honed blade.
He jumped up and began to walk, content for the moment simply to enjoy the
colours and the soft air and the singing power of this new body of his. And
presently he heard music and turned his steps towards the sound.
Where the oak trees thinned, a grassy lawn sloped down to a pool fed by a
gurgling waterfall. A table had been set there, covered with a cloth of crimson
damask fringed with gold, and upon that cloth crystal flagons with wine
ofCarronne, platters of roasted meats and loaves of white bread and silver
dishes heaped with oranges from Enlibar. A feast fit for the gods, thought Lalo.
And indeed, the gods were feasting there.
‘We have been expecting you,’ said a voice at his elbow. A maiden more beautiful
than the fairest of Prince Kadakithis’s concubines held out a robe of blue silk
embroidered with dragons for him to put on, then knelt to ease his feet into
sandals of gold. Her black hair curled to her hips, shimmering with blue lights
in the sun, and when she looked up he recognized in her features the face
ofValira, the little whore whom he had painted as Eshi, Lady of Love, and he
trembled, understanding Who was serving him.
She led him to a seat at the end of the table and he began to eat, grateful that
for the moment the other gods were continuing to talk among themselves. Next to
Eshi sat one whom he could only suppose to be Anen – paunched and red-nosed like
the bibbers who had been Lalo’s companions in the days when he sought oblivion
in the bottom of a mug of cheap wine. But the god’s fat was opulence, and his