body, making it a poor snack for predators. As you do not care for gerho, I doubt you would find even the best snake meat to your taste; they are very similar.
From the collection Letters to a Northern King of Merit penned by Lord Cafad Scratha during the reign of King Oruen
Chapter F ive
The borrowed servants had, with the uncanny intuition of servants everywhere, ferreted out a number of long-hidden decorations that Scratha, by his expression, had likely never seen. Deiq watched the lean Scratha lord with amusement as the man tried—and failed—to hide his reaction every time he focused on another unearthed antique proudly displayed in his great hall.
Deiq sympathized; to his eye, humans always insisted on putting out the gaudiest possible decorations during feasts. But this wasn’t as bad as it could have been; at Sessin Fortress, everything was coated with bits of glass and mirror, resulting in a glittering display that inevitably gave him a headache.
Scratha, at least, had always leaned towards the minimalist. Their figurines were largely carved of rock and left vague, in contrast to the explicit detail Darden and F’Heing enjoyed.
A Conclave feast, however, demanded honoring the gifts collected from other Families over the years. So there was a glittering monstrosity from Sessin, and a distinctly male-female wood carving from Darden, which the servants had done their best to at least place discreetly; a slightly less explicit cast-metal male statue from F’Heing, and an elaborate bead and feather headpiece from Aerthraim Family. The most useful item was the cups from which they drank: distinctly teyanain-crafted, with the odd marbled translucence only found in rock from the Horn.
No doubt some of the other decorations came from the lesser Families, but Deiq wasn’t familiar enough with their patterns to place those accurately. He thought the series of long, narrow tapestries, showing mountain goats climbing a ridge towards a single red dream-flower, might be from Toscin, but he couldn’t be sure.
He wished Idisio had come to the after-Conclave feast. He’d have liked to see the younger ha’ra’ha’s expression on seeing the Darden statuette. Alyea didn’t even seem to notice it, and she wasn’t alone; few humans besides Lord Scratha even glanced at the decorations. Their attentions, as always, stayed on their own pre-dinner maneuvering; and the main focus this time was on Alyea.
Deiq wasn’t surprised. She was the newest desert lord, and her ignorance made her vulnerable. They would see her as a new, rich resource for their damned games and political manipulations. He’d seen this before, hundreds of times; seen it go well, seen it go deadly sour. Alyea seemed to be handling the attention with grace, even given her limited knowledge of southern custom. Still, he stayed close by her side, hoping his presence would deter the worst of the attempts to use her.
“Tell me about Peysimun Family,” Lord Rest said, his manner that of a comfortable old uncle, and pressed another drink on Alyea. “I don’t think I’ve ever had any dealings with them before.”
“What would you like to know, Lord Rest?” Alyea said with remarkable composure. “That’s a rather broad question.”
She sipped at her drink. Deiq, watching out of the corner of his eye, saw her swallow much less than she appeared to, and relaxed slightly. She was no fool about that, at least; even though her tolerance seemed high, the liquor served to desert lords tended to be rather stronger than ordinary.
“True,” Lord Rest said, chuckling at himself. “Very true, that. How about your specialties, then?”
Alyea blinked, looking off-balance; Deiq cut in smoothly.
“Lord Rest, the northern noble families don’t work quite the same way southern ones do,” he said, inflection implying that Lord Rest was rather dense to not know.
Rest shot Deiq a sharp glare; he’d known, all right. He’d meant to make Alyea sound stupid.
From the collection Letters to a Northern King of Merit penned by Lord Cafad Scratha during the reign of King Oruen
Chapter F ive
The borrowed servants had, with the uncanny intuition of servants everywhere, ferreted out a number of long-hidden decorations that Scratha, by his expression, had likely never seen. Deiq watched the lean Scratha lord with amusement as the man tried—and failed—to hide his reaction every time he focused on another unearthed antique proudly displayed in his great hall.
Deiq sympathized; to his eye, humans always insisted on putting out the gaudiest possible decorations during feasts. But this wasn’t as bad as it could have been; at Sessin Fortress, everything was coated with bits of glass and mirror, resulting in a glittering display that inevitably gave him a headache.
Scratha, at least, had always leaned towards the minimalist. Their figurines were largely carved of rock and left vague, in contrast to the explicit detail Darden and F’Heing enjoyed.
A Conclave feast, however, demanded honoring the gifts collected from other Families over the years. So there was a glittering monstrosity from Sessin, and a distinctly male-female wood carving from Darden, which the servants had done their best to at least place discreetly; a slightly less explicit cast-metal male statue from F’Heing, and an elaborate bead and feather headpiece from Aerthraim Family. The most useful item was the cups from which they drank: distinctly teyanain-crafted, with the odd marbled translucence only found in rock from the Horn.
No doubt some of the other decorations came from the lesser Families, but Deiq wasn’t familiar enough with their patterns to place those accurately. He thought the series of long, narrow tapestries, showing mountain goats climbing a ridge towards a single red dream-flower, might be from Toscin, but he couldn’t be sure.
He wished Idisio had come to the after-Conclave feast. He’d have liked to see the younger ha’ra’ha’s expression on seeing the Darden statuette. Alyea didn’t even seem to notice it, and she wasn’t alone; few humans besides Lord Scratha even glanced at the decorations. Their attentions, as always, stayed on their own pre-dinner maneuvering; and the main focus this time was on Alyea.
Deiq wasn’t surprised. She was the newest desert lord, and her ignorance made her vulnerable. They would see her as a new, rich resource for their damned games and political manipulations. He’d seen this before, hundreds of times; seen it go well, seen it go deadly sour. Alyea seemed to be handling the attention with grace, even given her limited knowledge of southern custom. Still, he stayed close by her side, hoping his presence would deter the worst of the attempts to use her.
“Tell me about Peysimun Family,” Lord Rest said, his manner that of a comfortable old uncle, and pressed another drink on Alyea. “I don’t think I’ve ever had any dealings with them before.”
“What would you like to know, Lord Rest?” Alyea said with remarkable composure. “That’s a rather broad question.”
She sipped at her drink. Deiq, watching out of the corner of his eye, saw her swallow much less than she appeared to, and relaxed slightly. She was no fool about that, at least; even though her tolerance seemed high, the liquor served to desert lords tended to be rather stronger than ordinary.
“True,” Lord Rest said, chuckling at himself. “Very true, that. How about your specialties, then?”
Alyea blinked, looking off-balance; Deiq cut in smoothly.
“Lord Rest, the northern noble families don’t work quite the same way southern ones do,” he said, inflection implying that Lord Rest was rather dense to not know.
Rest shot Deiq a sharp glare; he’d known, all right. He’d meant to make Alyea sound stupid.
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