“We rested well,” Roke said shortly, answering the Duke. “How about yourselves?”
“Oh, we slept as well as we usually do after attending a Supper with the Crown Prince.” The Duchess giggled and batted her long white lashes coquettishly.
At that moment, the server came back with their food. He sat several plates and bowls down in front of them, as well as some steaming mugs. Then he whisked away to serve a group of nobles sitting at another table.
“All right, what’s this?” Roke asked, pointing to what appeared to be a very large egg—almost as big as Elli’s head—which was sitting in a broad, shallow bowl. It had come with what appeared to be a miniature hatchet with a very sharp blade.
“Oh, you must try some—this is oolie,” the Duchess said eagerly. “My dear—would you do the honors?” she asked the Duke, who nodded.
“Of course, my sweet. Here we go then…”
Picking up the enormous egg, he cracked it with a sharp blow from miniature hatchet and then broke it open over the serving bowl it had come in.
Green and black slime with purple chunks poured out into the bowl and the air was filled with a putrid smell.
“Oh!” Elli gasped, putting a hand to her nose. “What is that? Rotten egg?”
“Yes, it is rather pungent, isn’t it?” The Duke laughed affably. “Actually, it’s a kind of breakfast pudding from our home world.”
“They take a tava egg when it’s first laid and inject it with goob larvae while it’s still soft,” the Duchess explained, eagerly spooning some of the gooey green and black glop onto her plate. “As the chick in the egg grows, the larva start to eat towards it, consuming the white of the egg as they move towards the chick. When they finish with that, they get to the chick and—”
“I think we get the idea,” Roke said, giving the nauseous mess that had come out of the egg a sidelong glance. “I’m assuming those, uh, chunks are what’s left of the poor chick?” He pointed at the purplish-gray chunks in the black and green slime.
“Actually, those are the mature larvae,” the Duke said. “They die after they’ve eaten the chick and then we just let the whole thing ferment inside the eggshell for half a cycle until it’s ready to eat.” He took a big bite of the disgusting looking ooze and smiled blissfully. “Ah! This one is at the peak of ripeness! I must remember to send my compliments to the chef.”
“Do try some,” the Duchess said to Elli. “It’s quite delicious.”
“It looks wonderful but I’m trying to eat light today,” Elli said, glad she had an excuse not to eat the awful slime that had come out of the large egg. She picked up a large pink fruit with a thin skin and a firm, crispy orange flesh. “I’ll just have this. I’m going to be working with the zorels so I want to be on my toes.”
“Ah yes—you’ll be meeting the redoubtable Demon today.” The Duke shook his head. “I’m afraid he makes my Wind Chaser look as tame as a baby felinus.”
“What do you know about the three grooms he killed?” Roke asked sharply, leaning forward. “What were the circumstances of their deaths?”
Elli knew he was asking for her benefit and she was grateful he was so concerned. But she wasn’t sure if hearing about how the zorel she was supposed to tame and train had killed other people was helpful or not. Nevertheless, she listened as she ate the firm, juicy fruit which she believed was called a krisper.
“Why, the circumstances were, they were trying to break him to the saddle, I believe,” the Duke said, frowning. “They’d just brought him in from the wild lands, don’t you know, and the head groom advised against it but His Majesty was insistent that his new mount must be broken so he could ride him on his name day, so—”
“Wait a minute…” Elli put up a hand. “From the wild lands, you say? I thought he was a purebred flamer?”
“Oh, he is, my dear—he is.” The Duke nodded vigorously. “You see, what happened was that he had escaped from the paddock of his breeder and gone wild when he was little more than a foal. And they never could catch him, you know—he’s that fast.”
“His Majesty was at the breeder’s stables, looking for a new mount that would commensurate with his status, you see,” the Duchess said. “And the breeder showed him ever so many bucks and does, all of them of the finest pedigree…”
“But what caught the Crown Prince’s eye was this pure black zorel galloping around outside the paddock,” the Duke said, taking up the tale again. “A magnificent fellow—nearly twice as big as a regular zorel and breathing flames quite three feet long from his nostrils.”