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to—’
    Remembrance tugged his companion to a halt. ‘Is there some reason you don’t want to be here, or are you just determined to get in my way?’
    ‘I’m just telling you that you have nobody but yourself to blame if things turn out badly. You broke the rules, Remembrance, and there’s a good reason those rules are in place.’
    ‘I take full responsibility for whatever happens.’ Remembrance then spotted the food-preparation area, a brightly lit cluster of cooking facilities at the far end of the platform, partly hidden behind several folding screens, which were also used to divide the platform into more intimate sections.
    ‘Does anyone in here have any idea what’s going on outside?’ Remembrance asked, peering into the unsettling darkness that extended beyond the platform, even deeper within the worm’s gullet.
    ‘I don’t think so, as we’re blocking any and all transmissions in or out of this place, and we’ve only just arrived. Besides, it doesn’t sound like anyone’s panicking yet, does it?’
    Remembrance heard some distinctive Bandati clicking noises from somewhere nearby, and the sound of sizzling accompanied by the aroma of human cuisine. The smell of it made him queasy. ‘Not yet, no.’
    He moved tangentially until he was able to see past a folding screen to where some cloud-cow carcasses had been artfully laid out on a ring-shaped table, from the centre of which rose a column perhaps five metres in height. Unaware that royal agents were presently observing them, several Bandati clung to the column. Remembrance stared in horror as one of them extended a long, proboscis-like tongue into the sweet-smelling offal. He looked away, unable to bear the sight, and filled with disgust at witnessing such a private and degrading activity.
    Unsurprisingly, the area reserved for the restaurant’s human clientele was positioned as far away from the Bandati customers as possible, and several more folding screens shielded them from view. From where he now stood, Remembrance couldn’t see whether Bourdain – or indeed anyone else – was seated on the far side of those screens.
    A small, pale-winged creature came gliding past one of the glow-globes just as Remembrance saw something long and tendrillike reach down from the dimly seen ceiling like a fleshy whip. It snatched the winged creature, which suddenly disappeared upwards with a frenzied squeak.
    A moment later he heard the snapping of bones, and the squeaking terminated.
    A human with a mask pulled down over his mouth and nose emerged from behind the screens concealing the kitchen area, and began pushing a barrow towards the Bandati hanging from their perches around the central pillar. The wheel of the barrow was heavily padded, and the man pushing it was proceeding remarkably slowly, and with entirely understandable care. Even so, the barrow bumped up and down noticeably as it rolled across the widely-spaced slats of the platform, exposed sections of the monster’s gullet visible in-between.
    Another human, wearing a multicoloured floor-length gown, his long hair fashionably braided and coiled in the style of the Martyrs of the Io Rebellion, came tiptoeing out from behind the same kitchen screens, wringing his hands in a gesture of extreme concern. Slowly and carefully, he began to make his way towards Remembrance and Honeydew.
    ‘Victor Charette,’ Honeydew quietly clicked in Remembrance’s ear. ‘He’s the manager here.’
    ‘Who would want to manage a place like this?’
    ‘Someone who will retire rich from his efforts on behalf of the restaurant’s owners,’ Honeydew clicked in response. ‘Of whom Alexander Bourdain is one,’ he added. ‘I’ve dealt with Charette before, so I’m going to have to ask you to keep your interpreter switched off while I talk to him. He’s not going to tell us anything if he thinks you’re listening in.’
    In fact, Charette ignored Remembrance altogether, focusing his attention on Honeydew.