My musings did not distract Soldier’s Boy from his meal. Rather, it was the other way. As the covers were lifted from the dishes and the aromas wafted up, his anticipation welled up and drowned me. My thoughts were tossed and turned in his sensory enjoyment of the meal, and at last I surrendered all thought and simply let myself focus on the experience.

It had been so long since I had eaten without guilt. Before the magic had infected me, at the Academy, food had simply been sustenance. Most of it had been simple and honestly prepared, good in its own way, but certainly no one had taken care to make it enjoyable. At its worst, it had been bland and edible. At its best, it had been tasty. Before that, at my home and at my uncle’s home, there had been well-prepared meals, and I recalled hazily that I had enjoyed them, and had even looked forward to some favorite dishes.

But never had I sat down to a sumptuously prepared meal, a meal tailored especially for me, and immersed all my senses in it as Soldier’s Boy did now. I did not know the names of the dishes, and many of the ingredients I could not identify. That did not matter. To begin, there was a flesh dish, bite-sized chunks of meat cooked in a ruddy sauce. This was ladled up and served over a steamed black grain. The grain was chewy and added a nutty flavor to the dish. It was presented to Soldier’s Boy with golden sliced fruit swimming in its own juices and sprinkled generously with little pink berries that I did not know. The fruit was sweet, the berries sour, and the syrup that surrounded them was touched with mint. A large glass goblet of what he thought of as forest wine was poured to accompany it.

And that was only the first course.

Some dishes I knew. The fragrant freshly baked barley bread, the thick pea soup, a whole roasted fowl stuffed with the onions that he had scented earlier, a rich yet simple cake baked from sugar, eggs, and a golden flour, sliced apples baked with spices and sweetened with wild honey, and little speckled hard-boiled quails’ eggs. Likari shelled these for him, dipping each one in a sprinkling of spices before passing them to me. They were heaven, each a small package of piquant flavor.

Soldier’s Boy groaned with delight, loosened the white belt, and waited while the final dish was prepared for him. He had eaten without thought, without concern for what that much food might do to him or what others might think of his appetite or his greed. Yet it did not feel like gluttony to me. He had eaten as a child eats, with pleasure in the textures and the tastes of the food.

I envied him so much I hated him.

By the time they were finishing their meal, the sun was sliding down behind the mountains. The water had crept closer to the shore and was lapping at the rocks. The lower tide pools were already covered, and it seemed that with every breaking wave, the ocean crept closer to us. I’d read of tides, but never really seen one turn before. The oncoming water, venturing so steadily closer, filled me with a strange uneasiness. How far would it come? Soldier’s Boy did not share my worry. Olikea was ignoring the advancing water, scanning the beach behind us. Likari, sated long before Soldier’s Boy was, had left the table and was frolicking at the water’s edge. As each wave came toward him, he would race along its white foam edge, splashing in it.

Soldier’s Boy surveyed the emptied plates and flasks with satisfaction. Then he gave a great yawn. “It is nearly time to go,” he told her. “The tide is coming in.”

“Let us linger just a little—Oh! Here they come!” The sudden smile of anticipation that lit her face puzzled me. Soldier’s Boy’s gaze followed hers. Someone, or several someones, were approaching us carrying lanterns. The lights bobbed and swayed as they came nearer. I thought it would be the servants come to reclaim their master’s serving plates and vessels. Olikea reached up and smoothed her hair and sat up a bit straighter. I recognized the grooming of a woman who expects important visitors. I wondered if Soldier’s Boy did.

As the lanterns drew closer, I could see that they were carried on poles. Two boys held them aloft, and walked to either side of a plump young woman. A boy in his early teens walked behind her, carrying a wooden box. We watched them come, and as they drew nearer, Olikea frowned. “She’s little more than a child,” she said, displeased. As they got closer, she added quietly, “This is not what I expected. Let me be the one to speak to her.”

Soldier’s Boy made no response to that. Neither of them stood, but Likari came hurrying back to us to gaze curiously at the approaching procession. I think that Soldier’s Boy shared with me the deep comfort of a very full belly. He was thinking more of a good sleep than he was of anything else. He continued to watch the emissaries as they approached but did not stand or call out a welcome. Olikea, too, waited in silence.

“Who are they?” Likari demanded.

“Hush. They come from Kinrove, unless I am mistaken. Likari, say nothing to them. Only I am to speak.” Her wine cup still held a few swallows of wine. She lifted it in one hand and leaned across the “table” to ask me, “Are you full, Great One? Are you well fed?”

“I am that.”

“Then I think we are finished with our trading here. Tomorrow we will journey home to my lodge. All that will make you comfortable awaits you there.” She spoke these words in a clear and carrying voice that was certain to reach the ears of the approaching people. She glanced at them and then put her gaze back on me as if they were of no concern to her at all.

They stopped a short distance away. The girl cleared her throat and then called out, “Olikea. Feeder of the Jhernian Great One! We come as messengers and gift bringers, but we do not wish to interrupt a meal. May we approach?”

Olikea took a small sip from her wine cup and appeared to consider the request seriously. Then she replied, “My Great One says that he is sated. I suppose you may approach.”

The lantern bearers advanced, and when they were close to our impromptu table, they halted and wedged their poles into the rock. The light from the lanterns swayed and leapt over us. Wickerwork enclosed the lanterns and cast strange shadows over us. The plump girl approached. She was dressed all in white, and her robe and shoes were immaculate. Her smooth black hair was drawn back from her face and held in place with several dozen ivory pins. She was a Speck, but the uneven lighting from the swaying lamps made it hard to see her markings. She lifted her hands and splayed them on her breast, revealing over a dozen sparkling-stoned rings on her fingers. She nodded her head in a formal greeting to us, fluttered her hands in the Speck gesture of subservience, and then spoke. “Word has reached Kinrove that there is a new Great One at the Trading Place, a man never before seen, and from a people long judged to be our enemy. This is a surprise to all of us. This has filled the Greatest of Great Ones with a desire to meet him. And so I am sent to offer the new Great One an invitation to visit the camp of Kinrove and his feeders tonight, to accept his hospitality and to exchange what news there may be. His feeder is invited also, of course. The feeders of Kinrove send to her these gifts that she may be pleased with them and persuade her Great One to come with us tonight.”

The girl made a gesture and the young man came forward. As he came into the light, I saw that he was round-faced and heavy-bellied. His legs and arms looked soft and rounded rather than muscled like a man’s. He approached Olikea, and then sank slowly down before her. Olikea said nothing. The boy made an elaborate show of opening the chest. Once it was open, the woman approached. She lifted out a lacy veil edged with tiny chiming bells. She displayed it to Olikea, shook it to make the bells ring, and then folded it and offered it to her. Olikea accepted it gravely but still said nothing.