Ambrosia

by Aaron Lee Yeager

His face went white as he looked up to find Ambera standing over him. Her makeup had run into the lines of her face, her hair was limp and oily, her robes disheveled, an empty wine bottle in each hand.

  “My goddess…I, uh, I had no idea you’d be up this early.”

  “I never went to bed.”

  “Oh, I see. Is there anything I can do to help, your greatness?” he asked reflexively.

  “Only if you can come up with a plan to drum up an insane amount of ambrosia in just a couple of weeks.”

  “Ah, yes, I beg your forgiveness but I’m afraid I can’t help you there.”

  “Then you can at least give me some good news. I assume the whelp is dead by now?”

  “I’ve selected the poison already, we used it before with the whole reiza affair. Very discreet. As soon as I get Mister Storgen ejected from the familia, he’ll quietly disappear with no one to notice him gone.”

  “You haven’t even ejected him yet?”

  “Begging your pardon, my goddess. It has not happened yet but it will soon, I assure you.”

  “How hard could it be to flunk a numbskull like him?”

  “A thousand apologies. The law prevents me from failing him at this time. He hasn’t attended any of his course work.”

  “So, flunk him for being absent.”

  “The law prescribes an Incomplete for absenteeism, not an F. I can’t expel him legally from the household without a failing grade.”

  “You know what? I don’t even want to hear it.” She held up her hand and drank down the final dregs in her bottle. “Either get rid of him by the end of the day or I’ll turn you into an actual weasel.”

  Golden mist collected around his neck, forming a collar that clamped down tight. He reached up to grab at it, but it soaked into his skin and vanished.

  As she floated away, Nyfitsa sat there, sweating even more than usual.

  A man emerged from the shadows where he had been listening and drew near, kneeling down to address him.

  “Justicar Nyfitsa, my name is Lord Demos,” he said, adjusting his white gloves.

  “I think we might be able to help one another.”

  * * *

  “Thank you sir, come again.”

  Philiastra tilted her head and smiled as she passed over the bag with a lavishly decorated apricot flaouna inside. The crotchety old customer had a look of perpetual disapproval on his face, but the second he got a whiff of the aroma coming from the pastry within, his wrinkled face turned into an excited smile.

  “That’s what’s so wonderful about good food,” Gaetan commented as he prepared the next order and set it out for her. “It makes everyone happy.”

  Philiastra smiled even brighter. Her family sold joy. It was something she had always been immensely proud of.

  Something caught her eye and she glanced outside. Storgen was there, working up the nerve to enter.

  Her smile vanished when she saw him.

  “I’ll be right back, I need to get to work on the canalés,” Gaetan mentioned as he grabbed a piping bag and walked off.

  “Okay, dad. Try not to push yourself.”

  Storgen took a deep breath and walked inside. The room was full of laughter and song, but for him and Philiastra it didn’t seem to exist at all. An uncomfortable bubble of silence sat fatly between them as they both looked at the floor.

  “Hey,” he said at last.

  “Hey,” she responded.

  There was a long, agonizing pause. He leaned back on his heels; she fiddled with her leafy hair.

  “Sorry,” he said quietly.

  She looked up. “Me, too.”

  “I, ah, had the guys deliver your crystals to the temple for you.”

  Her green eyes went wide. “Holy turd, I forgot all about them.”

  “Yeah, I figured you had.”

  The tension began to drain away.

  “Thanks,” she said.

  He looked up at her. “You’re welcome.”

  “I don’t like it when we fight.”

  “Me, neither.”

  They looked at one another and the mood began to lighten.

  “So, where have you been?” she asked, tucking a stray leaf behind her ear.

  “Oh, you know, school can feel like a prison. Been chained to my academics.”

  She brightened up when something occurred to her. “Hey, you, ah, you wanna join us for an early lunch?

  He looked around apprehensively. Already the closeness of the walls was starting to make his chest feel tight. “I’m not sure if…”

  “Ah, come on, it’ll be fun. I’ll get you a seat out on the veranda.”

  “All right,” he relented.

  She lead him outside, then paused and looked back. “You’re wrong, you know.”

  “I am?”

  She nodded. “Belonging isn’t something you’re born with, it’s something you create.”

  She took out a cloth and wiped down a table, setting out a tablecloth with a neat little floral centerpiece. She took out her chalk and drew a quick, alchemic circle around the centerpiece. Touching it with her fingertips, she energized the spell and it projected up a canopy of violet energy, shading the table from the midday sun.

  Phyllis came out with a tray and nearly dropped it when she saw them.

  “Oh my, Mister Storgen, it’s so nice to see you again.”

  “It’s nice to be seen.”

  “Can I get you anything? A cocktail? Champagne? Some brandy?”

  “Little early in the day for hard liquor, isn’t it mom?”

  “Oh, nonsense. It’s evening somewhere, am I right?”

  Storgen looked over the menu and tried not to gawk at the prices.

  “Maybe a brandy and orange juice, hold the brandy.”

  “Soooo, just orange juice?”

  Storgen clicked his tongue. “Nothing slips past you.”

  Phyllis placed her hand on his broad shoulder and laughed at his joke about three times louder than necessary.

  “It’s not that funny, mom,” Philiastra noted.

  Phyllis cracked open the door with her foot and called inside. “Honey, look who’s here!”

  Gaetan poked his head out through a window.

  “Storgen!” he beamed.

  “Um, hi Mr. Thavma.”

  Gaetan pulled his head back in, and a moment later, came bursting out into the veranda. He grabbed Storgen’s hand with both hands and shook so vigorously that it made him bounce up and down. “You honor us with your presence.”

  “Well, thank you. I assure you the honor is all yours.”

  “Don’t you mean ‘mine’?” Philiastra corrected.

  “That’s what I said.”

  Gaetan took out his handkerchief and coughed into it.

  “Honey, you need to slow down.”

  “Oh, pah, stop treating me like an old man. Storgen, you order whatever you like, it’s on the house.”

  Storgen scratched his cast. “I can’t help but notice your attitude towards me has changed since our last encounter.”

  “What? Oh, don’t be absurd. We just want to thank you for saving our little princess from that brutish lord the other day.”

  Storgen stifled a snort. “Little princess?”

  Philiastra elbowed him in the ribs.

  Something inside caught his attention and Storgen noticed a new picture frame on the wall. It was the wanted poster he had crumpled up, now lovingly flattened out and framed.

  “Riiiiiight.”

  Gaetan ran back inside and came out with a finely engraved silver tray. Brambleberry éclairs, marmalade macrons, chocolate fudge mille-feuille, and mango tarts, Storgen had never seen such a decadent assortment of pastries before.

  “But, ah, I haven’t ordered yet.”

  Phyllis shook her head. “No.”

  “No?”

  “First you’re going to sample our daily specials, then you can order.”

  Storgen rubbed his hands together. “You’re not scaring me off.
”

  Phyllis sat down next to her daughter, a little too close for Philiastra’s comfort. “We heard about your match.”

  “Everyone has,” Gaetan jabbered as he filled up a fine teacup. “They’re calling it a modern miracle, a new kind of human never seen before. Ambera’s secret weapon.”

  “Is it true that your bones can’t break?” Phyllis asked enthusiastically.

  Storgen held up his cast. “It’s true. I only wear this for insurance reasons.”

  “Storge, don’t tell them that.”

  “Oh, is that where the minotaur bit you? Oh, it must have been horrible.”

  “Mom, is this really appropriate mealtime conversation?” Philiastra scolded.

  “But that’s how he won, sweetie,” Gaetan said. “His blood is a poison to minotaurs, or so they’re saying.”

  “And my belly-button lint can slay dragons.”

  “Really?”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  “Stop teasing them. Mom, dad, Storgen doesn’t have any special powers, he’s just a regular human.”

  Gaetan set down the teacup, his eyes as big as saucers. “It can’t be.”

  “Is it really so hard to believe a human beat a minotaur without help?”

  Gaetan sat down next to his wife. They stared at him in wonder as he stuffed down a tart.

  Storgen noticed them looking.

  “Wha?” he asked, his mouth full.

  “What you did should not have been possible. Nisi’s shield had every advantage.”

  Storgen shrugged. “Not every advantage.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I wanted it more.”

  The husband and wife gave each other an approving glance.

  “So, Mr. Storgen, did you know that Philiastra can play the harpsichord?

  “Can she really?”

  “Mmm hmm. We had a broken one in the basement when she was a baby. I was getting ready to open up the shop one day, and when I went to get her out of her crib, she wasn’t there. I called my wife down, we looked and looked, but we couldn’t find her.”

  “Do you have to tell this story, dad?”

  “We almost had to call the constables,” Phyllis shared.

  “Or a gardener,” Gaetan added.

  “Or a topiary artist,” Storgen chuckled.

  “I’m not a bush!”

  “But you do need to be trimmed.”

  “Anyway, where do you think we found her? She had climbed up into that old harpsichord and was fixing the thing.”

  “Wow.”

  “Yep. She couldn’t even read yet and she was repairing instruments.”

  “Dad, stop it! You’re embarrassing me.”

  Gaetan stood up to fetch a new tray. “So, we moved the thing into her room, and she taught herself how to play it. No teacher, no classes; she did it all on her own.”

  Storgen looked at Philiastra, endlessly amused. “How come you never play the harpsichord for me?”

  “Don’t encourage them,” she responded through gritted teeth.

  Phyllis clapped her hands. “Oh, that reminds me. I fixed your shirt for you.” She reached into her purse and pulled out a laundered and folded garment. The torn elbow had been stitched back together with red string formed into the shape of a heart. “You see? Isn’t that adorable?”

  “It certainly is,” Storgen snickered.

  “I’ve been teaching her how to sew; it’s an important skill for a bride to have.”

  “It certainly is.”

  “Mom, knock it off.”

  Phyllis leaned in close. “Would you like to see some baby pictures of her? We’ve got the cutest naked little tushy picture.”

  “I’ve never wanted anything to see anything more.”

  Philiastra’s mouth fell open. “MOM!”

  Phyllis fished thought her purse for the portrait, ignoring the fact that her daughter was turning bright green. “Oh, here it is! Oh, look at her cute little bum.”

  “That is beyond adorable,” Storgen snickered, “I particularly like the little dribble of drool on her chin.”

  “Oh, and when she has to plant herself, she has the cutest little planter I made her with hearts and unicorns on the side.

  Storgen raised an eyebrow. “So, you’re not a bush, eh?”

  “I have to draw in nutrients from the soil once a week. It’s a biological necessity.”

  “That is so cute,” Storgen snickered.

  Phyllis winked. “You know what they say, cute girls make cute babies.”

  “Mom, stop it!”

  “All the women in my family have quick and easy pregnancies.”

  “It’s because of the wide hips,” Gaetan explained as he came back out with a fresh tray.

  “Dad, it’s physically impossible for me to have inherited my hips from her.”

  Gatan set down a new tray. Tangerine religieuse and strawberry cream puffs, almond kouign amann and tart lemon breakfast cakes. “Care for some more?”

  “Would I?”

  Storgen could not decide which one to try first, so he grabbed one of each and began alternating bites. Philiastra was mortified at the crumbs falling everywhere, but her parents didn’t even seem to notice.

  Gaetan leaned back and took a sip of wine. “So, you’ve known our daughter for a while.”

  “More or less.”

  “Can you believe she is not seeing anyone right now? A beautiful young woman like her?”

  Philiastra looked like she was about to pop. “Mom, dad, seriously stop talking or I am going to die.”

  Phyllis leaned forward. “Do you have any plans this weekend, Mr. Storgen?”

  “Actually, he does,” Philiastra interjected, trying to cut them off. “He’s leaving tomorrow for Kólasi.”

  “Ooh, really?”

  Storgen shrugged. “Apparently, when you win an island you have to go there to claim it.”

  “Well, that’s perfect,” Gaetan said. “They’ll need an alchemist to connect the crystal arrays to Ambera’s network. I’ll make a couple calls and get Philiastra assigned to the team.”

  “Dad, I can’t go to Kólasi.”

  “Sure you can.”

  “Who will make your medicine?”

  “I’ve got plenty, stop being such a worry wart and have a little fun. Be young for once.”

  Phyllis placed her hands on her cheeks. “How romantic, a cruise over the high seas as foreign diplomats.”

  Storgen laughed. “More like a bureaucratic shuttle to change the names on the shrines, but hey, don’t let me spoil your dreams.”

  In desperation, Philiastra flicked her fork off the table. “Oh, clumsy me, let me go get that.” She dropped down to her knees, then grabbed her mother’s apron and yanked her down beneath the table.

  “Just what in Aga’s holy bladder are you two doing?” she hissed.

  “This is your big chance, daughter,” Phyllis whispered. “Don’t blow it.”

  Philiastra blushed bright green. “Why are you trying to set me up with him?”

  “Because it’s fun.”

  “Mom, I don’t even like him that way; he’s just a friend.”

  She looked at her daughter knowingly. “Oh really? Then why are you as green as a pepper?”

  “Because you’re humiliating me!”

  Storgen cleared his throat. “You know, we can totally hear you both up here.”

  Now it was Phyllis’ turn to blush.

  The mother and daughter got back in their chairs, laughing awkwardly in sync and trying to play it off. As they laughed, they both reached up and scratched the back of their heads.

  Gaetan clapped his hands. “So, what shall we eat?”

  Storgen looked over the menu. “How about some humble pie?”

  Gaetan and Phyllis laughed warmly. Philiastra couldn’t help herself, and began to laugh as well. Storgen began to smile in spite of himself. They were a real family, and just being around them made him feel a little less lonely. For the first tim
e, he found himself truly regretting not taking Phili up on her offer to stay with them.

  It would have been fun.

  His thoughts were interrupted by a furry flank tickling his ankle. He looked down and found a familiar kitten wearing a gaudy scarf and knitted boots, trying desperately to get his attention.

  “Well hey Gáta, long time no see.”

  Lady Demos came squeezing between the tables in the veranda, her tall froofy collar obscuring her vision as she tried to navigate with her absurdly wide hoop skirt. “Katsaros, get away from that ruffian this instant!”

  “Welcome to Cinque Aleria…” Phyllis trailed off until she noticed who it was. “Oh, it’s you.”

  Gaetan stood up and folded his arms. “I’m afraid we’re all full at the moment, but if you’d like to make a reservation, I think we have an opening sometime between ‘never’ and ‘get out.’”

  Storgen snickered as he picked up the kitten. “Good one.”

  “Thank you.”

  Lady Demos put her hands on her hips, flicking her head to dislodge a strand of hair from her pompadour that had become lodged in her eyelashes. “We don’t need a reservation.”

  Philiastra stood up angrily, glowing alchemic tattoos appearing on her arms and legs when she saw them.

  The weasely Nyfitsa flanking him, Lord Demos came strutting into view. “I told you that I would be the one to end your life, Mister Champion, and I always keep my word.”

  He stepped closer, a shadow falling across his face. “Always.”

  Storgen set the kitten atop his head and fed it a bite of tart. “You managed to make that sound rather ominous. Well done.”

  “How in the world did you escape the temple?” Nyfitsa asked.

  “I just walked out the front gate with the other painters.”

  “Stop lying.”

  “I was telling the truth. How did you find me so quick?”

  Lord Demos pointed a manicured finger at Philiastra. “You set this little creature free when she trespassed on my property. It was obvious this was the first place you’d go.”

  “I’m that predictable, am I?”

  Gaetan stepped between Philiastra and Lord Demos. “This is my home, and I will not have a member of my family spoken of so shamefully.”

  Lord Demos bowed mockingly. “My deepest apologies, citizen Thavmos. I had no idea you were so attached to your topiary.”

  Gaeta’s voice became a deep growl. “The name is Thavma, and she is not a plant, she is my daughter.”