It was with no small degree of consternation that Master Chef Loh discovered his youngest daughter had ingested the entire basket of candied fruit -- dainty, rosy, delectable and poisoned -- which he had painstakingly prepared and set aside for his erstwhile employer, the Chancellor of Roads.

* *

Dina could not determine which was ultimately the sweeter: the taste of fresh summer peaches dissolving in her mouth, or the thought that the hand feeding them to her in tiny, luscious portions belonged to the husband of her detested elder sister, the First Lady.

* *

A glass of wine and a small bowl of figs untouched by the dust of passing horses was what General Ho asked to be brought to his quarters, after a prolonged and brutal campaign in the western desert constituencies, on the eve of his court martial for treason.

* *

He could not decide what it tasted exactly like: was it good coffee that had been allowed to sit out for too long, and therefore had a deep, rich sweetness sliding into acidic sours, or more like a cheap orange-flavoured dark chocolate? Either way, the heart she had hoarded so carefully and for so long, which she’d finally been persuaded to give up, bashfully wrapped and still beating, proved little more than another light morsel.

* *

Something the twenty-third Rajah of Kanchil swallowed disagreed with him. It lodged in his throat in the morning, and by evening had occupied his entire chest cavity, tightening its grip around his frail heart, and exerting pressure on one kidney. Taking the advice of his seventh wife, he consumed a flask of steamed mongoose blood, oiled rose petals, and an hour in prayer. By morning the intruder was revealed: a brood of hatchling snakes, disguised as breakfast delicacies from a distant clime.

* *

Because sip after sip tasted of the same tepid vintage, the Secretary of Clouds had the Tea Crafter’s Commune disbanded in its 420th year of service to the August Banquet of Tears. In its place, she appointed a circle of women -- all of foreign origin, but each of whom she had personally savoured after their husbands perished while working the perilous slopes of the National Plantations.

* *

Did Salem the Terrible escape custody by drugging and then overpowering his valiant guards? Did he employ witchcraft to take the form of a mouse after catching and then skinning the necessary reagent in his solitary cell? Could it really be that he had learnt to feast on moonlight and drink shadows during his years of training in the Lost Hills? For years tales of his legendary flight were fed to the public, since the truth -- that the prisoner had been served a carelessly prepared fishbone soup at lunch and collapsed of sepsis in the toilet -- was judged by the Royal Warden to be far less palatable.

(Last edited 19 March 2008 : 15:47:23)