That is, until the Lord Mayor says loudly, “Good gracious, my water goblet is empty.” A servant hurries forward with a pitcher, but the Lord Mayor angrily waves him away. “Oh my, how thirsty I am,” the Lord Mayor says again. Once more, the poor servant, looking distressed, edges forward with the pitcher, only to be rebuffed. I smirk, catching on. My fingers barely twitch as I guide water out of the pitcher in a sparkling arch and let it trickle into the Lord Mayor’s goblet. He raises it, triumphant, and everyone at the table claps.
