"Pheasant!" he exclaimed, in approval. "And -- what's that?"
"That's dieren ribs, of course! You do eat me Althea, do you not?"
"Of course we do," Alaire said, picking up one of the ribs. He saw no silverware, so he assumed this to be proper etiquette. "But remember, we don't have dieren. I'd never even seen a dieren until I got here."
"You hadn't?" Kai asked, momentarily perplexed until his attention suddenly shifted back to the fair ones who had joined them and were hanging on his every word. Intoxicated by rank.
Helena had firmly planted herself next to Alaire, and proceeded to lightly run her fingers across his thigh. He found himself sweating profusely.
Rajanen continued to play her harp, oblivious to everything but her music.
After lunch the servants came in and took the trays and tables away, replacing them with an iced-down bucket of bottled ale.
"Ah, that's more like it," Kai said, reaching for one of the bottles.
"Oh, don't be such a barbarian!" Helena said play- fully. "You're shoving the cork into the bottle!"
"Ah, but I am a vulgar barbarian," Kai replied. "I always shove the cork in the bottle. When you tip it over, it doesn't drain away as fast!"
Unamused, Alaire pretended to laugh along with the rest. It's starting all over. Another day, another drunk for Prince Kainemonen. At least this time we're safe inside the palace instead of out tavern-hopping with the ugly crowd. He reconsidered this, remem- bering Naitachal's clash with the assassin, and all the unanswered questions about the political clima Suinomen, and frowned. Perhaps we would be saf The Dead Dragon Inn!
Kai handed him an ale, and opened more for the ladies, then, finally, one for himself.
The Prince began a long, exaggerated account of their adventures the night before, throwing in hordes of drunken sailors, mobs of villainous ruffians, an elaborate chase through the city streets with the con- stables hot on their heels, and an encounter with an illegal magician who supposedly performed a spell that set the tavern they were drinking in afire. The ladies listened avidly, evidently believing every word he said, For good measure, he threw in a few heroic words for Alaire, explaining how Alaire had -- Kai's help, of course -- beheaded four of the sailors with a single sword blow. Kai drank and fibbed, emp- tying one bottle of ale after another. Soon a noticeable flush came over the boy; he was almost as drunk as the night before.
"Well," Kai said, wrapping his arms around the two sisters. "Please excuse me for a moment. I'll be right back."
Alarmed, Alaire watched as Kai, Heikki and Aini rose, Kai winking at him for effect They disappeared down a hallway, which led presumably to a bed some- where.
Now what? Alaire thought, looking around nerv- ously, but pointedly not looking at Helena. Helena leaned closer. He looked for the harpist to request a tune to break the ominous silence, noticing the music had stopped sometime during Kai's long tale, and saw that Rajanen had vanished too. Discreetly, he thought.
She knew what was about to happen. He glanced over at Helena, who somehow moved closer still, almost purring. Her hand, stilled during Kai's story, recom- menced its work.
In panic, Alaire leaped to his feet, intending to pace the balcony. It was a moment before he realized what his sudden move had done; Helena sat sprawled on the floor.
Oh gods! he thought, rushing over to her. "I'm so sorry!" When he helped her up, he saw, thankfully, that she didn't seem angered. "I don't know what came over me."
As he offered his hand, Helena took it, running a long fingernail seductively across his palm.
At the sudden, unexpected sensation, his hand spasmed; Helena went sprawling a second time.
"Oh no! Helena, I..."
When he saw her face, words failed him. This time, he thought she was going to slap him. He wanted to slap himself. He offered his hand again, but this time she refused his help. Wisely, he thought.
"I think I can manage," she said softly, but the slight edge to her voice was unmistakable. "Is something wrong?"
Alaire sat beside her on the bench, his face in his hands. He hoped this posture would elicit the right amount of sympathy for him, but he doubted it.