"Fair," Dew said.
The waiter looked at the others in turn.
Aurex ordered a bottle of solar wine, aged in heat-sealed vessels, the vintage listed in centuries rather than years.
Hyrin ordered the Ashfire Ribs in a quantity that was its own kind of statement, and a dark ale from the Gust Realm.
Dusk ordered the Stardust Broth and nothing else, which the waiter received without visible surprise.
Dew ordered the Deepwater claypot and a cold-brewed tide tea served over carved ice.
The waiter collected the menus, bowed, and disappeared.
The food arrived in minutes that felt shorter than they should have been, a line of staff emerging onto the rooftop in quiet single file, each plate placed with the careful precision of people who understood that what they were setting down would be looked at before it was touched.
