The Mage Emperor Dregin

Chapter 50

The evening was by far beginning, afternoon sun reddened the Main Hall. Three single tables to the left, and three more to the right, total six facing each other by pairs in line to the higher one at the end where two high chairs waited. The officers were sitting on low stools as the lower audience. Trink was advisor, Grace Captain, taking position closest to the light table on its left where she could see the bride. Rose scents residual from her painstakingly prolonged bath clouded her nose, lightly though. The others were all men, dressed down to plain garb, battle gears put away. No doubt small knives lived in their boots. Short notice credited them stolen linen shirts and fine wool breeches, but the oilskins were their own. Black-haired and bearded, all of them, cropped close to above the ears, except Padrad sitting across from her. He, a habitual facial shaver, simply combed his crown back letting the ends tease the lobes.

No one looked in her direction, at least, none was inclined to face her. She smiled at the situation. Their behavior was in range, hardly favoring to the celebration. Chatter skitttered falsely among them, each man fearful under the scrutiny of her eye. She picked up the reed necklaced to her navel and whistled. Food was brought in on trays by dozens of her slaves she acquired from the raid in the desert. This trip was a step in her chase to hunt a couple of fugitives. The other reasons were bound by duty and instructions to increase the offensive force. The fruits: huge near hand-size cherries, bunches of grapes, plums, and apples huddled to a quarter. Cut and toasted bread in small plates, saucers of cranberry, sliced lamb, and a cup of soup served as meal. The second batch of slaves were bringing in vases of wine.

She checked Reiyane's table up there. He seemed pleased with the arrangements, although held some degree of reserve. An oddity, she thought he would be the last one to be...upset by what was promised earlier. Perhaps, he thought she was not serious after all. She trusted none of the slaves could tell him the joke. Their tongues were cut, some of them anyway. One of the free mouths would not encourage such a punishment on herself. No, she concluded he didn't know how far she was in carrying out her word. He was waiting, dreading really. He still refused to look at her. She should say he dared not risk the act.

Clapping her hands,she made ready to announce. He looked up ahead, eyes wide in reception. Very hopeless. The exact expression she wanted to see. The servants moved quickly to escape the inevitable event. They filed out of there in good haste.

"Enjoy!"

The men tried to make merry of the gloom. A wedding, some wedding to be harnessed under uptight reins. Someone mumbled an obscurity that the banquet was oppressed as if heads held under swords dangling to fall overhead. But the civility withstood, emitting channels of soft polite laughters, grumbling with conversation. Congratulations were in order. They held up their glasses to Reiyane cheering him on. He nodded, chuckling a bit. The bride, however, sat immobile with a blank dead stare.

"A happy day, indeed," Trink said loudly. The sounds of joyous masquerade died. They were all eyes on her now. She smiled nicely. The gesture only encouraged their fear further. They were shifting nervously in their seats, clearly uncomfortable. "Lord Reiyane," she addressed him directly, catching a couple of the audience jump from the corner of her eye, "I have a special delicacy prepared beforehand. You must leave some room to try it." His deaden stare could equal worse than an open glare. He had always detested her suave countenance. She enjoyed this facial battle. "Or perhaps, taste it now and you can really eat well first." She blew her reed again.

Two servants, each holding a tray with a bowl, entered, gliding over the carpet in practiced grace so as to appear as if they had no feet under the long lacy dresses. The sleeves were slashed baring the enamel slender arms. Obviously, seductive. But these were her favorite slaves. None of the Gorrans wanted to disrupt them. Better to steal from the flock of sheep in the back stalls. The trays rested on the high tables. The servants bowed, and retreated backtracking their way out. They had been taught well manners, backing out of sight.