Sam Bowring - Destiny's Rift

Dishes began to arrive. As with all of Battu’s feasts, seafood was the feature. There were thin slices of tuna laid out on a platter and drizzled in oil. Mounds of sea urchins roasted in their shells were one of the few dishes Battu preferred cooked. A salad of kelp, a tubeworm stew, and chilled prawns stuffed with butter and parsley all arrived in quick succession to be placed around the table. There was no sign of the anemones yet, but they would not be far away.

Battu’s appetite did not seem to suffer despite his obvious tension – if anything, he ate more when he was stressed. Meanwhile, food began to lift off plates, swirl up into the air and disappear to the accompaniment of satisfied slurps. Losara and Lalenda ate too, though far more moderately. In order not to rouse suspicion, Tyrellan reached for a serving, heaping food onto his plate as his mind ticked away.

He decided that his waiting must cease – no brown huggers were about to attack. He shoved a forkload of mashed something in his mouth, then dropped a hand under the table and let the fork fall. Working it to the right angle with his toes, he waited until the next Grey attendant appeared through the doorway opposite. Giving the fork a sharp, swift kick, he sent it skidding across the stone floor, where it slid neatly under the Grey’s footfall. Her eyes went wide as her foot shot out from under her, sending the fork clattering away. The tray of oysters she carried wobbled precariously.

Fall , urged Tyrellan.

To the Grey’s credit, as she realised she was going down, she managed to get another hand under the tray. As she crashed to the floor, she kept the tray upright so that only a few of the oysters slid off on impact. In an instant Tyrellan was on his feet, faster than Battu could scowl.

‘Wretched oaf!’ he snarled, moving smoothly around the table. ‘You dare waste food from the Shadowdreamer’s pantry!’ He snatched the tray with one hand and seized the Grey by the scruff of her neck with the other, lifting her to her feet. ‘Be gone,’ he said, and backhanded her across the jaw. She quickly retreated, holding a hand to her face.

‘Tyrellan,’ said Battu, ‘it’s not like you to let someone off so lightly.’

‘I did not wish extra interruption to this special occasion, my lord. I will speak to her again later, I assure you.’

‘Grimra eats her if First Slave pleases,’ offered the ghost agreeably, which actually made Battu chuckle.

‘No, Grimra,’ said Losara. ‘You have enough to eat right here.’

Tyrellan inspected the oyster tray. ‘The dish appears unsullied,’ he announced, and brought it around to Losara’s end of the table. ‘I can assure my lords that the food remaining did not touch the floor.’ He bent over to set the tray next to Losara, glancing sideways to make sure Battu wasn’t paying attention. ‘The anemones are poisoned,’ he breathed in Losara’s ear. Then he swiftly returned to his seat, confident the exchange had gone unnoticed.

Losara knew he shouldn’t be surprised, although he had not expected poison – it seemed low even for Battu. No matter what else Losara thought of him, he’d never considered him a coward.

He watched with interest as the anemones arrived, served by a fat Grey whose gaze remained firmly downcast as he came around the table to place the delicacy before him. What to do? he wondered. He did not want to reveal his hand just yet – he was curious to see Battu’s reaction.

He reached for the plate with his fork and skewered a squishy blob.

‘Yuck,’ said Lalenda, wrinkling her nose, for which Losara was grateful.

‘This brings back memories,’ he mused, turning languidly to Battu, who had been staring at him intently. ‘On my twelfth birthday you introduced me to this dish.’ He dangled the blob in front of his mouth. ‘Remember? I was reticent to try them, but you encouraged me.’ And I realised for the first time that there was no real love in your heart.

‘Ah,’ said Battu, wetting his lips. ‘Yes, I remember. I hope you do not find them as unpalatable as you once did.’

Beside Battu, Tyrellan was staring fixedly into the middle distance. Ready to move, thought Losara, at whatever was coming shortly, bless him. The goblin tensed as he put the anemone into his mouth.

‘I did always find them a little bland, admittedly,’ said Losara, chewing thoughtfully. ‘Although whatever these are coated with is delicious. What is it? I can’t quite place it. Let’s see if another taste can solve the mystery.’

He stabbed another anemone and put it in his mouth. Across the table, Battu’s forced grin dropped from his face, and paradoxically he now actually looked gleeful.

Look at him , thought Losara. He’s so happy. If my imminent demise brings him such joy, how can I ever hope to make him see reason?

‘I’m so glad you like them,’ Battu said.

Losara swallowed. ‘Ah, but I am being rude. Would you like them passed to you?’

‘Oh, no,’ waved Battu, sitting back in his chair and patting his stomach. ‘I am …quite full. Please, if you are enjoying them, have more.’

‘I will,’ said Losara, and reached for another. ‘Though I have never known my lord to be full before. Are you feeling well?’

‘Well indeed.’

Losara nodded, and reached for another. Lalenda squirmed as he took a bite.

‘No kisses for you tonight,’ she whispered.

Why this charade? he asked himself. What do I hope to gain? Blankness came upon him, the feeling that he was missing a reaction that his other might experience. Would Bel sit here chewing on poison? He warded the feeling off by concentrating on what was going on inside his mouth. As food passed through the fine mesh of shadow he’d created at the top of his throat, it caught hold of tiny purple particles.

‘Never me seen Losara so greedy,’ said the ghost, and one of the anemones floated from the plate. ‘Must be tasty taste indeed!’

Losara didn’t know what effect poison would have on an undead spirit – probably none – but since he had no idea what the poison was, he thought better than to risk it. He reached out with his power and snatched the food away from the ghost, redirecting it into his open mouth.

‘Sorry, Grimra,’ he said with his mouth full. ‘These are too subtle for your palate, I think.’

The ghost growled but Losara paid him no mind. In his mouth he rolled the purple dust into a ball, while the rest of the pale meat slid down into his stomach.

Why keep eating? At least make use of the time this foolishness affords by sending away Lalenda.

He turned to her. ‘I believe the moment we spoke of has arrived.’

She held his gaze wilfully.

‘Lalenda,’ he said warningly.

‘As you wish, my lord,’ she said, and rose. ‘Grimra, will you join me? I believe we’re departing.’

‘Grar,’ came the reply, as an assortment of foodstuffs rose from the table. ‘Grimra will bring some after-dinner snacks.’

‘Thank you for the feast, lord Battu,’ said Lalenda as she backed away from the table. Then her claws flicked out, and she spat on the floor. ‘Enjoy the last time I call you that,’ she hissed, and disappeared through the door amidst a collection of swirling morsels.

Battu dimly registered the insult but dared not take his eyes off Losara. Something was going on, that was plain, and he did not yet know if he was triumphant or not.

In Losara’s mouth the ball was quite large. As it rested at the back of his throat, he coughed.

‘Something wrong?’ said Battu.

Losara patted his chest. ‘Just a little something caught in my throat.’ He reached shadowy fingers into his mouth and drew out the poison. ‘What a strange thing to find in my food,’ he said, and set it on his plate where it half-crumbled to powder again. As Battu saw what it was, his expression hardened.