Those Below: The Empty Throne Book 2 by Daniel Polansky Page B

there were many, many servants, there seemed more servants dedicated to the party itself than there were in the entirety of Eudokia’s estate, and each was dressed in finery that would have shamed a noble, shamed them as much for the style and cut as for the expense – carried trays of strange and exotic food from guest to guest. Sweetmeats covered in green pistachio, smoked bacon wrapped round freshly cut melon, and where had they gotten freshly cut melon this time of year, Eudokia wondered? Specific sets of servants carried trays to the Others in attendance, though the food did not seem substantially different, or at least not different in any way that a casual glance could detect. To the north one could gaze out at the bay, and the infinite sea beyond, watch the light sparkle on the turning waves. Or one could go eastward a few hundred steps and stare out over the first Rung of the Roost, the innumerable watchtowers and citadels, the houses that were like cathedrals, perfection writ in stone.
    If Eudokia was not Eudokia, she might even have been impressed.
    Two days prior the Aelerian deputation had entered the Roost, met at the gates of the city and carried via palanquin to a guesthouse on the Second Rung, overlooking a wide canal bereft of boat or vessel, its disuse one of the innumerable small signs reminding passers-by that however many human souls resided within the Roost did so to the benefit of Those Above. Not, it had to be said, that this seemed any great imposition or dishonour to the people of the Second Rung. Quite the opposite, in fact – submission to the Eternal seemed a sign of social status, raised above even the most accomplished of the human establishment, the bureaucrats and high-ranking custodians, the foreign merchant princes, the banking magnates. So far as the Roost was concerned, that human responsible for cleaning the chamber pot of an Eternal was to be envied more than the wealthiest scion of the oldest family on the Second Rung, and both were to be regarded above everyone residing outside of the Roost’s borders, though he be Emperor of Chazar.
    Having seen the First Rung now, in all its splendour, this was a sentiment that Eudokia could appreciate if not share. The Red Keep, the Prime’s ancestral demesne, was quite the most spectacular building that Eudokia had ever seen. In terms of scope, the only thing Eudokia could think to compare it to were some of the castles along the border with Salucia, large enough to hold a small army and the provisions to sustain it for months or long years. But in intricacy and refinement it did not, in Eudokia’s estimation, resemble any edifice built by the hands of man; it could more profitably be compared to an engagement ring or a music box, to something tiny and precious and crafted out of love or at least vanity. And it was one of thousands of similar structures clustered about the First Rung, finer than many, perhaps, but essentially similar, a vast catalogue of unique and unfathomable wonders.
    Jahan stood a few steps behind her, a silent, brooding presence, squat and tight-muscled and ugly, alert as ever for any hint of danger to his mistress as he had been for the more than twenty years he had been in her service. He nibbled at a bit of finger food, but apart from that the wonders of the Roost held little interest, eyes dull and dispassionate.
    Out of the corner of her eye Eudokia watched the Prime sitting silently on a throne reserved for that purpose, still and idealised as a statue or a poem. Nearer, two Eternal conversed in their incomprehensibly beautiful speech, a male and a female though it was difficult to tell the difference, each a near reflection of the other’s perfection. Her own species, Eudokia did not scruple to admit, had little to gain by comparison. In one corner Senator Gratian was talking to a Roostborn girl, not one of the household servants. It had taken them two and a half months to traverse the distance between the