The Children of Nihon (BOOK TWO)

Chapter 4 - The Banquet

Orì's description of the dinner had been somewhat misleading. She had said that Mother received guests from the area, but it was actually the other way around. They were the guests. Although the reverence and submissiveness in their hosts' demeanor made the hierarchy all but transparent...

They had entered a modest but ancient-looking building with Mother walking ahead. Their hosts were three men who looked similar enough to be brothers, though Sofia didn't trust these kinds of appearances anymore. Their faces were very white as if the sun had never touched them, but the lines and creases around their eyes were deeply burrowed. Upon greeting Mother, they sunk to their knees and bowed their heads. Mother put her hands slightly on their heads, a gesture Sofia had seen her make many times with the children, as if she were healing them, or comforting them. When they looked up, their expression was one of gratitude. Sofia looked closely, searching for a hint of irony, or insincerity, or resentment, but she couldn't see anything. Mother said something to them that Sofia couldn't understand, and they nodded, then declared themselves happy and honored to receive them tonight.

Maybe they are just really good actors, Sofia thought, and only then realized that she had been hoping to receive help from these people. That they would take one look at her and know that she was being held against her will, and that they would come to her rescue, against all odds. She realized now how illusive that hope had been. These people didn't even know her. And she remembered from her time in Nihon, travelling with the Shadow Theater, how difficult, almost impossible, it was, to form a connection with people here, to make them truly see you. They were all afraid, one way or another, and as she looked upon the lavishly decorated dining hall, the table heaving with food and drink and flowers, the dishes and cutlery shining like precious metals, Sofia thought that, once again, they were only being presented with an artful surface, and would not be allowed to look beneath it.

"I'm hungry," Orì whispered. "This looks amazing."

Sofia's stomach growled as if replying to Orì.

"It does," she admitted reluctantly. "I only hope it tastes the way it looks."

"For my mother, it always does. Only the best," Orì said proudly.

"You don't even realize how wrong that is, do you?"

Orì looked at her confused. "What do you mean?"

But before Sofia could decide if she wanted to go through the trouble of trying to explain to Orì that there was something inherently wrong if the good things were reserved for a few powerful people, and the rest had to make do with empty illusions, the doors opened, and what looked like a small army of servants entered the room.

At first, Sofia was frightened by their sudden appearance, but since nobody else appeared to be scared, or even surprised, she figured that nothing out of the ordinary was happening. Still, her heart beat hard against her ribs as she observed the newly entered people who looked and moved as if they were a single entity. They were dressed in identical pale green tunics with long white collars hanging unto the middle of their chests. It was those collars that allowed Sofia to note that they were actually individual people, because, as they stood in one neat line, the endings of the collars were not at the exact same height. Their bodies varied in height and broadness, but only so slightly that it was almost imperceptible.

Their faces, though.

At the first moment, it took Sofia's breath away. Their faces were identical, each and every one of them. But before her confusion could make her blunder out question upon question as to how this was possible, she realized that they were not faces at all. They were masks.