Dar has a black apron over the dark, shimmering tunic and brilliant turquoise trousers she'd managed to get the matter printer to extrude. She had it make a scarf as well, but it's been abandoned. Her sleeves are rolled up and she folds her arms in exasperation as she looks at the new employer. Her tawny forearms are corded with wiry muscles.

"Look, if you insist I have to do it, boss," she says. "But if we put that dish of nnongzhing pickle out right now, most of 'em won't be able to smell or taste the rest of the food. The Kel can wait, it'll do 'em good."

The two platters of folded buns, one set filled with sliced duck, the other with slices of marinated and roasted giant mushrooms, are ready to go, garnished with scallion shreds and arranged around bowls of sweet plum sauce, each with a long-handled dipping spoon. Dar sees Deyna hovering there, with the air of someone looking for something to do, and nods at the stuffed buns. "Wow, just when I need another set of hands, great timing. Put those out on the big table, please."

Also essentially ready are a set of roasted vegetable skewers, stuck upright in a block of plastic foam hidden by a riot of fresh green and purplish leaves, and accompanying sauces: refreshing sour-milk with herbs (think somewhere in the tzatziki - ranch dressing continuum), and a thicker savory bean puree. A timer pings: Dar grabs a metal skimmer and starts fishing miniature shredded potato pancakes out of the hot oil, dropping them onto a tray lined with absorbent paper.

She notices Shess' handwork. "So that's what you were up to. Good. That huge platter is going to be the sweets, but we don't need them out for a while yet."

It will be interesting to see who eats what. The boss hadn't mentioned any food allergies or whatever.