The party did not disappoint. The music and dancing were even more lively than the last time, with musicians playing a variety of strings, horns, and drums to back up the victory dance. The food piled even higher, the tables stacked with an aromatic assortment of meats.

  Calvin glanced over at his team with a smile. As he’d expected, the newer members of his team were awestruck by the sheer volume of food in front of them. Bob and Damien both stared with their mouths hanging open and pooling with saliva. Marlon whistled, the tone of it dissipating as a grin broke across his face.

  “Now that’s what I’m talking about!” Rupert said as he plowed to their table. “I’m famished!”

  “Not as famished as I am,” Fred said. He pulled a steak out of the stack and bit it clean in half. “I could eat a house.” He scarfed down the other half and reached for more. The others followed suit, stuffing their faces without any other concern than filling their stomachs.

  “Be careful, now,” Calvin said. “You’ll get bloated if you eat too much, and it’ll be a few days before we can treat it. Believe me, it’s incredibly uncomfortable.”

  “I’m incredibly uncomfortable now,” Fred said through a mouthful of meat.

  “Sure,” Rupert said. “I bet I could eat more than you.”

  “Oh, it’s on!”

  And so the eating contest ensued, with the other three rookies joining eagerly. Calvin sighed, knowing they’d regret the indulgence later, but he didn’t warn them again. It was their first Tikray celebration, after all. Might as well let them enjoy it. So instead of hounding them about it, he sat next to Pelias and enjoyed the feast with his more practiced moderation. He let their contest amuse him as if he were watching a group of children do something fun but dumb. It wouldn’t hurt them too much, but it would teach them not to go that far again, and that was an important lesson for a Tikray recruit to learn.

  About an hour in, when the rookies had made a decent dent in the pile of food, Pelias pushed away from the table.

  “Where are you going?” Calvin asked.

  “To report on our mission.”

  “What? You don’t have to do that. I’ll do it.” Calvin started up from his seat, but Pelias gently pushed him back down.

  “No, Calvin. It must be me this time. There are certain things Cambiador needs to hear that I fear you would… forget to mention.”

  Calvin’s face grew warm. “What things are those, exactly?”

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  “Chief among them is your behavior during the mission, as well as our subsequent flight.”

  Calvin stood. “I have it under control.”

  “I shall tell him that you say so. Still, he needs to know exactly what happened, and I can give a more objective account than you.”

  Part of Calvin wanted to order Pelias to stay, and then deliver the report himself, but a wriggle in his stomach told him that was a bad idea. He sat back down. “Fine. Go.”

  The contest dragged on for another two hours, with Damien pulling off the final win. He leaned back in his chair and put his feet up on the depleted table. “Victory is indeed sweet. Makes me want dessert.” He and the other rookies all showed signs that they’d be badly bloated later: bulging stomachs and weary yet satisfied expressions. Rupert and Fred were particularly bad, resting on the table and occasionally letting out soft moans. Bob and Marlon were a little better since they’d been the first to give up. Marlon had spent the last hour or so watching the dancers, and now he got up to join them. He was met with eager teachers, and it wasn’t long before he was having a great time. His movements were a bit sluggish, but the other dancers didn't mind.

  That brought a particular warmth to Calvin’s heart, and he got up to join the dance himself. Before he could, though, Pelias appeared and grabbed his shoulder.

  “Cambiador wants us to rest here for a week before our next mission.”

  “A week?” A week of waiting would be a risk. In that time, the cults might catch on to what they were doing and strike back. Calvin looked back over at the rookies, all swollen with their meal. Maybe a week of waiting was best. They’d need that time to recover from the feast. Besides, if Cambiador ordered the break, he must think the risk less important than having my team in shape for the job. He relaxed. “Fine. Did he tell you what the next mission is?”

  Pelias shook his head. “You’re to report to him afterward for the orders.”

  Calvin frowned. “Kinda difficult to plan if I don’t know what the mission is.” He cocked his head. “But I think I’ve got a way around that.”

  The next day, he gathered his crew into the archives room. It was a large pentagon, and tables occupied much of the floor space. The five walls were lined with shelves upon shelves of scrolls. Calvin scooped an armful of them down and dropped them on a table.

  “Reading, sir?” Bob asked.

  “Studying,” Calvin said. “You, Damien, and Rupert will gather any information that can help us take down Rikchay. Start with these.” He tapped the scrolls, then turned to the others. “Pelias, you'll lead Fred and Marlon in researching Q’wisqa.”

  Pelias pointed his team to the Q’wisqa shelf, then stepped closer to Calvin. “I’m glad to see you’re being proactive, Calvin. It’s a good sign.”

  Calvin paused. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Pelias gave a soft chuckle. “You had me worried during our last mission. I thought you might be slipping.”

  Calvin scowled. “I told you, I have it under control.”

  Pelias nodded. “Yes, I know you said that, but now I can see it. I’m glad you’re back.”

  Calvin rolled his eyes. “I’ve been at this longer than you have. I’d appreciate some confidence.”

  “And I’m giving it to you now.”

  “Then stop bringing up what happened last time. It won’t happen again, so stop worrying about it.”

  Pelias nodded. “Very well.”