smell anything, but she
glimpsed a vision of a woman’s face. An arching brow, a tired eye,
a welcoming smile. Was it her mother?
Solin asked, “Why wasn’t Aja given first
bite? She’s the eldest now.”
The Chef didn’t look at all surprised at
what had happened to her. “The wear and tear of years amounts to
nothing. It’s the quantity and quality of dining that brings
distinction. A man is the sum of his meals.”
Solin turned his sharp chin away from the
offered carving knife.
Aja couldn’t be the only one to ask for a
cut. “You must want to know something.”
“Wanting is not deserving,” Solin said.
“Would you learn something for me?”
He inclined his head. She took it as a sign
of interest.
Aja would eat the knowledge of her mother
herself. She needed another secret for Solin to taste. She looked
about the Banquet for inspiration and spied the dragon emblems on
the lord’s glove. The Chef had mentioned something about serving
dragons.
“If we’re eating dragons later,” she said,
“we should learn about them first. It’d be safer.”
Solin ran his fingers through his long hair.
He nodded.
The Chef extended the knife, with a morsel
of pink on top. “I know the location of dragon lore by heart, just
below the left gill.”
Solin took the meat in hand, then ate it. He
chewed, his eyes growing wider and wider until they were all
whites.
“What’s it like?” she asked. “What are you
seeing?”
He rolled onto his back, clutching his head.
He moaned, in pain or wonder.
“Is the knowledge terrible?” Aja clasped his
hand. His tattoo design had sharp edges, but it felt smooth like
normal skin. “I shouldn’t have told you to eat it.”
The Chef said, “He bit off a vast topic, but
he’ll digest it soon enough.”
Aja held Solin’s hand between her two
gnarled ones. The pouch with the Plum of Beauty pressed against the
blade of her hipbone. She could take the fruit, eat it before he
regained his senses, but she didn’t. Stealing was wrong. Besides, what good is beauty to me now?
The Chef offered the salmon to the
swordsman. He asked for something she couldn’t hear, but the Chef
spoke loud enough.
“This is the Salmon of Knowledge, not
prophecy. You can’t ask to know the future.”
In front of Aja, Solin’s eyes stopped
rolling. He focused on her. His hand pulled out of hers.
“Was it that awful?” she asked. “I’m sorry I
chose dragons for you.”
“It was…it was wings and clouds and swimming
up waterfalls, sleeping mountains and deep thoughts, a voice of
thunder, a temple of gold, breaking claws and shedding scales,
anger that burns cities, so many women dead, the taste of
them—Aaah! I must forget that. I mustn’t know.”
He swayed upright and gulped from his
cup.
Aja startled at the voice of the Chef. “What
secret will you eat?”
Sixth Course, Part II:
Found and Lost
The Salmon of Knowledge hovered in front of
Aja on a dark-grained board. Bands of white fat rippled through the
orange-glazed flesh. The steaming knowledge made her feel warm all
over and woozy.
She glanced at Solin, but his traumatic
taste of the salmon only proved its power. The fish would reveal
her mother.
“I see you’ve chosen,” the Chef said. “Guide
my hand.”
Aja frowned as she rested her fingers on
his. She had no idea where in the fish the knowledge lay. Blinking,
she looked again, and yes, her thumb was smaller than the Chef’s
pinkie.
His hand drifted under her touch. His knife
angled toward the salmon’s upturned snout.
“The right cheek.” The Chef scooped out a
pad of flesh with a flick of his knife. “This is a knowingness of
the feminine. Hmmm…The portion may be too large.”
“I want to know my mother.” Aja covered her
mouth. She had spoken loudly.
“The knowledge of mothers, then.” The knife
flashed across the board, cutting a sliver of meat from the cheek.
So small, it disappeared when the Chef lifted it closer.
“Permit me.” He
glimpsed a vision of a woman’s face. An arching brow, a tired eye,
a welcoming smile. Was it her mother?
Solin asked, “Why wasn’t Aja given first
bite? She’s the eldest now.”
The Chef didn’t look at all surprised at
what had happened to her. “The wear and tear of years amounts to
nothing. It’s the quantity and quality of dining that brings
distinction. A man is the sum of his meals.”
Solin turned his sharp chin away from the
offered carving knife.
Aja couldn’t be the only one to ask for a
cut. “You must want to know something.”
“Wanting is not deserving,” Solin said.
“Would you learn something for me?”
He inclined his head. She took it as a sign
of interest.
Aja would eat the knowledge of her mother
herself. She needed another secret for Solin to taste. She looked
about the Banquet for inspiration and spied the dragon emblems on
the lord’s glove. The Chef had mentioned something about serving
dragons.
“If we’re eating dragons later,” she said,
“we should learn about them first. It’d be safer.”
Solin ran his fingers through his long hair.
He nodded.
The Chef extended the knife, with a morsel
of pink on top. “I know the location of dragon lore by heart, just
below the left gill.”
Solin took the meat in hand, then ate it. He
chewed, his eyes growing wider and wider until they were all
whites.
“What’s it like?” she asked. “What are you
seeing?”
He rolled onto his back, clutching his head.
He moaned, in pain or wonder.
“Is the knowledge terrible?” Aja clasped his
hand. His tattoo design had sharp edges, but it felt smooth like
normal skin. “I shouldn’t have told you to eat it.”
The Chef said, “He bit off a vast topic, but
he’ll digest it soon enough.”
Aja held Solin’s hand between her two
gnarled ones. The pouch with the Plum of Beauty pressed against the
blade of her hipbone. She could take the fruit, eat it before he
regained his senses, but she didn’t. Stealing was wrong. Besides, what good is beauty to me now?
The Chef offered the salmon to the
swordsman. He asked for something she couldn’t hear, but the Chef
spoke loud enough.
“This is the Salmon of Knowledge, not
prophecy. You can’t ask to know the future.”
In front of Aja, Solin’s eyes stopped
rolling. He focused on her. His hand pulled out of hers.
“Was it that awful?” she asked. “I’m sorry I
chose dragons for you.”
“It was…it was wings and clouds and swimming
up waterfalls, sleeping mountains and deep thoughts, a voice of
thunder, a temple of gold, breaking claws and shedding scales,
anger that burns cities, so many women dead, the taste of
them—Aaah! I must forget that. I mustn’t know.”
He swayed upright and gulped from his
cup.
Aja startled at the voice of the Chef. “What
secret will you eat?”
Sixth Course, Part II:
Found and Lost
The Salmon of Knowledge hovered in front of
Aja on a dark-grained board. Bands of white fat rippled through the
orange-glazed flesh. The steaming knowledge made her feel warm all
over and woozy.
She glanced at Solin, but his traumatic
taste of the salmon only proved its power. The fish would reveal
her mother.
“I see you’ve chosen,” the Chef said. “Guide
my hand.”
Aja frowned as she rested her fingers on
his. She had no idea where in the fish the knowledge lay. Blinking,
she looked again, and yes, her thumb was smaller than the Chef’s
pinkie.
His hand drifted under her touch. His knife
angled toward the salmon’s upturned snout.
“The right cheek.” The Chef scooped out a
pad of flesh with a flick of his knife. “This is a knowingness of
the feminine. Hmmm…The portion may be too large.”
“I want to know my mother.” Aja covered her
mouth. She had spoken loudly.
“The knowledge of mothers, then.” The knife
flashed across the board, cutting a sliver of meat from the cheek.
So small, it disappeared when the Chef lifted it closer.
“Permit me.” He
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