20 – Comparing Staves

The kitchen had stairs that descended down into the root cellar. The door was inscribed with a light blue ward that felt cool to the touch. When I stepped inside, it reminded me of the walk-in refrigerator at the restaurant I used to work at when I was younger.

I figured the ward on the door was keeping it even cooler than the usual underground temperature. These wards were interesting things. They certainly weren’t as powerful as true spells, but they ran on the planet’s ambient mana, so they didn’t require active casting. It was pretty convenient, if you thought about it.

The space was lit by a few ember stones tucked into the wall. I figured they weren’t warm enough to significantly heat the space, just provide a little light. It was a square room with wooden shelves lining the earthen walls. Roots and veggies took up one side, jarred preserves another, and meat wrapped in butcher’s paper filled the third.

Erl had really stocked the place up.

Near the back of the room were two large wooden barrels with spouts tapped into them. I assumed this was where the wizards kept their beer. Next to them was a smaller door inscribed with a ward similar to the one on the cellar, except instead of merely feeling cool, the glyphs were lined with crystals of frost. A peek inside revealed a freezer carved into the living stone, packed with more meat. It seemed we wouldn’t be going hungry any time soon.

After taking stock of the available ingredients, I decided on something simple: a meat and vegetable soup I used to make for myself when I needed something hearty.

Back up in the kitchen, I set a pot of water to boil on one of the heat wards inscribed into the stovetop. While that was going, I cut up some beef short ribs I found into rough cubes.

The heat wards were controlled by a rudimentary dial, and I cranked up another one to full blast, putting the meat hunks in a big cast-iron pan and searing the outsides to a perfect caramelized char.

The short ribs finished searing just as the water started to boil. I took them off the burner and quickly chopped up some potatoes. They went in the soup at the same time. I learned a long time ago that each ingredient requires a different cooking time to express their flavors properly. If you put the most aromatic ingredients in at the beginning, they’ll lose most of their potency.

While the meat and potatoes cooked, I chopped up the next ingredient: carrots. While similar to potatoes in texture, they needed slightly less time to cook. After all, you could eat a carrot raw, but not a potato.

After I dumped in the carrots, I had to run out into the garden to fetch a bundle of celery. I separated the delicate leaves from the fibrous stalks and saved them for later. After the celery stalks, then it was onions, followed by the garlic. Onions have a higher water content than garlic, so it takes them slightly longer to cook.

By this time, the soup was smelling quite good. Often times, the aroma of garlic and onions alone is enough to get the mouth watering, but coupled with everything else in the soup, it was divine.

The tallow from the short ribs was rendering off and floating on the surface in glistening golden globules. It was time for the final ingredient.

I saved the celery leaves for last because I find they have this delicate herbaceous flavor that really takes an average soup to the next level. I gave them a rough chop and slid them into the pot. I was immediately hit with a wave of aroma that smelled like mountain air and bright veggies all rolled into one.

The soup was ready.

I turned off the heat ward and leaned out the kitchen doorway. “DINNER’S READY!

A moment later, there was a clamor of footsteps coming down the stairs. I ladled the soup into large wooden bowls and set them out for the wizards, and finally, myself.

“Smells delicious,” Erl said, leaning over his bowl. “Thanks for cooking.”

“Aye, mate,” Linli said. “We appreciate you pitching in around here.”

“How did the staff search go?” Bagavash asked.

“I’ll show you after dinner,” I said. “Let’s enjoy this meal first.”

The last wizard to arrive was Senior Archmage Alynur, seeing as his room was the highest up and he was the slowest moving of all of us. We waited patiently to eat until he joined us.

When he finally sat down at the table, he hovered his hands over the bowl and said, “Blessings on this meal.”

I wasn’t sure if it was a spell or just a simple act of gratitude, but we all echoed the sentiment before digging in. It wasn’t the best soup I had ever made, but the wizards seemed to enjoy it, with most of them going back for seconds. Myrl brought out a plate of rolls and butter, and they were the perfect complement to the meal.

As we were beginning to slow down, the Senior Archmage made an announcement. “As you all know, the Beltane Festival is rapidly approaching.” He leaned back in his chair and eyed us over his spectacles. “I would like each of you to craft a gift to bring to the witches of Westbrook as a thank you for hosting the celebration this year.”

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“Makes sense,” Bagavash said.

“Already working on mine,” Myrl said with a wink.

“Who are these witches of Westbrook?” I asked. It seemed like a reasonable question.

“Witches are women magic users,” Bagavash explained. “Long ago, people realized that keeping both sexes locked in a tower with nothing to do but ponder all day led to… distractions.”

“The witches of Westbrook are our counterpart in this area,” Erl said. “Together we watch over Brenick Province.”

“Every year on Beltane,” Bagavash continued, “Our two groups get together to catch up and celebrate spring and the coming of summer. We’ve been doing it for ages.”

“Oh, sounds fun,” I said. It would be interesting to meet the women magic users of this world. I wondered if they too had a tower.

“Aye, lad,” Linli said. “But don’t let them lure you in with their feminine wiles. There’s more than one of them that wants to make a husband out of me. Don’t get me wrong, I ain’t against the occasional roll in the hay, but no woman’s going to tie Linli down!”

The others cracked up at this. “Linli, you’d be lucky if one of them wanted you as their ornamental garden hermit, let alone their husband,” Erl choked out between laughs.

“You just watch!” Linli insisted. “They’ve got eyes for me, I’m telling you.”

After a brief goodnight, the Senior Archmage excused himself and retired to his chambers, leaving the five of us sitting around the table.