“Are you well, Victoria?” he asked, looking at her with apparent concern. “Are you frightened of arachnids?”
Vicky gave a shaky laugh.
“That’s kind of an understatement,” she said softly, aware that the lecture was still going on. “I don’t like any kind of bugs but spiders are the worst.”
“Never fear—it will be gone soon,” Chain reassured her.
As he spoke, the struggling spider and its uneaten cake melted away in his hand, leaving no trace at all of the awful thing.
“There—see?” Chain reached out and grabbed her hand, squeezing it reassuringly.
Vicky squeezed back, grateful all over again for the big Kindred. She didn’t know what she would have done if the huge spider had jumped on her. Probably lost her shit and run screaming out of the lecture hall, which definitely wouldn’t have been a very good way to get the deal they were hoping for in regards to the T’lix-Kruthe.
As it was, she could see that Professor Lornah was glaring down at her with undisguised irritation. Clearly she had seen Vicky’s reaction to her spider-cake-delivery system and she was angry about the minor scene it had caused.
Looking around, Vicky saw that other people were watching her too—taking away the focus from Professor Lornah’s lecture. Had all of them just sat there and let the huge spiders run up their body and deposit a cake in their mouths, she wondered in disbelief? How could that not freak them out? But obviously, they thought she was out of line because she hadn’t sat still and let a spider force-feed her cake.
Priima Belle, for all its veneer of class and academic sophistication, was apparently one fucked-up world, Vicky thought grimly. She was going to have to watch her manners from now on—though how she could have avoided showing some reaction to a giant spider appearing on her plate, she didn’t know.
Scooting back up to the table, she fixed her attention on Professor Lornah, hoping the other people in the lecture hall/dinner theater would lose interest in her and do the same.
Nothing to see here, folks—freak-out is officially over. Let’s all go back to the lecture.
After a moment, Professor Lornah did.
“Well,” she said and cleared her throat. “Ahem. Now that we’re all ready, let’s continue.
“In the fookuup territory they bake a charming confection filled with the cream of the papa-zook which has been aged for a thousand days. The pastry shells it is inserted into are likewise aged a thousand days. And that is why these next cakes are called ‘thousand day buns.’ Please enjoy the richly fermented flavor of the cream and the lovely flooga glass platters each bun is plated upon.”
A limp pastry about the size and shape of a hamburger bun fizzed into existence on Vicky’s plate. It was thickly furred with gray and green mold and filled with a large portion of greasy, grayish-black ooze. Vicky thought the “cream” looked like Cool Whip which had been left to molder in its little plastic tub in the back of the refrigerator for months and months until it had taken on a life of its own.
Oh my God! Her gorge rose and she thought for the second time that night that she might throw up. What was wrong with Professor Lornah? Was she trying to make her audience sick?
And yet, all around her, the other Professors were picking up the grayish-greenish-moldy buns filled with slimy black ooze and biting into them with apparent enjoyment. Their students—the young guys who all looked to be in their early twenties—were eating the buns as well, most of them with stoic expressions on their faces. This might not be something they liked, but it was clearly something they had to put up with to keep the positions they were in with their professors.
“I’m so glad to see you’re enjoying this little treat,” Professor Lornah remarked, giving the audience a smug little smile. “It requires a truly discerning palate to appreciate the rich rot of the thousand day buns, but it’s clear that you’re an extremely astute audience.”
This remark felt rather pointed to Vicky, Looking up, she saw the other woman was glaring directly down at her. Clearly after the way Vicky had reacted to the cake-bearing spider, she was watching to make sure she ate the next item on her lecturing menu—which happened to be the moldy, rotten bun.
Oh God, I’m going to have to eat it or risk offending her, Vicky thought in panic. Okay, it’s okay, she told herself. You can do this. It’s like blue cheese—like gorgonzola. Some foods taste better when they’re aged and…and rotten.
She couldn’t quite make herself believe this, but she realized she had no choice about tasting the “delicacy” on the plate in front of her. If she didn’t at least try a bite, Professor Lornah was going to hate her and refuse to introduce her to the professor who had access to the other half of the T’lix-Kruthe.
Trying to keep her face blank, she picked up the rotten, oozing bun from her plate and brought it towards her face. The smell that hit her nose was like spoiled milk mixed with five-week-old garbage rotting in the sun. It was awful.
I can’t, Vicky thought to herself, feeling her stomach do a slow forward roll. Oh God, I just can’t.
But she had to or the deal for the T’lix-Kruthe was off—she was sure of that.
They’re counting on me back at the Mother Ship. I have to do this!
Careful not to let her disgust show on her face, she continued to bring the roll up to her lips. She opened her mouth and a dribble of the rotten black ooze that was
