Magic Banquet (27 page)

“Finish it, then.” The Chef spread his arms
beneath the dragon’s toothy death. He glanced behind him at the
nearing djinn.

She rushed closer in blaze of fury.

The Chef leaped aside. The hulking man
scrambled with uncanny speed over a netted cage full of winged
snakes, toward the doorway.

The dragon’s tail knocked him back to the
center of the room.

“Finish it,” the Chef said again to the
lord.

“You of all people,” the lord said, “should
understand the joys of playing with your food.”

“She’ll burn me to nothing.” The Chef took
one more dread-eyed look at the djinn, then jumped at the dragon.
He gripped two fangs and pulled himself up into the toothy death.
“My flesh cannot be wasted. Ahhhh!”

The dragon angled its head, and the Chef was
eaten in one bite.

Thrills bubbled through Aja. She never
would’ve guessed a towering figure like the Chef could be gone in a
gulp, but dragons did have a knack for finality.

Darkness closed back over the room, and the
tingling pleasure of Aja’s relief flattened and was ripped out. Aja
couldn’t see the dragon anymore or hear its scales sliding or the
crash of cages being shoved aside. She focused on the lord. He
walked closer with the candle, dusting off the front of his coat.
His nonchalance was reassuring.

His image distorted when the djinn flew in
front of him. She spat sparks. “The Chef was mine to burn.”

“Cooking the Chef would’ve been poetic,” the
lord said, “but consider this, my fiery delight. Why celebrate your
freedom with vengeance? It has a bitter aftertaste.”

Having released the djinn, Aja felt
responsible for her. Aja couldn’t let her start burning everyone.
The djinn sounded like a furnace of anger.

“Starlight on Dunes,” Aja called out, “go
find your son. He’ll be delighted to see you after so long.”

The djinn’s storm of heat turned calm. She
made a crackling sound like a happy fire. She shimmered over to the
phoenix’s cage, blasted through the stalagmites. The bird opened
its prismatic wings, and flames licked behind each feather. It flew
with the djinn toward a cavern wall. A secret word of magic opened
a gateway, and they passed into a garden of galaxies.

Aja reached after her. “Goodbye.”

The gateway full of sparkling clouds
closed.

The swordsman crouching beside Aja said,
“Not one for long goodbyes, I guess, or any at all.”

The lord said, “Any farewell from a djinn
that doesn’t end in flame is the height of politeness.”

Warmth spread through Aja’s chest. She
fought against it. They still had to worry about...about what? The
Banquet was over. The Chef and the djinn were gone. Sure, there
were a few monsters in the cages below them, but the lion’s head of
the chimera was making a sound like a rumbling purr.

It was over. Aja could let go.

Happiness swirled inside her as bright as
anything glimpsed through the star gateway. How grand. How perfect.
Aja was privileged to have met the djinn and everyone else at the
Banquet.

The empress sat up against the swordsman’s
supporting arm. She touched her tongue and shivered. It looked
bruised. “This was stretched out,” she said, “so I should be able
to sing longer now.”

The swordsman hoisted her down from the top
of the cage. “Let’s get you back to the daylight.”

“I know the way.” Aja hopped down
herself.

“It’s only right that you lead.” The lord
flourished a bow to her. “Aja, the doughty dainty who saved the
party.”

So it was that among a lord, a master of
crutches, an old woman, a dashing swordsman, and the empress,
barefoot Aja went first. Out of the kitchen’s swelter, free of the
warehouse’s gloom, she smiled up at the sun.

Digestion, Final Part:

Cleansing the Palate

“It wounds me to do this.” The lord twisted
a button on his coat and popped it off. He handed it to Aja. “But
you deserve it.”

The button had the weight of gold and bore a
triangle design. Aja remembered spying the same shape tattooed
across his brow, when he had been choking to death. It was his
sigil. She feared she could guess now that he was the man they
called the Lord of the Feast.

If that were true, then she had eaten beside
the master of nightmares. He was why no one dared go outside at
night. Thieves risked stealing in the daytime to avoid him and his
servants. And he had given her a button.

She didn’t quite know what to say. “Ah,
thank you?”

The lord looked older in the daylight. “If
you ever have reason to be frightened at night, take out that
button. Then shadows will know to leave you alone.”

Aja’s throat felt sticky and dry. She cupped
the gift into her hand. “Do you always have a dragon up your
sleeve?”

“If you can keep a secret, then, no.” He
straightened his cuffs, and frayed silk dangled. “I couldn’t have
summoned the nightmare until the Chef already imagined his own
death. You scared him that much by smashing his lamp.”

“Oh.”

The lord looked past her, at a royal guard
who escorted a baker’s cart. Wagon wheels clattered. Stacks of pita
bread steamed with freshness.

“Perfect,” the lord said, “the Banquet is
haunting my mouth. A good taste cannot be gotten rid of fast
enough.”

More royal guards trod closer. Their height
hid all of the empress but glimpses of her blue clothes. People
passed by without throwing themselves onto the street to honor her.
Some did stop to draw water from a well and watch her guards.

The swordsman marched among them. Instead of
a weapon, he had the magic carpet slung over his shoulder. He had
carried it out of the kitchen rolled up. It was still longer than
the wagon. Aja loved how they had saved the Chef’s greatest
treasure. Maybe the empress would even let Aja ride it again
someday.

One royal guard leaned his pole axe in the
crook of his arm to taste bread from the wagon. Then he offered
another flatbread to the empress.

She waved the food away. “No, you must serve
Aja first.”

The royal guard’s eyebrows twisted. He had
to think Aja was at best a thief.

The swordsman set down the rug and took the
bread from his fellow guard. He bowed before Aja, lifting the
flatbread to her. “We all owe you a lifetime of thanks.”

Aja accepted the bread. White on the sides
and golden at the center, it warmed her hands. She eased open her
jaw for a bite.

Her teeth clicked closed when a pudgy arm
was slung around her shoulders. Old Janny enfolded her in an
embrace of plump warmth. “If you need any advice about boys, you
just ask Ol’ Janny. They’re like pigs, you know. Delicious.”

Aja thanked her, glancing at the woman’s
grey tangle of hair. Aja was sorry that Old Janny had lost her
youth again.

Old Janny flicked a lock of her hair. “Don’t
you worry none. Being old doesn’t seem so bad after being mostly
dead.”

Aja broke off part of her bread and gave it
to Old Janny. The flour dust felt like a blessing on Aja’s
fingers.

Before Aja could taste any herself, the
empress swung around Aja’s arm to hug her. The voice of the empress
tickled the air with its melody. “You must tell me, Aja.”

“Tell you what?”

“What you want. A golden waterfall? A
menagerie? The rainy season’s first rainbow? Ask, and I’ll get it
for you.”

The wonder of it was that the empress could.
Aja believed she could have most anything she wished. Flush with
giddiness, Aja stared down and tried to think. Past her bread, she
saw her dusty toes.

“A good pair of sandals,” Aja said, “and
something important to do, walking in them.”

The empress pranced around her. “You’ll have
them, but why walk when you can fly? You must have the magic
carpet.”

The swordsman hefted the silver-embroidered
rug. “Let me carry it for you.”

“I know all the enchantresses,” the empress
said. “They’ll teach you how to fly it.”

Aja grinned and raised the bread toward her
lips. Her stomach felt tender, but she would like to nibble
something that smelled of such honest goodness.

Solin swung a ladle between her and the
bread. The dipper brimmed with shining well water.

“I wish I could give you the plum,” he said.
“Lost hold of it.”

Aja remembered the Plum of Beauty with a
pang. She still thanked him for the water. It had a cold pureness,
with a gritty aftertaste of home.

“Not that you need its magic.” Solin had
wrapped linen strips around his hands, covering the six-sided
tattoos. He swung around on his crutches.

“Are you leaving?” Aja asked.

“To find an old friend and ask him for
forgiveness.” Solin looked back over his shoulder. “You see, he has
one bad leg. Just like mine.”

“Did you, um, make them bad?”

“And only forgiveness can reverse the
hex.”

Aja thought that would be amazing, if Solin
could wash away a curse with an apology. Next time she saw him, he
might even have two legs. Could he become more graceful?

Aja waved goodbye.

“One last toast.” The lord lifted a clay
cup. “To the final Midnight Banquet, the best one. And to Aja.”

“To Aja!” Earthenware vessels clattered
together, splashing the clearness of water. Even Solin stopped and
raised a crutch.

The lord drank. Licking his lips, he threw
his empty cup. It smashed against a building. “You all may come to
my next party, if you dare.”

Aja’s eyes felt too big for her face. “Would
it be anything like last night?”

“Far more exciting than that dull affair.
And more perilous. You see, I’m getting married.”

Aja wouldn’t go. She would rather die,
because that’s what would likely happen to her there anyway. Old
Janny and the empress screamed, in terror or excitement or both at
once. Too loud and too much. Aja ducked out of the crowd. Sitting
against a wagon wheel, she tucked her knees against her chest and
broke off a puffy piece of bread.

The owner of the cart kneeled beside her.
“Would you like spicy hummus with that?”

“No thanks,” she said. “I’ve had all the
seasoning I can hold.”

The bread was warm and soft in her mouth. It
flaked and crumbled with each bite. The yeasty simplicity of it
calmed her stomach. It tasted of stone ovens, fresh flour, and
something more. A hint of cinnamon.

THE END

Thank you for reading

Magic Banquet,

a tale told of the Lands of Loam.

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Marling

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