"In many ways, that's more or less what it is," he said, sounding pleased.
We got to the table, and stopped.
All the other mess tables ran end to end from the far side of the burrow to this. Thorsten's table was set at right angles to the others, and a separate chair that was obviously his was placed so that he could look over all the other men. The table had a snow-fresh cloth on it, and was set in high-polish silver. Heavy napkins lay beside each of the places. I glanced down at the other tables. They were bare-boarded, but that wasn't going to make much difference to the men sitting at them.
But all of that took about half a minute's looking. What stopped my eye cold was Pat, dressed in an elaborate gown, seated at one end of Thorsten's table.
"Stop staring, Ash," Thorsten said, the laughter running under his words like the whisper of a river. "Let's not keep our hostess waiting."
"Hello, Pat," I said as I walked over to the chair that Thorsten indicated was mine. I was sitting next to her.
She half-smiled, but her eyes were uncertain. "Hello, Ash." She glanced quickly over toward Thorsten, who had reached his own chair.
Thorsten stopped next to the chair and laid his hand on its back. It was a signal.
"Attention!"
A paradeground voice near the door wiped out every other sound in the hall.