Sensei of Shambala. Book III. Anastasia Novykh

insidious smile.

      “D’ye wanna to try? It is so tasty!”

      “No sir, thank you. I wasn’t signing up for a flayer,” Andrew said with a smile.

      At that moment Eugene drew everyone’s attention to himself. After trying several dishes, he obviously grew bolder in gustation of good. Pointing at big crayfish lying on a huge plate in the middle of the table, he asked Ariman: “These crayfish must be from Chernobyl? A new gigantic kind?”

      Ariman chuckled.

      “No, these are langoustes. My recommendation. Very tender meat.”

      He cast a glance at Veliar, and the latter made swift arrangements. The steward-guy laid a langouste on a separate plate that was on a tray with special cutting instruments and served it to Eugene.

      The latter looked askew at all that set and declared openly: “What do I need these surgical armaments for? I’m no sadist, nor a dentist. I’m not gonna torture this dead animal. Am I a maniac, or something?!” Placing the lobster bravely by hand on his plate and observing it in passing, Eugene added: “Besides, judging by his red look, I guess, he’s already confessed everything to your cook.”

      Everybody burst out laughing. Ariman grinned too and gave an approving nod to the steward, who was somewhat confused at such unheard-of treatment of food items. He seemed to become interested in how Eugene was going to dress the lobster without instruments, as after moving aside he started watching this amusing guy with curiosity. Meanwhile, far from being embarrassed by his behavior, Eugene started handling the lobster in his own manner, applying all his mastery to getting its ‘tender meat’.

      At first, like everyone else, hearing eulogies about the dishes, I put on my plate some seafood salad standing nearby and, of course, a small spoon of the much-praised silver caviar. The plates, by the way, were very unusual. They were light, porcelain, and with painting depicting some plots with half-naked nymphs. Besides, judging by the plates of my nearest neighbors at the table, each plate’s painting had a different the plot. But they were sustained in one style.

      When that delicious food filled my plate and I was about to try it, suddenly I felt such a wave of nausea and inner discomfort that it nearly turned my stomach. Hastily, I put down my fork back on the table, dropping my eyes on the floor. But the lines of the transparent floor seemed to become animated before my eyes and slowly at first, but then faster and faster they started whirling into some sign, which made me feel even worse. My head began to swim, and my breath quickened. I shut my eyes and clawed hold of the plastic arm-chair with all my strength, fearing that I would fall into a faint. The dizziness passed immediately though. Taking advantage of this temporary relief, I tried to concentrate on the solar plexus, on my ‘lotus flower.’ This simple meditation, once given to all of us by Sensei, became a peculiar first-aid in extreme cases. So far, it never failed me. And indeed, doing this meditation within a minute brought me into more or less normal state. My breath became steady, and I even managed to relieve somewhat that nauseating condition. I opened my eyes. Luckily, almost nobody noticed my temporary indisposition. The group was carried away by eating and talking with Ariman. Only Sensei glanced at me somehow kindly, which made me feel even more peaceful inside. But he instantly looked away, commenting upon another Eugene’s joke with humor. I breathed a sigh of relief and settled back in the arm-chair, trying to avoid looking at the food or the floor, because of incomprehensible “oddities” of my organism.