilda – and across from them sat Allen and Dennis. Waiters and waitresses all similar in features and dressed in black worked silently around them pouring glasses and moving dishes. Their actions buzzed at the back of his mind where they always were, but he was used to them and the space they occupied.
     Sors lounged in her seat, gnawing on a fried chicken wing with one foot up on the empty chair to her left. “Mori, you really outdid yourself with those flowers,” her eyes flickering over the arrangement lazily as she sipped on her fourth glass of wine.
     Sitting across from her Memori was her opposite in every way. His back ramrod straight, his hands neatly folded before him, and his sharp blue eyes flitting between their Patrons watching their every move. “Thank you.”
     “You made that?” Susanna asked, letting her fork clatter against her plate beside her third helping of casserole.
     He nodded, “It is a hobby of mine.”
    “I’ll have to get your contact info,” she chattered excitedly, “after we get out of here I’m going to need you to do some arrangements for a party I’m hosting.”
     Memori didn’t respond, but he didn’t have to as Susanna launched into a tirade about the party she was planning. Hilda, who was seated next to her, nodded along politely.
     Memori was doing his best to divide his attention evenly among the Patrons. Dennis who was piling pizza on his plate and trying to catch Del’s eye. Allen who had taken only the most lavish dishes and cuts of meat, ranting to the inattentive younger man. Hilda who was carefully cutting her chicken while indulging Susanna who was still passionately talking about parties with her mouth now full.
     However despite his best efforts to remain the impartial judge he always was, his eyes kept lingering on Del. The slope of her nose. The way her hand brushed her hair behind her ear as she scooped up the pasta on her plate. The dark chocolate eyes, as warm and soft as rabbit fur; eyes that had trapped him time and time again over every lifetime he’d ever lived and every time she’d died since his sentence.
      It was easy to see who had been affected by his addition to the meal. Sors would be disappointed that he hadn’t taken out the Plate, but he couldn’t bring himself to do so just yet. Instead he added a little something to bring out the most gluttonous among them.
     Dennis, Susanna, and Allen were stuffing themselves voraciously and continuing to pile food onto their plates. Del and Hilda showed less of a reaction, they probably ate more than they normally would, but not enough to be overly noticeable.
     Having the entire life story of all of the Patrons in his mind allowed Memori to ensure that he had all of their favorite foods present and just enough of a shortage to cause tension. He was not however expecting Susanna and Dennis to nearly resort to brawling over the last pork chop.
     When plates were clean and the conversation had been hushed by full stomachs Sors cleared her throat and stood up, “Okay, so now that we’re done with dinner we’ll give you a few hours to explore our lovely establishment before lights out tonight,” her voice had a condescending ring to it. “Lights will go out at nine tonight and tomorrow your activities will begin. Before you leave though I need each of you to step on the scale by the door.”
     I’m sorry,” Susanna interrupted shrilly, “I’d prefer not to get on the scale, it’s a private matter, but if you truly need it I can tell you.”
     Sors rolled her grey eyes, “Let me guess I’ll have to add twenty pounds onto whatever number you give me?”
     Susanna gasped, her mouth and eyes wide in shock and indignation. There was a smattering of snickers from some of the other Patrons.
     “I don’t personally care if you want to step onto the scale or not,” Sors’ voice had taken on a pleasant tone that was as thin as a sheet of ice. She pulled her knife out of the sheath at her belt and began carving into the table as she spoke again, “However you will do as we ask or you will face the consequences, is that understood?”
     The Patrons had gone silent, the only sounds in the room were the clink of the dishes as the wait staff collected them and the sound of Sors’ knife as it cut through the wood and cloth with ease. Sors looked up from her carving to take in the nodding faces that ranged from somber, to enraged, to terrified.
     “Perfect,” her face split into a smile that glittered like venom. “Now if you’ll all line up this will only take a minute.”
     While Sors herded the Patrons onto her scale like cattle into a chute Memori began working alongside the waiters and waitresses to clear the table. He sighed as he looked down at Sors’ place at the table. The spot was now adorned with a large smiley face, only it had an X in place of each eye and its mouth was crisscrossed as well, as if it was meant to be stitched shut. He shook his head and continued cleaning, he’d just have to put in a request to Tempus for a new table. This wasn’t the first one she’d ruined.
     Sors slipped into the kitchen and hopped up on the counter beside Memori holding out five pieces of paper, “Here are tonight’s readings,” she told him.
     He turned to the waiters and waitresses that stood against the wall awaiting their next order and scissored his middle and index fingers at them. Simultaneously their eyes closed and their heads tipped forward, chin to chest. They did remain upright but took on the distinct look of mannequins.
     “Thank you,” he said, taking the papers from her.
     Her eyes were still on the figures against the wall, “It’s so creepy when you do that,” she informed him with a shudder. “Actually it’s creepy when any Vitari does it.”
     He didn’t answer, he was already pouring over every detail of the papers.

 
     Memori was behind his desk in the lobby when Dennis emerged the next morning with crooked glasses and dark hair standing on end. “Good morning,” Memori greeted, “I hope your sleep was pleasant.”
     Dennis nodded groggily. He walked over and leaned against the desk, “What’s that?” he asked, pointing behind Memori.
     Gone was the mural that hung behind the desk, now there was a chalkboard. The name of each Patron was written in meticulous, blocky print, beside each name was a time and a room. “That is where your activities are posted. Outside of those you are free to do with your day as you wish,” Memori informed him looking at the board himself. “It appears that you are expected in the games room at ten this morning.”
     Dennis nodded hesitantly. “Is there somewhere I can get some breakfast?” he asked.
     “Certainly,” said the blue haired Vitari, snapping his middle and index finger together. In seconds one of the waiters from the previous night appeared. “He will show you to the buffet.”
     Dennis nodded, “Great, I’m starving,” he muttered and followed the waiter.
     Sors appeared next, bleary eyed and grouchy. “Tempus wants to see you,” she announced.
     He tipped his head, “Now?”
     “Yes now, you blue haired dolt. That’s the only reason I’m up this early, she wants me to do your job so that she can speak with you,” she grouched, tousling her messy grey hair further. “She’s waiting for you in her office.”