H - 75: Disgust is Sacred (Patreon)

The cavernous, mostly empty space and utterly rigid Timestone walls made for some incredible echoes. Incredible, but not helpful; Kaln could not quite make out what was being said after it emerged from the enclosed kitchen and traveled all the way across the vault. He heard Percy’s voice suddenly climb an octave, though, and reached out with his mind, fixed onto Pheneraxa as a reference point, and teleported right into their midst.

“—really not necessary, please don’t worry about it, I don’t want to be—oh!” Percy broke off, blinking owlishly at him. “Kaln, you just…popped up, there.”

“Damn, he really did,” Zhiiji agreed. “Dragon-centered teleportation. That’s the craziest thing I’ve ever seen. Well, until this stove.”

Kaln’s first and most important assessment was that there appeared not to be an actual problem here; Percy was apparently trying to backpedal from some conversational fault, not in any actual distress. He could tell no one had actually upset her because Pheneraxa looked amused rather than angry.

That established, he quickly took stock, and was surprised.

“Wow, you didn’t waste any time,” he commented to Zhiiji. “I was only a minute or two behind you.”

“Yeah, well, this isn’t complicated and I know what I’m about,” she said cheerfully, pouring the contents of the saucepan she’d been heating into a nearby mixing bowl. Kitchen tools and ingredients were already laid across the counter in an order that looked as methodical as an engineer’s desk. “This stove is nuts. Controlling the flame with dials? And the oven, too? Absolute madness. I’m almost upset that it actually works so well. I barely had to pre-heat my saucepan! I’d’ve burned my butter if I wasn’t standing right here paying attention!”

“Well, if you’d like I’m sure we can put together a more traditional stove…”

“I will take you up on that,” Zhiiji said instantly and in total seriousness, though he had been teasing. “In addition to, not instead of. This doohickey is crazy convenient, it’s gonna streamline my process beautifully—some of them, that is. But fuel affects flavor. This magic fire doesn’t smell like anything, which means it won’t taste like anything, and I will not be cooking for dragons and royalty with the budget to order any kind of wood I want and not have the ability to add that element to my flavor profiles, you hear me? Unacceptable. Oh, and I’ll also need some footstools.”

“Uh, yeah,” Kaln agreed. At the moment Zhiiji was standing on one of the dining chairs hauled in from the eating area outside; it forced her to bend down uncomfortably to reach the stove, the alternative being to stand on the floor and be unable to reach it at all. “Sorry about that. I’ll see if we can figure out some system—”

“Seriously, footstools are fine,” Zhiiji interrupted with a grin, having finished whisking together the contents of her mixing bowl and moved on to thinly slicing a loaf of bread. “Curious as I am what kinda magic shenanigans you’d be able to put together, this is familiar. C’mon, you don’t think the kitchens of every fief in the Nourdells are Hiiri-sized, do you? I’m used to working this way. Felt a little weird back at the Croft, being able to reach the ovens from the floor. Just get me some stools for every work station in here, and a stepladder so I can get into the pantry. That thing is even better than the stove, by the way! Perfect, eternal food storage, and it’s not even cold in there! Man, I’m gonna get too spoiled to work in a proper kitchen again after this… I wonder what’d happen if I climbed all the way inside?”

“It depends on how long you stayed,” said Pheneraxa. “The magical stasis affects the biological processes of decomposition, which are very similar to some of the normal functions of your own body. Within a few minutes you’d suffer nausea and muscle cramps. After an hour, the effect on your brain would cause permanent insanity. In a day or so you would be unable to move, or breathe, or die, trapped in a state of pure suffering from which true recovery would be impossible even if you were removed from the pantry.”

“That’s utterly horrific,” Percy observed, sounding more thoughtful than horrified.

“Uh, yeah,” Zhiiji agreed, now spreading the fragrant golden mixture from her bowl onto slices of bread. “How worried should I be about reaching in there?”

“Oh, that’s quite harmless,” Pheneraxa said casually. “With the door open the sealing effect isn’t fully activated, you would presumably only be putting your hands inside, and that only for seconds at a time. In the course of normal use it shouldn’t affect you at all. I advise against climbing in, though. And don’t try keeping meat fresh by putting live animals in, for the same reason. Magical means of storage or transportation designed to use on living things are a whole order of magnitude more complicated than for cargo. There’s a reason Shadrach has such an ego.”

“I feel confident that part of that reason is his personality,” Percy said seriously.

Pheneraxa grinned. “We really have to find a way to stop him being so easy on the eyes. That plus the magic is more than any mortal ego could absorb.”

“I kinda wanna meet this guy,” Zhiiji commented as she began flipping slices of smeared bread into a heated frying pan, where they produced an appetizing sizzle and a truly divine smell.

“On the one hand, I’m not sure I recommend that,” Percy said pensively. “On the other, for some reason I really want to watch it.”

“And on the subject of wanting things,” Zhiiji continued, “bringing this conversation back on track, I still need that list, Princess.”

Instantly Percy went blank-faced again, and this time Kaln actually noticed her starting to tap her fingertips against her thumbs in a rapid pattern. “Really, you don’t have to. I’m not—”

“Why’re you against the idea?” Zhiiji asked, eyes on the pan as she gently shifted slices of bread with a spatula. “Everybody’s got their likes and dislikes. I need to know ‘em if I’m gonna be feeding you.”

“She likes pierogi,” Pheneraxa offered.

“It’s…it’s not appropriate,” Percy said quietly, speaking with great care and avoiding looking at any of them. “A royal chef is a highly skilled professional, an artist, who should never be held hostage to the whims of a girl who contributes nothing of value to the household.”

“Kid, I know you’re not talkin’ about my furry ass,” Zhiiji said bluntly, causing Percy to blink several times in rapid succession. “But you’ve made your point, say no more. This is previous castle chef trauma, got it. Okay, I’m gonna be straightforward with you.”

“Is…is that not what you’ve been doing?” Percy said weakly.

“Your chef was a dickhead,” Zhiiji declared, adding a light sprinkle of crushed herbs to each slice before flipping them over. “I’m not blind, or unsympathetic, to the needs of royalty. I know you gotta put on a good face, not show weakness, never let your enemies see what you don’t like, yadda yadda. But every meal is not a state dinner, most of ‘em aren’t, and it’s the job of a cook to make meals satisfying. You gotta be comfortable in your own home, and part of that means having food that nourishes the body and the spirit both. Just because some guy gets good enough to pull a job working for the King doesn’t change the fundamentals of the job. Putting your ego before your art means you don’t get to call yourself an artisan anymore, and I don’t wanna hear any more nonsense you heard from this guy, got it?”

“I, um,” Percy stammered, “it was my mother who—”

“Lemme put it this way,” the cook pressed on. “I want you to think about the universal cultural taboos.”

“The…the what?”

“The shit that doesn’t fly in any society, anywhere, ever. Rules that are universal because breaking ‘em causes an instinctive revulsion in everyone. That revulsion doesn’t just come from nowhere, you get me? If you trace it all back far enough, every rule has a reason. Can’t have people screwing animals, because that’s one of the main ways diseases jump from one species to another. Can’t be messing around with corpses for similar reasons. Can’t eat the corpses of people because large sapient omnivores have little bugs in their muscle tissue that’re harmless if you leave ‘em where they are, but if one gets into your digestive tract there’s a strong chance it’ll go right to your brain and melt it. Can’t be screwing children because it traumatizes ‘em, and they grow up to be adults who can’t trust anybody or act normal about relationships. All of these things are instinctive or moral issues now, but far enough back? There’s a reason. There’s always a reason. Every society has these taboos because in the age before history, every society that didn’t have ‘em died out from some combination of donkey syphilis and revenge.”

“Incredible,” said Percy, staring at her. “I believe you’ve just covered every subject my mother insists is not appropriate for civil conversation, in practically one breath. I’m genuinely impressed. How accurate was all of that?” she asked, turning to Pheneraxa.

“Remarkably so,” the dragon replied with a nod of approbation. “Her understanding of prion diseases is rather shaky, but I’m always impressed when anyone has even heard of that phenomenon. A lot of natural philosophers haven’t.”

“Hey, I know stuff,” Zhiiji insisted, adding a sprinkle of herbs to the other sides of her toast slices. “There are some decent libraries in the castles of the Nourdells! Not that the kings and queens of the Dells are the readingest people I ever met, but you know how it is. If you don’t have a library and a court scholar, the asshole in the next castle over will get one and make you look like some kind of bumpkin. My point is,” she continued in a more severe tone as she flipped the slices one by one onto a serving plate, “there is always a reason. If something is revolting to you, that matters. Disgust is sacred, understand me? Even if you don’t know what the reason is, there is one. If you put something in your mouth and your body starts screaming at you to spit it the fuck back out, you listen. Your body knows things you don’t. Here.”

She handed Percy a piece of toast. The princess accepted it, looking slightly dazed, and took a bite. Instantly her entire expression changed to shocked delight.

Pheneraxa was visibly salivating; Kaln feared he would have to intervene, but the dragon did at least wait for Zhiiji to hand her a slice before snatching it and sinking her teeth in. The throaty noise she made had him curious enough that he barely paused to nod his thanks to Zhiiji when she handed over his slice before biting off a corner.

It was…perfect. Unexpected, and perfect.

“It’s sweet,” he mumbled in surprise.

“Honey butter!” Zhiiji said smugly. “Elevates any dish that can take honey or butter. I saw you sprung for the good stuff. Good boy! If you’d gone ingredient shopping in Boisverd and didn’t get any Verdi honey I’d have no choice but to put you over my knee. Even better, I can tell somebody with Rhiva tastes was involved in that shopping trip, so I was able to make the proper stuff. You simply cannot get decent chili oil in the Nourdells, it’s maddening.”

Yes, that was it, now that she’d named it. The richness of butter and sweetness of honey did indeed blend beautifully, especially with the herbal aftertaste from what she’d sprinkled over each slice, but there was also just the faintest echo of heat—just enough to add depth to the flavor, not enough to overpower it. And all of it upon the simple, wholesome crunch of fluffy Vale bread toasted to perfection.

“It’s so good,” Percy mumbled around a mouthful. Pheneraxa was chomping in abject bliss, clearly oblivious to everything not in her mouth in that moment.

“I’m gonna make a guess, and stop me if I’m wrong,” Zhiiji said, watching Percy now. “It’s not flavors that bother you, yeah? It’s textures. You bite into something and the sensation is like bugs on your spine.”

Percy froze mid-chew and looked away.

“Honey,” Zhiiji said gently, “I do not give two shits what anybody’s ever said to you about eating habits. You’re getting’ fed from Zhiiji’s kitchen now. Nobody walks away from my table less than satisfied. You just make sure to let me know what you can’t handle, and by the last named hell I will make sure it stays off your plate. None of this is an imposition to me. Creativity thrives under constraint! I’m gonna have the most fun of my life creating great stuff for you to eat, and the more rules you give me, the better. So you think on it and get me that list, okay? And if you forget anything, or find out something new, the list can always be expanded.”

“I…okay,” Percy said meekly. “Thank you for the toast. This is really good. I can’t believe I’ve never had this before. It seemed so simple when you were making it.”

“You’re damn right it was,” Zhiiji snorted. “I probably better never visit the castle you were raised in or I’m gonna demand your chef meet me on the field of honor. Well, don’t you worry about that, kiddo, Zhiiji’s gonna make it all better. Goes for you as well,” she added, pointing at Kaln. “Gimme a list. I need faves and dislikes—for you and every other member of the household.”

“We’ll have to learn as we go, with regard to the others,” he said amiably. “As for me… I’m afraid I won’t be as interesting to cook for as Percy; I’m not very picky and I love new experiences.”

Zhiiji gave him a narrow look.

“I do like spicy food,” Kaln amended hastily. “Oh! And now that I think about it, I can’t stand runny eggs. Eggs are great, so long as they’re cooked fully solid.”

“I like them a little runny,” Percy interjected. “Also, Kaln claims he likes his food slightly burned. I haven’t decided if that’s why he burns everything, or just how he copes with the fact that he does.”

“The cook at the orphan barracks used to burn everything,” he explained to Zhiiji. “A little char on my food is a nostalgic comfort for me. That doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy things done properly.”

“Right, charcoal is a sometimes food,” the cook said dryly.

“And Pheneraxa’s tolerance for spice is somewhat lower,” Kaln added.

Pheneraxa stopped mid-chew, glaring at him with her cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk’s. She was already most of the way through her second piece of toast.

“But she’s a born foodie,” he continued with a grin. “I think you’ll have fun introducing her to…everything.”

“Mm, I’m getting that impression,” Zhiiji said, peering up at Pheneraxa. “So! Somebody bring me paper and a pen; I’ll write out a list of stuff I need ordered. The contents of that pantry are exactly what I would expect if someone with Rhiva sensibilities who knew nothing about cooking asked a Valefolk merchant for a general load of supplies with few alterations. Which is to say, I can work with it, but if you really want me to produce meals that turn the heads of ancient dragons, I’m gonna need some proper ingredients.”

“Ancien’ draghoffs?” Pheneraxa mumbled, then swallowed. “I thought all this was just to feed you two.”

“You don’t hire an adventuring chef to do that,” Kaln said, smiling. “I promised Zhiiji the opportunity to show off in front of the most discerning clients of her career.”

“And I will not be denied!” Zhiiji thundered. “Oh, and don’t forget my footstools and stepladder and wood-burning stove.”

“I will arrange everything tonight,” he promised, “and also put together some sleeping arrangements for you. We have some great stuff for that, you’ll be able to basically design your own. And…hm. If we’re gonna be burning wood in here we’ll need to rig up something to deal with smoke. This place has astronomically high ceilings but no ventilation.”

“That’s not what ‘astronomically’ means,” Percy muttered.

“Simplicity itself,” Pheneraxa boasted, “I can do that without needing to bother my mother. A simple banishment enchantment with a filter matrix to screen particulate matter out of the air. Oh, and a minor wind enchantment to draw the smoke in! Easy peasy. We should probably put together some kind of physical object to attach it to, though. You don’t want to leave standing banishments just hovering around in midair, that’s asking for a really bad accident.”

“No magic accidents in my kitchen!” Zhiiji barked.

“Oh, and on the subject of preparations,” Kaln said. “Commander!”

Percy jumped and yelped as glowing mist appeared and swirled instantly into the form of the saluting ghost, then looked mortified.

“This is Zhiiji, our new chef,” Kaln said, nodding to the ghost. “Please have the staff comply with her requests, within reason and my established rules. She’s allowed to come and go as she pleases in this complex, save in my consorts’ chambers without their permission.” He glanced down at Zhiiji, who was peering at the ghost in abject fascination. “She may want to go hunting. Make sure not to get in her way, but it wouldn’t hurt to have the scouts keep an eye out, so long as any of our household are out and about in Dragonvale. Not that they aren’t all fully able to take care of themselves,” he added soothingly as Zhiiji swelled up in offense, “but I’m told the bandits we’ve got out there are the very worst kind—the sort so desperate they’re willing to live under direct dragon threat. Better safe than sorry.”

The Commander of the Phantom Legion saluted again.

“Thank you, Commander,” Kaln said politely. “Dismissed.”

The ghost saluted once more and dissolved into mist, which dissipated upon a nonexistent wind.

“Well that was the freakiest thing I ever saw,” Zhiiji stated with clear approval.

“I’m still not used to them,” Percy mumbled.

Kaln was already concentrating; his consciousness linked up with the hoard’s ward network as if he’d been doing it all his life. Scanning rapidly through Atraximos’s treasures, he swiftly brought out a selection of three footstools and a stepladder—intricately carved in rare wood, gilded, and in one case bejeweled, of course. The stove was a bit more of an ask, but he found something.

It was, unsurprisingly, enormous. A hunk of white marble with beautiful blue veins, carved into the shape of two crouching lions bracketing the actual stove, which was wrought of sword-quality steel and intricately engraved with scenes from mythology, some of which were inlaid in gold. He placed it in the only available space along the kitchen wall big enough to contain its bulk.

“You are kidding me,” Zhiiji stated, deadpan.

“Pheneraxa was right about Atraximos,” Kaln said with a shrug. “He’s got a surprising amount of usable furniture, but all of it is… Well, see for yourself. All right, I’m putting a stack of Tiavathyris’s building pieces outside; you two can show her how they work and maybe get a head start on designing a house for her. Now, I must go attend Emeralaphine, whom I fear I have kept waiting too long already. I’ll see you all at dinner.”