The first Flavor lab day was a smashing success. Lyra’s attempts to complete her Texture homework, on the other hand, were a dismal failure. Despite Boysen’s encouragement in Whisk Whiz Review and Caramelle’s private coaching in Pestle afterwards, Lyra still went to bed Tuesday night without any confidence in the shortbread she had made to present to Professor Puff.

The next morning, her stomach heavy with dread, she decided to forego breakfast in favor of an early visit to the kitchen.

“Lyra!” Chef Flax’s eyes lit up when she came through the door, then immediately filled with concern. “What’s wrong? Tough day in class yesterday?”

“Not at all,” she assured him. “Flavor lab was great. It’s today that I’m worried about.”

Bumble leapt from the counter over to Lyra’s shoulder, chattering excitedly. Chef Flax tilted his head to one side.

“I think he’s saying you should tell us all about it while you help us with this bread for lunch. Or something like that,” the chef said.

Bumble launched from Lyra’s shoulder. Flying to a cupboard, he produced an apron and soared back to her, chattering all the while.

“Close enough,” Chef Flax chuckled. “Even if that wasn’t his original idea, he approves. Step up to the counter, Lyra. I always think better while kneading.”

Lyra obeyed, tying on the apron over the uniform version she was already wearing. “You actually knead your bread physically? Aren’t there spells for that?”

“Of course there are.” Chef Flax turned a lump of dough onto the counter for each of them. “But I’ve been up for hours, running multiple spells at once. At this point in the morning, right before the breakfast rush, I find it soothing to bake without any magic at all.”

Bumble chattered something emphatically, and Chef Flax nodded. “Soothing, and also important. After all, we don’t want to be completely dependent on magic. Got to keep those baking muscles nimble. Literally.”

Flouring his hands, he winked at her. “Now, dig in, Lyra. With your hands, and your words. First tell us what made yesterday ‘great.’ We’ll start with the sweet and build up strength for the sour.”

Lyra needed no further encouragement. Dusting her own hands with flour, she plunged them into the dough, punching and turning and punching again. Then she lifted the whole lump into the air, throwing it back down onto the counter with a loud, satisfying THUD.

“You’re right.” Lyra shared a grin with the large, red-faced head chef. “That is soothing.”

While she worked, she told Chef Flax and Bumble about her first full lab day in Flavor. The first-years had spent the morning in an exercise Professor Honeycomb called ‘FIT’: Flavor Identification Training. Razz brought a tray of twelve jars to every student, and Professor Honeycomb led them through the recognition of the flavor contained within each jar. After lunch, they practiced combining those flavors, starting with two at a time and gradually building up to six-flavored dough.

Lyra had thoroughly enjoyed the day. Her nose was tired, and she never wanted to smell that much rosemary at once ever again, but she could feel the results. She was learning to recognize that ‘gut’ voice, and feel more confident in following it.

“And that’s after only one day,” she gushed to Chef Flax, her fingers locked into the kneading rhythm. “I mean, I’ll never be as good as Boysen, or any of the Berrys, but I can at least be competent.”

Bumble tapped Lyra’s arm with his tail, forcing her to stop kneading and look at him. He chattered one short, firm sentence.

Chef Flax grinned. “More than competent, Bumble says. We agree that you have splendid instincts, and we’re glad you’re starting to trust them.”

“Thanks, Bumble.” Lyra smiled at the flying squirrel, and he returned to his task of keeping the counter well dusted with flour.

“So yesterday was a grand success in learning new things.” Chef Flax performed a complicated twist with his dough that sent it flying three feet into the air before it landed on the counter with impressive precision. “That was the sweet. Now for the sour. What about today fills you with dread?”

Lyra paused, letting her hands sink into the dough with a sigh. “Texture.”

Briefly, she recounted her disastrous first class with Professor Puff, taking out all her frustration upon the hapless lump of dough.

“The classroom can be an intimidating environment,” Chef Flax said soothingly, once she had pounded out the last humiliating detail. “Especially Professor Puff’s classroom. I’m sure you’ll get the hang of that spell after some practice in less stressful circumstances.”

“It’s not just the classroom.” Lyra gave the dough a particularly violent toss that only just managed to avoid hitting Bumble. “I tried the spell again last night, back in the dorms with my roommate. She’s a Texture expert. Even with her help, I couldn’t get the tempo right.”

Bumble suddenly froze, then delivered a series of particularly high-pitched chattering noises.

“He says you’re done kneading,” Chef Flax interpreted.

Bumble shook his head, chattering derisively. Chef Flax held up his hands in surrender.

“All right, I missed that one. But I do think you should stop, Lyra. I’m not sure that dough can take much more.”

Bumble stretched himself to his full height and width and repeated the chatter-squeak statement, taking off his chef’s hat and waving it for emphasis. Then he proceeded to tap his foot deliberately on the counter, pointing alternately at Lyra and at his foot.

“Something about… rhythm?” Lyra suggested. “Because I said I was having a hard time with the tempo of the spell?”

Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

Bumble nodded emphatically, then sang a few short notes in his surprisingly rich baritone.

“That’s it!” Chef Flax smacked his hand on the counter, sending up a cloud of flour that made Bumble sneeze. “Set the charm to music!”

“Music?” Lyra echoed.

“Of course! You sang that Flavor spell the other day, when you helped me with the cinnamon rolls. And they came out perfectly.”

“But that was Flavor,” Lyra protested. “And it wasn’t for class. It was just for fun.”

“All baking is just for fun,” Chef Flax said stoutly. “Or it should be. If you stop having fun, you stop growing. And it shows in the finished product. Trust me. It’s hard to enjoy eating something the baker did not enjoy creating. And that misses the whole point, doesn’t it?”

“What point?”

Chef Flax spread his arms wide, indicating the whole kitchen with its array of delicious smells. “The point of baking. I love eating, and I love making things that other people love eating. That’s why we all got into this business, right?”

“That’s why I got into it,” Lyra replied. “Or why I’m trying to. But didn’t you come from a baking family? Didn’t you… I don’t know, have to become a baker? Because you’re a Flax?”

The head chef laughed, while his sous chef erupted in a fit of chatter-giggles.

“There’s a lot of variety in baking families,” Chef Flax explained through lingering chuckles. “We’re not all Mints or Chiffons or Glazes. The Flaxes are a rather laid-back bunch. Sure, my parents were delighted when I became a baker, but they would have been equally happy if I went into politics like my brother. Or took up the trapeze and joined the circus, like my sister. No, Lyra Treble, I got into baking for one thing: joy. The joy of making food, and the joy of the person eating the food. Simple as that.”

He offered Lyra a bowl, and she dumped her well-kneaded lump of dough into it with a sigh. “I don’t see how anyone can enjoy Texture. Except Professor Puff, maybe, and geniuses like Hyacinth. Or my roommate.”

Bumble covered both bowls of dough with pieces of cloth and scampered away. Lyra glumly watched him leap about the kitchen, pulling ingredients from various cupboards and depositing them on the counter.

“Some bakers are more inclined to certain disciplines than others,” the head chef admitted, setting the covered bowls in the proofing drawer to rise. “But there’s joy to be found in each part of baking. You just have to find your own way into that joy. For you, that seems like music.”

“But shouldn’t I just be able to do the spell?” Lyra asked. “That’s what Professor Puff is expecting. She wants me to focus on getting it right, not finding the fun.”

Chef Flax placed a floury hand on her shoulder. “All the professors here are deeply invested in your growth as a baker. They just each have their own style. Professor Puff may seem a bit severe, but she really does want to see you all succeed. I’m sure she’ll be thrilled with your progress, however you go about achieving it.”

Lyra shook her head. “She wasn’t thrilled on Monday in class. When I was humming, I mean. I got the feeling that any noise is frowned upon in Texture.”

“That’s mostly personal preference. Professor Puff is a quiet soul, and therefore enjoys a quiet baking environment.”

Bumble tugged on Lyra’s hand. Chattering in what she took as an encouraging yet firm tone, he pointed at the array of ingredients he had collected.

Chef Flax beamed. “Our sous chef has prepped your work-station, Aspiring Baker Treble. Everything you need for shortbread. Let’s do some musical baking!”

Lyra stared at him. “You mean… sing the Texture charm? Now?”

“Yes, and yes.”

“I…” Lyra swallowed. “I have class.”

“There’s plenty of time until then,” Chef Flax said firmly. “And you have homework to finish, right?”

“I — I made some shortbread with Caramelle last night. With the spell”

“But you’re not satisfied with it.” Chef Flax shook his head. “So let’s use that as a backup, and see if you can’t whip up something better now.”

Tugging on Lyra’s hand again, Bumble stared up at her, his bright eyes full of pleading.

“Okay, okay.” Lyra mustered a tiny smile in answer to the flying squirrel’s irresistible charm. “For you, Bumble.”

Ever since the disastrous class, just thinking about Texture made Lyra’s heart sink and set her mind buzzing with nerves. So she was absolutely amazed at how pleasantly the next half-hour flew by. It took her only three minutes to invent a catchy tune for Professor Puff’s beginner-level version of Master Chiffon’s Aeration Charm. After singing through it a few times with both Chef Flax and Bumble, she was ready to try the spell with actual ingredients.

The first attempt exceeded all Lyra’s expectations. Granted, her expectations were dismally low, but it was still heartening to finish singing the charm only ten seconds after the shortbread dough came together around her fingers. Even better, a faint blue shimmer washed over her hands with the final words, rippling out across the bowl before fading away.

Chef Flax inspected the dough with an expert eye and confirmed Lyra’s assessment. The charm had worked, though only at half-strength. These cookies would have a clumsy, labored Texture, but they would be dimly recognizable as shortbread, and not altogether unpleasant to eat. Compared to the bricks she had produced the day before, Lyra considered this a huge win.

The second trial was even more encouraging. Determined to wean herself from dependence on music, Lyra only whispered the spell-song, but it was still effective. The tune guided her through the word-maze and kept her tempo steady. The dough came together two seconds before the final word was sung, and the blue shimmer that rolled out from Lyra’s hands shone brighter and longer than before.

For the third attempt, Lyra asked Chef Flax to do the singing so she could focus on the mental recitation. He obliged eagerly. To Lyra’s delight, Bumble contributed his baritone, singing the tune wordlessly under Chef’s strong tenor. Even better, the greenhouse door opened after only a few measures, and Sprinkle herself came soaring in. She landed on the counter beside her husband and joined in with gusto, singing a wordless descant in a sweet soprano voice.

Some may have considered this song, performed by a large human chef with two flying squirrels for backup, as more distracting than helpful. Lyra was almost certain that’s what Professor Puff would say, and probably Caramelle too.

But she didn’t care. The trio’s music coursed through her whole being, engraving the charm’s words onto her brain and sinking its tempo deep into her muscles. She closed her eyes, feeling even her Flavor-focused ‘instincts’ perk up at the magic unfolding beneath her hands.

The result was an undeniable success. Lyra actually felt the ingredients snap together into a fully cohesive dough at the exact same moment the trio finished singing the charm. A wave of blue light, warm and bright and vivid, erupted from her hands. It pulsed over the bowl for a few seconds, sparkling and shimmering. Lyra felt like it was winking at her.

“Well done!” Chef Flax applauded as the light sank down into the dough. “I can tell you right now: that’s a batch of shortbread I would enjoy eating.”

Bumble and Sprinkle clapped their hands and tapped their tails on the table, chattering their agreement.

“Thank you,” Lyra exclaimed. Her veins were thrumming with the kind of fluttery excitement she usually associated with an especially successful Any Weather Bards performance. Stepping back from the bowl, she gave her own round of applause. “Seriously. Thank you. That was some excellent singing!”

Bumble bowed low while Sprinkle bonked his head lightly with her tail, chatter-laughing affectionately.

“No thanks necessary,” Chef Flax translated. “We are honored to assist you, Aspiring Baker Treble. I think you’ll make a fine Texturist.”

Lyra sighed, but she was still grinning. “I wouldn’t go that far. I eventually have to try it without any music at all.”

“Repetition and review: that’s all you need.” Chef Flax pulled a pocket watch from his apron. “Let’s get this batch in the oven and get you some breakfast. Bumble and I can handle the cleanup. You mustn’t keep Professor Puff waiting.”

Lyra protested about the cleanup, but Bumble and Chef staunchly waved away her offers of help. She had to content herself with another fervent round of thanks, along with a promise to bring her guitar for a proper concert soon. Then, after scarfing down a quick bacon croissant, she was off to the Texture lab, freshly baked shortbread in hand.

It was time to present her homework to Professor Puff.