They walked through town together to Marta’s, where Mizuki kept the conversation short, taking her linen-wrapped venison loins. As they walked to her house, Mizuki was trying to think about what she was going to make, going through her mental catalog of recipes and the inventory of vegetables, herbs, and sauces available in the house. A soup would be best, to test her new magical spoon, but she had no stock or broth, and as this was her first time feeding Verity, she needed to make a good impression.
“Here’s me,” said Mizuki as they came down the path to the house. “Shoes off, please.”
She slipped out of her boots in the entryway, enjoying the feeling of her toes finally being free, then cast off her gloves as well, leaving her much more comfortable. From there, she went into the kitchen, flipped up the lighting discs, and went through to double-check that she really did have everything she thought she did. Venison went well with something a bit sweet, a role that Mizuki thought would be played by carrots, and it was hearty, which would be complemented with mashed potatoes that would soak up some of the gravy.
“All right,” Mizuki said, looking over at her guest. “How hungry are you?”
“Famished,” Verity replied. “Music takes it out of me, especially with so many layers. I should have eaten before we left. I didn’t think we’d be out so long.” It had been the pipes that had dragged out the proceedings.
“I’ll try to make it fast,” said Mizuki as she flipped open the stove.
She held a hand over the heating element and waited until it came up to
the right temperature, then moved a pan into place. It was
“I don’t know,” said Verity. “There are lots of kinds, aren’t there?”
“Oh, of course,” replied Mizuki as she melted some butter into the first pan, then moved over to start chopping up the carrots. “But if you don’t like mushrooms, then you just say that and I leave them out, and if you’re picky about your mushrooms, we can start a negotiation.” She held up some mushrooms for Verity to see. They were white, with long, thin stems and a cap that wasn’t much thicker around than the stalk. “Lily mushrooms?”
“At this point, I’m hungry enough that I’ll eat anything you serve me with a smile on my face,” said Verity, whose eyes were roaming over the ingredients.
Mizuki nodded and tossed the mushrooms and carrots in, got some diced onions from the chiller and added them, then added herbs mostly by instinct, including garlic, rosemary, and sage. When that was done, she turned her attention to the meat, but not before she gave the pot another skeptical look. The timing, she decided, was going to be off. The carrots, mushrooms, and venison would be done before the potatoes were boiled through, even if she cut them thin. She decided to do her best.
“So,” said Mizuki while she cut into the loin. “You’re not from around here? You mentioned a conservatory, I think.”
“Like Alfric, I’m from Dondrian,” said Verity. “At first I thought it was odd to meet another Donder so far out from the city, but there are enormous numbers of people there, so I suppose it’s not that unusual.”
“Mmm,” said Mizuki. She wiped her blade and began cutting the potatoes,
throwing them in as soon as she had them in thin slices. “And why are
“It’s a long story,” said Verity. “And I’m hoping that we don’t have too much time until we’re eating?” She was watching the proceedings with interest, though it was the interest of a hungry animal rather than a curious onlooker.
“We’ve got a bit,” said Mizuki. The meal was almost at her favorite part, which was when things were cooking along on their own and being tended to, without all that much interaction on her part.
“Well,” said Verity, seeming dejected that food was going to take a little longer to touch her lips, “like I said, I was conservatory-trained. I was four years old when I first started playing an instrument, and I was something of a prodigy at it, to the delight of my parents. Money wasn’t really a concern to them, so they spent enormous sums on getting me the best tutors, both for my ability to play and my magical talent. When I entered the conservatory, I started questioning why I was doing any of it. The training regimes were brutal, the demands to practice were merciless, the competition was fierce, and… I just dropped out, if I’m being honest. I was doing well, as far as the performances went, but everything else, my relationship to the music, my disposition, was going horribly. There was too much weight on my shoulders.” She paused for a moment. “From many quarters.” She paused again. “So I left.”
