Traitor's Moon

Sarikali this early in the year.”
    â€œThey’re quite thick in the marshes of Virésse just now,” their hostess replied, leaving it to her guests to guess the expense and trouble of importing enough of the tiny insects overland for the simple pleasure of a few lanterns.
    They passed through the receiving hall and continued out onto a terrace overlooking the enormous garden court at the center of the house. The spectacle that greeted them drew gasps of appreciation from everyone.
    Hundreds of reosu hung in the flowering trees that ringed the garden. Others swung gently from the lines of brightly colored prayer kites rustling overhead. The walls of the courtyard were covered by swaths of crimson silk and gauze that rippled voluptuously in the evening breeze beneath garlands of gilded seashells. The soft music of flutes and cymbals came from some shadowed corner. A large crowd had already gathered in the garden, with more still arriving by various doors.
    Spices and incense from half a dozen foreign lands perfumed the air, mingling with the aromas of the feast laid out on long tables hung with colorful Skalan tapestries. Ulan í Sathil had opened his doors to all in Sarikali, and it looked like he had the provender to make good on the offer.
    Great antlered stags roasted whole lay between platters of birds cooked and dressed in their own plumage. Fish and seafood from the eastern coast were laid out in enormous seashells. Jellies of all descriptions quivered and gleamed next to mounds of rosy wingfish roe, huge smoked eels, and other costly delicacies. Fragrant parsley bread trenchers were stacked man-high in great wooden trays on the ground.
    Pastries the size of bed pillows dominated the display. A Virésse specialty, these were shaped into fanciful beasts and decorated with edible paints and gilt. Wines glimmered with limpid fire in huge, ornate bowls carved from blocks of mountain ice.
    Ulan stepped forward as they stood admiring the display. “Welcome to you, dear ladies, and to your kin and people,” he said, presenting Klia with a strand of black Gathwayd pearls the size of gooseberries.
    â€œI am most honored, khirnari,” Klia replied. Removing her diamond circlet, she placed it in Hathia’s hands. The making of such a lavish gift to her host’s wife caused no insult, but stated without words that Klia was Ulan’s equal. Her manner was flawlessly gracious, betraying nothing of her knowledge of his clandestine maneuvering.
    â€œFor someone who opposes Klia’s mission, Ulan certainly hasn’t stinted on the welcome,” Alec remarked in an awed whisper as they followed Klia down the steps.
    â€œThis display is more for his own benefit than Klia’s,” Seregil noted, recognizing a show of influence when he saw one. “She’ll go home eventually. He’ll still be here, a force to be reckoned with each time the Iia’sidra meets.”
    â€œI have heard much of you through our friend Torsin over the years,” Hathia was telling Klia. “It’s said the best of your ancestors lives again in you.”
    â€œThe same is said of my sister, the queen,” Klia replied, just loudly enough for her voice to carry to the curious onlookers nearby. “May Aura grant that we are both worthy of such praise. You have a unique perspective on my family, having lived through so many generations of them. Ulan í Sathil, I believe you visited Skala in the days before the Edict?”
    The deep creases in Ulan’s cheeks deepened as he smiled. “Many times. I remember dancing with your ancestor Gërilani before she was crowned. That would be—how many generations back?”
    He paused in thought, though Seregil suspected the whole exchange had been carefully rehearsed.
    â€œEight Tír generations back, I think?” said Hathia.
    â€œYes, talía, at least that long. Gërilani and I were hardly more than children at the time. Fortunate for you,” he added with a twinkle in his wife’s direction. “She was most enchanting.”
    Klia’s arrival signaled the start of the feast. There were too many guests for tables; each person loaded a trencher and sat where they could, on the grass and the rims of fountains, or spreading into the rooms off the courtyard itself. The mix of opulence and informality was the hallmark of Virésse hospitality.
    A succession of entertainments commenced with the