Page 18
The forks and knives and spoons were real silver. I bet those waitresses kept sharp eyes on the guests, especially the table of noisy young people seated by the west window. Their tea was in the winding-up phase from the used dishes on the table and the crumpled napkins by each plate.
We were not the first ones of our party to arrive. Fenolla Gregory, as hostess, was surrounded with other Listeds. Clayton Dashwood was the oldest and Felicia the youngest.
I cast an eye over the other young women and was relieved to see that Felicia was dressed well and appropriately. Thank you, Veronika.
As soon as Felicia saw her friends, she took off. I joined the other chaperones/what have you, who were standing at a respectful distance.
I introduced myself to Fenolla’s father, a fair, handsome man in his forties, who wore glasses and a calm expression.
He was an English wizard, so he had to practice in secret when he was in his home country.
(If he had lived here, he’d have been a grigori named Gregory.) Harriet Ritter came in right after us with Soo-Yung, both smartly dressed and smiling.
A really old woman hobbled in behind them, wearing a garment I’d never seen before.
It was all white, except for the ribbons tying the blouse where it wrapped across her chest. The old woman was tiny and bent over.
“So this is the lady who came from Korea with Soo-Yung?” I said, amazed.
“She insisted on coming. The outfit she’s wearing is a hanbok . Traditional.”
“I like it,” I said. There was a short blouse on top and a full, floor-length skirt so she had plenty of room to move. She could have concealed an army under there. I said as much, and Harriet nodded.
“I think there are pants below the skirt. She really, really wanted Soo-Yung to wear her own hanbok, but Soo-Yung insisted on wearing Western clothes.”
I gave the old lady a little bow, pointed to myself, and said, “Lizbeth Savarova.”
The old lady returned the bow, made no attempt to repeat my name.
“Kim Bo-Ra,” she muttered, tapping her chest. After sliding her eyes over to Harriet and shaking her head (didn’t need a translator to explain that to me), the old lady went back to watching Soo-Yung, who was talking away with the other young people.
Soo-Yung was very aware of the old lady but was pretending not to notice her.
I felt a little sorry for both of them.
Katerina’s mother, Irina, entered with her daughter.
Irina Swindoll was higher strung than she’d seemed the time I’d met her before.
Thick and stolid, she was dressed in an ugly shade of green.
Irina didn’t even try to be polite to the old lady, she was stiff and distant with Harriet, and would have been the same with me if I hadn’t been married to Eli.
Hired hands she could ignore. The wife of a prince she could not.
Katerina looked just as eager to get away from Irina as Felicia had been to get away from me.
She joined the other Listeds and melted right into the group.
Clayton Dashwood, Hasani El Masry, and Park Joon-Ho were all in their early twenties, older than the girls and Mateo, but they all seemed to be blending well.
I looked around and realized (with a little surprise and envy) that the young men must have come on their own. I would have thought they’d have needed as much watching as (or more than) the girls. I guess that wasn’t the way it worked, at least at daytime events.
“Samaah sends her apologies,” Matthew said. “Something came up, and she was detained.”
Irina started to be offended, but she left off when the rest of us told Matthew we were sorry and we’d miss her.
There was a big gust of laughter from the only table still occupied.
“I understood you’d reserved the whole place, Matthew?” Irina Swindoll said, in kind of a snooty way. “Oh, Paul is with them. What a surprise!” She looked like a different woman, all bright and happy. The loud young people were instantly all right with her.
I would have sworn she already knew her son was present.
One of the young men did look a lot like Irina. He was the loudest and the rowdiest. He was not the one who picked up the check. He waved at his mother when he saw her looking.
By then I’d recognized a few at that table from the biographies and photographs that had been sent to all the people Listed.
Some of them had looks or money, but little power (like Paul, probably).
Some of them had power but no money and no one to back them, as Eli and his mother were backing my sister.
Some of them had no money, little power, and weren’t attractive.
All of them, male and female, had to be completely aware of their status. Maybe that was why they were being stupid in public.
“That group is paying their bill now,” Matthew Gregory said calmly. “I noticed Paul. The last time I saw him he was called Mikhail. You gave him an American name.”
“He picked it himself,” Irina said, as proudly as though that had been a real feat.
“I hope he’s having a good Wizards’ Ball.
” In a quiet way, Matthew was as good-looking as his wife, Samaah.
No wonder Fenolla was so pretty. At Tatiana’s tea, Samaah had told me they’d sent Fenolla to school in the Holy Russian Empire so she could learn everything she needed to, openly.
When she returned to live in England—if she did—she would have to use her talent out of view of anyone.
(I had spent a few odd moments this past autumn hoping Felicia wouldn’t fall for some English magic practitioner. She’d be terrible at keeping her talent concealed, as the English had to. Seems like I hadn’t needed to worry, since I had yet to meet an English magician except for Matthew.)
An imposing gray-haired lady in a muted purple dress came out of a doorway at the rear of the dining room.
This had to be Mrs. Forrester. She went to the rowdy table, and as she stood waiting for their attention, they remembered their manners.
I was impressed. With a small smile, she talked to them quietly.
The oldest boy (really a young man) nodded.
He offered his payment to a hovering waitress (no one would dare hand money directly to Mrs. Forrester) and they all stood to leave.
A couple of them exchanged a wave or a word with members of our party.
Paul gave a kiss on the cheek to his mother and a careless wave to his sister. Katerina lifted a hand half-heartedly.
After that was done, Mrs. Forrester glided over to Matthew Gregory while two waitresses began to clear the party’s table. One was gray-haired and stout, one was younger and thin. They were both very efficient.
“Good day, Mr. Gregory,” Mrs. Forrester said.
She had an English accent, though not as strong as Matthew’s.
“We are ready to seat you now. The table for eight is for the younger people, the table over here for you four… five, I see.” Bo-Ra was a surprise.
Mrs. Forrester told the younger waitress to set another place and bring another chair, and the girl hopped to obey.
“Mrs. Forrester owns the place outright,” Harriet said quietly.
“When her husband’s mother died, she had to find a way to earn her own living, since she was a widow.
So she used the house and her baking skills.
” Trust Harriet to have found that out. The young people took seats at their table while the extra place was being set at ours.
There was a name card at each seat for the table for eight.
Since Fenolla’s father was paying for this party, I guessed he’d picked the seating order. Another thing I’d never thought of.
Clayton and Mateo were on either side of my sister.
That was good. She might yet change her mind, but that was a pretty dim hope.
Clayton was seven years older than Felicia, but he seemed like a nice guy in a very stable situation.
Mateo was younger, but he was also attractive and talkative, and his family was wealthy and close-knit.
I hadn’t seen anything bad in either one on short acquaintance.
I didn’t pay much attention to the other kids, but I did notice that Soo-Yung was sitting by her countryman.
Harriet, the ancient Korean lady, Katerina’s mother, Fenolla’s father, and I shared a table on the other side of the room. We were within sight but not hearing, which suited the Listeds. Matthew didn’t want to seem like he was eavesdropping, I guess.
When our waitress came, Matthew ordered a full tea for our table, and we all smiled like that was wonderful.
Turned out it was wonderful. We not only got two kinds of tea along with everything that could be added to them, but a big tray with lots of layers, different food on every single one: little sandwiches, pastries, preserved fruit, cake, and what Harriet, who was sitting to my left, said were scones.
Which turned out to be like biscuits. There were all kinds of things to slather on the scones, too.
For the first time in what felt like days, I was really happy and interested.
Kim Bo-Ra was to my right, and I made a plate for her. She gave me a nod of thanks—or anyway, a nod. She was not paying our table conversation any attention. She held her head cocked, as if she were listening to someone far away.
“Far-hearing,” Harriet whispered from my left. “Soo-Yung told me.”
I had never heard of that as a grigori gift.
I was really impressed. I remembered the only other person of Korean background I’d met before this week: Chin-Hao Costa, from Brazil.
He had been able to travel far distances by a process called “land folding.” Different magic traditions had different gifts, which kind of made sense.
I didn’t know what conversation Bo-Ra was listening in on, but it had to be more interesting than ours.
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