Cold Fire
“Once inside, a billow of mixed scents-fresh bread, steamed barley, stewing meat-enfolded the two girls. Daja could also see that Jory noticed the silver gleam of runes and protective spells against uncontrolled fire, rats, mice, and mold: they were inscribed on the ceiling, every set of doors, the walls, even the floor. Somewhere to their right Daja heard the regular thump of bread being kneaded. Closing her eyes, she thought she could be at Winding Circle’s great kitchen, where a cook-mage nam...ed Gorse ruled and no one came away hungry.
Someone cursed in Namornese. Daja’s illusion evaporated. Gorse also never fixed millet and bacon soup, a Kugisko favorite with a distinctive smell. Even with those differences between kitchens, something edgy inside her relaxed. She was not a cook-mage, but she knew the feel of a kitchen-mage’s realm. This was a good place to be.
“Don’t stand there steam-struck,” a sharp voice said. A bag of flour came at Daja’s chest; she caught it. “Take it to the cellar.”MoreLess
Someone cursed in Namornese. Daja’s illusion evaporated. Gorse also never fixed millet and bacon soup, a Kugisko favorite with a distinctive smell. Even with those differences between kitchens, something edgy inside her relaxed. She was not a cook-mage, but she knew the feel of a kitchen-mage’s realm. This was a good place to be.
“Don’t stand there steam-struck,” a sharp voice said. A bag of flour came at Daja’s chest; she caught it. “Take it to the cellar.”MoreLess
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