21 – Borrowing a Kitchen

“I’ll take the hot water at the inn, thanks,” Kaylin laughed. “And what do you mean borrow a kitchen?”

Jax appeared thoughtful. “Hmm, maybe later, I need to hit something. I think I’ll go get my axe and see if Stubbs needs firewood.”

“I mean that Stubbs has a kitchen, and I want to borrow it; but after I get the rest of this monster blood off me.I’ll see you all back at the inn in a little bit.” Without waiting for a response, Ren worked his way down the gently sloped bank to the flowing water fifteen feet below. The water skimmed along in the shadow of the stone, creating pockets of bubbling white as it rushed and murmured over invisible rocks. “Yeah, that’s not gonna work.”

Ren strolled down the bank until, eventually, the river widened, the bank curved lazily, and the water slowed. In the distance he could just make out the bustling form of Hilda’s laundry with its wooden platform jutting out over the water. Behind him, a group of bushes stood hedging the bank from view. “There we go.”

Undressed down to his blue silk boxers, he waded into the cool water, first splashing it across his body, then scrubbing, then sitting to let it wash over him draining away the suppressed, lingering anger.

—

“There you are!” Stubbs called out as Ren strolled into the nearly empty common room of the Bee’s Bounty, his hair still damp. “I wondered where you had gone off to when you didn’t return with your companions.” Stubbs paused his wiping. “Did someone throw you into the river?”

Ren chuckled. “Just a little rinse off.”

“I have baths here, just so you know. We aren’t that far from civilization.”

“I appreciate it. Hey, I was wondering if I could still take you up on the offer to use your kitchen? I need to cook those tenderloins before they go off.”

Stubbs glanced at one of the windows. “I don’t see why not! Would a turn and half be sufficient? I’ll need to start dinner preparations before too long.”

Ninety ticks in turn. Or was it a hundred? So, maybe like… an hour twenty? “That would be great, Stubbs, thanks.”

“Not a problem at all, I do have a condition, however.”

“Oh?”

The big man grinned. “You have to let me try what you make so I can decide if I want to hire you.”

“Sounds good. I think, regardless of if it’s good or not, I can also help you with prep. I’ve… I’m pretty familiar with it all.”

“You have yourself a deal. Let me show you around.” He threw the cloth over his broad shoulders and motioned for Ren to follow him around the bar and into the back.

“It’s bigger than I expected, this is great!” Ren said.

“Well, you can’t very well make the best pies in the town in a closet now, can you?”

The kitchen really was large, with tall ceilings that matched the common room, thick exposed wooden beams spanning the wide space. From the far wall, warmth radiated across the room, its source a pile of glowing embers in a wide hearth with a two thick iron cauldrons suspended above it. To the side, a long black-metal stove sat not quite in the corner, with more than a dozen brass pots and pans suspended above it. The faint smell of simmering rosemary, garlic, and potatoes filled the air.

“You’re planning on cooking the meat right?” Stubbs moved over to a large set of double doors, heaving them open to reveal a walk in larder. Several wooden shelves sat laden with a myriad of food, a few with a distinctive glow around them. The innkeeper walked around the corner, reemerging a moment later with the two logs of meat in hand. He thumped them down on the wide oak table in the center of the room. They glowed faintly.

“[Musttel tenderloin. Two days old. Imbued with speed and strength.]”

I’d like to make some decent ramen. Ren scanned the room. But I don’t have thirty hours. Or soy sauce. Or mirin. Or an understanding of the hydrating properties of this world’s flour and water. “Yeah. I was thinking of cooking them off.”

“Well, they seem to still be good. Help yourself to any herbs and spices. Butter and milk are in the chillbox.” Stubbs looked over at a circle on the wall. “I think a turn and a half would be more than fine. Call out if you need anything else.” He grabbed two large clay pitchers near a line of chestnut barrels laid on their side and went back into the common room.

Ren stood, taking it all in, the foreign yet familiar space filling him with warmth having nothing to do with the hearth. With a slight curve of his mouth, he strolled into the larder.

Burlap sacks of what had to be flour judging by the white dust clinging to the fabric lined the bottom two shelves, above which sat several large baskets stacked high with a variety of potatoes, parsnips, beets, mushrooms, and carrots. And higher still, stood a long row of faintly glowing tall glass jars filled with a viscous amber liquid.

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

“[Wildflower Honey. Imbued with cold resistance and golden tongue.]”

I wonder what golden tongue is? I have got to find time to figure this all out.

Dangling from several long bars stretched across the side were bulbous, woven chains of white and purple garlic next to two varieties of onions and several inverted fanning bouquets of dried rosemary, thyme, sage, and half a dozen others he didn’t recognize each wrapped with twine. A thick, wide, wooden chest stood in the corner, two small pieces of black rock protruding from it, each pulsing with the faintest hint of violet.

In addition to the honey, the only other ingredients that possessed a, what did Julie call it? A mana warping? Were the mushrooms. Interestingly—though they all looked to be the same type—only a handful of the fungi appeared to have any magical properties.

“[Wild, mana-infused tormini mushroom. Imbued with speed.]”