The Mist and the Lightning. Part 19

“Vitor, what are you going to eat?” Zaf asked. “The boar’s head stuffed with nuts is very good! Calf saddle? Pigeon pate?”

“I would take meat grilled on coals and pate.”

“Excellent!” Zaf immediately gave the order to the slave, and in less than a minute, Kors’ plate was filledto the brim with treats.

Kors was eating, looking around at the table. The unclean ones were devouring the prepared dishes with incredible speed, munching and loudly demanding more.

“More meat!”

“More bread!”

Slaves rushed around the table, barely managing to fulfill everyone’s wishes. Blades and fangs flashed.

At a table closer to the exit, lower-ranking commanders were tearing apart a mess of entrails and offal piled high on a huge platter. They dug in it with their hands and paws, snatching up greasy bits and dipping them into bowls of red sauce. Opening theirmouths wide, they shoved intestines stuffed with liver into them.

The commanders sitting closer to Zaf had a more elegant meal that consisted of all kinds of meat dishes. Here Desmod like a wolf swallows huge pieces of meat, it seems, without even chewing. As he drinks, he sips the wine quickly and greedily, so that it flows down his chin. He is the true commander of Parky. Butwhat can Kors tell him? Nothing.

The unclean commander Alhas, whose name, Kors once misheard, purring with pleasure, crunches his pig’s ear. He spat juicy cartilage under his feet, poured a whole goblet of wine into his throat at once, gurgling with satisfaction.

Kylie’s ex-pup is rushing like he’s about to have his plate ripped out of his hands, almost choking on a large and too hot piece, poor thing. He tries to clear his throat, but at the same time, without stopping for a minute, he continues to chew. And his older brother, sitting next to him, hits Kylie hard on the back and laughs so that unswallowed remains fall out of his mouth.

Kors cut off a small square of white bread with a knife and spread some pigeon pate on top of it with a knife. Taking a two-pronged fork, he pierced this semblance of a canape with it and carefully put it in his mouth.

Tattoo artist Shukul pulled the bone out of his mouth and threw it back into his plate — couldn’t cope with it,what a disappointment! But no, he didn’t give up! After thinking for a while, he grabbed it again, trying to gnaw it, tilting his head strongly to the side.

What a difference between the twin brother of Marbas! That’s who is not afraid of the bones! Actively working with powerful jaws with a double row of teeth, Marbuel crushed a huge bone with a loud crunch and began to suck the marrow out of it with obvious pleasure.

And his brother Marbas was already satisfied. Having burped enough, he casually pushed the plate with the half-eaten pieces away from him, moving it towards Nija, and he, humiliated and hunched over, began to greedily and hastily gnaw at the bones, grabbing them with both hands.

“Nija is hungry,” Kors remarked sadly.

“Only Marbas can slow his decay,” Zaf explained.

“But what about Nija’s friend, Zanmar? Where is he? Why did he leave his commander?!”

“He didn’t abandon him, and what can Zanmar do? He is lower in rank. There is nothing he can do to help him. Even I have no right to give Nija food. If his patron so wished, Nija would be hungry. He is a debtor, and he works off his debt.”

“But this is wrong, Zaf, don’t you feel sorry for him?”

Zaf shrugged his shoulders.

“Nija now has a patron, and he is not alone. And here I am alone…”

And Kors almost choked on a sip of wine, which he was just at that moment taking from a goblet:

“What about Matin?” He tried to somehow turn the situation around.

“What? Matin?! Zaf laughed. “Yes, I’ll give him to you if you want. I will give him to you and won’t even remember about it!”

“Zaf, this is very generous, thanks for the offer, but I think I will refuse. I hope you don’t take this as disrespect.”

“No, as you wish.”

The animals seemed to have finally had their fill. Only the skull remained of the pig's head.

Kylie carefully licked the silver dish with his tongue, so that now his satisfied tattooed face was reflected in the plate, as in a mirror. Smiling. Tazh lazily picks his teeth with a knife. Tattoo artist Shukul looks bored as he waits for the slave to clear the dirty dishes and clean the table, clearly eager to get his tools out. Alhas, still chewing, is already turning to his neighbor, who put his elbows on the table and, propping his head on his fists, stared blankly at the wall. Marbas snarled something at Desmod, who nodded in agreement. Furious absorption of food began to be replaced by table conversation.

Kors also pushed the dish away from him.

“Don’t think that I can have something serious with Matin,” Zaf continued the conversation.

“If you don’t care about him, then why did you mutilate him like that?”

“I didn’t mutilate him,” objected Zaf, “and what’s more, he himself asked me about it, because he knew that I wanted to see him like that.”

“Do you enjoy it?”