Soul of the Fire

Stein, on the other side of the applauding Minister and his wife, applauded apathetically, no doubt envisioning the young woman without her feathers. On Dalton's right, Teresa added enthusiastic calls of admiration to her clapping. Dalton stifled a yawn as he applauded.

As the songstress strode away, her arms lifted to wave in winged acknowledgment of the whistles trailing after her., After she'd vanished, four squires entered from the opposite side of the room carrying a platform atop which sat a marzipan ship floating in a sea of marzipan waves. The ship's billowing sails looked to be made of spun sugar, The purpose, of course, was to announce that the next course would be fish, just as the pastry deer, pursued by pastry hounds leaping a hedge of holly in which hid aspic boar, had announced one of the meat courses, and the stuffed eagle with its huge wings spread over a scene of the capital city of Fairfield made of paper board buildings had announced a course of fowl. Up in the gallery, a fanfare trumpeted and drums rolled to add a musical testament to the arrival of the next course.

There had been five courses, each with at least a dozen specialties. That meant there were seven courses yet to come, each with at least a dozen distinctive dishes of its own. Music from flute and fife and drum, jugglers, troubadours, and acrobats entertained the guests between courses as a tree with candied fruits toured the tables. Gifts of mechanical horses with opposing legs that moved in unison were passed out to the delight of all.

Meat dishes had included everything from Teresa's all-time favorite of suckers-she had eaten three of the infant rabbits-to fawn, to pig, to cow, to a bear standing on its hind legs. The bear was wheeled from table to table; at each table its hide, draped around the roasted carcass, was pulled back to allow carvers to slice off pieces for the guests. Fowl ranged from the sparrows the Minister favored for their stimulation of lust, to pigeons, to swan's neck pudding, to eagles, to baked heron that had been re-feathered and held by wires in a display depicting them as a flock in flight.

It was not expected that everyone would eat such a plenitude of food; the variety was meant to offer an abundance of choice, not only to please honored guests, but to astonish them with opulence. A visit to the Minister of Culture's estate was an occasion long remembered, and for many became a legendary event talked about for years.

As they sampled the dishes, most people kept an eye to the head table, where the Minister sat with two wealthy backers he had invited to dine at his table, and the other object of great interest: the representative from the Imperial Order. Stein had arrived earlier, to the whispered oohing and aahing of all at his man-of-war outfit and cape of human scalps. He was a sensation, drawing the inviting looks of a number of women weak in the knees at the prospect of winning such a man to their bed.

In vivid outward contrast to the warrior from the Old World, Bertrand Chanboor wore a close-fitting, sleeveless, padded purple doublet embellished with elaborate embroidery, gold trim, and silver braiding over a simple sleeved short jacket. Together, they gave his soft rounded shape the illusion of a more manly frame. A frill of white stood above the doublet's low, erect collar. A similar ruff stood out at wrists and waist.

Slung over the shoulders of the doublet and short jacket was a magnificent dress coat of a deeper purple with fur trim running around the collar and all the way down the front. Below the padded rolls standing at the ends of the shoulders, the baggy sleeves had slashes lined with red silk. Between the spiral slashes, galloon braiding separated rows of pearls.

With his intent eyes, his easy smile-which, along with those eyes, always seemed directed at no other than the person with whom he had eye contact at the moment-and his shock of thick, graying hair, he struck an impressive figure. That, and Bertrand Chanboor's presence, or rather the presence of the power he wielded as the Minister of Culture, left many a man in awed admiration and many a woman in breathless yearning.

If not watching the Minister's table, guests cast stealthy glances at the table beside it, where sat the Sovereign, his wife, and their three grown sons and two grown daughters. No one wanted to stare openly at the Sovereign. The Sovereign was, after all, the Creator's deputy in the world of life-a holy religious leader as well as the ruler of their land. Many in Anderith, Anders and Haken alike, idolized the Sovereign to the point of falling to the ground, wailing, and confessing sins when his carriage passed.