We walked back in a procession like something out of a tapestry—me at the very front, wearing a gossamer gown with a prince riding on my shoulder in animal guise, and a fairy host parading behind. The setting sun lit everything aglow, so that even the insects rising from the disturbed wildflowers looked like motes of gold suspended in the air.
When we reached the throne room it became clear work had been done in my absence. A long table was set up along the birch-lined path to the throne, caparisoned in white cloth and draped down the center with an embroidered runner that must have measured forty feet or more. Its pale green and silver silk matched the chair cushions and the designs on the fine china place settings. But the food put it all to shame—glittering mounds of grapes and plums and cherries, stacks of frosted pastries, roast goose and partridge still gleaming from the spit.
“Who’s done it all?” I murmured to Rook. “Does everyone take turns at playing servant, or do the squirrels and hares come pouring out of the woods to set everything up while you’re gone?”
He let me know what he thought of my teasing by flipping around and flicking his tail at my nose.
The table was so impressive I didn’t notice the smaller addition until we drew nearer. A brocade chair had been set up a few paces away from the throne, and before it an easel. The easel was decorative, meant for displaying works rather than painting them, but it would serve its purpose. I found the amount of birch bark Gadfly had acquired for me a great deal more daunting. It was piled higher than the chair itself, evidence of his expectations.
“I fear it will be quite late by the time we’ve finished supper,” Gadfly said, drawing up beside me. “Perhaps you would grace us with your Craft tomorrow morning?” And he pulled out the chair at the head of the table.
Thirteen
I DEARLY wished I could have refused the honor. But it would be impolite, and all glittering eyes were upon me. I curtsied, and as I sat, Rook took wing from my shoulder and transformed next to me in time to push my chair back in. Gadfly deferred to him with a smile, while I wondered if that had been at all a wise thing for Rook to do.
The fair folk came forward and took their seats. Lark sat on my left, and Rook on my right. Gadfly went all the way down the table and sat last at the foot, directly across from me, half obscured by the delicacies mounded up over the long distance. With a rustle of silk and muslin, everyone else descended to their places.
The feast that followed was bizarrely fascinating. Rather than using spoons, forks, or ladles, the fair folk simply took what they wanted using their fingers. So beautiful were their forms, and so delicate their movements, that the practice didn’t strike me as repulsive. No servingmen circled the tables—if a fair one wanted something too far away to reach, he either stood up and got it himself or had it passed to him, hand to hand, with the risk it might get eaten capriciously by someone else along the way. Wine bottles went around and we all poured ourselves a glass. My tastes weren’t refined, but I took one sip and knew the vintage was worth its weight in silver. Wine was one of the few things we didn’t make in Whimsy; it was imported from the World Beyond at great danger and expense.
I selected pieces of fruit and pastry the same way as the fair folk, but when it came to eating the goose, which glistened with honey and spices, I took up my knife and fork. As I carved the meat I felt I was being watched. By the time I looked up several fair folk were wielding silverware, carefully watching my example, and a few others examining their utensils curiously. It was obvious most of them had never dined with silverware before. Why, then, did they arrange their place settings this way?
Because that’s the way humans do it, I thought, with the smallest prickle of unease.
The conversation went from my Craft to other human works. The fair folk discussed clothing and swords. I fielded a number of baffling questions, and had to explain again that being a master at one Craft didn’t automatically reward me with expertise in the others. As the feast wore on, my hope of overhearing even a scrap of useful information about the other courts, the summerlands, and corrupted fairy beasts crumbled beneath the barrage of small talk.
As the sky darkened to night, fireflies came out in such numbers they glittered in the trees like stars. A few fair folk summoned ethereal lights in different hues that hovered above the table. When I grew cold, Rook was quick to offer me his borrowed jacket—and seemed very glad to be rid of it. Whether the colors suited him or not, the cut of Gadfly’s tight-fitting waistcoat certainly flattered his form, and it was an effort not to stare at him in shirtsleeves. The cravat was long gone, leaving his collar open at the throat.