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main | table of contents Copyright © 2003, S. Y. Affolee 23 Sheldon The house that was owned by Gammell’s friend was an unassuming narrow building further down the street. It was sandwiched between two other narrow buildings, both of which were obviously occupied. The lights were on and the windows thrown open despite the cold. Music and loud laughter drifted out and an amorous couple had escaped onto one of the balconies for a more intimate rendezvous. The address that they were heading to, in contrast, almost looked as if it had been abandoned except for a small light on one of the first floor windows next to the door. Gammell rang the doorbell. “Are we even at the right address?” said Verity. “Yes. I’m quite sure.” “Do you think anyone’s here?” “I’m sure. Are you thinking you might want to go to the party next door?” “It might be more fun. What’s your friend’s notion of celebrating Feasting Day? I’m giving him a benefit of a doubt that he’s not a crackpot.” “No, he’s quite sane. He just likes doing things a little differently than most people.” The door opened and a long square face with squinty eyes peered out. From the small taper that the man carried in his hands, the weak light cast his skin in a ghoulish green. The doorman was not smiling. “Name?” “Gammell. Nathaniel Gammell.” He took out a small white card from his coat pocket and showed it to the doorman. After scrutinizing it, he said, “All right. Who’s she?” “My friend, Verity Tage.” The doorman’s gaze briefly flickered over to Verity. “If you’re bringing her with you, you’ll be responsible.” “I know.” “What does he mean, that you’re responsible for me?” whispered Verity. “I’m responsible for myself.” “That’s true, but the fact is, you’re a guest of a guest. That’s part of the rules.” “Who is this friend of yours?” “You’ll meet him soon enough.” The doorman opened the door wide for them to enter. The foyer was very narrow and dark. He took the visitors’ coats to place them in a nearby cloakroom. Underneath Gammell’s coat was a simple white jacket over a grey waistcoat with shiny silver buttons. His slacks were white and tailored for his frame. His tie was silver. To Verity’s chagrin, she found herself admiring how he filled out the shoulders of his jacket. Gammell’s gaze when he first saw Verity’s dress, however, was inscrutable from behind his mask. The doorman came back and ambled down the foyer and opened the door. Light spilled outward revealing a flight of stairs leading down to the lower level. “I believe that dinner is going to be served shortly,” he said. Gammell and Verity traversed the narrow stairs which directly led into a large room lit brilliantly with white candles placed strategically on wall holders and tables and a chandelier hanging from the center of the ceiling. It was a large banquet hall decorated entirely in white. Long tables stretched along the walls and seated many guests, the majority who had arrived earlier. At the opposite end of the room was another long table where the hosts sat in front of a large bronze gong. Small doorways also branched off from the rooms and servants and waiters bustled to and fro from these portals carrying trays of sweet-smelling food. The traffic of waiters studiously avoided the middle of the room which held a giant ice sculpture of a crow with its wings spread. “Gammell! Glad you could make it!” The voice belonged to a tall and thin man wearing a suit that was alternatively striped with silver and white. His complexion was a pale pink and his dark eyes were framed with an outlandish mask decorated with sparkly sequins and black feathers. He grinned showing a gap between his two front teeth. “Good to see you, Sheldon. Looks like you outdid yourself this year.” “Isn’t it every year, though?” Sheldon looked at Verity. “But you finally brought somebody with you this year.” “Sheldon, this is Verity. She’s an archivist up at the institute. And I also recently hired her as an assistant.” The host winked at Verity. “Sure. Right. An assistant. I gotcha. Whatever you say, Gammell. Well, welcome Verity. Gammell’s a paranoid bastard so I’m sure anyone he trusts is a friend of mine.” He shook Verity’s hand. She noticed that his hand was as thin as the rest of his body and his fingers fine and spidery so that she could see the veins. It was also clammy and Verity discretely wiped her hand behind her. She wondered if this foppish character was the result of excessive inbreeding among the prominent families in the Old Quarter. “Pleased to meet you,” said Verity. “I guess I could say the same of any other friend of Gammell’s.” Sheldon laughed and slapped Gammell on the shoulder. Gammell smiled ruefully. “I wish I were so lucky to have gotten out of this place like you,” said the host. “But you know how it goes. Stay here and submit to their wishes. And bam, you find yourself sitting across a surely shrew at the breakfast table.” “Surely it can’t be that bad,” said Gammell. “The worst thing isn’t that. It’s the pocketbook. You’ve got to watch it constantly or she’ll clear out the bank with her obsessive spending.” Sheldon shook his head. “My wife, the shrew,” he clarified for Verity. “Well, enjoy yourselves. Dinner’s going to be ready in a few minutes. Just find yourselves a seat somewhere.” As Sheldon turned to greet the next guests, they found their way to a pair of empty seats near the center of one of the tables close to the wall. All of the seats were on one side so that the guests sat with their backs to the wall. The other side was free so that the waiters could freely come and go, refilling glasses with champagne and red wine, putting down trays of steaming glazed meats and vegetables arranged in colorful cornucopias and taking up any platter that was empty. As Verity steadily consumed wine and food and felt her mind swim into a strange level of awareness where she seemed to feel aware of everything and everyone around her—especially of Gammell who curiously ordered water from the waiters—entertainers traipsed around the center of the room, dancing to the tunes of fiddles and flutes in a whirl of white and silver. Clowns in faces smeared with white paint went around the room doing silly magic tricks for the guests. Verity found herself giggling as one of the clowns pulled a handkerchief for her out of thin air. She never giggled, she thought in consternation, it just wasn’t her. But when she turned to check Gammell’s reaction, he was smiling at her. When she stopped laughing, she said in a mock serious tone, “Do you have any idea how they do their illusions?” “I have no idea.” “Well, I do,” she said louder. No one else in the room paid any attention to her. Everyone was talking and laughing loudly from the alcohol. “You see, they trick you into focusing your attention elsewhere. That’s when they pull out whatever it is that they want to come our of nowhere. It’s only when you pay attention to where they don’t want you to look that you can figure out how they do it.” “That’s fascinating.” But she noticed that he wasn’t looking at her anymore. The musicians had started another tune and a new troop of dancers came out. These dancers were women in long filmy gowns and as they twirled, they offered tantalizing glimpses of bare flesh. Verity sighed, suddenly morose, and held up her glass to have it refilled by a passing waiter. Sipping the spicy wine, she said, “They’re pretty.” He glanced at her. “I think it’s in the nature of the profession to be pretty. People don’t hire ugly dancers.” “No.” After a moment, he picked up his own glass and drank some water. He placed the glass down. “Have you thought about becoming a dancer?” Verity had been in the midst of chewing some of her dinner when she nearly choked. “What?” “Have you thought about becoming a dancer?” “I don’t even know how to dance!” “Too bad.” The wine was making her mind work slower. She still wasn’t sure what he meant although she was sure she’d realize what he was trying to say the next day when all the alcohol was out of her system. “Do you know how to dance?” she asked instead. “Passably. I’m not an excellent dancer. No troop would hire me.” As the final entertainers filed out of the room and the waiters picked up the empty dishes, Sheldon, who was sitting at the head table, stood up. One of the servants handed him a mallet which he struck against the gong. The reverberating percussive sound immediately caused the guests to halt their conversations. “Dear friends,” Sheldon said, “I hope you’ve enjoyed yourselves. In a couple of moments, the ceremony will start. So if you’ll kindly move yourselves over to the next room, we’ll begin promptly.” The guests clapped and almost immediately, the got up from their chairs, the people slowly moving toward the end of the room, particularly to one of the smaller doors. “What ceremony is he talking about?” asked Verity. “For Aunat,” Gammell replied.  |