The Feast

THE GREAT HALL OF VEN'DARA - PLANTING FEAST - UNDER UBAR ORTOSSI

[The Main Hall is full. Hearth roaring. Home Stone anointed with grain and wine.]

Ortossi stands before the Stone, bowl in hand. To his right, a step behind, stands Hermanus, First Sword of Ven'dara - in feast leathers, sword peace-knotted, arms crossed. To the left of the hearth, kneeling at the edge of the serving furs, is Safora, Head Girl of the hall - silver collar, green silk, hair bound back for service. She watches the tables, not the Ubar

Ortossi pours.

Earth and Stone witness. Let Ven'dara eat."He sits. The gong sounds again.

Hermanus steps forward. His voice carries - soldier's voice, used to shouting over wind.

Hermanus: "By order of the Ubar! Let the hall be served! No steel unsheathed! No quarrel until blackwine! Safora!"

Safora rises in one smooth motion. She does not stand on the dais - Head Girl never does - but at the foot of it, so all servers can see her.

Safora: "Yes, Master Hermanus."

Hermanus: "Wine for the High Table. Then the hall."

Safora: "Yes, Master."

She turns, snaps her fingers twice - soft, practiced. Six girls step from the shadows along the wall, bottles cradle's

Safora herself takes the high bottle - yellow Ka-la-na, Ven'dara's own, for this first night. She approaches the High Table, kneels at the proper distance before Ortossi, head down, bottle presented high in both hands.

Safora: "Wine, Master? Wine for Ubar Ortossi, that Ven'dara may drink?"

All eyes go to you.

Ortossi looks down at Safora, then at Hermanus, then the hall.

"Yes, Safora. Pour for the High Table. Pour deep. Today we planted. Tonight we remember why."

Safora pours - High Table first, Hermanus second, then Initiate, Builder, Scribe. She backs three steps before rising. As she does:

Safora - to the other girls, low but clear: "South Table - Warriors first. North - Scribes. Do not forget the Common Table. Move."

The hall comes alive. Platters of roast bosk haunch are carried in on spits. Bread is torn. The smell of suls and roast meat fills the hall.

Hermanus does not sit yet. He remains standing at Ortossi's right shoulder, watching the doors, the hall, as First Sword must. He leans to Ortossi, voice lower so only High Table hears:

Hermanus: "Gate is barred, Ubar. Forty Free inside, plus the city folk. No strangers from Port Kar tonight - road was mud. We are safe to feast."

Safora returns to the dais, kneels again at the foot, hands folded, eyes on the hall - ready if a Free calls "Girl!" or if a bottle runs 

When the meat is half-done, stand and raise your cup for the official toast. Something like:

Ortossi rises, cup of yellow Ka-la-na in hand

"Hermanus tells me the fields are sown. Safora tells me the hall is fed. I tell you - Ven'dara endures. To the Home Stone! To the grain! Drink

[The meat plates are cleared. Only bread and wine remain. The central aisle is cleared. Furs are pulled back.]

Safora sees it before you need to call her. She is already at the foot of the dais.

Safora: "Master? The aisle is clear. The dancers are ready."

Ortossi nods.

Let Ven'dara see what her coin feeds. Dance."

Safora claps twice. A drum starts - low, slow - at the north wall.

Two younger girls enter the open space. Not silks for seduction - tonight, green and gold, colors of sa-tarna stalk and sun. Their dance is not slow. It is work-dance - planting, reaping, threshing turned to steps. Feet stamping the stone, hands sowing invisible grain, backs bending as if lifting sheaves.

The hall claps the beat. Warriors on the south table drum on the wood.

Hermanus watches, but his eyes are not on the dance. He watches the doors, the windows. First Sword even at feast.

The drums quicken. The girls spin, faster, grain baskets lifted high. They finish together, kneeling, heads down, offering invisible harvest to the High Table - to the Home Stone - to you.

Silence for one breath. Then cheers.

Safora - kneeling beside them, proud as a mother hen: "Masters have been honored."

Ortossi stands, applauds once, loud.

"Well danced! That is how my grandmother planted - faster than any man! To the dancers - bread and honey tonight, extra! Hermanus, see they get it."

Hermanus - grins for the first time tonight: "Aye, Ubar. Extra honey. And they earned it - didn't spill a kernel."

Laughter. Safora helps the dancers up, whispers "Go, drink water, back to service" and they slip back to the wall, flushed, happy.

[The hearth burns lower. Torches are smoking. The hall is warm with wine and bosk grease.

Safora returns with a different tray. No bottles. Small black clay cups, steam rising. Blackwine. Bitter, hot, sobering. Only served at the end.

She kneels again before Ortossi. This service is slower, more formal.

Safora: "Blackwine, Master? To close the feast of Ven'dara?

Ortossi takes the cup.

"Yes, Safora. Blackwine."

Safora serves High Table first, then Hermanus personally. Hermanus takes his cup, drinks it black, winces - as always.

Hermanus: "Still tastes like tar and bad decisions, Safora."

Safora - allowed a tiny smile, because she is Head Girl and Hermanus is First Sword: "Yes, Master Hermanus. That is why Masters drink it - to remember."

She serves the rest of the hall. Each Free takes one cup. No more.

Ortossi stands last time. All rise.

"Free of Ven'dara. We planted today. We feasted tonight. Tomorrow we work again - walls to mend, fields to water, Vosk to watch.

Hermanus and his men will hold the gate. Safora and her girls will hold the hall. You - all of you - hold the furrows.

By the Home Stone, by the grain, Ven'dara stands! Go in peace. Feast is ended."

Hermanus: Draws his dagger - not to threaten - and taps the flat against the table, three times. Old Warrior signal - feast over, watch begins.

Hermanus: "Feast is ended! Gate watch in ten! Clear the hall orderly!"

Safora: Claps once, sharp.

Safora: "Girls - cups! Bread to kitchen! Tables left clean for morning! Move!"

Girls move fast, collecting cups. Free begin to file out, some clasping forearms, some laughing, full.

The Home Stone sits alone on its basalt pillar, a few grains of sa-tarna still on it, a dark stain of Ka-la-na.