The Dirt Eaters

Chapter 20 - The Ambassador's Gift

ON THE NIGHT THE BIRDS DISAPPEARED FOREVER FROM THE CITY, ALL THE CHILDREN WOKE SCREAMING. AND THEY WOULD NOT BE COMFORTED.

-THE BOOK OF LONGLIGHT

"I BOUGHT THIS FOR YOU to wear to the banquet," says Alandra.

Roan eyes the proffered package with trepidation. "Are you certain I should go?"

"Brack has reminded me twice to bring you. You revealed too much in that battle."

"Should I have done nothing?"

Alandra shrugs, conceding the point. "I've arranged an inconspicuous seat for you, well out of the raiders' view. Once the meal's over you can slip away." And she leaves him to change.

Roan opens the package. The suit inside is black and of a fabric so light and soft he's amazed it has any substance at all. Both the people of Longlight and the Forgotten fashioned beautiful clothes, but they had to be functional. These are something other, sensuous and unfamiliar. He doesn't trust them.

When Alandra emerges from her room, she is dressed in a flowing gown, her hair in braids and ringlets. Her lips are glazed with red. Roan stares at her dubiously.

"What's wrong?" she asks.

"You don't look like you."

She shrugs. "There's no choice. This is how the women of Fairview dress for these events."

Alandra guides Roan along Fairview's main street to the banquet hall. Roan feels awkward and unsure in his new clothes, but he blends in handily with the throng that meanders among the opulent marble pillars and gilded moldings.

"This building is Governor Brack's pride and joy," Alandra says in a low voice. "It's a monument to his resurrection of Fairview. He loves nothing more than to honor the high and mighty here."

There are about a hundred people in the hall. The most prominent citizens of Fairview, all dressed in their best, have come to express their gratitude to the raiders. The mercenaries themselves are washed and shaven, and Roan notes they've shucked their body armor for the occasion. It's clear they are welcome here.

Alandra escorts Roan to his spot. As promised, she has managed to seat him at a table far off to the side. "I told the governor your condition was still delicate and required it," she murmurs. Once Roan is settled, she goes off to her own place, next to Brack at the head table.

A puffed-up fellow in garish red and yellow silks monopolizes the attention of everyone at Roan's table. He clearly fancies himself a gourmet, predicting, from the appetizing scents that fill the room, what the great chef Yasmin has prepared. "No doubt," he postulates as he sniffs, "rack of lamb, and when it comes, smell it first! The meat will have been steeped in her ten-herb marinade. It's like nothing you've ever tasted. Glazed yams and potatoes, eight-succulent-vegetables-in-savory-sauce, and ah yes, seasoned breads." Though he cannot yet smell the desserts, he assures everyone that the most indescribably luscious pastries are certain to follow.

The man's pregnant wife is silent beside him, making no attempt to disguise that she's decidedly bored with her husband, the menu, and the event. She nods at Roan with feigned interest and he bows low, hoping to minimize his exposure.

Roan is happy to see the raiders are already deep into the wine, making toasts and singing bawdy songs. The more preoccupied they are with their revelry, the less chance there is one of them will cast eyes on him.

The assembly applauds as Governor Brack rises. With a solemn gesture, he calls for silence.

"Citizens, we are here tonight to honor our mighty protectors, who have once again fulfilled their obligations to us." At Brack's right, Alandra joins politely in the applause. "All of us in Fairview, gentlemen, offer thanks to you and to the Friends you serve, from the bottom of our hearts. And now," continues Brack, "it gives me great pleasure to welcome the man who was my partner in making a miracle, the resurrection of Fairview: the ambassador, Mr. Harrow Wing."