Elixander studied me with a blank look, but sharp eyes.

  I took a seat on the edge of the bed and sighed, then said, "I need help with a matter concerning Baron Swiftwood in Everspring."

  Elixander raised his hand to stop me mid-sentence. "I must interrupt you there, Varix. I am unable to become involved in politics. Such matters are beyond my purview."

  "Oh, no. You misunderstand." I shook my head. "The baron and I have come to an understanding. We get along now."

  Elixander's eyebrows arched high on his forehead. "That is... unexpected news."

  "It surprised me, too." I reached into my pocket and pulled out a folded piece of parchment. As I unfolded the list, I filled Elixander in on what had transpired with the Baron, but I left the whole second tavern thing out of it. "It's about his wife. She's been ill for some time and no one has been able to find a cure. The baron gave me this list of her ailments."

  I handed the parchment to Elixander. He took it with slender fingers and unfolded it carefully.

  "Hmm." He sat back in his chair. "Give me a moment to review this."

  Silence filled the room as Elixander studied the list. His lips moved slightly as he read. Occasionally, he muttered something in Elvish under his breath. His brow furrowed in concentration.

  After several minutes, he looked up. "I have an idea as to what may be ailing the baroness. However, I will need to consult with some of the Forgepriests, as well as a high-ranking cleric. The symptoms suggest several possibilities." He refolded the parchment. "I will get back to you once I've had these consultations."

  "Do you think it can be cured?"

  "It is possible. Why are you so motivated to help her?"

  I looked down and studied my fast travel boots. After a moment, I spoke. "When I was younger, I had an aunt who was very sick. We tried to help her for years, but she was resistant. She went from someone I had grown up with as my babysitter to a frequent visitor with my mother. She was funny, bright, and had this great attitude, you know? Terrresa never met a bad day she couldn't turn around."

  "She had a similar illness?"

  "Sort of. It was more of a disease brought on by…well…substance abuse."

  Elixander cocked his head to the side.

  "She changed so much that I barely knew her when I saw her three or four years ago. Her hair had thinned. She was practically emaciated, and she had burned every bridge possible with my mother and her brother. Terresa didn't live much longer after that. I went to her funeral…" I cleared my throat. "Sorry. That brought back some painful memories. I hope I can help the baron's wife."

  "I understand. If there is a cure, I shall discover it."

  "Thank you, Elixander. I appreciate your help." I coughed to cover my sudden sullen turn and tried to put Terresa out of my head. I turned to my bag on the bed and pulled out a bottle wrapped in cloth. "I brought you something."

  I unwrapped the bottle and held it out to him. The ancient wine glowed with a faint amber light that seemed to pulse from within.

  Elixander stood and took a step back. His mouth fell open. "By the sacred groves..." He stared at the bottle, transfixed. "Where did this come from? How did you obtain it? And how does it look so perfectly preserved?" His words tumbled out rapidly. "Are you certain you weren't taken in by a counterfeit?"

  "To the best of my knowledge, it's the real thing." I turned the bottle to show him the seal. "The ghosts discovered a vast preserved wine cellar under the Shadow's Respite, in the temple area we uncovered. The ghosts were quite considerate to point it out."

  A smile spread across Elixander's face. "Please thank Sir Garin for me." He approached cautiously and accepted the bottle with reverent hands. "This wine alone would not be understood by most mortals. It will be a precious treat when I return home." He cradled the bottle against his chest.

  "I'm very happy you’re pleased with it." I felt a warmth spread through my chest at his obvious delight.

  Elixander looked up from the bottle. "Now, what was the other thing you wanted to ask me?"

  After Elixander left, I changed into more comfortable clothes – plain trousers and a gray top worn thin from years of use. My tavern clothes felt right after days in finer garments. I stepped into the corridor with a lightness in my step—the weight of uncertainty had lifted from my shoulders after talking with Elixander.

  I walked down the stone hallway until I reached the spot Gleamworth had pointed out earlier. The wall looked ordinary – smooth stone blocks fitted perfectly together. I ran my fingers along the seam where two blocks met.

  My fingertips caught on a slight depression. I pressed it. Nothing happened. I tried again, pushing harder. The stone block receded slightly with a soft click. A section of wall swung inward on hidden hinges.

  "Very sneaky." I chuckled.

  A narrow passage stretched before me, dimly lit by small crystals embedded in the ceiling at wide intervals. The air smelled musty and unused. I stepped inside. The passage split in two directions about twenty paces ahead. I took the left fork first and walked for several minutes. The passage continued far beyond what seemed reasonable for a path to the kitchens.

  I backtracked to the fork. My boots carried me swiftly down the right-hand passage.

  The sounds reached me before I saw anything. Metal clanged against metal, water bubbled, and knives chopped against wooden boards. Voices called out orders and confirmations.

  "More carrots for the stew!"

  "The bread needs another ten minutes!"

  "Where's that blasted pepper?"

  The passage ended at another hidden door. I pushed it open and emerged into a corner of an enormous kitchen.

  Heat blasted me from multiple ovens and stovetops. The air hung thick with steam and the smell of roasting meat, fresh bread, and simmering sauces. It was like home, but larger and noisier.

  Three young dwarves worked at a large table, chopping vegetables. At the center of the kitchen stood Warren Stonekettle. He rushed between stations, stirred a pot here, checked an oven there, and barked orders everywhere.

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  An unused apron hung on a hook near the door. I grabbed it, tied it around my waist, and stepped into the fray.

  Warren spun around, a ladle clutched in his fist. His bushy eyebrows shot up when he saw me. "Lord Commander! What brings you to my kitchen, and dressed like that?" He pointed the ladle at me. "As I previously told you, this is no place for you, sir." He wiped his forehead with his sleeve.

  "Good afternoon, Warren." I rolled up my sleeves. "I understand your hesitation. Look, I'm new to this station. It's a title. At heart, I'm just a tavern owner and cook. You're a cook in need of help. I'm here to help. So, where do you need me?"

  Warren stared at me. Sweat dripped from his beard. "With all due respect, sir—"

  "I insist. I know my way around a kitchen. I've done it quite successfully."

  Warren sighed, his shoulders drooping. "Fine. The gods know I need the help. Can you get those pans heated for the fish? They're well-seasoned cast iron, so—"

  "Yes, chef. I know exactly what to do with them." I grinned, grabbing the pans and placing them on the stove. "What's the main dish tonight?"

  "Icefish on a bed of seasonal vegetables and herbs, garnished with edible flowers," Warren replied, wiping his hands on his apron. "It's one of the king's favorite dishes."

  I nodded and glanced around the kitchen. A large ceramic vase of water stood near a sink in the back corner. I walked over and plunged my hands into the cool water, reaching for a hard bar of black soap resting in a small dish. The soap had worn edges from frequent use, and it lathered quickly between my palms.

  Warren watched me with an approving nod. "Good. At least you know proper kitchen cleanliness."

  "First rule of any kitchen," I said, drying my hands on a nearby cloth.

  "The fish is quite delicate," Warren explained. "Look in that cooler and pull out the long metal pan. Fair warning—it's heavy."

  I crossed to the large wooden cooler built into the wall and pulled open its thick door. Cold air rushed out. I spotted the metal pan on the bottom shelf and bent down to pick it up. The weight surprised me, despite Warren's warning. I hefted it up and carried it to the counter next to the stove.

  I set the pan down on the counter. The height difference made it awkward—the counters stood at perfect height for dwarves but were several inches too short for me.

  "This will be interesting," I muttered.

  White cloth towels covered the contents of the pan. I peeled them back to reveal dozens of large, thick white fish pieces. I poked one with my finger. The flesh felt firm yet yielded slightly.

  "Similar to halibut," I observed.

  "How would you prep this fish?" Warren asked, crossing his arms.

  I considered the question. "Season well with salt and pepper. Add some butter. Poach it in the oven until slightly firm." I pushed the fish again. "About twelve to fifteen minutes should do it."

  Warren scratched his head. His gaze moved from the heating pans on the stove to the fish and back again. After a moment, he nodded.

  "That's right. Get another pan so they aren't crowded and prep them for the oven." He pointed to the heating pans. "We'll instead use those to sear the vegetables."

  I bit back a chuckle. The dwarf had probably planned to slow-cook the fish in batches in those small pans. That would have taken quite a while.

  "Right away," I said, moving to fetch another pan. "I assume you're going to add lemon to the icefish once it's done?"

  "Aye," Warren nodded. He turned and yelled to one of the sous chefs. "Cut a dozen lemons in half for the fish."

  "I'm already excited to taste this dish. It's going to fall apart with a fork."

  Warren cleared his throat. "Most nobles wouldn't know the first thing about proper fish preparation."

  "I'm not most nobles," I replied as I pulled a large baking sheet from a stack. "In fact, I'm barely a noble at all."

  "Yet here you stand, Lord Commander, in my kitchen." Warren handed me a small bowl of seasoning. "With the king's ear, no less."

  I sprinkled the seasoning over the fish. "The king and I understand each other. We both know what it means to be judged by appearance rather than character."

  Warren considered this for a moment and nodded. "I find you a very peculiar human, Varix. I also find it a pleasure to share my kitchen with you."

  I seasoned both sides with a generous sprinkle of salt and pepper, my hands working quickly from years of practice.

  "I need butter," I said to no one in particular.

  A young dwarf with a wispy beard hurried over. "Right away, sir." He returned moments later with a slim brick of butter, still cold from the cooler.

  "Thank you." I placed the butter in a small saucepan and set it next to the lowest heated burner.

  “Where do you store the large baking pans?” I asked Warren.

  Warren gestured toward a cabinet near the back wall. "Bottom shelf. Should be plenty big enough for what you need."

  I walked to the cabinet and crouched down. The doors creaked as I pulled them open. Inside sat stacks of pans in various sizes. I pulled out another large one with high sides. The fish would have cooked perfectly in glass pans, but the heavy iron would work well enough, though it might take a little longer to heat up.

  Back at the prep area, I removed half of the fish and placed each piece so that they were about an inch apart from one another.

  The spice rack caught my attention. It stood on a shelf at chest height for the dwarves—perfect eye level for me. Glass bottles of various sizes lined the shelves in neat rows, each labeled in dwarven script.

  I scanned the bottles until I found what I was looking for. The green flakes of dried dill sat in a clear bottle near the end of the second shelf. I pulled it down, twisted off the cap, and held it to my nose.

  The sharp, grassy scent filled my nostrils. "This will do."

  Warren approached the stove area, wiping his hands on a towel. "How's it coming along?"

  "Almost ready for the oven," I replied, drizzling the melted butter over the fish.

  Warren nodded approvingly. "Good. Jarn and Thoric will bring the vegetables."

  Two sous chefs appeared carrying large bowls. Long stalks of bright green broccoli, orange carrots cut into batons, and purple-tinged turnips filled one bowl. The other contained yellow squash, red bell peppers, and pearl onions.

  "These look fresh," I said, as I examined the vegetables.

  "Aye," Warren confirmed. "Only the best for the king and his new bride."

  "What's she like?" I asked as I picked up a stalk of broccoli. The floret was tight and firm, the stem crisp.

  "Ah, she seems a fine woman. I suppose humans would find her quite attractive. Bit skinny if you ask me."

  "You think every human's too skinny," Jarn interjected.

  "That's because they are," Warren shot back.

  I chuckled and asked if he was ready to cook the veggies. He had already tested the pans I'd placed on the stovetop with a drop of water. It danced around the well seasoned pan before dissipating in a burst of steam.

  Warren reached for the first batch of vegetables, so I tested the oven one more time and decided it was close enough. Without a temperature gauge, guessing when an oven was ready had become an art.

  I slid the fish pans into the hot oven and quickly closed the door.

  "Fifteen minutes should do it," I said, closing the oven door. "Then we'll check for doneness."

  Warren handed me a wooden spoon. "Mind the vegetables while I check on the bread?"

  It took five minutes longer to begin assembling the plates. Warren and I had taken turns tossing vegetables while we tended a pot of boiling water, covering skinned potatoes. After they were quickly moved to a large pan, Warren and one of the sous chefs got to work mashing the potatoes. They stirred fast and added various seasonings and a healthy amount of pure butter. Warren and I changed places as I went to work on the mash. Warren was going for thick mashed potatoes that had some elasticity, but it took a lot of work to whip them into shape.

  It was a madhouse as the other cooks began assembling plates and platters. I added my butter and lemon once the icefish was ready. We began plating the food, and servers rushed in to bring out plates as quickly as we could prepare them.

  "You should probably go to the meal," Warren suggested.

  I laughed and clapped the dwarf's shoulder. "I had fun, Warren. Thanks for letting me cook with you."

  "I'm very appreciative of the help, Lord…"

  "Varix."

  "Aye. Varix."

  We chuckled at each other as the food continued to be plated behind us.

  "Right. I need to change my shirt at the very least," I said and rushed to the secret door, but not before I cleaned my hands on the way out.