Taowren scowled back but did then reluctantly incline his head. He knew he was not good at curbing his words, or his opinion, or behaving with what his cousin referred to with his nose in the air as “propriety”. However, in this case he was surprised to find himself agreeing with Tomar. Enough provocation from Yan and Taowren didn’t think he would be able to hold back from a fight. One that Lord Tanno would end up having to apologise for, even if Taowren was in the right. He sighed and went back to his examination of the rest of the table.

         There were a number of other people at the Hanlen table that did not seem to quite fit in—their robes were formal, but they were not in Hanlen colours, and they seemed to only speak when spoken to; they did not get involved in whatever conversation Yan was carrying. Tomei began listing them all. One was Lord Hanlen’s physician, another an advisor who would act as scribe for Swari on his Master’s more sickly days; there were several people who oversaw their mines most of the year, and even more of them were second- or third-cousins of the Lord and Lady couple. Taowren couldn’t retain so many names and positions at once and silently thanked the Gods when Lord Balin stood and brought the music and chatter to a standstill with a single wave of his hand, setting his bright silver vambraces glittering.

         By now the rest of the Okan family had all moved to their seats, and Lord Balin began his introductory speech. Taowren did not spend much of the welcome speech paying attention, instead craning his neck to get a glimpse of the silver-furred wolves standing behind the stern-looking man. As he praised the last three years of peace and lasting alliances, Taowren wondered if the Okan Chosen ran alongside the wolves or rode upon them when they scoured the mountains. The beasts were of varying size, from those not much larger than a hunting dog to those who looked big enough to devour a pair of full-grown cows and have room for dessert.

         It was only when Tomar’s familiar elbow jabbed Taowren in the ribs that he realised the speech had ended and everyone was toasting their hosts. He hurriedly lifted his glass, then upon raising it to his lips was surprised to find that it was not wine that filled his mouth, but a kind of elderflower scented water. It passed over his tastebuds unobtrusively, leaving a faint, lingering flavour as delicate as the perfume of a passing courtesan. Not unpleasant, he thought, but odd that they did not toast with wine.  He sat back down to observe as food was brought out and spread across the length of the tables.

         The servers were an unusual mixture of white-haired youths, no older than sixteen, and black-haired middle-to-elderly aged folks dressed in much simpler garb than their young compatriots. Willow’s mention of not having many servants or staff flitted into Taowren’s mind, and he supposed it was one of the responsibilities of the young Okan members to help serve at banquets. The dark-haired folk must be the few servants and kitchen staff that the Okan clan did employ.  He noted, too, that the wolves upon the dais were served great hankering mounds of raw mutton before any trays were brought to the people at the tables. Evidently the wolf spirits ranked as the most important guests of the banquet.

         The food served here was nothing like that which he was used to in the south of Turo. The dishes here were simpler fair, with a greater emphasis on the meat and fish portions, but very generous in size and the quality high. The meat was some kind of goat, brazed and thick, with only a little seasoning, accompanied with a dish of smoked salmon upon a simple savoury pancake. The side portions were made up of vegetables Taowren could not even name, but having never been this close to any mountains before in his life he realised it must be local produce not found elsewhere. Tomar and Tomei tucked in with their chopsticks as if completely unsurprised by the foreignness of the vegetables, though Taowren did see Tomar poured a generous helping of chilli sauce from a communal pot in the centre of the table across them.

“What is this?” Taowren had to ask when he bit into a cube of what he had thought was bean curd mixed in with his greens, only to find the texture much harder and the flavour saltier. It almost squeaked against his teeth.

“Cheese, from the goats in the stable,” Tomar replied, “it’s a local delicacy, so you best not be rude and eat it, no matter what!”

“I didn’t say it was bad, did I?” Taowren huffed back, “I’ve had cheese before, you know. It’s a delicacy in Mohan culture too.” Although, the cheese made from the livestock kept by Mohan tribes had an entirely different flavour and texture to this. Tomar only grunted in response and continued to eat with a frown.

         Opulent and full of music and intermittent speeches, the feast went as smoothly as any banquet Taowren had ever attended. There was even some dancing, and Tomei took that opportunity to introduce Taowren to the Tien sisters, Taklora and Laimeira. They were both pretty, dark-haired girls in their mid-to-late-teens, with flowers laced into their hair and romantic ideas about which lordlings they would walk through the gardens with over the coming weeks. Both sisters looked at Taowren like an animal in a zoo—for the Mohan tribes were seldom seen with the noble clans and his piercings were something of an oddity to the two teenage girls—but they soon fell into gossiping and chatting with Tomei about the various antics of other teenagers Taowren did not know and entirely forgot about the boy’s bohemian looks.

         Taowren found Mobai much more interesting than his sisters, with his bright hair and amber eyes, not to mention the fine scales on his elegant neck. The newly spirit-bonded young man was far more invested in asking Tomei about her winter festivities and her plans for the following days than anything else, so Taowren soon ended up back at his seat with Tomar.

         Young Master Yan seemed engrossed in a heated debate happening at the Hanlen table for most of the evening, so Taowren had no reason to cross paths with him again. Brayandli, too, it seemed, was glued to his own seat, although the elegant young man didn’t appear to speak a word to anyone, his eyes very much fixed on his plate of braised beef and vegetables.

         Willow floated over to join them. “I hope you enjoyed the feast. Is all as expected with your rooms?”

“I have no complaints.” Tomar shrugged at her when she sat down in Tomei’s vacated seat.

“That’s good,” Willow replied in her musical voice, “Do let us know if you require any assistance in the coming days. We would be only too happy to help.”

“Of course.” Tomar replied stiffly.

         “That goes for you too, Young Master Taown.” Willow added, bringing his attention from watching a moth desperately dancing around a sconced candle on the wall. He couldn’t have explained why, but something about that moth had caught Taowren’s eye; the way its wings flapped seemed to echo the beat of the music, and it almost looked like it really was dancing. “I know this is your first time here, so don’t be afraid to ask me—or Brayandli—for anything if you need it.”

“Yeah, okay. Of course. You got it.” Taowren smiled absently, eyes not leaving the moth until An unbidden yawn suddenly swept through him and he found himself knuckling at his eyes.

         “Do you want to head back?” Tomar cocked one thick eyebrow at him, and Taowren nodded.

“All that horseback riding has taken it out of me. Weird that, isn’t it? The horse did all the work but I’m exhausted too.” Taowren hummed, stretching his arms up behind his head as he stood. “Should we get Tomei?”

“No, leave her.” Tomar shook his head, “She’ll be catching up with the Tien sisters until near sunrise, probably. Taklora’s a huge gossip, she can talk the ear off of anyone.”

“See you tomorrow, Willow.” Taowren waved one hand at the pale woman.

“Sleep well,” Willow replied serenely, giving both boys a polite bow.

“Do you think riding a goat is less or more tiring than a horse?” Taowren asked Tomar. “Will they let me ride one of their goat, do you think?”

“Guests are allowed to borrow them to go into town, but you don’t even know how to ride a goat, do you?” Tomar rolled his eyes. “Leave their livestock alone. You’ll only fall off and hurt yourself.”

“It can’t be that different from a horse…” Taowren muttered before yawning loudly since more. Willow watched them depart out through the large doors. “Can you use their horns to steer them? Now I really want to try!”

He’s an unusual one, that Mohan boy. Willow thought to herself. I can see why Brayandli likes him.

         Unfortunately, Taowren did not sleep well. Although he had been slipping into a kind of stupor while watching that moth in the dining hall, as soon as he had dropped his fine robes into a crumpled heap and fallen into bed, pulling the plush blankets up around him, he found he was suddenly and incomprehensibly wide awake.

         After tossing and turning for an hour or two, Taowren eventually sat up, kicked the covers off himself and rolled out of bed. Light-footed, he stepped towards the latticed windows and pulled the heavy drapes away to look out over the lantern-lit gardens behind the visitors’ residences. The pale moonlight draped over the scene like a silver veil, muting the vibrant colours of the gardens to a uniform deep blue. The distant mutter of the evening’s festivities had slowly died out while sleep had escaped him, and with a deep breath he opened his ears to the sounds of the night, hoping to calm his thoughts long enough to rest.

         Cicadas chirruped, just as they did in the south, but something else pulled at the very edge of Taowren’s attention that prevented his mind from drifting towards sleep. It was something in the air. Almost like a silent birdsong was calling to him, Taowren found himself sitting on the open windowsill and staring out across the gardens and towards the forbidding mountain peaks in the distance.

         If he closed his eyes and listened very closely, he swore he could almost hear the sound of drums.