Magic Banquet (10 page)

“Eat it then,” she said, “it’ll make your
leg less ugly.”

Aja clapped a hand over her mouth, but it
was too late. She couldn’t take it back.

Solin didn’t look angry, only sad. He
lowered the plum from his nose. He tucked it into a belt pouch.

“You’re saving the fruit?” The Chef
asked.

“Might give it to someone more deserving.”
Solin’s eyes flicked halfway to Aja.

She gulped down the greasy heat inside her.
He meant to give the plum to Aja.
If—if I bring him a hair from
the empress.

Aja’s gaze crossed from the empress to her
swordsman. He drummed his fingers against the breadth of his arm.
“If saving and giving is allowed, then which of these snacks was of
‘health’?”

The Chef spread two arms toward a sphere of
sunrise under glass. “The Orange of Health was protected from the
unworthy by a river of snakes and a bramble of claws.”

The swordsman picked up the orange, tossed
it overhead, and caught it.

“My turn! My turn!” The empress ran to the
largest glass case. It covered a blueberry plant that grew in a
kettle of engraved gold.

“The Blueberries of Muse were grown in a
goddess’s enchanted cauldron.” The Chef assisted the empress in
lifting the glass. He touched the metal pot. “In this she brewed a
potion of poetic insight, but a servant stole her labor by
swallowing the first three drops. After that, the elixir turned to
poison.”

“Mine!” The empress licked the bush. She
fumbled a few of the blueberries into her palm. Each looked like a
bead of sky’s horizon. She raised them to her lips.

The swordsman caught her hand. “Did these
berries grow in poison?”

“The caldron was cleansed.” The Chef tapped
its etched motif of sea cliffs. “The enchantment in it renews every
fruiting.”

The swordsman let go of her hand, and the
empress popped a berry into her mouth. She made a sound between a
squeak and a gasp. “It tastes of rain and sadness and honey
mint.”

The Chef nodded to Aja. She was the
last.

Aja faced the dragonfruit. Leaves curled
from it like green flames. If she couldn’t have the plum, she would
have this. One day she’d stand at the center of scholars. Her
maturity would impress them all. The scholar who once taught her at
the Wayward House would be proud.

She didn’t think her choice impressed
everyone. The lord clicked his tongue in disappointment. Aja
ignored him. The glass case seemed to weigh nothing. She cupped the
dragonfruit in both hands and brought it to her nose. It smelled
like a wilted flower, good but faded.

The Chef said, “Another such dragonfruit was
fed to a goddess’s newborn son. He gained his full power in but a
single day, and the people called him the Winged Fire.”

Something cold grazed Aja’s arm. She
clutched the fruit to her chest and saw Solin. He had reached to
her with a crutch.

“Careful,” he said. “Don’t eat its
peel.”

Aja couldn’t look at Solin without needling
sensations running down her neck. She shouldn’t have shouted what
she had about his leg being ugly. Nodding to him, she sat in front
of a plate and pressed a knife against the dragonfruit.

On the first cut, the fruit wriggled in her
grasp. She could only guess the plate had shifted on the carpet. Or
the fruit had moved, trying to escape.

Her knife sawed through an outer layer of
fiery pink. She wondered if the fruit’s flesh would be a swirl of
yellow or orange. A blast of green?

“What if it’s blue inside?” Aja asked. She
had noticed the empress eat a second blueberry. “That’d be
amazing.”

The knife tip clicked against the plate. Aja
pushed the halves apart. She held her breath, ready to gasp.
Instead, she sighed.

A speckled white filled the dragonfruit. Its
insides looked like boredom dotted with disappointment.

“Don’t be sad.” The empress wrapped an arm
around Aja. A third blueberry sneaked its way into the empress’s
mouth. “You’ll hurt the fruit’s feelings, and it’s made itself so
delicious for you.”

The lord rested himself on a knee to speak
over the empress’s shoulder. “My little licorice, don’t eat another
blueberry. It’ll not be so inspirational.”

“I’ve only had two,” she said.

“You’ve had three. Enough for any
mortal.”

Aja cut off a square of dragonfruit and
crunched it between her teeth. How astonishingly bland. She shook
her head. The lord had been right.

A smacking sound made Aja glance at Old
Janny. She was licking her fingers and nibbling the apple core. She
belched and lifted her arms to inspect her hands. “I’m still made
of wrinkles and veins. When is my youth kicking in? Where’s that
man-strocity, the Chef?”

He was leaving. The glistening dome of his
head descended a spiral staircase. The marble balustrade reddened
from a surge of kitchen light.

“He skulked off again,” Old Janny said.

The djinn floated in front of Old Janny,
pouring tea into a cup decorated with blue lotuses. “Most people
don’t digest magic instantly,” the djinn said. “Is it usually
different for you?”

Aja chewed another piece of dragonfruit. It
had sweetness of a sort, but not like candy. A mild taste, a
thoughtful one, it made Aja curious for the next mouthful.

“Oh—oh!” The empress gripped her belly.
“It’s still tickling me. Ah! The eel ate one of my
blueberries.”

Aja said, “The eel might have found another
bite of caviar.”

“I can only eat a few blueberries. What if
it stole my muse?”

“Fish probably don’t even like fruit.”

“Then it’d be a funny fish in me.” The
empress squirmed. “His name is Wiggles. I think he ate it.”

Aja hoped her tickler eel disliked the taste
of dragonfruit. Maturity would be wasted on a fish. She never
should’ve swallowed it live.

The flavor of the dragonfruit grew on her.
Its subtlety unlocked in her mouth in a hidden treasure of vanilla
and watermelon.
I won’t rush eating this.
She would savor it
to the last bite.

“Pfthh!” Old Janny made a sound of disgust
and set down her cup, glancing again at her hand. “Tea might as
well be bath water. Where is the sugar?”

Petals smoldered as the djinn drifted above
the flower vases. “We have honey crystals.”

“Bring me sugar.”

“The Chef will forbid it.” The necklace key
bounced against the djinn’s chest. It was ornate, the kind of key
that always opened something amazing. “Sweets are poisonous to
magic.”

“Those words don’t make sense together.” Old
Janny gazed at her hand.

“Too much sugar dispels magic.”

“Well then….” Janny jerked her hand up as if
to slap herself, but her palm stopped inches from her eyes. “It’s
gone. The spot is gone, and I can see so close up. Do all
fingertips have these little grooves?”

Aja lowered a slice of speckled white to her
plate. She knee-walked closer to see the miracle. Old Janny’s skin
tightened around her body. Her cheeks turned from flabby to rosy.
She was a plump youth with a freckled face. Her bright eyes
squeezed with an emotion that looked like pain.

The empress clasped Janny’s arm to her
chest. “Does the change hurt?”

A dimple on Janny’s chin trembled up and
down. Between sobs, she said, “Do I—Am I—”

“You’re lovely as a bunny,” the empress
said, “and young as hope.”

“Young at last.” Janny wept.

Aja returned to her plate, rubbing her hands
together. If an apple could turn back time, then a dragonfruit
could make Aja wise. She wouldn’t even need to study, as the other
scholars did. She could become an arbiter, perhaps even the next
vizier. A patron might sponsor her training in the academy for
enchantresses.

She scraped off the last of the fruit flesh
and swallowed. She tasted pear with flavors of contentment and
understanding. The rind littered the plate like discarded rose
petals.

Sipping her tea, she felt as if she drifted
in a pool of sunshine. The scent of lotus flower misted around her
with heady warmth.

Aja set down her cup.
I have to do
this
. Bowing before Solin, she said, “I apologize for shouting
what I did about your leg. I was jealous.”

He rubbed a six-sided tattoo on his hand and
nodded.

When Aja stood, pain pricked her back. She
swatted behind her but did not feel any biting insect. “Now I must
say goodbye. I’ve already stayed longer at the Banquet than I
should.”

“Are you sure?” He tapped the pouch holding
the Plum of Beauty.

“I ate what I needed.” She waved to her
plate.

Solin glanced at the cut rinds, then
narrowed his eyes. “You ate all the dragonfruit?”

Aja couldn’t say what he meant by that.
Before she could ask, the paisley-dressed Janny cried out. She
threw her cup, shattered it in an arc of tea and porcelain.

“It isn’t stopping.” Janny clawed at
herself. “Why won’t the pain stop?”

Fifth Course,
Part III:

Rotten

Agony distorted Janny’s features, making her
appear old once more. “Hurts everywhere, like I’m stuffed with
needles.”

“Oh, no!” The empress reached out to hug
her.

“Don’t touch me!” Janny’s eyes rolled. She
lifted the apple core, flung it at the djinn. “What did you do to
me? Poison an old young woman? You weightless blob of flaming
ego!”

The djinn lifted a hand, and the core
stopped midair. It revolved, and the djinn seemed to inspect it.
“Did you eat an apple seed?”

“No.” Janny yanked off her turban, dug
fingers into her reddish hair. “Maybe one. What does it
matter?”

“The flesh of the apple contains eternal
youth. Its seeds, mortality,” the djinn said. “Eating two seeds
would’ve killed you.”

Janny panted. “What’s the cure? Tell me,
tell me, tell me.”

The djinn gestured. A seed floated from the
core.

Janny smacked away the speck of
blackness.

Solin gestured with a crutch. “The Orange of
Health.”

The swordsman was already peeling the golden
fruit. Its skin curled off in his fingers like a ribbon. Before he
could pull out a slice, the empress started her song.

Her melody skipped and pranced, slowed, then
leaped in a joy of notes. That voice made Aja think of tinkling
chalices, the flow of wind between brass towers, and the resonance
of a chorus in a temple.

Janny’s tears dried while she listened, her
face softening. The song had taken away her pain. It also pinned
Aja sitting to the carpet. She knew she should go. She had her boon
of maturity, her future, but she couldn’t move until the empress
finished.

She never did. The empress collapsed, and
her cry sounded like chimes striking the floor. Blueberries rolled
from her hand, then came to rest. The henna hieroglyphs on her lips
seemed to darken as life drained from her skin. Her breathing
shriveled to a wheeze, then silence.

“What’d you do to her?” The swordsman
roared. He wheeled on Solin.

He lifted his hands from his crutches in a
sign of innocence, balancing on one leg.

Aja clung to the swordsman’s arm, dragging
after him. “Solin didn’t hurt her.” He couldn’t have. Aja hadn’t
given him the empress’s hair.

The lord crouched beside the fallen empress.
He asked, “My royal jelly, how many blueberries did you eat?”

“Only…” The empress’s voice faded out. Aja
stooped close to hear. “…three. Mister Wiggles…the eel ate
one.”

The lord stroked a finger down her neck,
raising a line of flush amid the icy skin. “She swallowed four
blueberries. The first three drops from the cauldron inspire, the
fourth—”

“Expires.” The djinn lit a flame between her
fingers, then snuffed it out.

The swordsman stomped toward the empress.
The lord sauntered out of the way.

She was dying. The ruler and her voice would
be gone forever. Aja couldn’t believe it. She pressed one hand
against her chest, another to her throat. Whenever she moved, her
bones ground against each other in sparks of pain.

The swordsman lifted the empress against his
chest, her arms hanging, her legs limp. He pressed a glowing slice
of orange against her lips. When the empress made no move to eat
it, he pushed the fruit onto her tongue. Her eyelids fluttered.

Aja glanced at his plate, saw that he had
cut seeds out of the fruit wedge. All the speckles in her
dragonfruit had been seeds. She had eaten them because they were
far too small to remove. They wouldn’t harm her. They mustn’t. Her
stomach cramped, and an ache ran down her insides.

“She’s not biting,” the swordsman said, “and
I’m afraid I’ll choke her.”

“Squeeze it,” Solin said. “The juice will
heal her.”

“It won’t,” the djinn said. “That isn’t an
orange of resurrection. It’ll only slow her death.”

The swordsman glared at the djinn while
crushing the orange in his fist. Rivulets of daylight ran into the
empress’s mouth.

Aja asked, “Will the next course save her?
And, Janny, too?”

“Not the next,” the djinn said. “But later
tonight the Chef will serve stewed phoenix. That meat burns away
ills and rekindles life.”

“Sounds lap-it-up good,” Janny said through
clenched teeth. “But can the girl wait that long for her man?”

The empress’s throat trembled.

“She swallowed.” The swordsman beamed up at
the other guests. His smile turned into a firm line of jutting jaw,
and he dragged the empress away from the other men. He bent over
his plate to cut the seeds from another slice.

He wouldn’t notice Aja walking from the
carpet. She suspected no one would. Leaving the empress in danger
hurt, but the others would protect her. Even Solin’s concern had
seemed real.
Maybe he changed his mind about stealing the
hair.
That interrupted song might’ve broken his heart.

Aja’s feet dragged, and she could no more
than shuffle across the rose tile toward the palatial double doors.
Why was leaving so hard? The guests didn’t need her. They wouldn’t
miss her. Going now was the sensible choice, while she still lived.
The scare of Janny’s suffering and the empress’s fall had proven
the danger.