Sydney adjusted her jacket, took a deep breath, and placed a hand on the ornate iron door handle. "You can do this," she whispered to herself, "it's just a garden party." She stood for several more seconds before finally swinging the massive wooden doors open.
The courtyard of Castle Crow had been transformed. A brilliant summer sun shone down on a riot of greenery and fountains. Party guests wandered the stone paths that twisted among the shrubs and flowers. Classical music played softly from an unseen source.
Roger bounded up the steps to the doorway where Sydney still stood. "There you are. A timely entrance. Your sister was threatening to send her beastly crows to fetch you if you delayed much longer." He turned and surveyed the garden. "Miss Mel has outdone herself, wouldn't you say?"
"Um... yeah. It's amazing." Sydney truthfully was impressed with Mel's work on the courtyard, she just wished it wasn't so full of people.
Roger offered his hand. "May I escort you to the festivities? Refreshments are being served down by the reflecting pool."
Sydney took the offered hand and started down the stairs. "It looks like a good turnout. Did everyone come?"
"Almost everyone," Roger replied. "The Countess has taken to her rooms, still insisting this is all a French plot of some sort. That asian fellow, Nandan... he is wandering around the east end of the Island, spending his time in 'quiet contemplation' no doubt. I've had a devilish time trying to get his story, but he seems harmless enough."
"You actually got him to talk?"
"Just a little. I went through all the languages I know, and it appears we have Mandarin Chinese in common, though I suspect it's not his native tongue, and I'm not exactly fluent in it either."
"Still, it's lucky languages are kind of your jam, otherwise I don't know what we'd do with this mixed bag of refugees."
"Don't give me too much credit," he insisted, "that remarkable library of yours has been invaluable. My deficiencies as a translator would be far more apparent without those references."
Unsure how to respond, she simply squeezed his hand in reply.
Mel ran up to them as they approached the center of the courtyard. "Well it's about time," she admonished. "Here, try this." She shoved a cracker holding a waxy yellowish lump of something in front of Sydney's face.
Sydney took a cautious nibble. "Oh my god it's cheese! It actually tastes like cheese. How did you manage it?"
"Lots of trial and error," Mel admitted. "I started with your version of milk, made hundreds of different versions with random changes, then crowd sourced it to the crows for taste testing. Whatever they ignored got thrown out. The stuff they pecked at the most became the starting point for a new random series. Rinse... repeat. Eventually I took over the taste testing myself and selected toward cheesiness."
"It reminded me of a well aged Gruyère," Roger volunteered, "a bit smokey on the front end but sharper on the back. It's definitely a welcome change from tea biscuits."
Sydney felt a tiny dagger poke her heart. "I thought you liked my tea cookies."
"Oh I do," Roger assured her, "but one does appreciate variety now and again."
A flurry of thoughts swirled in Sydney's mind, none of them related to cookies or cheese.
Mel just beamed. "I also made a fruit tray and something almost like wine. Come on." She dragged them further into the courtyard.
They joined Samantha and Peter near a table heaped with fruit. A short, dark haired fellow was engaging Peter in an animated conversation, his wine glass flinging drops of amber fluid as he gestured to emphasize some point.
YOU ARE READING
The Apocalypse Contract
Science FictionAs a reclusive genius who only works from home, Sydney was used to taking on some weird consulting jobs to keep the bills paid. But when her latest clients turn out to be shape-shifting aliens offering a cure for her cancer in exchange for a 30 year...