The gifts started piling at Denev's door immediately now that he was the favored Heir of Deltav.  Upon reaching his now unguarded doorway, after the trial, he found a small pile of trinket gifts lying off to the side.  One was a small bound book on the history of the Tiran of the past centuries, he grimaced; his new 'friends' knew nothing about him and who he was they were just flinging small gifts at him to gain his attention and flatter him.  None of these social creatures, from rich Liran to visiting fosterlings and even some of his siblings the Shadan, had even glanced at him before this.  The other two gifts at his door consisted of an ornate but cheap solid brass hoop bracelet and a bottle of scented vatel oil for burning in his hour lamps.  The book was little more to him than kindling, the bracelet wasnt worth his dinner remains, and the oil smelled horridly feminine.  He unlocked his door while holding his small armful of presents from new friends.  The tags on them stated the gifts to be from two Liran and a visiting Audrel Shada.  He used the book to start a fire in his fireplace and fed it with the oil, which happened to make the flames burn florescent pink.  Nev was sickened and lonely.  His new groups of friends that he had never met were so obviously just gold diggers looking for influence, and his old friends had shown their true loyalty the night of the theft.  Nev lounged on his bed toying with the bracelet hoop for a few minutes lost in thought before he tossed it across the room where it landed in one of his boots.  He congratulated himself on his skill, which was really dumb luck, before rolling over and sinking into a seductive True Dream.

            Denev strode down a black hallway that pulsed coolly.  There was a triumphant mood thickening the air and he had a sense of homecoming.  His feet knew where he was headed and trod down the halls confidently.  He turned many corners till the halls lost their public feel and he knew he was in private territory, his private territory.  Something about the labyrinth of halls made him feel small yet important.  He felt very important, especially as he opened the ebony door to his private chambers that no other being ever stepped in.  It was as if Denev was in on a big secret, as if he was a big secret.  Denev's dream mind followed this future image of himself and tried to puzzle out things that he in the future knew all too well.  His future self turned to looking in an exotic and intriguingly fluid mirror on the wall and then slanted his head to stare at the Heir's Mark that was behind his left ear.  While the future Denev felt a surge of pride, the wisp of Denev's dream mind was puzzled at a feeling of backwardness to his Heir's Mark, and it was not just that it was being reflected backwards, something was wrong about it.  As Denev's future self turned to appraise a dark object sitting casually on a night dark table his dream eye flickered with comprehension, he couldnt be...wasn't possible...yet he was.  Denev's future self turned once more to the shifting mirror and this time the Mark seemed right, understanding and pride sunk in.  The two existing minds merged for a second, present with future, and Denev grinned rakishly at his reflection in the mirror, dark eyes glittering hungrily.

             Denev snarled as a knock on his door woke him up.  Looking out the window he saw it was morning, but he was not hungry, at least not for food.  His mind hungered for some knowledge it had known just moments before, some glittering glory.  But, as always, his mind clawed at mist and shadows as his True Dream withdrew.  Once, a few years ago, when he was sick his older sister Leate, now a priestess, had discovered his talent for dreams.  He was very ill and all his shields were weak.  He'd had a dreadful nightmare and his and Leate's strong bond and familiarity with Thought Sharing had pulled her dream mind into his nightmare with him.  He had Seen a shifting of the stone drifts off to the East of the capital, he had Seen a city fall into the burning lava beneath the crust of stone, he had Felt the catastrophe both as the people and as the hungry flames, and so had Leate.  When he awoke he remembered nothing, but she remembered it all.  A week later his Dream became reality as the mining village Demon's Bluff sank into the lava engulfed in flames, and only Nev and Leate had seen it coming.  They hadn't known ahead of time that his nightmare was a True Dream but Leate was positive afterward.  Denev never remembered his True Dreams, and he had never Linked like that again, so they are now only tantalizing visions of the future that are gone by daylight.  All he retained from his Dream was a sense of surprise and glory, at least he know it had not been a nightmare.  That which had woken him, the knock, came again and he slowly raised out of bed to drag open his door.  He was not pleased to see the small face of one of the non-Rel pageboys that the Liran use.  The small coppery-headed youth had molten gold eyes and a good amount of freckles peppering his nose and cheeks.  Even though the kid was cute enough for a smile what he held made Nev feel sour; another bottle of vatel oil, another gift.  Denev accepted the out thrust vial and grimaced at the smell it emitted.  The little page, clad in orange and black livery, scampered off down the hall and tripped over a package strewn in his way.  Nev stepped out a few steps and found a trail of gifts lying to either side of his doorway, a good two-dozen at least.  Apparently some pageboys had decided it was best to let him sleep and Denev was glad he had not had to answer his door for each of these gifts.  He stared displeased at the stacks of gaudy and useless gifts and slid the few stacks through his door with his feet, they were not worth even the effort to bend over.

            The rest of that morning was spent lounging on his stomach on his bed with the gifts stacked within reach and the fireplace blazing from the wall on his right.  Every few minutes he would take a random wrapped gift from the stack and toss it in seeing what colorful or noisy explosion it would make.  Every time he had gotten curious enough to open one of them he had been rewarded with bolts of cloth, damned scented vatel oil, and decorative invitations to galas and parties, thanks but no thanks.  All were flammable, though, and the oil made nicely colored flames, and very rarely nice smelling too.  He was surprised no one had come knocking on his door complaining about the odd explosions and rumblings coming from the adjoining wall, or from the ceiling to his downstairs neighbors, but he was the Heir and perhaps they did not feel they dared question him.  This unquestioned power felt right to him, only fair, except for the fact that it was unearned too.  He was getting power simply because of a family birthmark on his neck, he wanted to have earned this power, and to have it fairly placed in his hands for his own actions.  That was his real annoyance; that he had not proven himself, in fact with the prank he had done the exact opposite.  Politics are so screwed up Denev thought scornfully while tossing a duo of gifts into the fire and watching it blaze up purple after the sound of two glass containers shattering.

Nev was being dragged to a Belzak Royal Meeting tonight.  He'd seen enough of the underground Belzak that anything less treacherous was boring there.  The only thing he liked about the meetings were the rules to dress in black, only black.  There would be an ebony throng of people mingling and chatting, moving like some live thing.  He looked forward to the dance and get together after the banquet because Gem could not join the party until then.  Black was not her best color, but she didn't care as long as she could join in the fun.  Nev wandered around his long ago refurnished room, mostly black and red.  He headed to the walk-in closet that held his clothes.  He had new finery fit for a Tir but he preferred more muted outfits.  Today he was not happy with anything so he pulled out a pair of true black pants and his matching button up long sleeve shirt and soft hide jacket.  If he couldn't act impressively, as the Heir of Deltav should, then he'd look the part and that's all.  He dressed himself in all black all the way down to his low brimmed black boots, and his mood matched to perfection.  Feeling haughty in his immaculate black shell he wandered the castle for the rest of the time till everyone else was ready to leave.  He had a quick idea first though and strode back to his room.  Denev pulled out his small pad of ebony black paper and his pen with silver ink.  Any note he wrote with these had the dramatic effect that he enjoyed.  He quickly penned a note saying he was leaving early for Belzak and left it on his night-dark bedspread.  When he looked back he couldn't see it.  Frowning he turned down a corner of the bedspread so that there was a triangle of red blanket to frame the black letter.  Then he dashed along the red hallways, the veins of the Palace, till he came to a chamber at its heart containing the secret doorway to Belzak, the Black telepad. 

He stepped off one of the Black receiving pads in Belzak and wandered around the mobile halls till he found a place he recognized.  Then he turned left and looked for the next landmark on his way to the Royal Meeting Hall.  What Nev didnt know was that for every one of his landmarks along the way there were a dozen duplicates in this labyrinth of a Palace.  Because he was holding his destination in his mind the God inside Belzak would maneuver the halls to get him there, eventually.  If the God NovyDeri, internal power in Belzak, didn't wish Nev to arrive at all then he never would.  NovyDeri, though, had bigger players to toy with tonight.  Had NovyDeri been more than an eight of a full God he might have Seen how big a player Denev really is, but that was not to happen tonight.

So Denev reached the Meeting Hall that was set up with a gargantuan table in the middle.  He entered grandly and got the gazes of most of the small crowd already seated around the table.  Most were admiring if not friendly gazes, but he was new to this crowd and none were familiar or more than friendly yet.  If he was to be Tir of Deltav all of these Tiran, Shadan, and miscellaneous others would respect him.  As a first impression he was happy with his entrance and circled the table looking at the beautifully colored places that were set around it.  Every Tiran was expected to attend and bring two of their Shadan and two honored guests.  With seven Realms attending and six people each, that would be forty two black-clad figures eating a meal around the stylish circular table made of some glassy black stone.  He stared at it sideways, it looked to be the same material as his small lady statue.  He found the crimson plates set for his family and found his seat; just to the right of his father who was in the middle right hand seat of the six.  His mother, Tira Venira, would be at his father's left and his sister Ilida would sit at her left.  Nev had no clue who his Realm's chosen guests were to be, just that neither was Gem.   One of them would sit at his right side and one at Ilida's left; next to the guests two other Realm's.  Denev pulled out the rosewood red velvet chair at his spot and sat down at the table to wait.  He ran his hands along the slippery black surface of the table and decided the embroidered red and place mat beneath his similarly red platter, goblet, and utensils was much needed.  Though he had grown up in a Palace he rarely saw such detailed and classy opulence as this.  If he tilted his plate in the light the red shiny thing seemed to show flames that licked and danced.  His cup held sparkles of red in its ruby depths that seemed to swirl and move with out any help from him at all.  The silverware, on the other hand, appeared ordinary except for the small quirk that if he rearranged them and glanced away they'd be back to how they had started by the time he turned back; neatly arranged to either side of his shimmery plate.  He wondered how he'd have the courage to eat with such things but was distracted by wondering what the other Realms plates showed.  He'd seen settings entirely of sapphire blue, brilliant green, golden ginger, and a few other colors that he remembered less.  Did Caharn show sand?  Some how he doubted it.  Perhaps Audrel had pouring rain or a raging sea.  His curiosity was agonizing but how rude would it be to go examine someone else's place setting?  He also couldn't think of any formal way to ask 'What did your plate look like at dinner?'.  Besides, with his luck none of the other 41 guests would notice a thing.  He finally decided that because no one here knew him they could hardly know if he was being rude or not.  So he casually stood up and examined the plates directly beside his own. 
           He couldnt manage to see any thing in the place to the right of him, set for a guest of Deltav, but his father's place constantly shifted and seemed to be reflecting visions from his very mind.  He set down his father's carefully and thought on this.  The dishes are impressing the powerful, gah that sounds stupid.  He picked up his mother's carefully and stared at that one for a bit, the red sparkles in the plate shifted to where his fingers pressed against the plate and stayed there after he replaced it at its spot on the table.  He rubbed his fingers across it casually to scatter the scarlet sparkles again.  He found the unique plates confusing; who would go through the trouble to make magic plates?  Who was able to do that anyway?  How does a person make plates sparkle like...and his thoughts stopped short with an odd thought.  The plates sparkle like blood.  Each Realm's plates were in their Realms colors, and the color of their blood.  He felt his stomach flip, he refused to eat off human blood, no matter how pretty.  He laughed to himself, there couldn't be plates made of blood, physically impossible.  Still he found the color odd even though he hadn't seen that much blood spilled in his life.  Curious as to how close of a match his plate was to his own blood Denev picked up his sharp crimson steak knife and pressed his thumb to its point letting a drop of blood fall onto the rim of his plate.  It blended in perfectly; he had to tip the plate against the light to find it.  The knife, which he had set down, had returned itself to its rightful spot during his lapse of concentration on it and sat correctly beside his crimson spoon lying on top of a newly appeared ruby napkin.  He used this new piece of dinnerware to remove the spot of blood from his place.  The napkin absorbed the liquid like a sponge and left no trace of ever having been used.  Nev shook his head, even for Belzak this was freaky, and he let his cloth napkin lying haphazardly on his plate as he wandered off towards the edge of the room to think.  Denev got a quarter of the way around the room before he realized he'd started circling it.  He stopped and glanced around at the rest of the people, just over a dozen, barely a few more than when he had arrived.  He looked at the grey settings on the table edge closest to him, surely a peek won'tt hurt.  He glanced in the Tir's spot and got swirls of thoughts.  He didn't dare test the Tira's spot and moved to the one next to hers.  He saw...a mountain range and um...snow falling on it, coating it.  It was kind of hazy from the angle though and he started to reach out and tilt it but a hand on his elbow stopped him.

"Sir, this is my place." A cold female voice chilled him from behind.  Blinking and turning he saw a tall brown haired lady a little older than himself.  She had ice grey eyes that made the air chill around her and she had pale enough skin to be made of ice in her well fitting but concealing black gown. "I said this is my seat." She repeated icily. "Are you hard of hearing?  What a shame at such a young age." She added and he hissed under his breath at her scornful tone.

"No, m'lady Shada." He replied stiffly, "I heard you quiet clearly I was just interested in your plate." He immediately felt like an imbecile for speaking the truth and her impersonal and arrogant look did not help his attitude a bit. "You see there's a picture..." He trailed off; he wasnt going to win this one.

"Aren't there always?" She said haughtily and he felt even more like a dolt.  He had never been to one of these gatherings before.  Maybe the people chatting in groups at and around the table would snicker at his fascination with what they found ordinary instead of being appalled by his lack of manners.  Either way he suddenly felt quite isolated and embarrassed and stepped quickly back to his seat with a glower set on his downcast face, and there he sat silently till the full Royal Assembly had arrived.