Page 3747

‘My dear,’ said Ozolos publicly, ‘I do not think any of this was bought from a grocery store.’

“What do you mean?” said Gema. “Where would it have come from, then?”

‘Apologies for my servant,’ said Ozolos, stretching himself over her shoulder to look at the same Methusel. ‘She is a notoriously picky eater.’

“I am not!”

‘She is also in a denial about a great many things in life.’

Gema made a face--and not entirely as part of their performance. That remark felt like it had a little too much subtext.

Ozolos didn’t stop, though. ‘‘Tis not entirely her own fault, however. Over the long years among our storied kin, there have been many figures who were infamously difficult to please at the dinner table. I have begun to think that it may instead be some strange byproduct of Rainlord culture. Or Arman culture, perhaps. I hope your masters will not be offended if she does not partake very deeply of this wonderful banquet that you have all so graciously provided to us.’

“...Arman?” said the Methusel. But he did not get the chance to elaborate, because another silent voice interrupted.

‘This banquet is not only for her enjoyment. It is also for you, her noble guide.’

Without the clear direction of audible sound waves to rely on, Gema had to look all around the room before her eye finally landed on the voice’s owner. It was Gardorox again, and this time, he was joined with someone who had not been present during their earlier encounter.

Someone quite important. Someone she’d only met once before but remembered quite clearly for the impression he’d made.

That was Nixil, the Head of the Warden’s Council--and by extension, the leader of this entire enclave.

Not many reapers within the Old Wardens were individually famous in the outside world, because they rarely ever left, but Nixil was certainly an exception. In fact, his name was one of the most recognizable in the entire world, as he was historically known to have negotiated with servant emperors across every Age.

And when they crossed him, it was often to their great detriment, in one way or another.

Or at least, that was how Ozolos had explained it to her, prior to their very first visit to this place.

On that particular occasion, it had not escaped Gema’s notice that Ozolos had seemed a little different in Nixil’s presence. Here and now, she was already wondering if it would be so again.

Next page on the 22nd

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Page 3746

The spread of food in front of her continued to grow until there was a veritable banquet filling the table. Obviously, this was far more than she alone could have been expected to eat, so she could only assume that more people were going to be joining her soon.

Or at least, she hoped so.

As for the dishes themselves, Gema had to lean forward and inspect them more closely, because even at a glance, they looked truly otherworldly. She wasn’t sure she’d ever seen food glow before. She’d heard about of a couple of entrees in the Undercrust that also did, but she’d yet to actually visit and see for herself.

This was not just a couple of things, though. All of it was glowing. The entire feast. She was looking for even just one portion that looked in some way normal, but she couldn’t find it.

On the bright side, however, nothing looked or smelled particularly horrible. In fact, some of the scents she was picking up were quite enticing. The dish closest to her smelled faintly of honey and cinnamon, which happened to be some of her personal favorites.

It was still a bit questionable as to whether or not those two things were actually in the food, though. She had a rather strange feeling that they might not be. Like maybe this was all some sort of elaborate sensory illusion, designed to appeal directly to her psychically-determined preferences.

The temptation was certainly there, though. And a variety of utensils were already laid out in front of her, too.

And as she continued looking and smelling, she couldn’t help feeling terribly ill-at-ease by this whole situation. Like she’d been dropped into a den full of psychic booby traps. Like there was nothing she could do and nowhere she could go to escape.

But thankfully, that was just a feeling. And Gema Elroy was quite good at ignoring those.

She’d always preferred to flip a situation on its head, instead of stewing in silent discomfort.

After a few more silent moments of deliberation, she turned to the nearest Methusel behind her and said, “Excuse me. I’m sorry to be a bother, but how many calories are in this dish, right here?” And she pointed.

The Methusel looked at her like she was speaking in tongues.

Gema Elroy was not deterred. She looked to the next Methusel. “Maybe you could just show me the packaging for the ingredients used. That might give me a rough estimate.”

Shockingly, still no answer arrived.