Magic Banquet

by A. E. Marling

  MAGIC BANQUET

  by

  A.E. Marling

  Copyright © 2016 A.E. Marling

  Smashwords Edition

  Cover illustration by Julie Dillon

  Interior illustration by Eva Soulu

  Graphic design by Joshua Putz & jeshart

  Cartographer: Bartosz Milewski

  Editor: Marty Halpern

  First electronic publication: January 2016

  ISBN: 9781311715593

  First eBook Edition

  ~

  Meet the humble scribe:

  On Twitter: @AEMarling

  Facebook: AEMarling

  and

  http://aemarling.com/

  Smashwords License Statement

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  Menu:

  First Course:

  JEWEL FROG AND OTHER APPETIZERS

  SERVED WITH ELIXIR OF UNDERWORLD POMEGRANATE

  Second Course:

  CHIMERA STEW

  SERVED WITH WORLD’S END MEAD

  Third Course:

  BASILISK LIVER PTÉ

  SERVED WITH BOTTLED SYMPHONY

  Fourth Course:

  KRAKEN, FRESH CAUGHT & LIVE

  SERVED WITH TICKLER EEL

  Fifth Course:

  FORBIDDEN FRUIT

  SERVED WITH LOTUS TEA

  Sixth Course:

  SALMON OF KNOWLEDGE, ROASTED

  SERVED WITH WATER OF OBLIVION

  Seventh Course:

  TAOTIE DUMPLINGS

  SERVED WITH FOX-BLESSED CASHEW MILK

  Eighth Course:

  PHOENIX ON ICE

  SERVED WITH STARLIGHT YOGURT

  Ninth Course:

  TERROR BIRD, DEEP FRIED,

  SERVED WITH SPICED CHOCOLATE

  Tenth Course:

  AMBROSIA

  SERVED WITH NECTAR

  Eleventh Course:

  DRAGON STEAKS

  SERVED WITH UNICORN WATER

  Twelfth Course:

  CHEESES OF LIFE AND DEATH

  SERVED WITH OCEAN OF MILK

  Thirteenth Course:

  DESSERT,

  ASSORTED & PALATIAL

  A toast to my

  taste testers:

  Nannette, Lupe, Beth,

  Carolyn, & Christie

  And another to my

  assistant chefs:

  @VickieGames, @mikeycampling,

  Jeff Fox, & Griffin Barber

  First Course:

  JEWEL FROG AND OTHER APPETIZERS

  SERVED WITH ELIXIR OF UNDERWORLD POMEGRANATE

  The dark warehouse smelled of cinnamon and magic. A warm scent. A welcoming scent. A sticky sweetness like sesame candy fresh from the oven. The aroma tingled the back of the tongue and stood hair on end. A dangerous scent. A forbidden scent. It had the aftertaste of storm clouds.

  Aja and her schoolmate followed their noses. Passing through the twisty lanes and alleys of the sun-baked city, she and he discovered a block of a building. The paint on its clay bricks had faded to a near white. Aja saw she could climb its arch designs onto the flat roof and look for a way in. She had snuck into places like this before to spend the night. It would be uncomfortable, but anything was better than sleeping on the street.

  She wouldn’t need to steal her way into this warehouse. The brass door was open in invitation. Aja stopped short. She hadn’t survived to the age of thirteen by being reckless.

  Her schoolmate also slowed up. Garid Grease Breath clutched the doorway and peered inside. “Can’t see anything.”

  Aja asked, “Do you think it’s the Banquet?”

  “Someone’s just cooking dinner,” he said.

  “That’s not just any dinner.” The food smell lifted Aja to her tiptoes and coaxed her inside. She had to lean back against the pull.

  “The Midnight Banquet isn’t real.” Garid licked his lips and trembled.

  “What else could smell like that?”

  “Can’t go in. Mother would kill me, if she got a chance.”

  He didn’t say it, but they both knew it. People whispered it. One guest of the Midnight Banquet never lived to see the dawn. The Banquet always crept to a new secret place and left behind a corpse. Killed by joy, or so Aja had heard.

  She said, “Better go, if you want to outrun the sunset.”

  “You’re not going home?”

  She didn’t have any home but the schoolhouse cellar, or a mother to worry about her staying out late. Garid wore leather sandals with bright buckles. Aja rubbed one bare foot over the other. Her broken toenails scratched her. No one had given her a pair of sandals. How great it would be if anyone cared for her that much.

  Aja might be poor, but rich foods would be hers for the eating at the Midnight Banquet. She knew she could fill herself with fabled delicacies. Then the other students wouldn’t ignore her just because of old clothes or messy hair. Someone would accept her.

  She puffed out her chest. One guest died a night. That meant all the others lived. Sometimes it paid to be reckless. She took her first step into the warehouse.

  Garid Grease Breath backed away from her and the door and the darkness within. “I hope you eat yourself dead, Roach Legs.”

  He left. Aja was relieved. Garid wouldn’t annoy her tonight, and she would make better friends.

  She went in. The dimness flowed around her.

  Aja whirled at the sound of a woman’s voice. “You’re here for the Banquet.”

  “The Midnight Banquet?” Aja’s answer sounded more like a question.

  “It will start before then.” The woman glowed, but she carried no candle or lamp. Her skin lit from within like the wax paper of a festival lantern. Silk flowed around her in a blue breeze. Her features were sharp, her brows the angle of two pyramids. She beckoned Aja to follow.

  Aja pattered after. “Who are you?”

  The woman didn’t answer.

  Aja guessed she hadn’t asked loud enough. The cold stone thrilled her feet. Her heart skittered in her chest. Over her shoulder, the outline of the warehouse door shrank in the distance. She needed to remember its direction. Always had to know the way out.

  The woman’s legs stayed still as she moved. She floated through the gloom.

  Aja worked moisture into her throat. “What are you?”

  “Don’t be rude. Now take off your clothes.”

  “Huh?”

  The woman waved her arm, and its light revealed a copper tub full of water. “You must bathe. The Chef will want his guests to smell the food, not your reek.”

  Aja squinted at the blackness around them. Men could be watching, but the shining woman hadn’t spoken in a tone that could be refused. Aja undressed.

  She bathed with her clay jewelry on. Taking the amulets and bracelets off would give anyone the chance to steal them. Some pieces glistened with green glaze, others blue. One was a brass glint. They were the only brightness Aja owned.

  She had no gemstones or gold like she had seen earlier that day in the procession of the desert empress. The plump-cheeked girl had floated down the street in a barge carried by crowds. Men riding ostriches had guarded her with axes encrusted with turquoise. She hadn’t looked any older than Aja.

  Now Aja knew she would have something even the empress didn’t. They said that guests at the Midnight Banquet ate like gods.

  The woman in the warehouse d
idn’t shine with golden jewelry. She seemed to burn on the inside. Her candlelight fingers pinched together to pick up the discarded clothes, holding them at the corners. She crackled when she moved. The woman left Aja in darkness.

  Aja finished scrubbing herself. Clambering out of the tub, she shivered. Her fingers rested in the depressions between her ribs.

  A noise startled her. Something thumped in the distance, perhaps from a knife on a cutting board. “Thunk! Thunk!”

  Aja caught a lock of her damp hair, then chewed the strands. What if I’m the one? The corpse left behind tonight. She shouldn’t be here. She should go.

  Before she could, the woman and her light returned. She held out a gossamer robe of white, like the ones worn by scribes from Oasis City.

  “Where are my clothes?” Aja asked.

  “I didn’t think you’d want them back.” The woman parted her lips and blew out a long breath. It felt like a desert gust.

  Aja’s skin prickled with heat. She touched her hair, found it dry.

  The glowing woman dressed Aja without looking at her. The linen soothed Aja’s skin. Her insides still trembled.

  “Could I leave before midnight?” Aja would have to eat something first, even if only a few mouthfuls. “I mean, would you let me go?”

  “The Chef wouldn’t like it,” the woman said. Then she smiled like a monster mimicking a human, all stretched lips and teeth. “Don’t drink the elixir. The pomegranate in it will bind you to stay through the night.”

  “Thank you, Auntie.” Aja said it to be polite. The woman was not related to her, or maybe to any person.

  Aja might know what the woman was. The scholars had lectured about spirits of fire that lived in the desert winds. These beings had no love for man, except for tricking and tormenting. Capture a djinn, the wise told, and he might grant a wish for his freedom. Or she might grant one.

  Aja said, “You’re a djinn.”

  “And you’re a walking bladder of water.” The djinn’s voice sounded distant and aloof like a breeze over rooftops. “I’ll lead you to the Chef’s first course.”

  This Chef had to be very foolish to enslave a djinn, or very powerful. Aja strained to see him or the nearby meal. The air was rich with the flavor of apricots and legends.

  The djinn lifted her hand toward a brass oil lamp. It hung on chains reaching up into the darkness. Her finger touched the end of the lamp’s nozzle, and a flame lit. The flickering light revealed a feast.

  Aja’s breath caught. She crossed her arms over her thudding chest. Her mouth stung as saliva began to flow. She had never seen such a paradise of food.

  First Course, Part II:

  The Others

  Platters covered a lavish carpet. A giant egg on a tray caught the light. Its shell twinkled. The tiptop of the egg reached Aja’s waist. Another dish boasted orange squares that smelled of spring sunlight. Aja was shaking with hunger. What should she eat first? Watermelons were carved into lion faces, whiskers of green rind and fangs of crisp red. A wealth of macadamia nuts was heaped in bowls along with polished grapes.

  Aja’s knees gave out, and she dropped onto one of many pillows. Beside her on the carpet, a globe of blueberries and greenberries looked like a round map. She snuck a few berries. They were little balls of honey and tartness.

  The next one stuck in the back of her throat as a lump. Aja saw she was the only one eating. Did that mean she would die for certain? No, other guests would come. They would have to.

  She reached next for a platter with lizard-shaped delicacies. The outside was sweet and the inside meaty. “What are these?”

  “Eyeless newts, coated in chocolate,” the djinn said.

  They didn’t sound as good as they tasted.

  The edges of the platters were adorned with insect wings. They might have been plucked off dragonflies. Aja thought it odd, and a little sad. The lamplight rippled over them with a dazzle of aquamarine and fuchsia.

  The djinn led another guest to the feast, an old woman who bounded to her pillow seat. Six pillows for six guests. Aja remembered there were always six, in the tales. The old woman introduced herself as Janny, but she had no eyes for Aja, only the food.

  Before more guests could arrive, Aja stuffed her face with watermelon. After the third drippy bite she stopped herself. She didn’t have to gobble the food. There was enough for all. How strange to have time to savor eating.

  The djinn led in another pair of guests. The first wore a veil. The second towered above. He had a huge sword belted over his shoulder.

  Old Janny bounced back to her feet, but she didn’t look frightened at the swordsman. She grinned. “You too? What’re the chances?”

  “How’d you recognize me?” He pointed to his face. He had a short beard. Maybe it was new.

  Old Janny jiggled as she hugged the swordsman. She turned to the smaller guest. “And who is Miss Veil?”

  The girl laughed with pure tones that sounded like silver bells dancing. Her veil was a sweep of yellow over a shawl of glaring blue and interlocking square patterns. Aja couldn’t guess why the girl had veiled her face. Women at the bazaar almost never did that. What secret was she hiding?

  The dyes on her clothes were so bright they had to be new. The hem had no street stains, and the robes fit better than what the djinn had given Aja. Tailored then, Aja supposed, and never worn before. The girl had to be wealthy. Was she the daughter of a sultan? A princess?

  Nothing beat stories of royalty coming to the Midnight Banquet. In Aja’s favorite, a sorrowful king went on a pilgrimage for his son. The boy had died of fever. Losing family had to be the worst. The king stopped in the city and chanced upon a dark passage with a bright feast. There he ate and laughed for the first time in months. He met a young man of such good spirits and strong appetite that the king adopted him. The boy had become a prince.

  Aja could be an adopted princess. An adopted sister. An adopted anyone, really, would be good enough. She kneaded her pillow against her chest. Please, please, let the veiled girl sit nearby.

  “I’m not supposed to tell anyone my name,” the girl said to Old Janny.

  The swordsman beside the girl stiffened, and his scimitar’s hilt jutted up over his shoulder. “No, you’re not. Here, have some—”

  “I’m Ryn.” The girl spoke like a chime.

  The man shook his head. Was he her guard?

  And that voice. Aja had heard something like it today in the parade. Straining her neck to see over shoulders, Aja had glimpsed the empress. The young ruler of the empire had visited the city for the first time. Even the alley dogs had seemed excited to see her. A gemstone-bird necklace had glittered over her chest, and she had worn a crown of blue.

  The girl who had skipped into the Banquet wore no crown. Her veil covered her face from the nose down, but the skin around her eyes sparkled when she turned in the light. The empress’s face had also glittered, like she had been sprinkled with gold dust. Aja bet it had been too hard to rub it all off.

  The veiled girl had to be Empress Nephrynthian. Aja wouldn’t doubt it. Why would she want to? It all was so right.

  The empress gestured to the platter with the giant egg. “I could curl up in there and dream. How many songbirds must share love to make an egg so huge?”

  “That is a roc egg,” the djinn said, “and you had best enjoy it to the limits of your senses. I had a frantic flight capturing it.”

  The djinn returned with another man, this one on crutches. She offered him no help to his seat, and he swung himself down, one leg stiff.

  “You may even eat the eggshell.” The djinn drifted back into the gloom. “The Chef reshaped it out of rice cracker. You couldn’t break the real one.”

  Aja reached for the roc egg, then pulled her hand back. Dragonfly wings sparkled over the platter. Pulling wings off bugs was mean. What sort of person did that for decoration?

  The empress nudged the big man, the one with the scimitar sword. His eyes stretched with awe at the dishes.
He shook himself, then broke off a piece of shell. Steam wafted from inside. The egg he scooped out was cooked and seasoned with reds and greens.

  “Smell that? I’ve never imagined eating roc egg before,” the empress said, “but I’ve waited my whole life to taste it.” She lifted her veil to her chin. Between her shawl and flowing robes, the gemstone wing of a bird amulet reached around her neck.

  The empress’s necklace! Aja had been right.

  “I ought to….” The swordsman stopped speaking to crunch on the egg and its cracker shell.

  Aja’s hand darted to the egg. She would eat everything the empress ate. With eggshell bowl in hand, Aja scooted on her pillow away from the others. The food tasted so rich, so spicy with peppers, so well-seasoned with tomato sauce. Her mouth burned with pleasure, and nothing could have been more perfect with it than a cool drink. Aja reached for a crystal chalice filled with bubbling red.

  She pressed the drink to her lips. It smelled of hidden places, of caverns lined with purple crystals, and of pomegranate.

  The elixir. The djinn had warned Aja about drinking that. The power in it would trap Aja. She slammed down the chalice, then shoved it away. She pushed too hard, and the glass tilted. Oh, no! The elixir would spill onto the rug. The silver thread was embroidered in the pattern of the city skyline with its onion-domed towers. The carpet would be ruined.

  She would be scolded, laughed at, and ignored for the rest of the meal. Aja thought she might as well leave now. Spilling her drink was the worst thing that could have happened in the first minutes of the feast.

  Did guests from past nights die of embarrassment?