Chapter 16: Half-Baked Cooking
Dorry was normally a busy little island-city, being in the center of the Red Sea. In fact, most of the population of the little island was transient, with most of the locals working the shipyards and warehouses and merchanting guilds. For this reason, few people really cared about the recent election, and the speech the newly re-elected mayor would be putting on in the market square. The locals would be mostly busy with their work, and those just passing through cared not for the goings on of the small island.
Nonetheless, it was a great excuse for the mayor to talk about himself, and such opportunities did not come but once every few days. As such, a small stage was set, red carpet unrolled, and sound amplification runes were prepared for the grand occasion.
The market square was normally rather crowded in the mornings on the best of days, today though, more than usual were gathered. They were all there to watch the spectacle. Not of the mayor's speech; that was generally about as exciting as stale bread for breakfast. They were all watching one of the mayor's guardsmen attempting to pull eels out of the... crevices... of the fountain statue depicting the mayor with rather generous proportions in the center of the square. The guard was currently grappling an eel hidden between the chiselled marble cheeks, and from the splashing and swearing, it seemed the eel was winning.
A foreigner with a beautiful black cloak swept through the square, effortlessly weaving through the crowds towards the excitement. As the guard successfully pried the final eel from the fountain and the crowd settled, the stranger melted into the throng like sugar into hot water.
From among the faceless crowd, she watched the proceedings with interest. Mischief was in her nature, and to not appreciate the result of her hard work firsthand would be a disservice to her craft.
By now the girthy mayor had dispelled most of the jeers coming from the slowly thinning crowd and was giving his opening remarks about his recent landslide victory in the recent election (in which he was the only candidate; the other two candidates had been disqualified on technicalities). He droned on for several minutes about his own qualities, before he eventually moved on to his agenda for the office.
“...and so, I would like to announce my most recent venture, the Me Appreciation Club, where members can appreciate their favourite mayor, outside the city hall, Fridays at 5. Free snacks will be provided.”
While saying this, a banner unfurled behind the man, which presumably was supposed to pertain to this club as he waited for the polite clapping of his peasa... citizens.
What met him was howling laughter. The banner that had been unfurled behind him was not for his new club, but rather a tapestry depiction of him bedding a goat, which was wearing a frilly pink dress and a wig.
An evening well spent, thought the stranger, who weaved back into the crowd. She was so pleased with herself, in fact, that she collided nose first into a wall of a man.
“I've been looking for you” were the last words she heard before she was hoisted into the air.
***
It was a great day. The sun was shining, his headache receding, and he'd found his friend after losing her for almost a whole day. He'd certainly missed her more than he'd expected, like she'd departed his life entirely, but condensed into a single evening.
“Put me down you big oaf!”
He kindly reminded her it was breakfast time, ignoring her complaints as they headed back towards to inn they were currently bunking at. Cats could be so scatterbrained sometimes. He hoped she hadn't bumped her head and forgotten about meal times. That would be bad.
A short walk found them at the inn where most of the crew was finishing their meals, Will scraping out the remainder of some porridge with a finger.
With a grin, the captain greeted them. “Welcome back, you two! We were discussing our plans for the next leg of our journey. Take a seat” he gestured offhandedly.
“As I was saying... after a short detour, we'll be headed straight to Windcrown in the morning with the tide. Now normally, repairs would've taken weeks longer, but I managed to contact a friend who owns a shipyard. He agreed to hire a mallet mage at cost to help with repairs, so we can be out of here as soon as sunup. Just make sure everyone is ready to leave come morning. We're still on the fringes of Esthar's control, and I'd rather be well past the horizon before anyone shows up. Already I've heard whispers of what happened in Esthar, so be on the lookout for agents of the Sultan. And Dantes, clean up your face.”
At that, some snorts echoed around the table as the captain excused himself.
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An examination of his own reflection on a foggy glass revealed the words “I love Mitts” scrawled across his face. Wonder how that got there, he thought idly, before dragging Mitty off to the closest kitchen. A smell coming from Mitt's satchel had him almost drooling. There was food to cook, and he was hungry.
***
After whipping up that lout something random with some ingredients lying around the kitchen, Mitty decided she'd do a bit more experimentation with spices, specifically the ones she'd nabbed from the mansion. She recognized quite a few from the labels, though they had a different air about them that made them appeal to her over the counterparts she owned.
She dipped a finger into the silver saffron, giving it a hesitant sniff before tasting it. Tastes like saffron... and clouds? She didn't know what clouds tasted like, but she was sure they didn't taste like this. It tasted more of the concept of clouds. It tasted of freedom, flight and footloose. She didn't feel any more freedomy than usual, but maybe that's just because she was already at maximum freedom.
She imagined then in her head, herself, great and terrible, taking to the skies on wings of night, black enough to blot out the sun. Great storm clouds gathered in her wake; she was not Princess Fuzzy Mittens, but Queen Fuzzy Mittens, The Terror of Pigeons and Gulls and all that flies in the skies. Below her, masses kowtowed in fear and reverence, offering her great servings of tuna. Thunder cracked at her displeasure and her prey trembled in terror.
And then the clouds cleared, and she returned, wearing a smile only a cat could wear. A quick test of the other spices revealed many of the other spices had similar conceptual additions. The bay leaves tasted cool and relaxing, the thyme was old and crumbling, and the red pepper was fiery and explosive. A poor fit for what she wanted to make.
Shooing a curious barmaid out of the kitchen, she rolled up her sleeves and fired up the stove. It was time to get cooking.
***
Waves of oily black smoke roiled out of the kitchen, and Mitty soon made herself scarce to avoid the rather burly man the innkeeper brought to oust her. She was honestly surprised it took them so long after the first failure, but she wasn't one to turn her nose up at a good turn of luck. She didn't even need to take care of the dishes, how neat was that!
She'd originally tried something fancier with almonds, honey and salmon, but something about that didn't feel quite right. It tasted fantastic, no doubt, but the feel was wrong. She wanted to recreate what she'd imagined before, and the ingredients had the wrong... something. Like they were pointed in the wrong direction. Misaligned. She was missing an ingredient. She'd tried bringing out the most from her spices to make up for it, but that had resulted in... that.
Not dwelling upon it too much, she departed quietly, shifting back to her more discreet form. It was a neat trick to have, but as much as she loved being a cat, the thumbs were too convenient, and she found herself standing on two legs more than four these days.
Poor Dantes doesn't have a stone to turn him back. It's not his fault he will never be great like me, I should be a little nicer to him. Then again, it looks like he's come to terms with it. I'll just leave him this failed stuff I made and that should be good enough. Idiot thinks with his stomach. Tastes with it too. Wait, does it work that way?
The warm glow of the inn faded into the distance as she padded away along a side street. The moonlight just barely poked its fingertips through the concrete jungle above. The night was friend to all cats, but now it seemed particularly inviting, beckoning her toward the rooftops to admire the full moon's glow. She slipped from shadow to shadow, unseen by the light, gradually ascending towards the upper levels where the soft glow of the moon graced every surface.
She soon found herself upon the threshold of a sparse yet beautiful rooftop garden, lingering in the shadow cast by the moon upon the side of the staircase leading up. A cloaked man rested against the short wall on opposite side of the terrace, looking away at the nightscape of the city, and holding a steaming cup. She appraised him for a minute before exiting the shadows, padding towards him on downy paws.
Jumping up on the wall, they gazed out into the night together for a time, untouched by the soft noises from below. Though there were other buildings that were almost as high, the city seemed distant. Much of the noise from the streets below was muddied and dissipated, scattered by the houses below.
The buildings rose and fell with the curvature of the island, and she could see the water from where she sat, the moon shining doubly as it reflected off the smooth surface of the bay, the land almost seeming to cup it with its grey fingers.
The two strangers passed time in silence for a few minutes longer before the man spoke.
“Thought you were someone else, kitty. A friend, I guess. Or someone I wish I could be friends with at least. I shouldn't really get close her. That's nothing new for me though. I don't think I've ever really had a friend before, kitty, so maybe I'm just jumping at new feelings. My liege would disapprove anyhow.” There were thoughtful pauses between each sentence as though he struggled with something.
“You're a good listener kitty. Would you like to be my friend?” he asked wearing a self mocking smile.
Like a good listener, she said nothing, staring at him unblinkingly.
“You resemble her a bit, you know, kitty. Your eyes are the same blue, and fur the same black. Here, want some of this?” He placed his mostly depleted mug of brown liquid before her.
She took a curious lap of it, but no more. It was some sort of coffee, and better than she expected, but food as a cat held less appeal to her now, and she'd eaten plenty today regardless.
“Not a fan of jaffa, kitty? It's better hot.” They gazed into the night in silence for a while longer. “Well kitty, I need to go. Join me if you like, but I'll be leaving with the tide in the morning. Not sure where yet. Wherever she goes I guess.” He walked away from the night vista to the stairs leading below.
He looked back at her dark silhouette in the night sky. “Goodbye kitty. Thanks for listening. It helped.” He hesitated, then shook his head, descending from the terrace.
Thus, they parted ways again, a shadow and a hunter. She stayed for a bit longer, enjoying the night sky, before hopping down into the city below. The night called.