Free The Huntsman by Rafael Page A

restaurant.”
    “Alright, alright. Laying it on a bit thick, don’t you think?”
    “Ah, the ardent suitor grunts and betrays his jealousy. For daring
to speak in your presence, we’ll let him suffer a bit longer. Permit me for the
moment to greet two friends who know the true meaning of loyalty.”
    Chatur stepped away to pat his chest. “Come, Ronan, come.” The dog
stood to place his paws on Chatur’s shoulder, towered over him. Chatur
scratched his sides and back while Ronan eagerly licked his face. “Yes, yes,
you are a mighty warrior. The Infirm Hunter dodders if he let a tiger get this
close to you.” The ever dispassionate Duncan paced and whined, lost patience,
and pushed Ronan aside. “Ah, Duncan. Don’t let yourself become as rude as the
Feeble Hunter.”
    With a parting scratch, Chatur turned back to Miranda. “Despite
having to endure the sight of this unwashed oaf seated there, it would please
me to no end if you would accept my best table.”
    “You may console yourself, Chatur, with the knowledge it is I who
must eat with him.” He smiled at her.
    “My suffering endures. Yours has just begun. Singh, table 3,
please.” He bent to kiss Miranda’s hand again. “I’ll join you as soon as my
duties permit.” As she followed Singh, Janesh bent low.
    “How quickly we forget our friends, Dr. Logan.”
    “Come along, Mr. McKenzie. We must take our blessings where we
can.”
    The entrance opened to a gigantic circular room. Against the
walled circumference, service stations positioned every twenty-five feet along
with cabinets bulging with china, silver, and glassware permitted the wait
staff to manage their assigned tables. Above the five foot wall, huge picture
windows stretched thirteen feet to a dome adorned with the goddess Vishna. A
circular platform, raised four feet off the floor, filled the room’s center and
its almost imperceptible rotation provided diners a 360° panorama illuminated
by Chandrapur. Dim, subdued lighting finished the effect with a warm, intimate
atmosphere.
    Diners, already gawking at the miniature ponies disguised as dogs,
turned their heads as Singh held Miranda’s hand to step up low stairs onto the
platform. A whispered undercurrent grew when Janesh stepped up. Some pointed
and waved. Miranda’s temper flared at a few Indian beauties who pointedly tried
to catch Janesh’s eye. She straightened and slowed to a smug, regal sashay.
    Singh brought them to a table on the platform’s rim within a more
spacious area set off by decorative railings. He fussed over settings and
comfort, introduced their waiter and waitress, hovered while they took drink
orders, then discretely retired. The waitress returned, placed menus, dispensed
with a tiresome specials announcement, then proved herself equally discrete.
Miranda sipped her gin and tonic, noting her limit had one left.
    “I’m impressed. What must tables 1 and 2 be like?”
    “Table 3 is it. The original design included the two tables but
Chatur had them ripped out to allow the additional space. A Table 3 placement
is considered quite an honor among Chandrapur’s dining cognoscenti.”
    “How long have you known Chatur?”
    “We met in Cambridge. He left as an undergraduate. I followed a
year later.”
    “And where are the dogs?”
    “Don’t let their fawning fool you. They knew what was coming.
Right now they’re happily gnawing on fresh bones in Chatur’s office.” Miranda
looked around.
    “His office?”
    “This room is bigger than it appears. Beyond the outer wall a
kitchen takes up half the circumference. The remainder contains storage and
supply areas, administrative rooms, and Chatur’s private office.” Janesh
reached for the menus and passed her one. “Don’t be afraid to choose. You can’t
go wrong whatever you pick.”
    Her stomach threatening to protest further delay, she opened the
ornate carte. English descriptions and Janesh’s urging proved no help.
Unfamiliar words, intermingled