‘I see,’ Stelka replied, smoothly. ‘And in our culture such a request is akin to serving oneself out of the communal urn.’

Chak let the fungus drop and it landed back in the broth with a sploosh. ‘Oops! So does this mean I have to show you our bridge, or my undergarments?’

The diners all laughed.

‘Your bridge will do just fine,’ Stelka assured her. ‘We shall make arrangements on the morrow. It has been a great pleasure.’ Stelka stood, indicating that the first course was over.

Tab joined her friends in the corner between courses. The waiters took the opportunity to refill the coal boxes under the pots, replace the tongs, refill the goblets, and clear away the empty plates and bowls.

‘I'd always thought a formal feast would be the best meal in the whole world, but I'm so nervous about doing something wrong that I'm hardly eating anything. I'm still starving!’ Tab complained.

‘Florian was so busy trying to impress everyone with his bad jokes that all I got was two bits of fungus.’ Philmon pouted. ‘He's managed to talk his way into a trip to the sky-traders city tomorrow. I wish I was going too.’

Tab guessed organising the games wasn't as exciting as Philmon had imagined.

‘Aren't the dresses beautiful? I wish I had a gown for special nights like this,’ Amelia said, plucking at her plain, borrowed dress.

Florian called the second course and the three friends made their way to their new tables. Philmon and Tab were at the same table this time.

When First Lieutenant Crankshaft tipped his bowl of spices into the pot the broth sizzled, crackled and swirled, changing colour. The broth tasted better with the spices added. Tab and her friend ate slowly and listened to the conversation of the older people.