Kenzo Ameya's eyes sparkled as he smiled. Standing at the banquet table with all eyes trained on him, he tapped on top of a jar he'd pulled from a container sitting on the ground next to him. Isao accepted it as his father passed it across the table, and momentarily studied its contents with a furrowed brow.
"This powder must be burned at the end of the banquet," Kenzo continued. "Why, you may ask? Because the rare, aromatic blend of the Dhul flowers will bring in – and solidify – the bonds now formed between the Nari and Hiwan Clans. What blessing could be greater at such a time as this?"
Saemon peered at the shifting, light-blue powder inside one of the glass jars that Kenzo Ameya now held high above Ren and Isao. The glittering light from nearby candles caught the glass of the jars and glinted.
Kenzo grinned at the new couple, giving a courtly bow as he set the glass container back on the table where Ren studied it with what appeared to be a pleased expression. She murmured something unintelligible to Saemon, words he assumed, upon spotting Kenzo's bright smile, to be ones of gratitude.
"May the happiest of blessings flow into your marriage," Kenzo declared as he reached for a nearby glass, holding it aloft. "A toast for the happy couple! Let us hold our glasses to the sky and ask for the blessings of the Sacred Triad to rest upon their beautiful shoulders. To Isao and Ren!"
An answering murmur rolled through the rest of the attendees at the feast. Saemon held his own glass high, then tossed the wine into the back of his mouth and swallowed.
Conversation throughout the hall dissipated into smaller discussions as Kenzo returned to his seat, beaming. The fluid roll of voices drifted above the table, stretching through the room. Only Ren and Isao seemed oblivious to the cheer of the celebration and the loosening effect of the premier wine.
The couple sat with stoic expressions and fixed smiles. They would spend two more nights apart before solidifying their new marriage.
Saemon kept a close eye on the conversations at the main table between the representatives of the different clans. He tracked the participants’ facial expressions carefully. Any sort of disagreement would not be welcome after so much work and attention.
He was momentarily distracted by the bustle of servants in and out of the main doors of the room bearing platters loaded with food. Bowls of leeks in a buttery sauce. A rich and creamy clam soup that would slip down the throat like silk. Plates of sweet rice mixed with coconut flakes and served with a mashed fruit compote. The resulting scent was enough to bring an air of merriment to the room.
As nothing seemed amiss in the faces of the servants or the stewards, Saemon relaxed, tuning back into the conversations around him at the table.
"It's unfortunate, isn't it?" Tieng Shorguz said.
He'd replaced the satchel he'd worn on his arrival with a pristine white vest, although he still wore his leather pants – the trademark of the Beast from the Uma clan. In honor of the celebration, however, he wore no visible knives.
"Unfortunate?" echoed Gavan Jenzud. His forehead furrowed. Compared to Tieng, Gavan looked like a mole with his hunched shoulders and beady eyes. "What's unfortunate during such a lovely event?"
Tieng shrugged, playing with the stem of his wine glass. "No one experiments with dangerous magic anymore. The Shurans did the world a disservice by dying during the Horat-Vu war. No one can really explore darker magic like the Clan of the Spiders did. Or at least, no one has the courage to anymore."
War has a way of doing that, Saemon thought, suppressing a flinch.
Gavan snorted. "Foolish thing to say. No one should be meddling in the realms of the darker magic. Isn't the fact that none of the Shuran Clan is alive now proof of that?"
A shudder passed through Saemon, racing down his spine. He attempted to ignore it, but it returned again, this time with stronger force.
The Horat-Vu war. Memories slipped through his mind, unbidden. Dying bodies. Blood pooling on the ground. For a moment, Saemon was twenty years old again, and reliving the horrors of unparalleled violence. Not even the Horat-Vu against evil could protect all the participants from giving up their lives. Evil birthed its own monsters, even when Goodness fought against it.
Saemon pulled out of his thoughts with another sip of wine, his glass refilled by a passing servant. Listening to the conversation grounded him again. He tried to focus on the calm way everyone spoke, as if they'd been friends all along.
He could only hope the goodwill would last.
"Speaking of dark magic," Gavan said, motioning for a servant to bring him more wine with a tap of his finger, "did you hear what the Yojin found at Iskawan?"
"Vakums wandering into pits?" Tieng said idly.
"A strange amber powder."
"Oh?" Gavan said, leaning forward in interest.
Tieng did the same. "What was the powder?" he asked.
"No one knows," Gavan said, raising an eyebrow.
"If it comes out of Iskawan, it can't be good,” Tieng muttered.
"Saemon, do you know?" Gavan asked, turned towards Saemon and tilting his head back to study the leader of the Hiwan Clan through dark eyes.
Saemon cleared his throat and reached for a piece of seaweed sprinkled with salt and wrapped around rice.
"No," he said. "I have heard no rumors."
"Do you think it could be Shuran magic?" Tieng asked, his eyes narrowed. "If no one knows what the amber powder is, it would make sense."
"Perhaps," Gavan murmured, then waved a dismissive hand through the air. "But the Shurans are dead. Let their memories rest in the dust where they belong."
"I do not believe an entire clan can be exterminated. Certainly not the Spiders. If any Clan could go on living, swathing themselves where we cannot see until they want to pounce, it is the Shuran,” Tieng said.
"Believe in tales if you like. There are no Shurans left."
"Yes, I agree.” Tieng shrugged. “The existence of any Shuran is a mere tale, just like the Order of the Sacred Triad will be soon enough."
Gavan and Tieng looked up, startled to see Matsu Maeba from the Haku Clan peering at them from two spots down the table. He blinked large, globe-like eyes at them.
Saemon tensed, drawing himself higher in his seat. "What do you mean?" he asked, unable to help himself.
Matsu smiled, pointing to him. "Your edict, Sheng Saemon, has limited religious power and nearly erased the presence of the Triad. Our temple sees hardly any traffic these days. One rarely even hears the name spoke from lips in prayer anymore."
Saemon sucked in a sharp breath. "That's not – "
"It's because of the rumors!" Iwa Tamon shrieked, throwing a hand in the air. She sat next to Matsu, her wide face and tall body seeming to fill the entire chair. "The dark side of religion was manifested, and has frightened all the worshippers. Who wants to give allegiance to gods that hold no order? It's all nonsense if you ask me."
Saemon’s heart jolted, replaying the words dark side of religion over and over again. He shook off his dark memories, hating the memory of the high priestess's voice in his ear.
"This is a celebration," Saemon declared, tapping the table with one knuckle. "A celebration of joy. Such talk shouldn't be allowed. We should forbid politics and religion at such a wonderful event."
All four murmured, and bowed their heads in deference. Saemon relaxed back into his chair, his fingers releasing themselves from white-knuckled fists.
"Samudra," Tieng said, lifting his goblet. "Let's discuss Samudra. Have you heard about the unexplored islands in the west continent? Rumors say that a clan plans to explore them soon. Do you know which?"
Matsu casually turned to Iwa at the same time, as if he'd never broached such a daring conversation in the first place. "The pirate captain Beltran has started threatening the ocean waters again, I hear. Some fisherman believe they saw his sign."
Gavan snorted. "Another legend."
"Beltran is dead," Tieng insisted. "It's been proven."
"I disagree," Matsu said, wri
nkling his nose. "Hidden for a while, possibly. But no legend, and certainly not dead."
"That's rich talk," Kenzo called out derisively to Gavan from down the table. "A member of the Horalu Clan speaking to navigation. Ha! What do you know about the sea?"
Gavan snarled. "More than – "
"The ceremony today," Saemon redirected loudly. "Did you find it enjoyable?"
Both Gavan and Tieng sat back, ignoring Kenzo. Kenzo chuckled and turned away, back to a conversation with the Nari clan. Matsu and Iwa fell into a more private discussion on the islands, and Saemon moved the conversation near him to bring about the newlywed’s gift from the emissary of the Haku clan.
Ren accepted the book about the historical implications of the magic used within the Empire with eagerness, running her slender fingers over the cover.
Saemon hid his amusement. Of course the Haku clan would offer knowledge of magical things. What an appropriate gift from them.
The time for gifts passed as a distant tinkling in the hallway became pronounced. Those at the feast quieted, and Ren's expression brightened even more.
A stream of dancers with reddish costumes and fox-like masks on their faces moved into the great hall, surrounding the feast table. A Nari flute band followed, its high, happy trill matching perfectly with the prancing step of the dancers.
A shared feeling of awe moved through those at the feast as the dancers whipped around, reddish silks waving behind them. The dance of the flutes followed the show, making the amassed crowd break into clapping and laugher.
Just as the dancers finished their display and slipped through a back doorway, the sound of stomping boots rang through the air. A contingent of soldiers from the Horalu clan marched into the dining room, swords flashing. Behind them came a line of drummers. The solemn, steady beats of the drums as the soldiers marched silenced, then started again in a driving, steady rhythm. The soldiers flashed and twirled their weapons in time with the music in a stunning and powerful display of dexterity and skill.
Saemon leaned back, appreciating the coordination behind such a feat. His eyes drifted over the table, watching a servant pour yet another glass of wine for Gavan. His gaze advanced, lingering on the full cups of those belong to the Nari clan.
Were they not drinking? He wracked his mind, but couldn't recall seeing a servant refill their glasses again. What about the Ameyas? Further study revealed the same. He frowned. Was the wine watered down? Did someone swap the vintage at the last moment, replacing them with inferior ones?
A glimpse of black hair caught Saemon's eyes and he lifted a hand, signaling Gou Tuen, the imperial chef of the last twenty years. Gou Tuen turned and started his way.
"Sheng Saemon," he greeted seconds later. "How may I serve you?"
"The wine. Is something wrong with it?"
Gou Tuen's brow grew heavy. "No, Sheng. Not that I have heard. We have conducted all the usual taste tests with every batch, and have heard no complaints. Have you?"
Saemon's frown deepened. "No. No one has complained to me."
"Would you like me to change the vintage?"
"No. Leave it. Perhaps I am just a paranoid man on such a great feast. Thank you, Gou Tuen. Your food has been as delicious as expected."
"Thank you, Sheng. Do I have your permission to begin the dessert portion of the meal? My servants are beginning to return with empty glasses as the feast wanes, and we still have much to offer."
"Yes. Permission granted."
The burly man bowed and retreated, casting a wary eye on the wine goblets that were full as he departed. His gaze lingered on the Naris and the Ameyas, and narrowed when it reached Kenzo. Gou Tuen stopped, spoke to two servants near the door, then disappeared.
Saemon turned his attention back to the table, Kenzo in particular.
Kenzo's earlier joviality had changed to a look of deep concentration. He played with the stem of his wine glass, but didn't drink. The straight cut of his shoulders, pulled back against the chair, seemed oddly at large with the occasional, fix smile on his face.
Saemon’s mind became busy. The Ameyas were known for their love of drink of all kind. Celebrations with the Ameya clan usually gave way to raucous celebration. Everyone knew that.
Saemon straightened, then dismissed these thoughts.
So many visitors. So many political alliances. Surely he was just imagining things. The Ameya clan was likely respecting the nature of this gathering and refraining from drinking too much in order to maintain control, something he appreciated right then.
Gou Tuen led the way from the door again, flanked by servants bearing platters laden with desserts. The rest of the servants moved around the table, whisking away empty plates, refilling empty goblets, and preparing the attendees for more delicious food.
The heady scent of lemon swept through the air as Gou Tuen presented his culminating dish of the evening: a tiered cake with lemon-and-honey icing and stuffed with small balls of sugar meant to dissolve in the mouth of the taster with delicate sweetness. Icing swept about the sides of the cake in a grand pattern, highlighted with yellow streams of color.
Those at the table cast a long sigh of approval.
"This cake," Gou Tuen said, addressing the newlyweds, "is in honor of your coming together. The tartness of the lemon and the sweetness of the honey are so different, but together, so perfect."
Isao and Ren inclined their heads in a proper acceptance.
Gou Tuen stepped back, admiring his offering with a proud smile.
Yuna wrinkled her nose. She drew back slightly, turning her head to the side.
Saemon accepted a piece of the renowned lemon-and-honey cake, then tuned his ears into the conversation around him as the talk at the great feast passed from excited chatter into gentle murmurs.
He observed that Isao stared glumly at his half-full plate. Despite the feast featuring many of his favorite dishes, Isao had eaten very little. Saemon made a mental note to talk to him later.
One by one, the attendees began to fall quiet, many drawing into their own thoughts. Gavan began to snore softly against his chair while Tieng continued to discuss a new knife with a representative from the Horalu clan on his right.
Saemon cleared his throat and straightened out of his seat. The whole room fell silent, all eyes on him.
"Guests," he said, spreading his hands, "I thank you for attending the wedding ceremony, and for your gracious attendance tonight. It has truly been a historical day, and I look forward to future relations with the Nari clan."
Those in the Nari clan, Ren included, slightly bowed their heads. Saemon collected a deep breath.
"Now, let us call this day to a close. As our custom dictates, Ren and Isao will end the feast by withdrawing to their separate rooms where they will spend a final night apart to prepare themselves for their new life, rid themselves of uncleanliness, and start with fresh, clean hearts."
A low murmur of approval rippled through the crowd. Ren bowed her head, her cheeks coloring at the top, while Isao's nostrils flared. Saemon let the observations pass. His eyes fell on the glittering blue jar between Ren and Isao.
"As a thank you to our friends in the Ameya clan, I will have the servants burn the jars to seal the new, budding relationship between our clans and bring us a peaceful sleep. Good night."
Saemon sat back down. The low chatter turned into a buzz as Ren rose, and her maids instantly flocked to her side.
Isao got up to stand next to his bride. The long expression on his face likely meant that he just wanted to sleep.
Isao and Ren moved through the room together, speaking quietly with those they passed. Ren walked with a slow, easy grace, her dress fluttering slightly as her maids trailed behind her.
The newlyweds stepped into the hall and parted, going their separate ways.
The dining ball came back to life as a troop of dancers glided into the hall, the bells attached to their ankles tinkling with every step they took. The quiet trill of a lute warbled in the ba
ckground, low and quiet to lull those in the hall to sleep.
Saemon detected a faint scent in the air, almost like juniper. He glanced over to see a servant set a jar of powder on the table nearby. Dhul powder.
A few seats away, Kenzo stood.
"Kenzo," Saemon called, leaning forward, "you must stay for the traditional parting dance. It is a long-celebrated custom to bring peace and deep sleep to those in attendance."
A tired smile stretched across Kenzo's face. He stifled a yawn. "Alas, but an old man like me needs no help getting rest."
"Surely you wouldn't circumvent tradition," he said in a wary tone.
"I am too tired for more excitement and art tonight, Sheng Saemon. My gratitude for thinking of me, but I shall fall asleep very deeply on my own."
Without another word, Kenzo strode away, cutting across the marbled floor to reach the hallway as fast as possible. Saemon watched him go through the light smoke trailing up from the burning jars of blue powder.
"This was a beautiful celebration, Sheng Saemon." The light, easy voice came from Yuna of the Nari clan. Her long red hair glinted in the light as she executed a perfect curtsy, bowing low. When she rose, her intelligent eyes met Saemon’s. "Thank you."
Before Saemon could respond, Yuna slipped away, moving like a feather through the wind as she departed the hall without another word. Saemon shifted, straightening, but stopped.
Azuma, also of the Nari clan, was beckoning for a servant with a twitch of his finger. When the man approach, he murmured something in the man’s ear. Then he too rose and departed, swinging in a wide berth around the dancers.
The hair on the back of Saemon's neck stood up. Something wasn't right.
Other Nari attendees now stumbled to their feet, yawning as they left the hall to seek out the guest houses in the garden courtyard. Others still milled around, their glassy eyes entranced by the graceful dance.
When the dancers left as swiftly as they had arrived, those still lingering quietly applauded, then moved away from their chairs. Within minutes, the dining hall lay nearly empty, save for a tall man that stood halfway down the table. Saemon lifted a hand, gained the man’s attention, and motioned for him to approach.
Faces of Betrayal Page 8