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All the servants scrambled to line up behind us.
The music twinkled on in the background.
The manticores marched into the garden.
It was the entire pride, I guess, cause there were about fifteen manticores in all. They walked one after another in a long procession. Ongraygeeomryn came in toward the end, flanked by an older lady-manticore and man-manticore. They sat at the center of the table, right across from me.
The man-manticore reared back his head and trumpeted, and this was the loudest trumpet I’d ever heard. It seemed to echo out for miles.
The music stopped playing.
“Girl-human,” he said, turning his golden eyes to me. “Do you have a name?”
The silence in the garden was so thick I thought I might choke on it. All the manticores stared at me expectantly.
“Yes,” I said. “Your Grace.”
“Don’t call me that. I am not a human king.” He leaned forward, sniffed the air. “What is your name?”
I glanced at Naji. Should you tell a manticore your name or not? He must’ve known what I was thinking, cause he kinda nodded at me like it was alright.
“Ana
Ongraygeeomryn smiled at me.
“Ana
The other manticores trumpeted and flapped their wings and furled and unfurled their tails. I saw Marjani shrink down out of the corner of my eye, but nobody let loose any spines.
“You will receive the boon tonight, after the feast.” He nodded at me. “It is rude to divulge the nature of the boon in public, but Ongraygeeomryn told me what you would like most in the world, and I am confident in her judgment.”
That got my suspicions up a bit, cause much as I liked the manticore I wasn’t convinced she knew what I wanted most in the world. Mostly cause I didn’t know what I wanted most in the world. I used to think it was being a pirate captain, but I wasn’t so sure of that anymore.
Still, I knew better than to say something. When it comes to dealing with people who think of themselves as important, it’s usually best to keep your mouth shut.
“You will find the boon most satisfying,” she told me. “I am certain of it.”
I nodded and plastered on a smile that I hoped came across as polite.
“Servant-humans!” bellowed the manticore leader. “Bring us food!”
The servants disappeared into the gardens and then reappeared with heavy stone platters laden with fruits and little savory pies and bottles of Empire wine. They set them down first, and I could see all the manticores trying to act like it didn’t turn their stomachs.
Then the servants brought out more stone platters covered with slabs of raw meat, pink and glistening in the candlelight. I knew it wasn’t sheep.
“We thought this would be more comfortable for you,” Ongraygeeomryn said to me, nodding her head at the piles of meat.
“Yes,” said her father. “Normally we catch them alive.”
Marjani and I glanced at each other.
“We appreciate your thoughtfulness,” Marjani said, though her mouth twisted up when she spoke.
Naji didn’t say nothing, just slipped his mask into his lap and picked up a lemon-salt fish.
I’d never been to a proper feast before, just the big drunken parties that pirates call feasts. Nobody got up and danced on the table, or groped any of the servant girls – even the crewmen we had with us seemed too terrified to do anything but pick at their food. The music playing in the background was soft and fancy. The conversation was polite and didn’t say nothing of any substance. The only thing that made me realize I wasn’t up in the palace with the Emperor was the way the manticores ate: they leaned forward and tore chunks of meat off with their teeth, and red juices streamed down their faces and tangled up in the manes.
After di
When all the platters of food had been cleared, all us human stared at the manticores like we expected something bad to happen. I didn’t think they were going to eat us or nothing, but I was still a little concerned about the boon.
“We would be most honored if you would share a dessert wine with us,” said the manticore leader. “Ahiial. It is a delicacy from the northern part of our island, and a very precious nectar indeed.”
“What’s it made of?” I asked. Somebody had to say it.
“It’s derived from the pollen of the ahiiala flower,” said Ongraygeeomryn. “The only plant we consume.”
“The stories say it has magical properties,” said a lady-manticore with pale white dappling on her coat.
Marjani and me both looked at Naji.
“It’s fine,” he said.
“Of course it’s fine!” boomed the manticore leader. “Servant-humans, bring us the wine!” He smiled, and he only showed the points of his teeth. “You will not be able to drink any of that human swill after tasting ahiial.”
Naji shrugged, and I got the sense that he’d had it before.
The servants trotted up to the table, half of ’em holding shallow porcelain bowls and the other half holding rough-hewn stone goblets. They lined ’em up on the table. Then another row of servants marched out, this time carting huge carved pitchers. They made their way around the table, slowly pouring a bit of ahiial for each guest.
The ahiial was pale gold, the color of morning sunlight and a manticore’s fur. It smelled sweet, like honey, like a man’s perfume.
We all waited till everybody’s cup or bowl had been filled. Then the manticore leader lifted one paw.
“To Ana
Naji squirmed beside me. I remembered what he’d said to me back on the Isles of the Sky – you made a deal with a manticore? And the way he said it, too, like I’d just confessed to killing my own mother. I could just about see him remembering it himself.
Well, too late now.
The manticore leader bowed his head and lapped at his wine. Even Marjani, who knew as well as I did how rude it was, hesitated.
But I also knew poison wasn’t how a manticore killed – not poison in a glass of wine. If they wanted us dead they would have shot us full of spines or launched across their table with their mouths wide open, showing us all three rows of teeth. So I picked up my glass and drank.
It was sweet, sweeter than honey, and the taste of it filled my mouth up with flowers.
When I didn’t keel over dead, or jump up, bewitched, and start clearing away the table like a servant, the rest of the crew followed suit. Jeric yi Niru knocked it back like a shot of rum. Marjani sipped it like a lady in a palace. Naji finished his off in a trio of gulps.
“What do you think?” the manticore leader asked me.
“Delicious,” I said. And stronger than a barrel of sailor’s rotgut. The whole garden was filled with light. All the flowers were glowing. Overhead, the stars left bright trails across the black sky. I laughed, suddenly full up with mirth, the way it happens when I get drunk under good circumstances, with a boat full of friends and the ocean stretching out empty and vast before us.
“Wonderful,” the manticore leader said. He nodded his head and the music struck up, some bawdy song I recognized from whenever Papa’s crew made port. “Servant-humans!” he called out. “Bring us more ahiial!”
CHAPTER NINE
I sprawled out on my bed, music still drifting in from the garden through my open window. The manticores had proceeded back into their palace of rocks, and the rest of the crew had come crawling off the boat to flirt with the servants and drink ahiial and rum, which was when I decided to slink back to my room. My injury left me too tired to deal with a true pirates’ feast.