Free Magic Banquet by A.E. Marling

wouldn’t, but she could imagine herself being called a
hero. Dresses of jewels, she would wear those every day, and she
would eat nothing but coconut-date delicacies. Everyone would
welcome a hero.
    She blinked. Her glass wobbled and twinkled.
A rainbow spun inside, the eel. It was almost as small as a
tadpole. She could swallow it without trouble. Not that she ever
would.
    She held the glass. Had she just picked it
up? It trembled. The swimming eel spun a whirlpool. Bringing the
glass to her lips seemed most natural.
    Only when the fish hit the back of her
throat did she understand. The kraken. Its magic had done
more than cure her. She wasn’t herself.
    Aja gagged, but the eel had already
stretched its way down her neck. Its fins brushed against her
insides like a feathering.
    She clinked empty glasses with someone. The
empress handed Aja flatbread with caviar. The black beads tasted
like gems of salt. So delicious, Aja didn’t bother to chew.
    In an embrace with the empress, Aja’s
fingers strayed to Ryn’s shawl, then beneath it. Could Aja really
be a hero for something so easy as stealing a hair? The empress
flitted away before anything could be done.
    The eel fluttered in Aja’s belly. Something
popped, a jolt, a spark, and a zinging ripple passed through her.
The next time felt even better. She had to wiggle her shoulders
with the thrill of it.
    She stuffed all the caviar she could into
her mouth. Then it was gone. Sprawling on the carpet, she held her
stomach and giggled. Each time the eel tickled her, colors spread
from the hanging lamps like spilled paint. Azure and saffron and
auburn and vermillion.
    A lifting sensation, and the carpet swayed
beneath her. Maybe she was floating. Then the lamps slid away, and
she sat up to see it was true. The carpet had risen from the floor.
It carried the guests into the darkness.
    “To the next course!” Someone shouted
it.
    Aja threw her hands up. “Faster!
Faster!”
    She could see nothing. Maybe she should be
afraid. Aja had never liked running blind. But this was all
movement and freedom. The carpet whisked her forward.
    Light split vertically from an opening door.
Not the sliding, screeching door of a warehouse but the vaulted
doors of a palace. The djinn threw them open. The carpet flew the
guests inside a ballroom.
    The moon was huge in the waterfall windows.
Each star shone close, as if just outside, with four spines of
light. Inside, hundreds of lamps dangled from the ceiling on a web
of gold chains. A fire of amber coated the walls. Gilt and gemstone
sculptures depicted gods eating. Some had animal heads, others six
or more arms with which to hold food.
    “Hahaha!” Aja cried out. This was everything
she had hoped.
    The carpet settled down beside a table.
There waited the Chef.

Side Dish:
    SOLIN’S TALE
    Don’t know any stories. None fit for a
kingly meal like this. If I must speak, I’ll tell of where I was
born. Hoathas, the City of Gold.
    Every morning the first to wake are the
bees. The sky brightens with their yellow bands. You can feel their
buzz in the stones under your feet. The air throbs with their wings
as they fly from rooftop to rooftop, from garden to garden.
    Each home in Hoathas blooms with color.
Flowers cover the roofs. Women sing while gardening. Their voices
match pitch with the bees, then harmonize. No other city is as full
of sound and color.
    Men balance jugs on their heads. They pour
water on the garden blooms, return to refill at the Gargantuan
River. The river is so wide that some call it a sea. Boats flock
the piers, and cold coin is traded for our honey gold.
    Everyone in the city has their place, their
task. The Purests sing in their walled-off garden and remember the
time before. In these evil days, some women must carry weapons.
They are the stingers. They protect the city.
    Men are not allowed to walk the streets
unaccompanied. It would not be right. They carry their jugs through
the undercity, the filthways. There it is