Laura set down the candle and quieted her mind. The little flame faltered at first, burning nothing but the wick, casting more darkness than light. Slowly, though, the wax warmed. A glow spread across the table, defining the plate of fruits, the glossy box of mooncakes, the elegant chrysanthemums, the pomelo like a huge green egg in its dish.

Lanterns and paper cutouts of the moon and rabbits hung from strings of tiny lights. It looked as if the Neurospastics had found a way to access the human Earth's internet and done a google image search for "Mid-Autumn Festival."1

It was only on close inspection that the lanterns and cutouts turned out to be made of something other than paper. The glowing points were not actually attached to the black strings that mimicked electrical cords. The pinprick lights hung, projected a few millimeters into the empty air. And of course, where humans would string lights to mimic the growth pattern of jungle lianas, the Neurospastics had spun a web. They thought the moons and rabbits looked delicious when they shivered in the breeze.

Laura was still kicking herself for succumbing to drunkenness yesterday. The hangover had subsided, but not the memory of losing her grip on the situation. Koen had been on the verge of revealing something, and Mark had…Marked him. Stabbed him with words.

She should not have allowed her control to slip. She had already known Mark was untrustworthy. Not that Laura had seen him do anything wrong, but there was so much he didn't allow anyone else to see. Even so, perhaps simply by habit, she had let her guard down, and then he'd ruthlessly silenced Koen. Koen, who was leaving. Mark, on the other hand, would stay in the Zogreion with Laura.

She lit the second candle.

Laura could still get rid of Mark, certainly. Expose him, although, just as certainly, he would expose her. Laura hadn't sacrificed her job for Koen, so why should she do it for Mark?

"Our guests are arriving," came the voice of Antonieta Severo, as if she were still the chief of security. "I place a bet right now that it will be the Parturians. Any takers? Nelly? Chadwell?"

"Remember, everyone. Let them bite your hands." That was Mark, acting as if he were in charge of this encounter.

Laura dipped the incense sticks into the flame and blew them out. She had no fear of spending another eight years trapped in the Embassy with Mark. She'd worked alongside people who would eat him for breakfast, and she could do the same. She turned from the altar table and straightened her blouse, thinking of…eating Mark.

Yuck.

The staff of the Embassy sat along a long table under the web of lights and trapped decorations. mooncakes and osmanthus cakes had been piled in little pyramids running down the middle of the table, interspersed with pomelos, cut melons, and bowls of mixed nuts.

Most of humans were looking down the path that led out of this clearing, but Laura caught Mark and Severo's eyes on her. She looked into a near future of revulsion and contempt, and made a decision.

She would uncover the words that Mark had stopped Koen from speaking.

***

The Parturians came in a flying wedge: a line of three behind a line of two led by one. Beaks darted to ward off attack from any possible direction. They stopped when Ambassador Li rose to greet them.

Li was a little disappointed that he couldn't sit on a cushion on the ground. He remembered a hilltop overlooking the river when he'd been small…but it wouldn't do to voice a complaint. The Embassy had western tables and chairs, and none of the young people had thought to order carpets and cushions. They had a lot on their mind.

"Honored esteemed friends and distinguished guests of the United Nations Embassy to the Convention of Sophonts," he said, "I extend my warm greetings and heartfelt welcome. May this auspicious occasion mark the commencement of a profound bond rooted in the timeless values of camaraderie, nourished by the bountiful feast we partake in, and enriched by our deep cultural heritage. It is my hope that this harmonious gathering establishes the foundation for an enduring association characterized by mutual respect and trust." He bowed.

The Parturian leader strutted forward, beak stabbing and retracting like a sewing needle. "We are at your mercy," he said. "Feed us or eat us, but be prepared to face the consequences of either choice." His long neck stretched, and he solemnly nipped Li's nose.

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

Qani and Chadwell both rose and gave speeches about warm embraces and cordial salutations. They, in turn, allowed themselves to be bitten and requested that their guests seat themselves.

Proprietress had done her research. Objects less like perches than cradles supported the Parturians' chests and tucked their knees comfortably up near their armpits. She had tactfully set the humans' plates and bowls aside and erected spikes on which food could be impaled. The soup was a bit of a problem, but if there was one thing Proprietress the Neurospastic knew, it was how to administer nourishing liquids to sophonts in need.

On the opposite side of the clearing, his back to the incoming delegation, Koen brought his clarified stock to a low simmer. He tasted it and found it only a little fishy, like pork stock with seaweed. Good to go.

"Ready?" he asked and received confirmation from Proprietress's network of marionette servers. One of them placed a shallow bowl next to him. He ladled broth into it and slid in a generous pile of rehydrated shark-fin-like clippings.

Eight bowls, and then five things like porcelain fire grates topped with white cotton candy. Koen's ladle paused for a only a moment before he said. "Aha. The beaks of carrion-eating birds."

"Hydrophilic sponge is a bit more elegant than an soup-bulb," tinkled Proprietress in his ear.

"Good to know." Koen placed the clippings on the sponge and poured soup over them. Hungry white fibers coiled around the liquid and turned heavy and dark.

Behind the last of the sponges appeared another bowl and a Neurospastic soup-bulb. Were humans coming back for seconds? Did Proprietress want to try some? But no, when Koen glanced over his shoulder, he saw a glassy cylinder glowing in the deepening shadows. Beside it hunched a figure with a long, feathery tail, accompanied by a slinking jaguar. Ambassador Li had risen again and was speechifying at them.

"Fling!" He resisted the urge to wave at his friend.

She, of course, had no such compunctions. "Where is Human Koen? Human Mark, Human Laura, what brave plans have you made together?"

Koen wanted to serve her himself, but that might be interpreted by the Parturians as an insult. And the Tensor…

Koen tapped the soup bulb. "Is this for the other guest? Can Tensors even eat soup?"

The server who'd brought the dishes waved to Proprietress. "Who's the bulb for?"

"The Arch Beacon's pet." Her blank face tilted. "That won't be a problem, will it, chef?"

Koen couldn't help but feel a bit indignant. "This is shark's fin soup. Or something very much like it. Am I supposed to feed it to a…a…"

"A spider-snake," said Proprietress. "Highly venomous."

"It's on a leash or in a box or something, right?" Another thought occurred to Koen. "Am I expected to dish up soup for Fancy Death, too?"

"We are informed that Fancy Death has pre-eaten."

Koen didn't know whether to be relieved or insulted.

"Have you tried the soup yourself?" asked Proprietress as the server carried the plates away, mannequin hands positioned under discretely hovering robots.

If her question was meant to deflate Koen's indignation, it worked. He sighed like a pricked balloon.

"Yes." He straightened from his slump. "It tastes all right, but it doesn't have…" he pressed together and separated his fingers, a gesture Proprietress followed with interest. "It doesn't have the strandy silkiness, that chewy-crunchy texture. That's the whole point of shark-fin soup, and I failed to replicate it."

"What does that catch?"

Koen, who had been about to return sadly to his work, paused. "Clarify?"

"What does it mean?"

What did it mean? "Maybe I don't care." Koen shrugged. "I'm leaving tomorrow, after all."

"Do you like what you caught?"

Koen faced her again. "Well, no. I'm a professional. I have standards. This whole event has been rushed, and I wasn't able to do it properly because they're getting rid of me." He screwed up his mouth. "Ha. What I caught tastes bitter."

"Ha ha." Proprietress mimed laughing. "I understand you, Human Koen. What more savory meaning can you catch, with these actions you've spun between your circumstances?"

Koen ran his fingers through his hair. "My soup failed to meet my standards. No, that's not right. I've only ever eaten the stuff two or three times. It's very expensive, and lately the Party's been cracking down on hunting for the sharks. The problem is that Li and Laura will eat it, and they might like it, but it won't taste like coming home. That's what I need to give them. That's why…I need another chance." He touched his sternum and shivered.

Proprietress tugged a string, and her marionette nodded. "A large meaning to catch. And a dangerous one."

Koen laughed. "Fling would say that means it's the best."

"With all respect due to our distinguished guests," said Proprietress, "the Admirable Self-Flinger is insane."

1 They had done exactly that, causing major disturbance to share prices in the IT sector.