Nina’s frustration over Svanda’s situation was temporarily put on hold as her attention turned to the last two figures that finally entered the hall. One was an older man with a receding hairline and a silver beard which was tied into a thinning plat, while beside him was a woman with long straight hair and wrinkles around her eyes that the white paint on her face could do little to hide. Both wore silky white robes with decorative purple trim and thin concentric rings of black thread which hung close to the hem, the threads seeming to shimmer in the light as they stepped. Five silver rings with both black and purple gemstones glimmered on the man’s gnarled right hand, something that Nina found odd considering that his left featured none at all. At least the woman who trailed behind him by half a step had a little more sense for balance, a jumble of silver bracelets around each of her wrists which poked out from the sleeves of her robe. No crown or tiara or any oversized sceptre or whatever else they could have thought of, at least. Not that they needed them. Their position at the table on top of the pyramid already said more than enough.
Saela mumbled something again, but Nina couldn’t make out the words over the applause that filled the hall. It wasn’t something that they wanted anyone to hear either if the accompanying expression on her face was anything to go by, so Nina simply stifled a sigh before turning her attention back to the figure in black who stood high up on the pyramid above. Svanda’s expression was difficult to make out from this distance, but Nina could at least tell that she wasn’t smiling. Her applause seemed just as half-hearted as Saela’s too, and the display left Nina wishing that for once she could have scolded her. Saela might have been able to get away with such a flagrant disregard for etiquette due to the fact that she was among the throng of Unqualifieds which were largely out of sight, but Svanda was no doubt attracting much more attention than she obviously thought she was. Keeping up appearances regardless of how she felt for the minute or so that it would take the pair to ascend to their table would have been far wiser than risking the ire of just about everyone else in the hall, and Nina was already wondering why Reina hadn’t given her the same guidance. Maybe she had, only to see her advice swept under the rug. Maybe Svanda just didn’t care.
Only sit once everyone else is seated.
Immediately after the pair at the top eased themselves into their seats without fanfare, each tier of people followed them like dominoes, a cascade of human movement from the peak of the pyramid down towards the bottom. A few of the one-peak Qualifieds dawdled with thin smiles on their faces for a moment before they leisurely slipped into their seats, although Nina wasn’t about to give them the reaction that they seemed to be fishing for. It was more pitiful than anything else from her perspective, the fact that they wanted those below to hang on their actions for what was ultimately only a few seconds. Everyone else above them had got on with things without a fuss despite their standings, and so the notion did little beside highlight the yawning gulf in class between them and those above. Turning her nose up in a meagre display of defiance, she seated herself in between Saela and another man before idle chatter sprung up around them.
“Hope the food is at least alright,” Saela said, leaning back in her chair. Her hood was pushed back for once due to an earlier request from Svanda, the short blonde mop of hair that it usually hid away now on display amongst a sea of silver. Nina’s own head of dark hair had also attracted a few cursory glances that she was instinctively aware of, although thankfully outsiders weren’t as uncommon as she had first thought. Perhaps one in four of the Unqualifieds had hair in a colour other than silver, many of them sitting in small groups by themselves. If the other Unqualifieds looked down on them or not was something that she would probably find out about soon enough, although for now she would simply bide her time.
Terminus was a sieve, Svanda had once said. A sieve for outsiders that caught many more people than it let through.
“Something tells me that our food won’t be the same as theirs,” Nina said while nodding towards the pyramid. “I just hope that it’s edible.”
“Should’ve had more cake in Svanda’s room,” Saela replied, a frown stretching across her lips while her eyes followed the latest stream of people to pour through the door. The kitchens were a poorly understood entity according to Svanda, although Nina assumed that it was more related to her never bothering to learn about them. She could at least tell that they were categorized into tiers that matched the seating arrangements, as an Unqualified ascending the pyramid to even serve a plate would have caused outrage. Not that Nina would have cared. Maybe some drama would have even been interesting provided that she, Saela, and Svanda weren’t involved for once.
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“Why the black?” she eventually asked the man sitting next to her after plucking up the courage, motioning in Svanda’s direction with a nod. Unlike many of the others that sat around them he had kept to himself instead of engaging in conversation, his pale grey eyes which were partially obscured underneath long silver hair staring at the table in front where his pale fingers drummed out a slow pattern.
“New, are you?” he asked with more enthusiasm than Nina had expected, pushing a few loose strands of silver over his ear before giving her a thin smile. His face seemed almost as pale as the fingers which still tapped on the table now that she had a proper view, although he still seemed young. Early twenties, she guessed, although his thin nose and sharp jawline may have added a few years in her mind despite his lack of facial hair. At least he was dressed like a youth, wearing only a black t-shirt and a pair of loose beige pants which were tied halfway around his calves. Worn leather sandals tapped silently against the floor to the same rhythm that his fingers did, the two iron anklets on his right ankle jangling as they were thrown about.
Nina nodded slowly, acting unfazed as the man scanned over her features. His gaze lingered on her lips for perhaps a little too much longer than she would have liked, but before she knew it he was already fixed on Saela. Not that she noticed, instead occupied with trying to see what the Unqualifieds were being served further down the table, and so by the time she turned back to face them he had already returned to his earlier posture.
“The mark of the traveller,” he said after a brief pause, his fingertips coming to a rest on the table. “A reminder that she has spurned duty to the clan in favour of a different path.”
A black sheep, Nina thought. Was this their way of humiliating her, of showing everyone that she was different from the rest of them? Perhaps it was a thinly veiled warning to others. Receiving such treatment would surely cause whoever that harboured the thoughts of trying the same to think twice.
“Why is she still sitting up there then?” Saela asked with a shrug. “Wouldn’t it be embarrassing for them to have her up there if she rejected them?”
“She will return soon enough,” the man replied nonchalantly as though it were fact. “Return to reembrace the clan, as all Daerx must do. Only then will she wear white again.”
Nina ignored the plate that was placed before her, instead studying the man’s expression for any signs of uncertainty. The fact that she couldn’t find any was slightly unsettling, but again she reminded herself that these people weren’t to be trusted. Svanda would voluntarily come back to live out the rest of her life here? Not a chance. Nina hadn’t even been here for a day yet and she’d already had enough, and Svanda hadn’t exactly made her opinion of the place ambiguous either. Svanda wouldn’t leave Reina, Trim, or anyone else in The Cloud Orchestra. Not if this was the alternative on offer.
“You guys eat this every day?” Saela said as she examined the plate before her, reaching for the fork. Nina quickly elbowed her to stop her hands in their tracks, and once she did realization soon appeared on Saela’s face.
Don’t start until everyone has been served.
Nina sighed as Svanda’s final instruction popped into her mind, taking the opportunity to glimpse at the army of kitchen staff who swarmed around the base of the pyramid. It seemed to her that much like seating, the food would gradually be served by tier until dishes made it to the very top. Not that she was particularly eager to get started on what was in front of her. The collection of steamed vegetables with a few thinly sliced pieces of meat seemed to be haphazardly dumped onto the plate before a watery sauce had been splashed on top. What seemed to be a boiled brown root of some variety also took up about a third of her plate, and judging by Saela’s unamused expression after giving it a tentative sniff, it wasn’t going to be very good.
“It really is your first time,” the man chuckled to himself as he studied their reactions, his amusement evident. “It’s not so bad once you get used to it, depending on how long it takes them to serve everyone. See these kittersprouts? Not so good once they get cold.”
Nina frowned.
“Don’t worry,” the man reassured her. “Most Unqualifieds don’t finish their food anyway. The Evening League will start soon, and when it does, the taverns in town will fill to the brim before you know it. Better food there if you ask me, and most others would also say the same.”
Nina politely thanked the man, who eventually introduced himself as Ysarle as they waited for the remainder of the hall to be served. At least the process was efficient, although the steam which had initially poured from Nina’s dish had long since disappeared. Saela seemed to be in a sour mood again, although that wasn’t particularly surprising. Being forced to wait like a pet was something that clearly frustrated her, and Nina’s reminder that it was at least free proved to be of little consolation.
After thanking Ysarle for his offer to show them around during the Evening League, Nina sighed in relief as the two at the top of the pyramid were finally served. A clatter of cutlery soon rang out through the hall, and finally it was time for them to make a start on their first proper meal within the Daerx Clan.
Before she could even bring her fork to her mouth, however, Saela had already spat a thin slice of meat back out onto her plate.
“It’s already cold,” she groaned, pushing her plate forward before tossing her cutlery on top in resignation.