ONE HUNDRED SEVENTY-FOUR: Big Tippers
More wizards arrived over the next few minutes. Alden answered questions and accepted compliments while he showed off the spread. Kabir was explaining the sweets.
People circled the table, making approving comments about the fertility of the planet and the efforts of the ones who’d provided the food. A woman was taking pictures of each dish, and someone else was doing the same thing with the cards.
“The shadow trees?” Alden said in reply to a man wearing a lime green auriad around his neck who’d just asked about the poetic intent of the candles. The shadowy branches on the ceiling were swaying in an unfelt breeze. “I think it’s likely that they were designed for beauty. For showing the way some trees look at the end of summer. But you would have to ask the Avowed who made them to know for sure.”
Then that wizard moved on, and Alden was trying to explain the difference between lettuce and cabbage to the next one.
“Drusi! Come see the Thanksgiving!”
At the sound of Esh-erdi’s voice, Alden turned and saw a wizard with two large beige bags, one slung over each shoulder, approaching. That’s Drusi-otta?
The votary did vaguely resemble her cousin. Her short braid was the exact same shade of brown anyway. Her outfit was also brown, and its relatively simple style—loose high-necked shirt and harem pants—might have made her seem drab in comparison to most of the wizards around them if not for the fact that she was heavily embroidered and jewelry-laden.
Bracelets clacked and jingled at her wrists. Chains, beads, and cord hung around her neck. Stacks of rings shone on every finger.
If she was an assassin, thought Alden, she wouldn’t have to use a spell. She could just backhand someone, and the weight of the jewelry would knock them out cold.