Vermilion Dreams_A Vampire Fantasy Epic by M. U. Riyadad

Author:M. U. Riyadad [Riyadad, M. U.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Celestial Books
Published: 2017-12-12T18:30:00+00:00

CHAPTER 14

It is important, when you are going to fool a group of thirty people, many of whom have been trained artfully in the way and had many lifetimes worth of experience in uncovering other people’s lies, that you do not look away. It sounds like a trivial detail, I know, but just like the way, the nature of false facing lies in subtlety.

When the Sisterhood of Dusk marked a person for death, they sent a single grey feather, plucked from the wings of a sterling raven and wrapped in velvet cloth, to the marked victim. Death had always come so certainly, that through the years, receiving parties had adopted the practice of silently wrapping up their affairs and making what tributes they could afford to Shanto, convoy of the long journey, god of peace and silence.

When you look at the person you are about to fool just before leaving them with the illusion of your trick, you are sending them a grey feather. It impresses upon them the slow coming of something inevitable. They must know, not think, that you are going to fool them right before their very eyes.

I walked up to a server holding a cask of tinesault wine. I picked up a glass, then asked him to fill it to no more than a third of the way. He poured slowly, watching Mother through the corner of his eyes. Mother watched me with a puzzled expression for several seconds, then gave me a demonic tilt of the head as she guessed at what I was going to do.

The servers around the great hall were beginning to hand out plates, forks, and knives. In the center of every table they placed more distinct utensils—serrated skewers, steel-plated crackers, and thin pairs of scissors with saw tooth edges. These would be used for cutting open fish, cracking crab legs, slicing squid into pieces, and prying open all manner of sea creatures. Tonight was going to be a customary feast in the fashion of Chaya’s traditional diet. There would be toasted crab flaked with buttered breadcrumbs and honey. Giant salmon baked in sweet white wines, sautéed greens, and caramelized peanuts. Hand battered shrimps fried in lemonnut oils, smoked with apple flavors, and dipped in brandy sauces. There were items not from the sea, but you would’ve been foolish to eat those here. In all of Mirradalia, no one made seafood like we did in Chaya.

I walked up to Uncle Speight with the glass of wine. He smiled thinly as he watched me, holding his own glass in one hand and resting his chin on the other. Aymeer was watching, but with his eyes diverted a few inches to the left of me. I turned to face everyone before beginning the performance.

“The alchemy of water is a well known practice,” I began, speaking in a mild manner. I did not want to sound too bold and suggest this was going to be easy, but I also did not want to imply that I doubted I could pull off what I was about to do.

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