Afin had spent several days visiting a friend who lived in a small village a few hour's walk away, and needed to return home to work. However, as he told his friend that he was due to head back, his friend tried to convince him to stay until the next day.

"But if I don't begin to walk now," Afin told him, "I won't be home in time to get some rest." Still, his friend persisted.

"Please at least stay the night, or let me hire a cab to make the journey quicker."

Afin politely refused the offer, since he had been a guest for so long already. Still, he wondered why his friend wouldn't let him leave. When asked, his friend looked frightened and a little ashamed.

"There is a legend that a monster appears on the road at night and kills travelers. I know it sounds silly, but I'd rather not chance my friend's safety, no matter how small the risk may be."

Afin smiled at his friend's superstition and reassured him that he'd take care of himself. The afternoon was wearing on, and he said goodbye and began to walk home, sure that he'd make it home around nightfall. He enjoyed walking, and never traveled by cab if he could help it.

Before long, however, Afin realized that he had either been walking too slowly, or had misjudged the distance he needed to travel. The sky was rapidly becoming darker, and he knew he was nowhere near his home. Soon the sun had set completely, and he found it difficult to see his way along the road. He worried about becoming lost, and considered finding a place by the road to pass the night. Just before he decided to stop, Afin saw a light through the trees. He began to walk toward it, and shortly discovered a house set back some distance from the road. There was a lantern by the door, and all the windows were alight. Afin walked up to the door and knocked, optimistic that he would be allowed a place to spend the night, or at the least find how far he was from his destination. Almost immediately, the door opened and a tall, well-dressed man stood before Afin. The man looked pleasantly surprised, and smiled at his guest.

"Ah, a visitor! Please, come in." Afin found himself ushered inside, and the door shut behind him almost before he realized what had happened. Still, he was glad to be out of the open air, since it was starting to feel chilly. He took a moment to look around, and was awestruck by the man's luxurious home. The walls were creamy white plaster, and covered with delicate frames and shelves which showed off a variety of ivory carvings, reliefs, and scrimshaw. The chairs and cushioned seats were all pale wood and linen, with ivory and bone inlays. The entire house, Afin saw, was decorated with carvings and light colors. His host smiled at Afin's wonder.

"I am glad my furnishings please you, stranger. Ivory is such a versatile and beautiful medium."

Afin nodded in agreement. "You're lucky to be able to use so much of it, as well."

The man smiled, and said, "It is my good fortune to have found financial success. At the risk of sounding vain, I have always thought that wealth is best used on art and beauty; the world can always stand to be made a lovelier place, as so much of it is shamefully ugly."

"I'm sure the artisans appreciate your contributions, as well."

The man laughed warmly. "I am sure they do. Ah, but it is getting late, and dinner was just set out. I would be pleased if you joined me. It has been some time since I have had a guest."

The prospect of food was a welcome one to Afin, who had last eaten many hours before. He said he was grateful for the meal and gave his host his name. The gentlemen shook his hand, and introduced himself as Senystalai. The two entered the dining room, where dozens of plates and dishes were set atop an ornate table. Afin was nearly overwhelmed by the aroma of spiced meat and other rich dishes, and sat down eagerly to the meal. The gentlemen did the same, though with more grace, and began to pick daintily at a roast. Afin, however, was stuck trying to decide which dish to try first. He finally piled his plate with some slices of savory-smelling meat and sausage. As he began to eat, he was impressed by the rich and complex taste, and found himself practically licking his empty plate before rushing to sample more of the delicious meal set in front of him. He was well into his second plate when he realized he was being discourteous to his host, who had provided the feast.

"Sorry I haven't been a good dinner guest," he said. "The food is almost too good to stop eating long enough to talk around."

Systalai merely smiled and waved him on. "There will be plenty of time after dinner for talk. A good meal should not be allowed to go cold, after all."

Afin was somewhat relieved, but was beginning to find his host's etiquette a little odd. His own upbringing directed him to make an effort at a casual conversation.

"The food is delicious, and I can't thank you enough for allowing me to join you for dinner, but I've been trying to figure out what's in it."

"Oh?"

Afin paused long enough to eat another bite of food. "I can recognize some of the spices, but there are a few I can't quite place."

The gentleman smiled more broadly. "Ah, of course. My herb garden is quite extensive. Some of the plants have been imported from overseas, so it is no surprise that you would not recognize the taste."

By now Afin's second plate was empty as well, and he moved it aside in favor of a bowl that was waiting off to one side. He noticed a crock of stew and helped himself to a few steaming ladles of it. "That makes sense. I'd love to learn some of these recipes, and find out about those ingredients of yours. That is, if you don't mind."

"It would be an honor. What is fine cuisine but art for the sake of the tongue?"

"You can't argue with that logic, especially with a meal as excellent as this." Afin paused to fish out more choice bits of meat from his soup. "Though, since you mention some of the flavors are imported, I'd be worried about getting them at all. It seems like a missing ingredient or two would ruin the dish."

"Do not worry about it overmuch. Most of the ingredients are quite common."

"That's a relief." Afin had begun to eat another piece from his stew when he bit into something hard. He chewed around the obstruction, then discretely spat it into his napkin without a second thought. "It seems like you've spent a lot of time cooking, or do you have servants?"

"Mine are the sole efforts. One could say that my two passions are for beauty and cuisine."

"So you're a chef?"

The gentleman chuckled. "Was, at any rate. Now, I cook merely for my own amusement, or for the rare visitor." Afin nodded in understanding. No wonder Systalai was so wealthy, with his uncanny ability to create such exquisite food.

"Ah!" cried the gentleman suddenly, "How careless I am! One cannot have a proper meal without something to drink as well."

Afin, who was busy with his soup, attempted to protest, but Systalai had already half-crossed the room. Within moments he returned, cradling a dark, ancient-looking bottle in one hand, and a pair of fine goblets in the other. These he sat in a small clearing between the plates and platters, and filled them with a rich, almost black liquid. "I keep wine for occasions such as these," he explained with a charming smile. "Now, we must drink. A toast, to guests and fine meals." He set one of the goblets next to Afin's hands, and raised his own. Afin, however, merely stared at the glittering planes of the crystal. The gentleman, seeing this hesitation, also paused. "Is there something wrong, my guest?"

"Well, not something wrong, exactly," Afin began. The gentleman's smile turned into a quizzical grin.

"Oh? What is the matter, then?"

"Well, you see, I don't drink."

The silence was nearly deafening.

Systalai's ever-present grin threatened, for the first time, to twist itself in a frown, and Afin felt something strangely dangerous about the fact.

"You do not... drink?" The gentleman's voice came out oddly strained.

"There now, it's not as though I'm saying you can't enjoy your own glass, but I must abstain-"

"No!" The shout sent Afin leaping a whole foot out of his seat. "No, you must join me in a toast, I insist!" The gentleman was now leaning over the table, face coming uncomfortably near Afin's own. Had he always had that many teeth?

"I say!" Afin set aside his spoon with a clatter. "You've been a wonderful host this evening, and your hospitality's second to none, but it's quite out of line for you to force me to partake of that vile poison against my will! An unforgivable breach of etiquette, and I simply will not stand for it!"

"Ungrateful wretch!" One of the gentleman's delicate hands balled itself into a fist and slammed onto the table, and most of the dishes jumped at the impact. Afin half-wondered why he hadn't noticed how long and sharp Systalai's nails were...

"I'm not the one imposing on my right to choose what I drink, sir!" Afin leapt to his feet, nearly toppling his chair over in the process. He grabbed his napkin, dabbled daintily at his chin with the finely embroidered linen, spun on his heels and walked briskly to the door. The marvelous rooms certainly seemed dimmer than he remembered, and the ivory sculptures more macabre, and- was that a skull on the mantelpiece?

He anticipated some outraged cry or a call for forgiveness, but the sudden and loud roar that emanated from over his shoulder was decidedly not the refined voice of a gentleman of high breeding, but a bestial howl. Afin bolted at once, and raced out into the dark night.

---

Later that evening, a dozen or so townsfolk were awakened by a ruckus out on the street. Those who rushed outside found their neighbor returned from his trip, panting and slick with sweat, gasping nonsense. Several kindly and curious souls led him gently inside, handing him glasses of water which he seemed to inspect carefully before drinking. Eventually he became more coherent, but told strange tales of a well-dressed man. One of the neighbors noticed him clutching a filthy rag in one hand, and managed to pry it from his grasp. The neighbor stared at it oddly, as though not knowing what it was.

When they pulled it open, they found what seemed to be the end of a person's finger, nail intact, though bloodless and looking quite gnawed-on.

No one must have been more horrified than the neighbor, who, after a long moment's silence, began to scream and sob, crying;

"I never asked about the meat!"

No one ever learned what he meant by those words. From that moment onward, the poor neighbor lost his wits entirely, and spent the rest of his life pacing madly and ranting, repeating the same phrase over and over again;

"The meat! The meat!"