Conspiracies (Mercedes Lackey) - By Mercedes Lackey Page 0,33

baskets lined with linen napkins. The butter was sculpted rosettes on ice in a cut-crystal bowl that sparkled and cast rainbow reflections. The salt and pepper shakers were crystal and silver, which did the same. One of the waitstaff, done up in a tux, stopped them at the door. He gravely asked Muirin her name, then consulted a list and conducted her to a table. He did the same for Spirit, who by this time was hideously tense. Who was she going to get stuck with?

No one awful, it turned out; just the regular gang plus an adult, which was such a relief. The waiter brought her to a table near the windows that held Burke, Muirin, Addie, Loch, and a teacher she only knew vaguely, a Ms. Campion, who taught Chemistry and Alchemy.

She started to reach for her chair, then remembered just in time to let the waiter pull it out for her. When she was seated, he handed her a menu. One of the glasses was already poured full of water, and with her mouth dry, she reached for it.

She looked up at the same time, and noticed Burke staring at her as if she was a stranger. She felt her cheeks getting warm, but in a good way.

“That’s a very attractive gown, Miss White,” said Ms. Campion.

“Thank you. Muirin made it for me,” she replied, blushing, and Muirin grinned and winked.

“Muirin’s creative ways with clothing are familiar to the staff,” Ms. Campion responded dryly. Muirin grinned even harder, but managed to make herself look serious before the teacher glanced her way again.

Polite conversation. We’re supposed to make polite conversation.… Spirit racked her brain for something to say. Not school, that wasn’t sophisticated enough. The weather was too ordinary.

Addie saved her. “Are you a fan of classical music, Ms. Campion?” she asked politely.

“Very much so,” the woman said, a little warmth coming into her smile.

“Ah! Well, I recently was introduced to the works of a composer new to me,” Addie replied brightly, “through a movie Spirit recommended.”

That managed to get a conversation started that they could all add to, the use of classical music in movies, and from that, to composers who specialized in movie music. Then the waiters delivered the appetizers, except the menu called it “First Course.” It was—snails. She had never, ever thought she would find herself eating snails! But the other choice was raw oysters on the half shell, and at least the snails were cooked. So she dug the snails out of their shells with a special little fork, and managed to get two down by not thinking about what they were. Then “Second Course,” which was soup; she couldn’t tell what it was, except it was creamy, orange, and didn’t taste like tomato. Third was a little portion of fish with a pale yellow sauce on it and cucumber slices. Fourth was a little piece of steak and a couple of teaspoons of stir-fried vegetables, and she would have thought that was going to be the end of it, except the menu said, no, there was a lot more to come … all the portions were tiny, but with all the food that was on that menu, they would have to be, or you could never get through it.

Next, a slice of … she had to consult the menu … it was duck with orange sauce, some sort of fancy sweet potatoes, and peas. All in doll-tea-party-sized portions, of course.

Then they brought a cup of something that looked like sherbet. It was, kind of. Not very sweet. Tasted sort of wine-y.

Then half a little bird. The menu said “quail.” With stuffing. She was terrified they were going to make her eat the bones, too, but no, she watched Addie, and Addie teased the meat off with her knife and fork and just ate that.

Then cold asparagus with a vinegar-y sauce.

Then something brown and little rounds of bread to spread it on. Pâté de foie gras. Goose liver paste. Ugh. But the rule was, you had to eat some of every single course and look as though you liked it. They were actually going to be graded on “apparent enjoyment.” Well, not graded, “critiqued,” but it might just as well have been a grade. She managed, somehow, mostly by scraping as little of it on the bread as she could.

And finally, at last, dessert. Bananas Foster, which she had never heard of, and which a waitperson made at the table with a lot