When the last of the participants had come through the doorway, music began to fill the corridor. Trumpets began to blare against the beating of drums. Some sort of string instrument played a fast-paced melody line, while a flute provided the counter-melody.
Lark led them through the hallway and into the next room, this one unmarked by any runes or tricks. When the doors opened, the participants found themselves in a lavish banquet hall, lined with eight rows of long tables, stacked together to stretch from one end of the room to the other. Each was covered by a pristine white cloth intricately embroidered with elaborate patterns and ladened with food. Heavy bowls of stew, curries and fruit. Silver plates filled with various kinds of bread, cheeses and roasted vegetables. And meat. Skye had never seen that much meat in her life. She spotted several legs of lamb, great slabs of roasted ribs, whole turkeys and mountainous piles of sliced ham.
Skye’s first thought was: this is another test.
Her second was: I haven't had a proper meal since papa was taken.
“Incredible,” said Tang.
“I’ve died and gone to paradise,” said Wynn, who stared wide-eyed at the feast with her mouth agape.
“You’re drooling on the carpet, Wynn,” laughed Skye, though she could feel her own stomach gurgling. She looked to the other participants, and saw stunned faces all around. “Stay alert, though. This might be another–”
“Welcome, most honoured participants of this year's Battle Festival,” said Lark, cutting through Skye's train of thought. He had moved on to a raised dais at the other end of the hall (how did he get there so quickly?) and now stood upon it with his hands raised. "Come sunrise, you will begin your journey towards the Godseye. Should you find it within the next three hundred days, you will be granted an audience with the gods themselves.
The path forward will not be easy. Pain, suffering and, quite possibly, death await you. Strangers will become allies, and allies will become enemies.
But that is tomorrow. for tonight, we feast! Please, sit wherever you like. Eat and drink to your hearts’ content. It is your reward for choosing this most venerable of paths.”
There was some hesitation at first, but the participants eventually started filling up the long benches placed on either side of each table column.
“Let's wait a bit,” said Skye. Wynn grimaced, but waited nonetheless.
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The participants who sat first began to eat. Skye watched them, keenly aware of her empty stomach.
They continued to eat. Several laughed aloud. One group threw a toast. The mood had lifted considerably since the crossing of the threshold.
“Seems safe,” said Tang.
“Then let's go already!” cried Wynn.
They sat on a bench at the farthest end of the hall, closest to the exit. Two silver plates, along with an elaborate set of cutlery, had been set before each seat.
Wynn was already scooping food excitedly onto a plate before they even sat down, rambling off the names of different spices and cooking styles used for each dish. Skye helped herself to some ham and roasted potatoes. She looked at Tang, who sat across from them; he had only carrots, potatoes and sprouts on his plate.
“Don’t tell me you only eat vegetables,” said Skye.
“I’m a monk,” said Tang, rather indignantly.
“Gods,” said Wynn. Apparently the revelation of Tang’s dietary habits was enough to stop her from piling more food onto her plate. “You’re my first.”
Tang blinked. “What?”
“My first vegetarian friend!” Wynn exclaimed, so loudly that a group of participants at the adjacent table threw them dirty looks. “I’ve never met a vegetarian before.”
“Are you serious?”
Skye said, “Azura’s a small town. Went through a revolving door of occupations during the War of the Seventh which left us abandoned and financially crippled. Majority of folks who live there would eat just about anything they can find. Can’t afford to be picky if you’re starving.”
“Anyone who’s eating only vegetables certainly isn’t doing it by choice,” said Wynn.
Tang grimaced. He poked at his sprouts lacklusterly.
"Sorry," said Wynn. "We didn't mean to make you feel bad. Eat whatever you want, and leave the rest to me." She winked at him, and his entire face burned hot red.
As the night went on, more Islanders filed into the hall from doors Skye could not see, holding trays of more food and drink. Just as she thought they had cleared their platter of cured meats, another one was promptly set down before them, along with goblets of wine, mead and ale.
"It never stops!" Wynn said. She had cleaned up her third plate of food. "I can't believe I'm saying this but I'm actually full."
"I wonder where it all comes from," said Skye. She took a sip of mead. It was sweet, so sweet a child would have gulped it all down without the slightest suspicion that it was alcoholic. Skye put the goblet down. She couldn't afford to get tipsy, not when she was surrounded by potential enemies.
A commotion at the other end of their column caught the attention of everyone in the hall. Skye turned to see two men screaming at each other. One wore a jewelled turban, the other a sleeveless vest, exposing two fully tattooed arms. The two men stood a few paces from each other, the one in the turban shouting in a language Skye did not recognise. The man in the vest had his fists clenched and spoke loudly in Kings' Common, "You don't deserve to be here, pathetic Kavtari scum!"
The turban-wearing man shouted some more, while two of his compatriots who spotted similar attire tried to hold him back. The man in the vest said something Skye couldn't hear, and suddenly the Kavtari had a long dagger in his hand, pointing it at the other man's throat.