Fluid - 25

Getting Sarah and the room cleansed of abyssal residue takes a few tries. As the last of its dissonance fades away, Sarah offers me the crystal staff, still glowing a brilliant sapphire. Finding its trigger among the nested layers would have taken days if I hadn’t heard it being sung into existence.

It awaits a melody with the location and some details of form; neither the inner dimensional space nor its overall outwards nature is adjustable, and I can only understand some of its composition. Auntie Am made me a tower; I’d complain, but I have Wizard as a Class.

Sending aunt Sarah’s request to Esdras has him sputtering in mock outrage when he accepts the invitation to meet us.

“Esdras will be here shortly. He’s pretending shock that I wanted another draconic guest.”

Sarah's acknowledgement is a smile of anticipation, and she moves a chair into the corner—facing the door and clear of the window. “Your nature is out of the box, but how do you want to handle the Andúnë? I take it the room is sound-shielded since no one came running at the din?”

“Paranoid much?” I ask, motioning to the position she picked, and Sarah smirks. “The sound barrier will stay up for at least another eight hours; I’ve had plenty of practice with Lingering Song. As for the meeting with the Andúnë, don’t let them know I’m the Anar Queen, that’s for sure.”

“Hasusar would have seen the records Imhotep made for you. If their informant learnt of your classes through him, it’ll have them speculating,” cautions Sarah.

“Speculation isn’t confirmation.”

“Very true,” agrees Sarah before she crosses her arms at me with a playful pout. “Though you’re being a spoilsport, I’ll keep the introductions to your name without mentioning rank or parentage.”

“Why am I a spoilsport?”

“I wanted to see their jaws drop,” laughs Sarah gleefully.

I can’t help the eye roll I give. “I’d prefer to avoid that, auntie. Why don’t you tell me what you’ve been killing while we wait for Esdras?”

Settling into the chair, Sarah projects an illusion of a sprawling forest and starts her tale. Esdras doesn’t take long to arrive, but I only interrupt Sarah’s battle account when he’s at the top of the stairs. Once the door closes behind him, I simply state their names aloud, gesturing to each. Draconic tradition has it that introducing one Dragon to another is an insult, even if Sarah might not care.

Esdras gives a confused cough. “You smell like a Gem Dragon, but I’ve no memory of your kind.”

“Scarlet Lonsdaleite,” admits Sarah.

“That must be a very rare Diamond Dragon, considering my bloodline has travelled extensively on the planes, yet your scent is new. A legendary Anar, and now yourself,” gushes Esdras, ringing with almost child-like glee.

“Are you sure you’re old enough to be away from home?” asks Sarah. “Moderating your excitement before negotiating is crucial.”

Esdras snorts. “It means you can afford a higher price for guesting rights; why wouldn’t I be excited?”

“No, you smell like glee and curiosity, not greed,” counters Sarah, and Esdras' gaze barely flicks my way.

“Sarah gave nothing away that I couldn’t already tell. Are you two right to negotiate now, or should I stay as the mediator?” I ask, and with their attention fixed on each other, I only get nods. “I’d appreciate you negotiating with Sarah in good faith, Esdras.”

“Will I get a proper song included?” asks Esdras, offering an overly dramatic sigh. “Something that takes at least a half day might take the edge off my loss in fees.”

“I don’t know if Sarah can sing,” I retort. “Play nice, you two.”

Sarah smiles broadly before shooing me away. "Look who's talking, Gail."

With the pair eying each other up, I laugh at their anticipation and leave them to it. Slipping down the stairs, I catch the Beastlands’ music strengthening when a group of adventurers exit the annex above me. The sound of their injuries prompts me to lean into Lingering Song to set a healing melody to encompass the staircase. When I reach the lobby, I hear sighs of relief from those descending behind me.

Midyåci appeared behind the reception counter as I stepped off the stairs and set down a book and a bundle of scrolls. Her head tilt is more of a mechanical twitch. “Gail, the Adventurers’ Guild has capitulated to your request about instructors, guild officers, and this facility. I’m currently studying their processes and records.”

“I noticed the adventurers exiting the annex.”

“We reached a fairly stable version of the agreement this morning, so I considered it a gesture of goodwill. Would you like the details?” enquired Midyåci.

“Just a summary unless there were particular sticking points about guild officials,” I say.

“Not with our combined warnings on the risks they were running. My research on proper processes found enlightening examples. Similar guild situations escalated into the destruction of kingdoms and even the obliteration of a species. Given the ongoing threat of other humanoids, that would be even more likely here if the organisation descended into chaos,” explained Midyåci.

“I’m glad to hear they saw sense. I would have thought they’d have argued it couldn’t happen here,” I say, and Midyåci gives me an understanding nod.

“I had the same thought, so I isolated examples that provided suitable parallels. Training will begin after I evaluate their processes and receive approval for initial improvements. Your percentage of the annex hunts’ proceeds is twenty percent to ensure you can tithe the village and cover ongoing costs. I’ve kept the dormitory costs at one copper as requested. The local innkeeper has issued me some complaints, but he still has guests as you expected.”

“How are they handling providing a share of the hunt?”

“I summoned some lesser modrons capable of using a Human form, and Hagen has created tables in the long hall. I believe its purpose in the original Guildhall was for evening weapons training. We’ll provide alchemical evaluations and dissection services,” states Midyåci before lowering her voice. “My Allegiance Bond to you provides some interesting energy to all of us.”

The reference to the bond is a statement, not a question, letting me leave it unaddressed. “Are the evaluation and dissections covered under the ongoing costs?”

“Only for the evaluations. If adventurers are inexperienced in doing so themselves, the cost of handling and preparing materials and corpses will depend on what they bring back.”

“Maybe I should provide storage items tied to Sanctuary for them to use,” I murmur as a thought strikes. It's easy to imagine the high-level adventurers walking out the door with the village’s share.

“That would be sensible. It would let low-level teams maximise their day’s returns and avoid issues from those with such objects hiding things even while they claim a failed hunt,” agrees Midyåci. “It isn’t an issue for myself, but it might be for others unless you wish to create another truth crystal.”

“I’ll look into what I can get set up,” I say, mentally adding it to my list. “There will be elven guests arriving in Sanctuary tomorrow, but I’ll host them in a new building.”

All that gets is an unconcerned shoulder twitch before she changes the subject. “The annex tithe for non-members, excluding your team, is 50 percent.”

Unsurprised by that being implemented I nod. “I take it the Adventurers’ Guild requested that condition?”

She gives a little head twitch, which I can only assume is her nod. “It was part of their agreement with the training and process review. If they terminate the arrangement, we’ll remove the excess levy.”

As much as I wanted to discuss it further with the approaching adventurers, it wasn’t the time. That she haggled them higher and warned them about the path the guild had risked treading was promising.

“Sounds like we certainly have things to discuss. Thank you for organising Sanctuary, Midyåci.” I say and incline my head respectfully.

Midyåci's gaze shifts towards the adventurers on the stairs. “Such is our agreement. I’ll let you be on your way. It would ensure an orderly arrangement with the guild if you came by this evening. I only gave them an agreement in principle since it matched your requirements. I want to fully discuss the arrangements and determine if any amendments are required.”

“I’ll do that.”

Heading to the space beyond the teaching hall, I hear Hagen patiently taking a bunch of children, and a few adults, through writing exercises. Their attention is so fixed on him that none even glances out the window when I walk past.

While my two buildings have used up less than a quarter of the bluff’s fence line, let alone where it widens, pranking the visitors is so tempting. Creating a tower barely thicker than a tiny door or one that looks ready to fall is appealing. A free-standing set of spiral stairs ending in a door would also be fun, especially with no handrail. When a random thought of having its appearance be that of an engorged, lifelike phallus—since they’re messing with my plan—sets me giggling, I pace to regain my composure.

While this impending visit isn’t worrying so much as annoying, I hadn’t wanted to set up a residence. I’ll have to talk to Zosime to let her know I’m not moving out—the villagers are fun at our evening parties. Hopefully, those I’ve shared meals with will stay relaxed after this lot descends—the thought of everyone calling me Lady Gailneth makes me wince inside. Reminding myself I can only control myself and not others isn’t a lot of help.

All the approaches I can think of to have the Andúnë leave rapidly would likely motivate them to never let me out of their sight.

The only living Anar—check.

My mother being a goddess—check

Only twenty, so don’t come courting me—triple-check, and add them looking to wrap me in swaddling.

I will have to harbour the truth carefully so they don’t get obstructive and also don’t throw themselves into danger. The tidbit about the key I let spill to Imhotep will probably have them getting underfoot if their informant discovered it. I’m sure they can figure out my interest in the wrecks. I don’t want to be tripping over elven squads randomly digging for them.

Find out something I can help them with, and distract them with that, maybe?

Play the mystical elven progenitor card and give orders? After what aunt Am told me, that twists my stomach even thinking about it. I'd intended to ensure the local elves don’t return to being treated as a second-class servant species.

They have nothing I want other than staying out of my way. It won’t stop me from helping them if they genuinely need something; hopefully I can get them not to be annoying. I’ll respect their concerns, but not enough to let them sway my course. What they think they know won’t be the complete picture, but it could be close enough to be troublesome.

A section of the bluff butts out towards the ocean like a head breaking out of the water inspires me. I set the crystal midway between the fence and the cliff. As I step away, my melody gives it all the details needed for the construction to start.

A pillar erupts where the crystal had been, matching the bluff’s greyish stone. It grows steadily until it reaches some ten metres across and spirals upwards for five stories—the bluff’s own decorative narwhal horn. On each floor except the last, a balcony encircles the tower, allowing a line of sight to cover any approach. A panel at the base glistens like quicksilver but is pure polished mithril. The building hums with True Song wards that might last a million years from their strength. Aunt Amdirlain isn’t half paranoid; she does that job properly.

It’s impossible to hear what’s going on inside, so I intend to let it have plenty of time to stabilise. While I wait, I raise additional towers along the property’s perimeter, keeping the ratio to six defensive to two water condensation towers. Extending the underground aqueduct that filled the reservoir beneath Sanctuary sends part of the flow to a water cistern across the road for the farmers’ use. Aunt Am paranoia has me adding filtration to prevent poisons and other contaminants from being introduced to it.

Having taken my time setting the towers in place, I hear Sarah approaching before they're done. Despite the afternoon sunlight silhouetting her body through the dress’ fabric, she walks as if she’s invincible. Her charms have drawn the attention of a band of male adventurers who watch her every step from Sanctuary’s front door, though it's obvious from Sarah's smug expression she's enjoying the attention.

“Amdirlain wanted to ease your workload, Gail,” says Sarah, her light mental touch adding a delicate symphony to the surrounding melodies.

Still singing, I don't block my surface thoughts, gesturing to the latest tower glowing softly. “I’m taking my time creating them.”

“Right, you’re just taking it easy. Is that why I can hear your stomach gurgling?”

“It wasn’t, but I’ll admit I’d forgotten about lunch; I’d been snacking too much between fights.”

Sarah reaches out and taps an ear tip. “I can hear it.”

“Yeah, fine, I’ll eat shortly,” I protest, helplessly trying to push her hand away. “I’d also apologise for the sparrows you hear farting a dozen kilometres away, but we’re not on a first-name basis.”

“Cheeky monkey,” laughs Sarah, and she brushes my chin before pulling her hand clear. “Aren’t you giving it a lot of time to grow?”

“Aunt Am had too much hidden inside that staff. I was considering giving it the evening to settle.”

“She’d have never handed you something dangerous without warning. Likely the door won’t unseal if it's too risky to go inside, or she’ll have it expanding from a central point that it created fast,” Sarah says, finally speaking aloud.

When I finish the song, I return the favour of speaking aloud. “If you say so. Want to look around with me?”

“It’s alright. I just came out to check in since I heard you speak with Midyåci; she exceeded expectations given what you asked of her—unusual for one of her kind. I thought I’d give you a heads-up that I’ll chat with her and determine how to keep your staff from causing her any issues,” states Sarah.

“Did you plan to hire the staff from Mechanus or elsewhere?”

“Local staff if possible. You wanted to improve things for the villagers, and extra jobs that will pay hard currency never hurt,” replies Sarah, looking at me innocently.

It's so obvious how that will go that I scrub my face in frustration and catch her snicker. Glaring at her as I crossed my arms, Sarah burst out laughing. “Are you being mean to me?”

“Gail, you’ve only just started to learn how many headaches a leadership position can bring,” laughs Sarah. “All this stuff is minor compared to people looking to you for answers when you're trying to figure them out yourself.”

While she has a point, I still suspect my mother’s trick of inflicting a Mantle on aunt Sarah might contribute to her reasoning—despite Sarah’s escape.

“How do you plan to go about hiring them? You’re going to stand out in that outfit, aunt Sarah.”

“That’s what I need to do. I want them to think about it before they talk to the strange Human working for you. Those who would be trouble will keep clear, while those worth working with will speak to me regardless,” counters Sarah. “If they’re narrow-minded enough that my behaviour puts them off, working loyally for an Elf would be impossible.”

“I could just listen to their song,” I argue.

Sarah shrugs. “You could, and I could listen to their minds, but why waste the effort? Let them filter themselves out.”

“Did you have fun negotiating with Esdras?” I ask, and a joyful smile with far too many teeth provides the answer.

Rolling my eyes, I touch the mithril panel’s glimmering surface. The cool metal doesn’t open as I expected, instead, I’m immediately transported inside. It's not a dimensional pocket—I’ve heard and created enough of those. The place hums like a deep bass string, utterly unrelated to the exterior, a growing Demi-Plane, a baby version of The Exchange.

The creation arrayed living trees down the entryway's sides, and their interlocking branches create an arched ten-metre ceiling some twenty metres long. The barest hints of magical sunlight that break through the net of branches illuminates the vast space in a gentle twilight. Underfoot, dark green grass is soft and springy, the air smells like spring rain has just departed.

Turning, I find a pane of silvery energy with two others on each side—one to access each balcony. With my exit confirmed, I move deeper into the space Amdirlain created for me to entertain my guests. At the far end of the entryway is a sunlit feast hall at least ninety metres across with transparent blue tables. Not wanting to deal with that immediately, I take the first side path instead.

Wandering through the woodlands within, I find a variety of glades but, except for the great space at its heart, they only hint at an open sky above. Openings along the pathways lead to bowers of assorted size, providing space for privacy, rest, study, and physical necessities. An impassable amount of trees, shrubs, and woven concealments ensure privacy between each. The winding paths lay in concentric circles around the vast, circular feast hall in the middle.

Each hint of the blue sky contains glimpses of drifting white clouds and a Radiant energy source acting as a sun. The notes drifting away clarify that the Demi-Plane is continuing to grow and that the energy source is rising higher and strengthening.

When the widening path I took leads me to the feast hall, looking over it properly makes me want to shake my head. I’d grossly underestimated its size, or it had still been growing. I don’t know what aunt Am expects, but it has room enough to sit a thousand easily.

Oh, I can invite the village for parties here! Or host their meals ‌when food is tight.

Given their pride, I doubt they’d readily accept such an offer and the distance from the village is perhaps prohibitive. I could make portal spots to allow fast travel to Sanctuary. Likely, I should do that to make it easier for children to attend lessons. Pushing plans aside, I get back to consideration of the hall. Stepping close to the nearest table, I run my fingers across its surface.

The feast hall’s tables are transparent blue Laen, and the magical glass on display would make tens of thousands of swords, if not more. The tables don’t sit straight or orderly, but in a pattern I can’t immediately determine. They range in size from those that would barely fit four guests to others that could seat dozens along their arcs. Around each table, chairs show polished golden brown grains and the smooth melody of the sung oak.

The curving tables and layout allow any attendee to access the vast dance floor in the middle or the outer path with equal ease. The dance floor is a relatively bare spot covered with spongy resilient moss instead of grass.

Along the perimeter of the banquet area, a wide path provides enough space for six armoured knights to walk side by side. It runs in an unbroken curve along the sides from the entry until reaching a sloped rise at the far end. Unlike the other tables, the one there only has chairs on the far side, though they are the same in their design. It’s long enough to seat eleven but only has seven chairs spread widely along its length.

Moving to the centre point of that table and looking across the hall lets the pattern click into place. The tables sit in a simplified version of the Titan’s symbol, except the curves of his maze have pieces cut away to allow for straightforward navigation.

The head table’s enchantments link throughout the hall, and picking out the interlocking melodies teaches me their triggers and limitations. The enchantments are all connected to the head table’s middle seat, the meal service starts when I sit and ends when I rise.

Seriously, auntie? If I want to move about, I’ll have to create the food and drinks or provide them normally; it seems I might need help.

Listening to the songs lets me find the smaller clearing for dining further from the entry. I claim a spot near there as mine and hiss in frustration when a fancy crest springs into existence over the bower’s entryway. It's a sunburst symbol with waving lines spearing outwards at all the compass points. Much like the Anar royal symbol that Roher had shown me, it's short only the notations in silver surrounding it. When I step back from the archway, thin branches from nearby trees fold to block entry to the area.

Alerted too late, I trace the wards and find the symbol is used to tie it to an individual—so I get the Anar royal crest minus the credo I hadn’t liked.

Still, the existence of the crest is buying trouble. Not wanting to release the area, I press a crystal into the ground at the archway’s threshold and use it to anchor a permanent illusion, disguising the glade’s existence. When I’m done, I’ve covered the symbol, and the clearing appears like more woodland, simply separating other spaces.

Returning to the entry, I realise it's close to dinner, and I’ve still not had lunch. Ignoring the observers still lingering outside—but now there is a collection of adventuring wizards—Teleport sets me in my room at Zosime’s, and the smell of cooking food gets my stomach yowling.

Slipping downstairs, I almost make Phile jump when she looks up from tending the pots covering the grill. Another rumbling noise raises her eyebrows, and she passes me a small loaf of today’s dark bread. “We heard about more towers going up. Did you not stop to eat?”

“Rumour mill works fast.”

“Who is the woman in the red dress?” asks Phile.

“That is my aunt Sarah,” I reply and rip into the bread.

Zosime calls out from the front room. “Is she a follower of Lada with that dress she wears?”

The suggestion Sarah worshipped the goddess of beauty and fertility has me almost choking on the bread. As another laugh threatens, I swallow quickly, the rough bread scratching at my throat. “She worships the concept of Order.”

“Is she Human?” whispers Phile.

“Sarah was born Human. She’s endured a lot and has so many levels that I doubt you’d find her Human in some aspects. She’s my twice-adopted aunt,” I breathe when my confirmation has Phile frowning in confusion.

Phile stirs a pot thoughtfully as she considers my words. “Born Human? Twice-adopted?”

“Her story is her own, and it’s unpleasant, so I’m not speaking for her. Twice-adopted is easy to explain. My aunt Am adopted my mother as her big sister, and Sarah is an oath-sworn sister of aunt Am.”

Phile shakes her head in disbelief and asks in exasperation. “Among your aunts and uncles, which ones are blood relatives?”

Thinking about all those at home has me beaming. “None. The only blood relatives I’ve met are my mother and father; both have a host of living relatives I’ve not met. But blood isn’t the only thing that makes a family.”

“What makes family for you?” enquires Phile.

“The beings you can count on regardless of disagreements or time apart are the family that life gives you.”

“Beings?”

“I’ve got three dragons and Tove among those I consider part of my family,” I admit, testing the waters yet still hiding so much.

“Three dragons? I’ve never met a Dragon,” murmurs Phile, blood draining from her face. “Metallic ones, I take it?”

“I wouldn’t associate with chromatics; some gem dragons are bad enough, one I know can be a pain in my butt,” I add, sure that Sarah will pick it from her mind at some point.

Phile raises a hand to stop me and takes a few slow breaths, the colour returning as she does. “Is that your revelation for the day?”

“Would you like me to curtail further ones?”

“At the mention of dragons, many people will only think of the scourge that drove out our ancestors,” warns Phile.

“I’ll keep that in mind, but I’ve never encountered a chromatic. No metallic or crystal dragons were involved in the scourge, and metallics will happily help good beings fight against chromatic dragons near their territory. My aunt Am has killed some black dragons, aunt Sarah some greens and reds.”

That admission freezes Phile, and Nikias’s arrival silences her next question. What he’s been doing this afternoon is obvious since before he sits down next to me, it's tempting to hold my nose. “You forget to wash after training?”

He looks puzzled and sniffs at his shirt, which still bears the imprint of the chainmail he was wearing this morning. “I washed the others last night, so I didn’t have a clean one with me.”

Creating three more sets of clothing and another towel, I hand them over. “I’ll create a charm later to let you clean a bag of clothing. I’d still advise cycling through the garments as it will prolong their lifespan.”

Taking the clothing, he gives me a sheepish smile and starts towards the stairs.

“You’re not used to not having things, are you?” asks Phile.

“Guilty as charged on that one. I’ve got a delegation of potential snobs arriving tomorrow. The appearance of those in service reflects upon those they serve, hence why you’ll see house symbols on all Andúnë clothing,” I explain, and my exasperated huff causes Phile’s eyebrows to lift. “I’m not kidding, and the more subtle the crest’s presence, the higher they’re ranked.”

Phile frowns. “I’ve not spotted anything like that on Yngvarr.”

“You’re likely used to Human styles, but he does. It’s not a tabard or embroidery for Yngvarr’s rank; it’s magically impressed into the weave of the cloth.”

“Sounds fancy. What should I be looking for?” asks Phile.

“Middle finger left hand; he has a ring with his family’s crest. If you look closely, you’ll see it within the cloth of his shirts.”

“You’re not Andúnë,” Phile states, and she laughs when I poke out my tongue. “Why worry about Nikias reflecting on you? Though, what would you use for a crest?”

“I’m aware of their cultural mores and customs, and it's best to adhere to them unless impossible, or until I deliberately want to not do so. Not knowing enough about village life among the Greeks has led to misunderstandings—I don’t have that excuse with the Andúnë,” I explain, and seek to change the subject. “Do you think we’re getting too used to the wolf pack tactics we’re using the crabs? What’s your view on preparation for fighting something else once Myrto and Nikias hit level three?”

Fortunately, Phile drops the topic and switches to discussing exercises to work on preparing tactics for future foes. That keeps us busy through dinner preparations, and I can see Zosime’s amusement glimmer in her gaze when she joins us in the courtyard.

“Zosime, just to let you know, I’ll have to stay up at Sanctuary while the elven delegation is here, but I don’t intend to stay there long term.”

“You come and go so quietly it's hard to tell you’ve even been here,” Zosime says with a straight face.

The remark causes Phile to burst out laughing. “What about the gatherings? Any idea who causes those?”

I force my smile into a sad pout and clasp my hands before my chest. “I’ll admit to partial responsibility for two at least. But why aren’t parties welcome? I had planned to see if I could build up the number each week over the next few months.”

“Cooking all those different crab dishes was fun, even if you cheated by providing the extra firepits and side dishes,” remarks Zosime.

She smiles when I nod eagerly. “That was so yummy. Should we do that again another week?”

My suggestion gets a quick agreement from Zosime. “It was good to see everyone enjoying themselves.”

“I’ll have to eat and run tonight. I need to talk to Midyåci about the guild agreement and Sarah about what she’s got planned, besides her wanting to have a household organised for me for when I have more guests. Know anyone that would like a steady income?”

“Do you expect people often?” asks Zosime

“With the value of the goods likely to come out of the Beastlands’ Annex, I’m sure that Sanctuary will be a constant attraction. Groups looking to get the inside edge on particular materials, or who are sure they can offer me a better deal and profit themselves, will want to meet.”

“Guess the Adventurers’ Guild could have offered you something after all,” notes Phile.

“Nothing worth compromising on; I’ll hear the offers to ensure there aren’t any better ideas that would profit the village.”

“Be careful of con artists; they’ve hurt the village in years past,” cautions Zosime.

“The protections on Sanctuary read a person’s intentions. Anyone planning to deal unfairly is hostile and won’t be enjoying themselves if they unwisely persist in trying to get through Sanctuary’s front gate.”

Phile nods, remembering my explanation to the team. “You said something about hostiles but not about sharp merchants.”

“Being skilled at trading isn’t ground for action, what matters is the person’s intent. A sharp merchant that seeks the best deal is fine, one that plans to hurt people financially or knowingly pretends contaminated goods are fit for sale will get pushed away or injured if they continue.”

“Alright, I was taking it that the fence’s signage referred to attackers,” explains Phile.

“Maybe we should have all visiting merchants come inside Sanctuary before we bargain with them,” suggests Zosime.

“If the village wants to do that, I’ve no objections. That reminds me, I was thinking of placing teleportation points so the children could more easily attend school.”

Phile momentarily pauses, moving a dish from the flames. “Any other reason?”

“Well, I could host parties at my tower,” I admit sheepishly.

“I’m thinking the tales of elves and their continual parties are true,” comments Phile.

“That’s fey. Elves have a bit more moderation than that,” I reply. “I like it when people are having fun.”

When I get a disbelieving headshake, I smile innocently and move towards the cupboard. I've barely got the door open when a bootless Nikias skips down the stairs smelling better in a fresh set of clothing, and we get busy dishing out the food.