Black Unicorn by Tanith Lee (best electronic book reader TXT) 📗

of many called from retirement in attics and cellars of the fort for such meals, hobbled round the hall with their silver basins. On every enamel platethey dolloped out the junket, which was sallow, and wobbled.

Despite the three lit fireplaces, racks of torches in demon-shaped sconces, and the rose silk curtains along the walls, Jaive’shall was always draughty. A solitary banquet table stood isolated in the midst of it, facing an enormous round window of emeraldand red glass. Outside on this window, new patterns of frost hadalready formed, ferns and fossil-like things. Beyond it lay thedarkening, freezing desert, its rough sand a mere five feet belowthe glass—but the glass was sorcerous and only another sorcerycould breach it. From the carved beams, however, hung ordinary cobwebs. There were holes in the curtains, and in the damask table-cloth. The rats had parties in the hall when Jaive did not.

The painted doors at the south end of the room groanedopen for the fourth time.

Jaive rose.

“We salute the soup!”

Everyone else got up. “The soup!”

Everyone sat down.

Jaive sat at the table’s center, in a tall ebony chair inlaidwith sorcerous symbols of obscure meaning. Her guests hadtaken their usual positions. Tanaquil was on her mother’s righthand; Bird was just behind her, with the other attending maids,Yeefa and Prune. On Jaive’s left sat the captain of the soldiers in his dress suit of gilded mail and some battle honors that werepossibly real. Down the rest of the table, left and right, wereplaced the captain’s second-in-command and seven elderly retain ers of the fortress, including Tanaquil’s former nurse. Everyonehad on their best, in some instances smelling of mothballs.

“We salute the baked fish!”

There was no fish ever to be had at the fortress, as it was more than a hundred miles from the sea. Instead the cook made a fish of salty pastry and painted it green with limes. It was bornein by a lame female steward of ninety years. The fish was alwaysher task, and Tanaquil always expected the old lady would drop the plate, but somehow she never did.

Served, Tanaquil glowered at the doughy greenish lump be fore her, while around her the maids and the retainers chattered, and the captain and his second passed two of the wine flagonsback and forth between them.

“A magnificent meal, Ma’am,” Tanaquil heard the captain murmur to Jaive.

Tanaquil looked sidelong at her mother’s face. Jaive wore thesublime expression most common to her. Her mind was alwayson higher things, the mountaintops of magic. Nothing couldcompare with those heights, but she conducted the silly dinnerwith a vague air of generously pleasing everyone.

The doors groaned.

“We salute the fruit ice!”

“The fruit ice!”

The ice was orange, and each scoop had an orange flowerperched on it. The flowers neither changed into lizards nor flewaway. Where her mother was present, the respectful spells stayed under restraint.

Tanaquil ate her ice. The cold of it entered her stomach likesix cold words: Those bones are nothing to me. And then eleven more: Nothing has happened. Nothing has altered. I shall never be free.

The silver spoons lay in the empty ice dishes. Jaive spoke.“And now I will make an offering.” The retainers, maids, and soldiers became ponderously quiet,and the stewards straightened as they leant on their sticks.Although not religious, at her dinners Jaive the sorceressalways performed some worshipful act.

She left the table and walked into the space before thedarkened window. She poured a stream of wine on the ground and cast some powder. The wine and powder mingled, fizzed,and bloomed up like a crimson rose. “We thank you for yourgifts, and ask that you will share our feast, all benign powers. Letus in our lives humbly remember the perfect world, that is notthis one.”

The rose evaporated with a sweet perfume. Dazzling wispstrailed off into the ceiling.

The doors groaned.

“We salute the meat!”

“The meat!”

In marched two of the sweeper boys in clean white clothes, playing pipes and perhaps a tune. Behind them stepped Pillowand Sausage, strewing strips of golden paper. After the scullerygirls stalked the cook, amazing in a cloth-of-gold apron, andholding in one hand a golden basting spoon, in the other an ivoryflyswatter.

Following the cook came three black-and-fawn goats, washed and combed, led by the third white-clad sweeper, and drawing asmall chariot on which rested the salver of the meat.

Tanaquil stifled a sigh.

The group of big roasts had been built into a towered for tress, with battlements of fried bread, roofs of crackling, windowsof glazed red and yellow vegetables, embedded in dunes of mince.

There was greedy applause.

I might as well take the skeleton down, Tanaquil thought. Put all those gleaming sticks, that rainbow skull, into a chest. A unicorn. I ought to give it to HER.

Slices of meat were being served her by a steward of eighty-three. Another, of eighty-six, came up with a spouted golden vessel of gravy. Tanaquil thanked them. She thought: I shall be here in this place until I’m eighty, as well. Or ninety.

From somewhere, high up in her cranium, or higher, in thefort of Jaive, came a violent crash. Like a door thrust off its hinges.

A few faces were raised from forkfuls of roast dinner. Prune said, “There goes another of Madam’s spells.” The captain said daringly to Jaive, “Better than the cannon,Madam.” And Jaive smiled.

No more attention was given to the crash than this.

Tanaquil thought: Perhaps an enemy has approached and is bombarding us! Some hopes.

But there was still a feeling in her head, tingling and disturb ing. It was like a white bright thought prancing down the levelsof her brain, tossing its neck, with hoofs that slithered and strucksparks, landed and clicked forward like knives over a shield.

“Drink up your wine, Tanaquil,” said her mother, “It will be good for your headache.” Tanaquil realized she had put her fingers to her forehead.“Mother, something’s running down the stairs.”

“Really? Just some little drip of magic.”

“No, Mother, I think—”

Some obstacle tore open, some barricade of distance or sound.The thing in Tanaquil’s mind seemed to leap out of it, and, loud as a trumpet from beyond the hall doors,