At first glance, the royal academy greenhouse was a standard indoor growing space for plants. It was the same size as the kitchen, though the fully glass walls made it a completely different sort of room-experience. But despite the chill of the faint, pre-dawn light streaming through the windows, Lyra felt pleasantly warm. She didn’t have to touch the glass to know that this room, like the kitchen, was under the influence of a temperature-regulating spell.
A second look at the actual plants growing in neat rows revealed that this was no ordinary greenhouse. One corner was occupied by a single massive basil plant, full and round and reaching up to the ceiling. Lyra counted four rosemary bushes, three glass cases of ginger, and two large clumps of star anise. Seven pots on a table right by the door held miniature trees, each one two feet high, bare of any leaves or fruit. They all appeared to be made entirely of cinnamon bark.
If the size and richness of the plants were not clue enough, the room’s magical nature was evident in the behavior of these plants. They were in a continual state of self-harvesting. As Lyra watched, basil leaves detached from the bush in the corner, drifting down to land neatly in one of several boxes placed around the base. The rosemary was dicing itself in mid-air before settling in a large jar. Cinnamon shavings fell constantly from two trees, while the other five released periodic clouds of fine cinnamon dust, all falling at a precise, steady rate into a series of containers arranged around the pots.
And darting from one plant to another, clearly keeping every spell running in orderly fashion, was a flying squirrel around Bumble’s size. Its fur was the faint pink color of dawn or new rosebuds, and it wore a gardening bonnet on its head, woven from golden straw.
Bumble leapt from the door handle just as this magic gardener was passing from ginger to rosemary. Lyra felt sure they would collide in midair, but instead, the two creatures caught each other by front paws and tail, swinging around in a complicated dance. They landed on the table by the cinnamon trees. Sweeping off his chef’s hat gallantly, Bumble planted a kiss on his companion’s paw.
“Lyra,” Chef Flax said with a smile, “meet Bumble’s wife, Sprinkle.”
Lyra took it all in stride as she bowed deeply. “It is an honor to meet you, Madame Sprinkle.”
The rose-colored squirrel returned the bow, chattering in a pleased way.
“Sprinkle keeps the greenhouse in order, just like Bumble in the kitchen,” Chef Flax said. “Except she’s the one in charge here, far more than I am in the other room. As soon as we step through those doors, we’re in her domain.”
“What’s that like?” Lyra gazed around at the various plants, all radiating perfect health while also harvesting themselves at a steady, even pace. “Running the greenhouse, I mean. What sorts of spells does she use?”
Both squirrels chatter-laughed. Even Chef Flax allowed himself a hearty chuckle.
“Sprinkle doesn’t perform spells, Lyra. Neither does Bumble.”
“But…” Lyra took another look at the very obviously magical greenhouse. “Then… how does it work?”
“Bumble and Sprinkle don’t do magic. They are magic.” Chef Flax pointed to the cinnamon trees. “Care to demonstrate, m’lady?”
Sprinkle leapt nimbly up to the top of one of the trees releasing intermittent clouds of cinnamon dust. Clinging with her two back paws to a branch, she twirled her tail twice, then tapped it lightly against the trunk. A pink shimmer, so faint Lyra wondered if she was imagining it, rolled over the tree. But the effect was immediate. The tree began releasing twice as much cinnamon, dust bursting from the trunk in double time and double-sized clouds.
Lyra pulled back, expecting the explosion to coat them all in cinnamon, but Sprinkle was too much of an expert for that. The squirrel merely raised her hands, and another pink shimmer erupted over the tree, guiding all the newly extracted cinnamon down into the jar Bumble was holding. Once the jar was full, Sprinkle’s tail tapped once on the tree’s trunk, and the cinnamon dust returned to its normal, slower rate of expulsion.
“She just… does all that? Naturally?” Lyra’s voice came out as a squeak, but she couldn’t help it. Her first day at the Royal Academy of Magical Baking had already filled her mind’s wonder-banks to the limit, and the sun was only just beginning to rise.
“Naturally,” Chef Flax confirmed. “That’s how Bumble keeps things going in the kitchen too.”
Lyra shook her head in admiration. “Are all flying squirrels like this?”
Bumble and Sprinkle broke into peals of chatter-laughter again.
Chef Flax hushed them, then explained, “Animals are like people. Some are good at baking. Some prefer painting, or weaving, or tailoring, or carpentry. Some are excellent winemakers, and others grow medicinal herbs. Bumble has a brother who brews the best ale I’ve ever tasted. These two just happen to be interested in food, both growing and preparing.”
“But all are magical?” Lyra asked.
“Of course. In their own way.” Chef Flax looked at her strangely. “Are you telling me you’ve never encountered an animal before?”
“Not many,” Lyra confessed. “We’ve always lived here in the city.”
“There are plenty of animals in the city.”
Lyra shrugged helplessly. “My family doesn’t get out much. We usually go from home to a show venue, and then back home for rehearsal. A few restaurants. I guess the bard world is pretty insulated.”
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
Chef Flax nodded sagely. “So is the baking world, I’m afraid. But that’s why it’s grand to have worlds colliding! Each is enriched and expanded as a result. Sort of like yeast meeting flour.”
“Or cinnamon meeting sugar,” Lyra suggested.
“Exactly.” Chef Flax winked. “Don’t worry, Lyra. You’re fitting in beautifully here.”
Sprinkle chattered excitedly, then leapt to Lyra’s shoulder.
“I think she wants to give us a tour,” Chef Flax chuckled. “Quickly though, m’lady. We have cinnamon rolls on the go.”
Lyra quickly lost all sense of time. Sprinkle gave them a whirlwind tour of the greenhouse, chattering rapidly about the various plants. It was mostly incomprehensible, but Lyra did find herself able to decipher some of the squirrel’s chatters as the morning wore on. When they finally returned to the kitchen doors, for example, she could tell Sprinkle was reprimanding her husband for leaving his cinnamon rolls unattended for so long. Bumble answered only with a cheeky grin and a kiss upon his wife’s cheek.
Once the three bakers were back in the kitchen, their work resumed in earnest. Chef Flax let Lyra help him fill, shape, cut, bake, and frost the cinnamon rolls. He even invited her to take the lead in some of the magical components.
“You might think that a Texture spell would be most helpful here,” he said, demonstrating how to sprinkle cinnamon and brown sugar over the smooth rectangle of dough. “But I find it best to emphasize Flavor at this stage. Especially when you’re rolling and cutting. A deepening charm ensures this filling really permeates the dough, so every bite has the same sweet, cinnamon-y taste.”
Having used Madame Hazelnut’s Deepening Spell for the Flavor component of her entrance exam cake, Lyra felt secure enough to perform it while rolling up the rectangle of dough into a log. It helped that she now knew she could hum while working. She even sang a bit, fitting the words of the spell to a simple tune as she cut the log into individual rolls and arranged them on a baking sheet.
It also helped her confidence that the spell was clearly working. Not only was each roll emanating the soft green glow of Flavor magic, but the air around the tray vibrated with the rich smell of cinnamon and sugar. Something deep inside Lyra resonated with the aroma, as if her own magical baking instincts were waking up to say, “Yes. THAT is Flavor.”
She flatly refused, however, to attempt the Texture charm Chef Flax called for while the rolls were in the oven.
“It serves a double purpose,” he coaxed. “Keeps the rolls from getting too hard or dense while baking, and since we’re making the frosting at the same time, the spell works on that element also. Any fluffening charm will do. Didn’t you use one for that incredible cake you made?”
“Master Pavlova’s,” Lyra confirmed. “But at the beginning level, and I worked out the equations specifically for a three-tiered cake. Pace, number of repetitions… took me forever to get it right.”
Nothing Chef Flax said could change Lyra’s mind. She was content to observe while he whipped cream cheese, brown sugar, and vanilla together to form a frosting. As a compromise, he recited the Texture spell out loud, and she promised to take note of his rhythm so she could practice later.
Once the cinnamon rolls were out of the oven, it was Bumble’s turn to perform some baking magic. Lyra watched, fascinated, as the flying squirrel leapt about six inches into the air. He soared back and forth over the tray, so rapidly that he resembled a furry red blur. Ten seconds later, the cinnamon rolls were cool enough to be frosted.
Chef Flax insisted Lyra take over again. She obliged without hesitation, performing one more round of the Presentation spell as she covered each roll with a thick layer of frosting. Madame Temper’s Chant of Precision resounded effortlessly in her mind and sent waves of efficient agility into her fingertips. Purple light sparkled around the icing spatula, guiding her hands to distribute the frosting evenly and neatly.
Bumble dusted the top of each perfectly frosted roll with a pinch of nutmeg before arranging them on plates. Then, with a simultaneous twist of Bumble’s tail and Chef Flax’s wrist, the plates rose into the air. The doors into the dining hall opened, and the laden plates soared out to land at their intended tables.
As soon as the second batch of cinnamon rolls went out, it was time to start another, and then another. Chef Flax was not kidding about the school’s love for these particular treats, especially the second-years. The kitchen walls seemed to be soundproof, so Lyra had no idea what was happening in the dining hall, but Chef Flax and Bumble seemed magically attuned. Every so often, one or both would pause, glance towards the doors, nod, and turn to accomplish whatever task was required.
Lyra was so lost in a happy baking daze that she jumped a few inches in the air when a knock sounded on the dining room doors.
“Come in, Hyacinth,” Chef Flax called, not looking up from his final batch of frosting.
The doors opened to admit the tall, elegant figure of Hyacinth Roulade, third-year Texture apprentice. She crossed directly to Chef Flax, holding out a small jar with a warm smile.
“Good to see you, Chef. I brought you one of my vacation experiments, as you requested.”
“Welcome back, my dear!” Chef Flax took off his hat to give Hyacinth a courtly bow, then accepted the offered jar with a grand flourish. “It’s far too quiet around here without you students. What’s this? Some sort of jam?”
“Preserves.” Hyacinth flushed slightly. “It’s a blend of mulberry, whortleberry, and raspberry. Strong, but surprisingly pleasant.”
“Mulberry, whortleberry, raspberry… a daring combination.” Chef Flax removed the jar’s lid and gave an appreciative sniff, raising one eyebrow at Hyacinth roguishly. “Spent some time at the Berry household over break, I gather?”
Hyacinth flushed further, but she was saved from replying by Bumble, who leapt to her shoulder and wrapped his arms around her neck in a hug.
“I missed you too, Sir Bumble,” Hyacinth laughed. “How’s Lady Sprinkle?”
Bumble chattered excitedly, pointing his tail at Lyra.
“Oh! You’re Lyra, right?” Hyacinth extended a hand, which Lyra shook. “It’s a good thing I found you. The tour’s about to start. The other first-years are all gathered outside. No one was sure where you’d got to.”
“Is it that time already?” Lyra scrambled to remove her apron. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to keep anyone waiting! I’ve been here all morning.”
“It’s my fault, Hyacinth,” Chef Flax said. “So exciting to find another kindred spirit. She’s been a grand help to me. In fact, thanks to her assistance, I was able to make enough cinnamon rolls to cater the first-year tour.”
He nodded at Bumble. The flying squirrel leapt from Hyacinth’s shoulder down onto the counter, where the final batch of cinnamon rolls was arranged on two trays and ready for transport.
“Time well spent.” Hyacinth smiled at Lyra. “And no need to apologize. We’ll be right on time. See you soon, Chef! Sir Bumble! Many thanks for the snacks!”
The chef and sous chef bowed the ladies out, Lyra giving both her assurances that she would be back soon with her guitar.
As they crossed through the dining hall, each bearing a tray of cinnamon rolls, Lyra saw empty plates rise from tables and float back towards the kitchen, no doubt summoned by Chef Flax’s deft magic.
Lyra smiled to herself. What was it Caramelle had said? “Bakers don’t concern themselves with the service side of the industry”?
Apparently, there was no true distinction between ‘creation’ and ‘service.’ At least, not in the case of Chef Peppercorn Flax.
And Sous Chef Bumble, of course.