The Dragon's Dinner

In which the Main Dining Room fills up and many Dramatic Characters finally get to meet and chat over excellent food.

The Guests

Ladies' dresses are lighter, longer, more extravagant and more revealing than those worn earlier during the day.  Gentlemen do their very best to keep up, sporting outrageous vests and enormous starched cravates.

Aside from the Captain's table, which is always the place of honour, another table also attracts its share of attention.  Off to the right side of the large room, close enough to the quartet to enjoy the music but not enough to hamper conversation, it seems to receive an inordinate amount of service from the personnel, and is decorated with more flowers then most.  Several excellent bottles of wine are already sitting in buckets, waiting to be poured.

The explanation is soon obtained when the Dragon Lord strolls in, followed by his valet.  For dinner tonight, the well-dressed Dragon appears in a white linen, white bow tie, burgundy waistcoat, grey striped pants, formal tailcoat, silk top hat, white gloves, and a silver-headed cane.  The ensemble is rounded off with gold cufflinks and gold pocket-watch (and watch fob, of course.)  Upon a discrete indication from his valet, he regally walks to the table and sits down.

Soon after, a graceful figure shows at the door: Fiona Rohling is wearing a courtly green velvet with cloth of silver inset for dinner.  The neckline is moderately low and edged in soft, silvery ruffled silk.  Her hair is dressed in an elaborate french braid with small silver ribbons strung through the braid and tied off at the end.  The whole construction is fairly loose in the front, giving a soft feel to the 'do, with wisps of hair curling forward over her forehead.  Modest but expertly applied colours enhance her pretty eyes.  The attentive onloooker will notice a silver ring with matching necklace and earrings containing small but fine emeralds, discrete but of great elegance.  Fiona pauses for moment at the door, to look for Lord Swiftwing's table, but also glancing at the crowd.  The Dragon Lord gets up as she approaches the table, greets her with impeccable courtesy, and escorts her to her seat.

Fiona greets the Dragonlord with suitable decorum.  "Your Grace," she says, bowing her head slightly as he leads her to her seat.

The ritual is soon repeated when the ravishing Constance arrives in turn.  The Faerie is wearing a pale silvery green dress of some light gauzy material over silk, which underlines her wispy grace.  The dress floats about her like leaves in the wind, and her hair falls in sweet cascades over her white revealed shoulders.  Eyes turn, conversations stop as the stunningly beautiful creature of Fairyland makes her way over to the table, her smile fit to break hearts.

The Dragonlord greets both Fiona and Constance warmly, and compliments them on their choice of attire.  Prior to the arrival of the others he makes small talk regarding the voyage, etc. etc. etc.  In passing conversation, Lord Swiftwing inquires of Fiona whether she has, in her shop of antiquities, any crystal decanters of reasonable antiquity.

Fiona thinks for a moment and replies, "We have several that are about two hundred years old, not much older than that.  It is rare indeed to find anything of real antiquity unless, of course, one were to find something from a truly ancient civilization.  Since you are interested, I will certainly make it a point to search."

The Dragon nods with a smile of gracious thanks, then turns to Constance.  "Milady, given the origin of our expected guests tonight, I have been wondering whether you have had occasion to make the aquaintance of any of the fair folk of the Ottoman Empire, and whether they are really as different from those of New Europa as they are rumoured to be."

Constance says, "I have had no opportunity to make the acquaintance of the Fay of the other lands, but I have heard they are as different as the mortals of those lands are different from the mortals of this one.  We of the Fair  Folk are ephemeral, and our natures are changing and mercurial, according to our whims."

Conversations are barely starting again, when an officer of the Koeniglich Bayerisch Aerokriegsmarine walks in, wearing mess dress.  This is not, of course, unusual, but this officer happens to be the Sorcerous Security Officer, Fraü Patrizia Ehrenburg.  Rather petite and of slight build, she is perhaps forty-five years old, but her blond hair, piled up to add to her height, does not show a trace of grey, and her figure is excellent.  She wears the uniform, dark blue pants and a medium blue tunic with gold trim and several medal ribbons, with understated elegance, revealing a form that many younger women can envy.  She also directs her step towards Lord Swiftwing's table.

The Dragon Lord might seem outnumbered, sitting alone with three good-looking females, but there are still four spots left unfilled at his table.  As he makes light conversation with his elegant guests, introducing Fraü Ehrenburg to Fiona and Constance, two more guests appear, taking no time to pause at the door and walking directly to the table.  The vizier Esrar Giray Sefìk, ambassador for the Sultan of the Ottoman Empire, followed by his aide Abdelhassìb Zàhed and by two of his bodyguards, directs his steps towards the Dragon Lord's table.

As the vizier and his party approach the table, Lord Swiftwing leans over and say quietly to the ladies, "And now the entertainment begins."

Constance turns to watch the vizier approach, but her attention is quickly drawn to the tall Sidhe Lord sitting at a nearby table.  Her eyes widen.  She had not realized another of the Folk would be here.  Could it be that he knows so soon of the Dame Vertes' loss?  She watches him for a moment longer, her expression thoughtful, before turning to greet the Vizier and his party.

Sefik is a tall and thin man with skin the colour of burnished oak, with eyes like dark mirrors and a well-trimmed black beard.  He wears rich Ottoman clothing of red brocade, with gold tracery and yellow feathers, even richer than those he wore earlier in Rome, but in the same colours.  With inscrutable eyes and perfect grace, the vizier salutes Lord Swiftwing.

"May the Eternal grant you joy and keep the bounties of your table plentiful, O Ancient One," he murmurs.  He shows no sign that he has even noticed any of the women's presence until Lord Swiftwing properly introduces them, but shows exquisite courtesy once that matter is taken care of.  Only then does he introduce his aide to the other guests.  The secretary bows, his face a mask of stone.

"May the all powerful grant you health and happiness, oh shaykh," replies the dragonlord smoothly.  "Please allow me to present to you Lady Constance deForrest of the fae;  Miss Fiona Adelia Rohling,  a fellow Bayernese travelling to your land on business; and Fraü Patrizia Ehrenburg, Sorcerous Security Officer aboard the Parsifal.  Ladies, may I present to you His Eminence Esrar Giray Sefìk, advisor to the Commander of the Faithful, Light of the Orient, and Vizier at the Court of His Most Sublime Majesty  'Abdül-'Azîz.  And his assistant and secretary, Abdelhassìb Zàhed."

Fiona smiles demurely when introduced to His Eminence, clearly delighted to be amongst such august company.  She gives the secretary an equally polite smile, then glances over in the direction of Constance's gaze.  "Ah, another of the fair folk on board," she surmises when she sees the newcomer at the next table.  "And it looks as though Constance was unaware of him before now.  How curious!"  Turning her attention back to the wine and the food being served, Fiona strives to handle each glass and eating impliment with grace.

Constance extends a graceful hand to the vizier for him to kiss, and favours him with a brilliant smile.  It is possible that the sight of the Sidhe lord may have upset her a bit, but no further sign of it can be seen in her demeanour.  She makes light dinner conversation as the meal progresses, answering questions with witty rejoinders, and generally being charming.  But she seems just slightly off, and does not volunteer as much as those who have previously met her might consider her norm.

Once introductions have been made Lord Swiftwing motions for everyone to be seated, and motions the stewards to begin serving.  The Dragon Lord sits at the head of the table, and seats the vizier at his right, and Fiona at his left.  The vizier's aide sits to the right of his master, while Constance takes place next to Fiona.  Fraü Ehrenburg sits on the other side of the Faerie, leaving two seats open at the other end of the table and next to the vizier's aide.  However, the Dragon does not seem to expect more guests for now as he signals for the stewards to start serving.  His valet stands behind his chair and to the right, placing himself unobtrusively between the Dragon Lord and the vizier's body guards, themselves standing behind their master.
 

The Vizier

Vizier Sefik inclines his head courteously.  "The accomodations are most comfortable, indeed," he assures Lord Swiftwing.  "But the Prophet reminded we should not place our hope in material comfort, but turn our faces towards the Eternal."  A small smile touches his lips, and he raises the cup of fragrant mint tea one of his servants has poured for him.  "I am afraid I cannot partake of alcoholic beverages with you, but I wish to drink to your continued health and safety, O Ancient One, and to the prosperity of your house."

"Certainly," says the Dragon Lord amiably.  "I, in turn, would toast to your continued good fortune and prosperity as well."

The vizier inclines his head gracefully, then glances at the other guests at the table.  "What intriguing company," he says mildly, "sure to be entertaining.  I am sure it would be most interesting to hear of everyone cam to travel on this marvelous airship.  I find this craft very agreeable, as well as convenient.  It makes traveling so much easier, perhaps we Ottomans will become less hidebound."  He picks up a canapé from the plate in front of him and nibbles on it.

Fraü Ehrenburg looks at the vizier without expression, as she raises her glass to her lips.  "Your Eminence's presence on board honours Bayern," she says politely.  "As does that of this gracious company."

Fiona raises her glass with the others, echoing Frau Ehrenburg's sentiments, but with more warmth.  "We are truly honored, Your Eminence."

Constance smiled at the round of toasts, and lifted her glass in a delicate hand, and said "It is indeed a pleasure to sit here in such fine company, and bask in the sound of good conversation, and the warmth of friends."

The vizier's eyes snap to Constance and hold her glance for a long moment, flickering with dark burning fire.  He nods slowly in answer to her words, and raises his cup of tea in front of his face with both hands.

"The light of the Eternal shines on your face, O Peri," he says.  "Forgive the audacity of my inquiry, but pray enlighten me; how did such a ravishingly beautiful Immortal, come to travel on this arcane vessel?  The affection of your race for man-made objects is known to be slight..."

Constance smiles and nods.  Her hands grip the delicate cup a little tighter, as she considers her response to the question.   "It is true that my kind do not normally travel in such conveyance.  However, I am travelling this fair land of Man, to better acquaint myself with the places and peoples of the world beyond the Veil.  Mankind has so many virtues, it behooves we Fair Folk to observe them and learn what we may.

"I'm sure our noble Dragonlord has found the same to be true during his travels, yes?"  She pauses.

The Dragonlord pauses to take a sip of wine, glancing back and forth between the faerie lady and the vizier.  Is there a slight smile on his lips?  The wine glass makes it hard to tell.

"Indeed, I have always found travel to be most enlightening when one is in good company," he answers.  "Assuredly I could travel faster than this conveyance if I were simply to fly myself, but the company on board this vessel, coupled with the good food, comforable accomodations, and generous travel allowance, makes this the more refined manner of travel."

"Besides," he finishes, raising the wine glass once more and looking past the vizier at his secretary, "one meets the most interesting people while waiting."

Abdelhassìb Zàhed gives an expressionless look to Lord Swiftwing before answering in an utterly bland voice, "Indeed, O Ancient One."  He then lowers his eyes again to his tea cup.  Across the table, the Sorcerous Security Officer hides a smile.

The vizier notes Fraü Ehrenburg's amused expression over the exchange, but shows a thin smile of his own.  His eyes keep straying back to the beautiful Constance; after a moment, he leans over to his aide and whispers a few words.  Zàhed nods his understanding and turns to one of the janissaries standing behind.  The man bends down to hear the aide's words, nods in turn, then departs.

The little ritual does not go unnoticed by any sitting at the table, but the vizier gives no explanation.  Rather, he starts talking to Constance again, continuing the previous exchange.

"How ardently you must wish to see human lands, O Peri, to travel so far from your domains.  If your wish is to better acquaint youself with the places and peoples of the world beyond the Veil, then your quest will not be complete without seeing the wonders of the Ottoman Empire.  It would give me the greatest pride to show you its sights and treasures, O Ravishing One."  He smiles without showing teeth.

Constance smiles, her eyes meeting his, as she says  "Indeed, I suspect that my quest shall take me to every land the mortals call home.  I fear my current agenda requires me to take a different path than your honoured self, but when circumstances allow, I would love to call upon you at your home, and take advantage of your most generous offer.  I am sure the Ottoman Empire offers wonders unrivalled anywhere in the human world."

"Oh shaykh," the Dragonlord says smoothly, "I note with some interest that you use the term 'Peri' to refer to our faerie lady, and that puts me in mind of a question I meant to ask you.  I have heard that they fay of the Ottoman Empire are quite different from those of Europa, but I have yet to have the opportunity to ascertain whether or not this is correct.  I have heard rumors, for example, that unlike the european fay, those of the Ottoman Empire are quite adept at magic, and figure prominently in the casting of your thaumaturgy.  If you are willing, perhaps you could tell us of your experiences with the fay of your land.  If you are able, and not bound by any oath of secrecy, perhaps you might even consent to give an overview of your theurgical practices - nothing too technical of course."

He nods in the direction of the Sorcerous Officer.  "I am certain that Fraü Ehrenburg would find the topic most enlightening, as would I, and the Lady Constance would undoubtedly be most curious to know more of the ways of her kin in your lands."

Lord Swiftwing's eyes glitter as he turns his yellow-eyed gaze upon the vizier, and awaits an answer.

Constance smiles brightly and nods at the Dragonlord's suggestion that the sheik tell the table of the Fae of his land.  She has heard that her kin from other lands sometimes adopt the culture of their human neighbours, but she has never had an opportunity to learn more of this phenomenon.   "Oh yes, please good sir, I beg of you, do tell us what you know of my kindred, the Peri.  I should be most grateful."

Vizier Sefìk politely dabs his mouth with a linen cloth before he speaks.  He nods all around, noticing the interest in the eyes of the Dragon Lord, the Dame Verte and the Sorcerous Security Officer in particular.

"The word 'Peri'," he begins, "or in the old form, 'Parí', bears a superficial resemblance to the words 'Fee' or 'Zauberin' in German, 'Fairy' in English, and 'fée' and 'féerie' in French.  It is related to 'Pairika' in the language of the Avesta, and 'Pairik' in modern Parsee. In one language of the Ottoman Empire, the Multání, there is also a masculine form: 'Pará', or he-fairy.

"We generally use the word 'peri' for all beautiful feminine fairies.  More traditionally, in popular tales in Al-Islam, Peris are beautiful feminine spirits who, created after the Dívs, or giants, demons (a word akin to your 'Teufel' or 'devil'), mostly believe in Allah and the Koran, and desire the good of Mankind.  They are often attacked by the Dívs, who imprison them in cages hung to the highest trees, and here the captives are visited by their friends who feed them with the sweetest of scents."

The vizier smiles politely before he continues.  "Of course, this simplistic tale is thought by scholars to be a very deformed rendition either of some early events in Folk history, or of some very old prophesy, that mortals have passed on imperfectly from generation to generation.

"Ottoman 'fairies' include as many varieties as their northern counterparts.  There are Peris, but also Dívs, Ifrits, Jánn, Rakshahs, Mazikeens, Shedeems, and many more.  All of these are names that but cover many different related types, as the Jánn that include Jinnís, Jinniyahs, and Ján bìn Ján.  They are diverse in form and qualities, just as you, O Peerless Jewel," he nods towards Constance, "are entirely different from a boggan."

Constance listens to the vizier's descriptions with enthralled interest.  She knew her kindred in the Ottoman Empire were playing different games than she and her kindred, but it sounds like they have created for themselves a fabulous reality all their own.  She makes a mental note to try and pierce the Veil there, and see what had been wrought with the fertile imaginations of the Ottoman Fey.

"I thank you, sir, for your kind recitation.  It is most enlightening for me to hear what Game our kindred play in your Empire.  I hope they treat you with respect, and do not unduly plague you.  It is the nature of some of my kind to be less than kindly disposed towards humanity, I fear." she says, with a hint of sadness in her eyes.  "By chance, sir, might you have heard of any strange occurences in your land that might result from undue affliction by Fey powers?  If so, I would be most fascinated to hear of them, and might be able to offer some remedy."

"Indeed that is fascinating.  The workings beyond the Veil are certainly the stuff of which many stirring tales are made," comments the Dragonlord.  "But what of the part that the fey play in your Thaumaturgical rituals?  I have heard little in this regard, but what I have hears fascinates me."

Lord Swiftwing pauses to motion down the table.  "But perhaps Thaumaturgy is not your area of expertise, oh shaykh. Many, indeed the vast majority of the population of Europa has no skill in such matters, and I imagine that the same must hold true in your land as well.  Please forgive me if I am being impertinent and pestering you for knowledge you do not possess.  Fraü Ehrenburg?"  he turns his attention to the Sorcerous Officer, "you must have made the journey to the Ottoman Empire on more than one occasion.  Perhaps you could share with us your experiences of encounters with the Thaumaturgical rituals of the land?  Is it true that dissimilarly to our lands, the fey actually play a role in such rites within the Ottoman Empire?"

The vizier's secretary shifts uncomfortably in his seat as the Dragon Lord formulates his question.  The Sorcerous Security Officer gives a small smile and a nod in the Dragon's direction, then in the vizier's.

" I have heard," she anwers, "that there are a few Dragons in the Ottoman lands.  Perhaps relatives of yours, Your Grace?  However, my knowledge is slight, that of a mere amateur," she add, with a dismissing wave of her hand.  "The Vizier, however, must be a master of the Art to have earned his title, so I will defer to his superior knowledge."  She gives another nod, more marked, to the vizier.

Sefìk answers with a small bow of the head of his own, then smiles his thin, closed-lip smile.  "In our lands, we do not make the same distinction that seems to be found in New Europa between enchantments worked through what you would call fey arts and Thaumaturgy.  All are manifestations of the same workings, if used differently.  In addition, most of your kin," he glances at Constance, "are benevolent to Mankind in the Ottoman Empire, and we live in peace and harmony with them.  Scholars of magic and alchemy frequently work in cooperation with Ifrits, Jinnís, or even Peris."

The Dragonlord appears mildly surprised.  "Really?  How fascinating!  It appears, oh Shaykh, as though I have wronged you.  I had no idea that one of your position and title was required to be skilled in the thaumaturgical arts, and my ignorance, I fear, caused me to suggest that you might not be well-versed in such matters when, in fact, you are doubtlessly most puissant in the Arcane Arts.  Please forgive me for my thoughtless comments."

After a pause to sip his wine, he continues, "that you make no distinction between the glamour of the fey and the arts of Thaumaturgy is quite astounding, as we of New Europa have yet to breach the barrier between the two.  Indeed, in our lands (as you must well know) those of the fey are generally constrained from performance of the Sorcerous Arts, which are considered the purview of Mankind, while man is helpless to manipulate the faerie glamour, as the fey do without so much as a thought.  Ach!  But I am repeating myself, I fear.  My enthusiasm for the subject matter has apparently robbed me of my wits and manners."

He turns to Fiona.  "Fraülein Rohling, I understand that you are travelling to the Ottoman empire on business.  Perhaps the wise and generous Shaykh would be so kind as to give you assistance or advice on how best to find what you seek within his land?"

Fiona looks positively radiant at the sudden attention.  "How thoughtful of you, my good sir!"  Turning her eyes towards the Shaykh, she continues.  "My family deals with antiquities, Your Eminence, and I search the byways of ancient cities for those of truly unique character to obtain the rarest for our shop.  I would be honored for any assistance or information you would be willing to share on finding such rarities."  She pauses for a moment to see how he is taking such a request.

The vizier smiles and nods at Fiona.  "But of course, O unblemished flower."  He turns to his secretary and waves his hand lightly.  "Abdelhassìb, please take notes, as you will help Fraülein Rohling in her research."  The aide draws a pad and pen from the depths of his robe, and starts writing.

The vizier turns to Fiona again, and cocks his head to one side.  "Tell me, Fraülein, how I may be of help.  What kind of objects do you prize?  How do you recognize them?"

Fiona blushes slightly at the vizier's method of speech.  "You are too kind, Excellency.  I treasure those items that are of exquisite workmanship and best characterize an old or ancient culture.  Such items sometimes speak strongly to me.  It is sometimes difficult, although necessary, to let them go when I return, but my family depends upon it.  Frequently the items I acquire are jewels or jewelry, sometimes books, and occasionally may be a finely crafted work of stone, precious metal or wood."

The conversation continues on a lighter tone for a while.  As the conversation begins to wind down, Constance stands gracefully.   "I pray that you will all excuse me, but I find that I am in need of a little walk to stretch my legs.  Thank you all for the lovely dinner conversation.  It was a delight."   With that she heads for the door, smiling charmingly at anyone who wishes her good evening.

The Vizier's eyes follow the exquisite shape of the Dame Verte as she walks away.  He gives a sidelong glance to his aide, then bows gracefully towards his host.  "O Ancient One, I thank you for a most delightful dinner.  May God always keep your table plentiful and your conversation lively, your eye bright and your step steady."  He gets up, bows again towards the remaining ladies, Fraülein Rohling and Fraü Ehrenburg, with an enigmatic smile.  "I hope I will meet you later; for now, I confess I am most eager to see this 'magic act' without magic."

As he moves away from the table, his two bodyguards (the one who left earlier has returned) move smoothly to accompany him, followed by Abdelhassìb Zàhed.  The colourful group heads out.
 

Constance Alone

Constance pauses to admire the distinguished silhouette of the Dwarf Antioch.  She briefly wishes she had the courage to approach him, but she feels a chill of nervous apprehension, and turns away, embarrassed that she might be caught staring.   Constance heads for the stairs, trying to hide the slight flush in her cheeks.

When Constances reaches her cabin, she notices two things: first, the Steward has been in to prepare the bed and leave the complimentary decanter of port wine, accompanied by shortbread cookies and a copy of the latest newspapers.

Second, he has also left the mail (one envelope) and another bouquet of flowers, at least as spectacular as the first one.  There is no note attached to the bouquet this time, but the envelope left with the newspapers bears Constance's name and cabin number.

She feverishly tears the envelope open and reads the following lines:
 

O Constance, goddess, nymph, perfect divine,
To what, my love, shall I compare thyne eyne?
Crystal is muddy.  O, how ripe in show
Thy lips, those kissing cherries, tempting grow!
That pure congealed white, high Taurus' snow,
Fann'd with the eastern wind, turns to a crow,
When thou hold'st up thy hand: O, let me kiss
This princess of pure white, this seal of bliss!

Constance sits on the bed, munching a cookie and reading the strange poem.  He has a certain gift for poetics, she thinks.  She wonders to herself why he doesn't just approach her.  Or even sign his name to his work so that she could find him.  Perhaps he is shy.  It is said that some humans tend to be shy around the Faerry folk.  Constance smiles.  She has noticed the effect on the stewards that helped her on ther airship.

At long last, she folds the paper, and secretes it away before walking over to smell the flowers and admire their beauty.  She has always loved flowers, and it is very sweet of this gentleman to give her a little something to remind her of home.  She sighs.  She misses her friends and her mother, back beyond the Veil.  How she hopes she will find the Seed, and be able to return home to her beloved forest.

Finally, she shakes off her melancholy, and heads for the door.  Perhaps it would be best if she goes back to the dining room to sit with the others, rather than being melancholy here alone in her room.
 
 

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