7:00 PM
Dinner was High Formal this evening, and there were several more family members in attendance that night as well than would normally attend.
Brigid always attended dinner whenever she was at the castle, sitting close but not quite next to her mother. As each course was served, she took several small portions of everything that was served. She ate sparingly, amusing herself by watching the other family members, fortunate that there were significantly more members at dinner than usual.
As usual, Fiona sat at the head of the table, holding informal court over the Family and watching everyone with a careful eye. She nibbled at the various dishes presented and indicated her approval or disapproval of each serving by a brief nod or frown. Frowns usually brought a shudder from the servant, while smiles brought an obvious sigh of relief.
Both Gerard and his son Quince were in attendance, sitting at the far end of the long formal dining table. It was rare enough when either’s fleet was in port, rarer still both, and rarest of all when Quince appeared at dinner. Both Gerard and Quince ate heartily as usual, in between telling the usual stories of their most recent exploits.
Frowning darkly, Florimel sat in the middle of the table, dressed in black leather and bearing with her the faint but unmistakable scent of burning flesh from her favorite pastime. She ate mechanically of everything on the plates put before her, not taking part in any conversation. The only sound she made was the occasional unconscious cracking of her knuckles.
In contrast, Random, in his characteristic motley of oranges and browns, amused himself by drumming and juggling his silverware in between courses and pinching the female servants as they passed by. Since he sat far away from Fiona, he rarely incurred her displeasure at his antics. He seemed to have the best appetite and best humor of any family members present, something that might be the result of a liberal application of recreational chemicals prior to dinner.
The last family member in attendance, Brand, always attended, but he rarely participated in anything other than eating, and, more often, just drinking heavily. This night was no different: he merely picked at his food and drank far too much, until Fiona motioned over a servant and whispered to him, the message was then whispered into Brand’s ear. Brand looked morosely across the length of the table to Fiona, who merely smiled, and he turned back to his dinner, making an obvious effort to eat.
There were the usual empty places at the dinner table: Corwin, who preferred the surreal but relative safety of his realm of Tir nan Og in the sky to the twisted earthly realm of his half-sister, and Selene, his daughter, whose moods and mysteries were often as puzzling as Fiona’s sanity. Also missing were the late Julian’s son Leonardo and Brand’s daughter Angelica; both, according to Family rumor, were off pursuing their own pleasures in Shadow. It was a good sign of her mood that Fiona had not ordered places for any of the “missing” members of the Family, like Bleys or Julian, or the ones best left unmentioned, like Oberon or Dworkin. The memory of the night that Fiona carried on a series of surprisingly polite one-sided conversations with their empty chairs still gave Brigid chills.
As usual, there was little conversation within the family, mostly boasts by Gerard about the ships under his command and Qunice’s tales of villages burned, treasure stolen, men murdered and women raped. It was all the same sort of tales that they always told, with very little change to draw any attention to them. Brigid merely smiled and nodded when necessary out of politeness, noting that Fiona did largely the same, but she was also capable of politely covering a brief yawn or two, which always seemed to bring whatever tale was being told to a quick resolution.
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