by Melody Rose
“Aye, sounds wise.” Chef Douglas rubbed his goatee and looked out in the distance like he usually did when he began his enchanted cooking.
I smiled at his encouragement and continued. “Thanks! The other big thing to remember is that it’s kind of a special occasion. Even though it’s laid-back, it takes a lot of preparation, and we have to arrange everything neatly in a basket, so we try to make the most of it.”
Crossing my arms, I thought out loud about what we needed. “So we don’t just have a bunch of fruit, we basically have the whole food pyramid represented. Er, that means, we have all you need for good nutrition. Cold cut meats, a nice selection of cheeses, pickled foods that keep like olives, fresh cut bread so you can make sandwiches if you want, and some crackers and jam in case people just want to keep it light.”
I twisted my lips and considered what else we’d need. “Can we somehow serve a dish so that it comes last? Where I’m from, we’ve got ice chests for the desserts we bring. I’m thinking ice cream and popsicles. I think those will be what we’ll need to concentrate on the most…” I smirked because he wrinkled his forehead slightly in confusion. “I didn’t think you’d have those here, but the rest seems pretty familiar!” I comforted him with a pat on the shoulder.
“The last bit we’ll need to keep in mind is to have lots of different drinks! That’s considered polite because it gives everyone options to choose from. Usually water, something sweet and sparkling, like soda… I’ll tell you all about that too… maybe two juices. I’m thinking lemonade, a crowd favorite, and fruit punch.”
Once Rebecca and her impromptu catering crew had laid out all the picnic blankets, dining placements, and two cookies per student, Chef Douglas was able to summon most of the picnic without any more explanation from me. I did give him a bit of a boost by closing my eyes and cycling through all my favorite memories. My heart was beating hard as everything unfolded according to plan. While I wasn’t exactly homesick, it made me proud of my roots seeing everything come together so nicely.
I began with the beverages. “Alright, so the perfect lemonade can’t be heavy-handed with the sugar, but it can’t squeeze the life out of you with its sourness, either! You want a little bit of pulp swimming around in it, so people know it’s the real deal and not some chemical concoction. It makes you think you’re drinking the nectar of the lemon gods, you know? Just pure, tart, natural goodness.”
My thoughts shifted to the next drink. “Fruit punch is even trickier. There’s nothing it can really compare to. It’s just… fruit punch, and the crazy thing is that you can’t even put a finger on what kinds of fruits are in it! It’s a big mystery, but everyone loves it anyway. You make a slush out of lemonade, orange juice, pineapple juice, crushed strawberries, and sparkling lime juice for that extra kick.”
After I had helped Chef Douglas out with those details, the concept of soda came much more easily to him, and I barely had to walk him through it at all. With that done, it was time for the grand finale.
“Alright! Here we go! The cherry on the top of the sundae. We’ll start with popsicles because those have a lot of the same flavor profiles of all those juices we just made.”
I closed my eyes and imagined a scorching hot day to get me in the right mood. When I could practically feel the sun beating down on me and my tongue dry from the heat, I knew it was time to share my thoughts about how to quench thirst with a summertime treat.
“Okay, so the perfect popsicle can’t just be sugar water, you know?” I explained with a serious nod. “Otherwise, you’ll be back right where you started, dehydrated and annoyed. It’s got to turn to juice when you lick it, sour-sweet salvation! It starts out cold and then melts into a nice, liquidy syrup that has just the right amount of tang to make your mouth water. Such a relief!”
I continued, “It’s got a small wooden stick you can hold on to, and it can be a fun challenge to finish the popsicle before it runs down your arm. It can be any shape as long as it’s small enough that no one needs to bite into it to finish up! I don’t want anyone putting a curse on me because I gave them brain freeze.”
“And finally…” I flung my arms out to either side to rev up excitement for the last step. “Ice cream, one of the finest inventions known to humankind! However you have it, it should definitely be the richest, most extravagant part of your day. Today, we’ll just have it in bowls. Your spoon should cut into it almost as easily as butter, with just a little extra push since it’s frozen, after all! Think of the best, fattiest cream you’ve ever tasted with hints of vanilla and a good heaping of sugar.”
“Why don’t we get started with whipping up that timed meal spell to really knock everyone’s socks off?” We were both giddy as we combined our energies to concentrate on my picnic fantasies, so he had to snap out of his dreaminess to answer my question. His furry ears wiggled as he shook his head and focused on the small details of pulling this all off.
“Aye, little missus! ‘Bout half an hour ‘til the students tuck into their desserts in my experience,” he reassured me. “I’ve got extra practice with it, that I do, as young Theodore has always been very particular with his courses durin’ special meals.”
“Perfect, well, let’s get the ball rolling then!”
I had already learned that Chef and I summoned food more easily when we were close to each other, and as we synchronized our imaginations, I stood next to him for the best results. Without even needing to chant, we were able to blend our visions and natural enthusiasm for food as we shut our eyes and dove into our delicious dreamworlds. After about six minutes of committed focus, we looked out at the garden to marvel at our success.
I glowed with pride, and Chef Douglas and Rebecca smiled as though they were reflecting on a masterpiece. It was all truly incredible. The view was as thrilling and colorful as a carnival in the summer like we had taken that general idea but made it edible. There was so much for the students to choose from, and every picnic blanket was a warm welcome full of comfort food from my world that would look exotic and exciting to Lemurian mages. I didn’t think that anyone could turn their nose up at all this, but I wanted to cover all my bases.
All the enchanted helpers fully pleased with themselves too, quick to enjoy their payment after they finished their duties. The pixies spiraled around, riding an intense sugar high as they shoved cookie after cookie into their mouths. The gnomes toasted each other with their bottles of gin as they waddled back over to their game of chess. The fairies scooped up berries and returned to spoiling the garden’s wildlife.
“So, how can we make sure all our work doesn’t go to waste? I don’t want everyone to tear this picnic to shreds or kick over the potato salad when the students catch wind that it was my idea.” I raised an eyebrow. “Do you have food fights in Lemuria?”
Rebecca laughed loudly at that. “Not like you’d see in the movies, no,” she admitted. “I mean, Lydia got away with pouring some mage’s dinner down his robe, but only she’s that bold. She never gets thrown into the detention cellar… as far as I know. Theo always claims he’ll take care of it, but…” Her voice trailed off for a moment. “Otherwise, no matter how mean they can be, the students are careful not to get into too much trouble in front of Chef.”
Chef Douglas grumbled and crossed his arms over his chest. “Aye, I won’t stand for bullyin’ and ruckus in my dinin’ hall if I can help it! I’ve told Abelard to give Lydia a talkin’ to, but he tells me that she comes from one of the finest families and that he can’t be taken away from his own matters to handle what young Theodore can. A damn shame!”
He stroked his goatee and turned to me with a sly smirk. “Tell ye what, if ye’re really worried about it, this old faun’s got a plan for ye! Petra over there is one of the fiercest guardians in Bouclier, so we’ll just have her give everyone the stare down. They won’t even think of misbehavin’! She’s more frightenin’ than a gorgon, that she is!”
As if on cue, the silver-haired woman tore past us and star
ted chasing buck-toothed fairies that looked like mean old men wearing pointy red hats. She wagged a stick at them and howled without one bit of mercy.
“Get back, you blasted brownies! No spoiling the cheese or butter! Just because a couple of farmers crossed you centuries ago doesn’t mean you can take your grievances out on everyone who has dairy to meddle with!”
“A brownie never forgets!” one of the beady-eyed fairies blasted out after getting far enough away from her. I was surprised at the lungs on the little guy. These creatures were way louder than the pixies. “They’ll probably break their word at some point, so we’re just takin’ our payment in advance!”
“Oh, is that so?” Petra shouted so loudly that the trees’ branches began to shake. I wondered if it was for show, though, because the picnic blankets remained still. “Well, then why don’t I just take care of some premature justice and turn the lot of you to stone? Just because I’ve been a statue all this time doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten my petrifying charms!”
The brownie gave the threatening former statue one last nasty glare before he gestured to his crew, leading them to speed off like a plague of angry locusts.
Chef Douglas blushed as he watched Petra get to work. I had a hunch that he had a crush on her, since he practically hopped over to her, clearly eager to find an excuse to talk. Chef seemed wary of her personal space bubble, though, and stopped short of intruding too close.
Petra turned her face and gave him a sidelong look. “For the last time, you persistent faun!” she cried out as she tried to shoo him away. “I can’t have any serious tryst with a man or any other creature with all of my duties! I have grave matters to attend to and need to protect the interests of Bouclier any time that I can!”
I couldn’t see his expression since his back was turned to me, but I didn’t have to with the connection we shared. Still, what I saw was so much more, a clear vision of his eyes welling up with tears in my mind. It was as though I had my mind’s eye focused on his face. Rebecca pouted in solidarity as Chef’s tail hung limply and sadly. He was clearly stung by the rejection, even though asking Petra out wasn’t his current proposition.
“Aye,” he confessed,. “ye’ve told me as much, and I hear ye loud and clear. I know you feel as strongly about the students at Bouclier as I do, and that’s why I came here. Ye see that young mage over there?” He gestured at me with his thumb.
“Ah! Yes! How could I overlook my liberator?” Petra waved, and her icy expression melted with genuine warmth. “Geia sou gynaíka! Hello, lovely mage! I humbly thank you for allowing me to roam free yet again! What do you seek from me? You aren’t in trouble, are you?”
“Well, ye see. I know it may be hard to believe because she’s such a precocious lassie, but her name’s Joan, and she was uninitiated only a couple of days ago,” he remarked, and Petra’s eyes widened. “She’s a human from past the veil, and some of her fellow students have been givin’ her a rough time. Can ye just keep a lookout? Stare at the riff-raff like ye do? Ye can see we put a lot of care in our feast today, and we don’t want it spoiled by some bad apples.”
“He’s not wrong,” I admitted as I cut in to speak up for myself. I didn’t want to feel like some frail damsel, even though I was a little anxious about how breaking the rules would go down. “I even had one of my classmates try to throw a fireball at me, not exactly the warm welcome I wanted. It’d be nice to relax and enjoy the picnic without getting hassled.”
“Ah! Why else am I here other than to protect my wards?” She still seemed prickly around Chef, completely ignoring him to focus on me. Poor guy. I hoped that maybe she’d give him a chance one day. “Let me begin this on the right note and bring them to the garden with the calling horn. It is a tone that every Lemurian knows to heed.”
Petra raised her voice at the top of her lungs, and I wondered why she’d need any other tool to capture the mages’ attention. “Férte mou to oliphant mou! Bring me my horn!” she ordered with awe-inspiring clarity. I was impressed by how her intense natural concentration, she didn’t even need to close her eyes to clear her mind. Instantly, with a flash of silvery glimmers, her horn materialized in her hand. I thought the instrument looked like it had broken off of a Viking's helmet.
She blew onto it with so much force that I thought anyone else would be out of breath, but none of the color drained out of her face. I jumped back at the blaring noise that poured out of the horn’s silver-rimmed mouth, and if I hadn’t plugged my ears, I swore I’d be struck deaf.
Once I saw that she was finished, I let my curiosity kick in, drawn by the pull of the powerful-looking instrument. “That’s beautiful! Maybe I could hold it for a bit?” I asked politely.
Petra didn’t seem to mind and even extended her arm so that I could get a better look. She really seemed to have a soft spot for me, probably because she was so thrilled to have feeling in her legs again.
“Here, lovely doe. I trust you,” she gently agreed. The usually stony-faced woman tried her best to soften her approach as she arranged her features in the most motherly look that she could manage. Though she was still a bit rough around the edges with incredibly intense eyes, I really appreciated her effort.
When I hesitated to take her up on her offer, she shook her arms to signal that it was really okay to lay hands on her precious instrument. I nodded with a weak smile, still worried that I might hold it the wrong way or drop it before gently cupping my hands under the base, holding it up to examine the fine details.
I heard some footsteps approaching the garden, but I was immersed in the incredibly complex motif carved on the entire length of the horn, smooth and pale as ivory. A whole world seemed to exist on the gorgeous surface as horned creatures with furry legs played flutes and drank from large jars as they pranced around in a forest. They all seemed to be fauns like Chef Douglas, so I was confused about why Petra was so disapproving of him.
As I chewed over that little puzzle, I looked up at the sound of footsteps, realizing that what seemed like every Bouclier students had arrived, except Theo, Lydia, and some of the other upper-crust snobs. For the time being, at least, I could put off his reaction. Everyone present seemed to talk excitedly with each other about being allowed into the garden, but then a couple stopped dead in their tracks with expressions of disgust. As they looked down at the exquisite item in my hands, they seemed outright offended that I was touching it. Petra squared her shoulders and squinted her eyes in menace at the crowd. That got these snobby mages to go find their places among the huge assortment of picnic blankets available to them.
The novelty of such a new way of eating seemed to make the students forget that they had a problem with me. They were totally off guard, lounging and laughing as they picked up foods that looked only vaguely familiar, sometimes completely exotic. Based on their reaction, I was pretty sure that they’d never even sat on the ground to eat, certainly not with the ultra-formal worldview Theo tried to enforce on the school.
Once the popsicles and ice cream had popped up in front of the giddy students, one big, happy cheer echoed out in the garden. Now that everyone else was won over, I thought that even Theo had to kick back and relax. It was time for the honorable son of the Headmaster to chill out and pop his picnic cherry.
I held my head up high and marched out to find Theo and bring him over, introducing a whole new way to eat. I felt like I was on top of the world and that I wouldn’t chicken out even during the long trek all the way up to his luxury suite. However, by the time I had reached the open doorway, I jolted back, my boldness dissipating now that I was caught off guard. Theo loomed above me with murderous eyes as he took a sharp intake of breath, as though he were restraining himself from strangling me on sight. I figured he must’ve teleported here for the element of surprise or since he’d just caught wind of what was going on without his permission. I tilted my head up and served him up a huge grin, sure that I could explain myself.
23
Theo
I c
ouldn’t believe my eyes. Not only was the garden left exposed and accessible to the students, but much to my horror, it had turned into an absolute madhouse. The gateway to this ludicrous place had been fused shut, and the frenzied nonsense in the garden immobilized. In fact, it was one of the first things I saw to as soon as my father gave me leave to determine the rules at Bouclier.
As mages were meant to study at every opportunity, all chances for fairies to run amuck in our hallowed halls needed to be put to a halt. The girls would want to exchange tedious gossip with them, and the boys would want to court them. It was a travesty, not to mention that the brownies would set a terrible precedent for talking back. I thought that I could hear their idiotic laughter from nearby.
I was confident I knew who was to blame: Joan. Especially because she was standing before me with a juvenile grin on her face. I had to restrain myself from physically expressing my rage because it was not fitting for a gentlemage, even if the lamb’s blood was driving me over the edge. There would only be one situation under which I would lay hands on a woman, and that would be when she expressly asked me to.
I wasn’t past publicly denouncing her, though.
“Do you exist to cross me and vex me, wench?!” I boomed, adding a sonic charm to my voice to capture my aggravation properly. “It’s worse than a brothel out here. I mean, you have the finest young mages of Lemuria dining off the filth like a flock of heathens! How can you possibly justify this insanity?”
“I just had some extra time after Professor Graham’s class and decided I’d make the most of it!” Joan shouted back at me. No matter how unsure she was the first time I encountered her, she was now nearly immune to my intimidation magic. “I don’t know what the big deal is!” Her voice was almost at my level, an impressive feat since I knew that she hadn’t yet learned the crafts of glamour and illusion.
I closed my lips tightly, my jaw stiff as I gritted my teeth and stewed. As soon as Joan had uttered that horrendous crone’s name, I recalled that I had already endured Joan’s immature theatrics twice that day. The first time, I had peered into my enchanted mirror to watch how she fared during her morning class, convinced that she would be humbled with her own initial failure, and yet she was given more cause to overestimate herself. I had never once created such an absurd display in Graham’s class, and yet there was Joan, summoning moons and stars.
