Ventus by Karl Schroeder

Karl Schroeder / Ventus / Page 125
Everyone was seated now; Axel and Calandria had put
themselves to either side of Jordan, effectively isolating him
from conversation, which was fine with him. It came to him
just where he was, and he had one of those moments that is
later permanently impressed on memory; his finger traced the
edge of a blue-china plate such as he had seen but never
touched back home, and the sleeve of his arm was red and
beautiful in the white light which flashed off the knife and
forks by the plate. He looked up, and as he did the main doors
to his right opened, and a procession entered.
They had done this at Castor's too, he remembered, and
the familiarity mixed with strangeness sent a shiver down his
back. Servants dressed as highborn men and women entered
the hall, walking sedately in pairs. Each wore a finely crafted
mask--the death masks of the Boros ancestors. These masks
probably resided in a room of their own, somewhere near the
front of the manor. The ones at Castor's manor were racked on
the wall in pairs, with lines painted on the wall between the
hooks, plainly showing the family tree.
At festival occasions they were taken out and worn, as
now. The Boros ancestors had come to visit their descendents.
The horn sounded again. Everyone stood. The masked
procession proceeded up the hall within the space between the
tables, and each figure bowed or curtsied politely to the head
table before it turned to walk back. Polite guests were
expected to have already learned the names and histories
behind these masks; Jordan had never thought to do so, but
then, he had never been any highborn person's guest before.
He resolved to visit the mask room and learn the Boros
pedigree as soon as he could.
Lady Marice stood. "On behalf of my husband, I
welcome you. We have much that is serious to discuss amongst