The Feast
There was a great surge to sit down. A crowd of waiters hired for the day came marching across the lawn, holding aloft dish after dish of food: fish seared to perfection, steaming pigeon pies, great ribs of meat, and – Nighthand’s proudest new invention – a pineapple and herring soufflé.
‘The cucumber one,’ he said, ‘really isn’t that bad.’
‘The steak one?’
‘Tastes like licking in between someone else’s toes.’
‘Then why by the Immortal are you still eating it?’
‘Because Nighthand’s watching.’ And he grinned at Nighthand, who, he noticed, was feverishly combing his hair with his fingers. Then Ratwin came lolloping up to Nighthand, a small velvet box in her mouth.
‘Ready-ups, is you?’
‘As ready as I can be.’
‘The best of luckingtons, old friend.’
As soon as the final plates were cleared, Nighthand rose to his feet. He gently tapped his fork against his glass for silence. Nighthand’s gently was not the same as other people’s gently, and it exploded, scattering glass over his hands. He barely seemed to notice.
‘Ladies, gentlemen, centaurs, dryads, naiads, dragons and creatures: welcome. As you know, I am not a public speaker.’
‘Yeh, I was there the las’ time he made a speech,’ called Vigo Nex from down the table. ‘There were riots. Eight men nearly died.’
‘That’s technically true,’ said Nighthand. Irian was watching him, laughing. ‘So I will be brief. It is tradition to toast those we love at Midsummer. So I wish to ask you to join me in a toast to the most brilliant woman I’ve ever met.’
Irian abruptly stopped laughing.
‘Berserkers do not love – because Berserkers must not fear, and to love is to fear. But I have found it is impossible not to love Irian Guinne. It would be easier not to love the sun. She is good, and funny, and beautiful. She is wise – only last week, she refused to let me headbutt a sea-bull.’ He looked at her, and he glowed.
‘Ladies and gentlemen, will you join me in toasting the woman I love – Irian Guinne.’
Every glass was raised in salute as Irian looked, her eyes bright, at Nighthand, and he knelt in front of her. He reached for the velvet box.
Suddenly there was a scream – then a dozen shrieks and yells, a deep animal roar, and someone pointed down the lawn to the water. A vast shape was emerging from the ocean and stalking up the grass.
At the same moment Anya leaped to her feet.
‘Behemoth!’ she cried.