Dinner and Desert

The personal diary of Sorashi, daughter of Deirdre, pt 22

Evening Sabaoth 24^th Leviathan (24^th Serpent DC) 3658

On our way to our quarters, I note some of Rebma's denizens have stripes and spots along their bodies, like those on larger sea fish.

Curious, I enquire if these are useful, or merely cosmetic, and an amused guard tells me that, no, they are useful, enabling the owner to detect changes in water pressure and faintly, magnetic fields, so it is practically impossible to be crept up on.

Interesting…

I resolve to attempt to shapeshift this useful physical attribute – after all, we have some time before the banquet – but realise very quickly that I just don't really understand enough about the adaptation to achieve this, any more than I could shapeshift a civet's scent glands onto myself. I manage a fuzzy and patchy line down one side, but it does nothing apart from look like I have been drawing on myself with charcoal.

I compromise by webbing my hands up to the second finger-joint, achieving sufficient elasticity takes most of my remaining spare time.

To fit in with our hosts, I will attend dressed 'Rebman-style' – wearing only a pair of closely fitting dhoti (it may startle my cousins). Tajal looks unconvinced, but I assure her that she may wear as much or as little as she wishes, so adds a top to her outfit.

We get to the hall, and I am not the only Amberite brave enough to dress Rebman-style. Fiona and, surprisingly, Constance are fashionably underdressed – perhaps Constance is not as predictable as I had assumed.

This is my first underwater banquet and, although interesting, is not an experience I ache to repeat. The drinks are in sealed cups and, although the food is prettily presented, the tang of seawater is omnipresent and raw fish is not my favourite food. Even though I have become used to the (mostly) underseasoned food in Chaos, I find the food rather bland.

But such is diplomacy, I smile and eat and make polite conversation as much as I am able.

The Rebmans are interspersed with us – I try and remember as many names as I can, more as a mental exercise than anything, whilst keeping a casual eye on Tajal, who sits across from me.

There is Afank – bald, affable with a ready laugh, and Admiral Vaughan – not Rebman nor (I think) Amberite, with a thin, angular face. Near me sits Oswald, roughly my age, dark haired and reasonably charming – it seems he is the Queen's brother, and has the relaxed comportment of a professional courtier. A little apart sits Gradlon, a grizzled older man who is the Queen's captain (I think) who sits with an air of one waiting for the fight to break out.

The less charming contingent comprises a sulky youth named Jasconius, who makes little effort to socialise but sits consecutively pouting and ogling the women's chests in a manner he no doubt fondly imagines is discreet. When I catch him staring at my chest, I catch his eye, flick my gaze down to his lap for a beat then redirect my gaze, face impassive.

I chat mainly to Oswald, doing the polite verbal dance of court, sizing each other up and choosing our words carefully. I take care to be a little less verbally agile than usual – it never hurts to be underestimated in this sort of situation.

Tajal, to her credit, asks intelligent questions about Rebma. When asked about her background, tries to explain Chaos but it is very much something one has to experience. Her audience smile politely but I doubt they truly believe her.

People are starting to mingle as the banquet continues – I chat to various people and hear the story of Random's appalling behaviour (assuming the telling is accurate) eloping with the Queen's daughter, Morganthë, then sending her back when she fell pregnant, causing her to kill herself – a faintly jarring note, but I don't know the society or the woman, so I could be wrong.

As reparation, he had to marry Vialle, a blind lady of the court. I can only assume Vialle was content with this arrangement, but then again her blindness will not have helped her marriage prospects and a self-absorbed Amberite prince is possibly better than a lonely spinsterhood (personally, I would have taken the spinsterhood gladly in her circumstance, but I am not her).

After a while, we are granted permission to use the Pattern on the condition we do not summon the Amberite army to 'try anything'. Knowing the Family, it is a condition worth specifying but Fiona accepts graciously.

The men withdraw, William accepts an offer to spar with Oswald (some might call this predictable but I suppose my cousin is at least aware of his strengths and weaknesses) and I move to Tajal's side of the table.