S Stirling - The Council of Shadows

"Elementary precautions, my dear Seraphine," Adrian said.

Suddenly Ellen felt a warmth inside. He's just tolerating them, she thought. Even they can't tell, but I can. And he's flaunting me partly just to piss them off, which I find I don't mind at all.

Etienne went on: "But killing your sister, and the Final Death at that…perhaps a little excessive, mon fils?"

"It's not as if she hadn't tried to kill me often enough," Adrian pointed out. "Serious attempts. And not only in the line of duty, as it were."

"Ah, well, sibling rivalry," Seraphine said tolerantly. "Who can avoid it? I still remember how annoying little Anais was when we were children, taking up our parents' time and being tiresome. And how often I tried to drown her or push her out of windows or set her on fire, even when Maman scolded me for it. What I am really annoyed about, mon chouchou, is that you have neglected us so long. Admittedly you were involved with those horrible Brotherhood vermin, but still, after the closeness of your childhood visits, it is a wounding."

The next course arrived: terre et riviere, a sea urchin-and-avocado dish, and truffe blanche d'Alba, gnocchis legeres, eau de Parmesan, with beetroot and eel.

"These Brittany sea urchins are unrivaled," Seraphine said. "The current chef here is Breton."

"Oh, they're better than the Santa Barabra variety, a little," Adrian said. "But in my opinion those of Hokkaido are fully as good, if not better. The gnocchi are delicious, but extremely un-gnocchi-like."

Odd, Ellen thought. I can actually enjoy dinner under these circumstances. Am I getting callous? Or just…case-hardened? Or am I braver than I thought I was? Or has Adrian turned me into a compulsive foodie? Or all of the above?

The contrast between the buttery richness of the avocado and the sea-kissed taste of the urchins was certainly arresting. They finished the champagne, and she cleared her mouth with some of the bread.

"Ah, turbot with black-truffle emulsion," Etienne pronounced. "Now with this, Meursault. Les Tessons Domaine Michel Bouzereau 2007, I think. It will serve admirably for the Noix de Saint Jacques en coquille senteurs des bois and even for the Jambon blanc truffe spaghetti au parmesan as well. One must not be a purist, like some visiting…foreigner."

He was about to say visiting American, I think, Ellen mused. Well , miracles never cease. Tact.

The sea scallops in their shells were barely steamed, soft-textured and fragrant, with wild wood vegetables, salsify, tomato, turnip and black truffle.

"I do prefer the ham," Seraphine said, looking down in pleasure at the smoked meat in its rectangular nest of al dente spaghetti, with cepe mushrooms and black truffles standing like the masts of a ship. "One grows nostalgic for a sauce that is a true sauce rather than an ethereal wisp, and the truffles are of the earth. I grant you that this is no longer the age of Escoffier, and one must move with fashion, but yet…"

The white Burgundy blossomed in Ellen's mouth like the scent of apple orchards in the springtime.

"I notice Arnaud was not included in this little family gathering," Adrian said. "It would, perhaps, be a little awkward just at the moment."

Ellen closed her eyes for a moment, remembering the way the dead man had fallen, and the other coming for her with the knife. And the mindless killing malice behind the fossa's snarl. When she opened her eyes Seraphine's yellow gaze was on her, avid, and her tongue came out to moisten her lips in what was probably an unconscious gesture; she returned the look with a bland smile and mentally elevated a finger.

"Arnaud, Arnaud," Etienne said with a regretful sigh. "I fear he is more and more a creature of impulse; and impulse always did govern him more than is good. He is unlikely to see the twenty-second century at this rate."

A smile that was at once cultured and feral. "Surely, my dear boy, you do not imagine that if I sought your death I would proceed in so amateurish a manner?"

"Granted, Great-grandfather."

The table was cleared and the desserts came: a concoction of meringue, white chocolate and almonds, pastries filled with chocolate and an iced pistachio side, and a fantasy of cooked and raw grapefruit and lime sweet as palate cleanser. Then coffee, noir for the three Shadowspawn, and noisette for her in deference to American sensibilities, and cognac.

She hadn't liked brandy before she met Adrian-in fact, with her family history, she'd been at least mildly prejudiced against anything distilled.

Of course, before I met Adrian I didn't get Frapin Cuvee 1888 Rabelais, either.

A taste of dried fruits slid across her tongue, nuts, candied oranges, and a wash of cacao and flowers and soft spices; it made you think of hot tropical sunrises seen past the curve of a sail, with the sea breaking white beneath your bowsprit.

Etienne sighed. "Eighteen eighty-eight was a marvelous year…but perhaps I recall it so because I was young, eh? And this…like all the greatest pleasures, it is fleeting, impermanent. Little of this remains; perhaps only a few bottles, and once they are gone it will exist only in memory. As one accumulates experience, more and more resides there."

"I can see that you have reason for cultivating such an outlook," Adrian said carefully.

"Perhaps we come to the meat of the matter with the digestif, eh?"

Ellen took a deep breath. Adrian went on, calm, his tone conversational.

"I have no interest in who is selected to fill the vacant seats on the Council," he said. "Save as it affects the plans for Operation Trimback."

"You are acquainted with that?"

"Yes. Ellen received the details from Adrienne, and I have had Seeings."

"Ah." Seraphine lifted her brows. "Strong ones? Apparently you remember my teaching."

"Very high orders of probability, and tied to my sister. Our world-lines were deeply entangled at the time."

"And which do you favor?" Etienne said. "The plague, as your sister did, or this rather drastic use of nuclear weapons to shred the humans' electronic devices?"

"The EMP attack," Ellen supplied.

The Shadowspawn master waved a hand. "I have no interest in the terminology."

"You should be interested in the effects," Adrian said. "Have you Seen?"

"Nothing immediate. That is a matter of subtlety rather than raw Power; dear Seraphine has always been more sensitive, doubtless you derive it from her. I have had glimpses of the far futures that might be. Quite pastoral and attractive, most of them. A few rather grisly-"

Christ, what would he consider grisly?

"-but those of much lower probability."

"Great-grandfather and lord, I do not think you appreciate just how much would be destroyed if the structure of the technological world were removed at once. Runaway nuclear reactors-scores in France alone!-ruptured oil refineries…"

The older Shadowspawn began to laugh. Adrian merely raised a brow, but Ellen felt a surge of fury. It died as she realized that this wasn't, or wasn't merely, the usual schadenfreude and sadism. There was a genuine irony here.

"I laugh, my dear boy, because I did not grasp the implications. I was quite taken with a return to the medieval period, with us as the noblesse. After all, the Power can do a great many of the same things as the humans' technology. Until your sister carefully explained the problems to me."

He shook his head. "The al-Lanarkis are the primary advocates of the, ah, EMP. Trimback One. She demonstrated convincingly that they argued so because their primary territories would be least affected, and so all the other Shadowspawn would be weakened. They would probably have done it themselves, if I had not strongly hinted we would exterminate their clan down to the babes in arms if they did."

"And the humor?"