Murder in Cormyr - Chet Williamson [63]
At seven o'clock, everyone gathered in the great room of the Sheaf of Wheat. Since the Silver Scythe would host the meeting the next day, the Sheaf of Wheat would play host to the grand reception.
Silver medallions that had been given to the guests upon their arrival were their entry into the reception. Captain Flim had gotten one for me through Mayor Tobald. Beneath the medallion was suspended a piece of parchment with one's name and home city on it, along with one's position, such as Council President or Council Member. Mine stated
Council Special Guest, and I hoped I would be allowed to keep the medallion later, since the silver in it weighed as much as five falcons.
Lukas Spoondrift himself was guarding the door, graciously admitting only those with the proper credential pinned to their chests. When my ex-boss saw me, he half-smiled, half-sneered, and I could see that he was anxious to give this supposed gate crasher the boot. "And where do you think you're going, slop boy?" he said in a rather inhospitable tone.
"Not slop boy," I corrected him as I tapped my medallion meaningfully. "Special guest of the Cormyrean Merchant's Guild council. And one who expects gracious hospitality. I hope, Spoondrift, for your sake, that everything surpasses the Sheaf of Wheat's usual fare. I intend to savor every dish tonight, looking for your old tricks of putting mutton in the lamb stew, and adding horsemeat to the beef dishes. I was not totally blind during my tenure with you, you know. And any such corner cutting for the sake of economy will be reported to the council, of whom I am a"-I glanced down meaningfully at my title-"special guest."
His face worked for a long time, but he finally succeeded in hiding his hatred of me and smiled the most appalling, insincere grimace I have ever seen. But at least it was an attempt at sincerity, and there was nothing of the demeaning sneer in it, so I knew I had him by the scruff. "I beg your pardon… sir," he said, every word coming out like a pulled tooth. "Welcome to this… humble inn, and if I may be of any assistance, you have but to ask."
Then he bowed, and it was all I could do not to laugh. Demeaning himself did not come easily to Spoondrift. I bowed in return, and passed by him into the grand reception.
29
Barthelm Meadowbrock had done a good job of pushing Spoondrift to put his best foot forward. There were several buffet tables, and other smaller tables for the councilmen to sit at, if they didn't wish to stand and eat, as most of them were doing. The dishes were first rate, and I sampled nearly everything. No horsemeat in this stag sausage, though I thought I did detect a bit of mutton in the lamb stew.
Still, everything was cooked so well and presented so elegantly that I thought it expedient to overlook the mutton. The Sheaf of Wheat's staff did much of the serving, but many of the town lovelies helped as well, including the dazzling Mayella Meadowbrock, who was dishing out an oyster and wild rice concoction that seemed to be the most delicious dish available, if the long line was any indication. I noticed a few councilmen gobbling down the food as though they hadn't eaten in weeks, just so they could get back in line and face the radiant Mayella once again. I must confess to two helpings myself, even though I detest oysters.
At one point I stood in line next to Mayor Tobald, who was beaming with good health and, I assumed, several mugs of Suzale or Elminster's Choice. "A grand evening, Jasper," he said, clapping me on the shoulder. "A grand evening." And I had to confess it was.
Some of the councilmen had brought their wives along. Most were old, fat and snobbish sorts, but a few were young and extremely attractive. Surprisingly, these were usually with the oldest and most physically repellent men, and I was cynical enough to note that if money cannot buy love, it can purchase a decent enough simulacrum of the same.
But for most of the party, it was boy's night out. They ate and laughed