One of the secrets of being a master cook is to make those you serve believe that all you do is done deliberately, with great struggle and midnight journeys in search of the correct ingredients. If they don’t know how you achieve your meals, they will come to see you as being someone close to a mage. If your food is to their taste as well, you will never want for a place to work. So my father taught me and so I teach my own cooks. They may work out their own mysteries. No law is written that I must hand over all of my secrets.
June 11, 441
I finally have the entire menu for the feast decided. Thank the gods, I will be able to get a suckling pig after all.
June 12, 441
Problem after problem! I was just told that Carthak’s ambassador hates spit-roasted boar. Why can foreigners not eat like civilized folk? It was to be the centerpiece of the second course! I was to make sugar-coated and gilded gauze wings for it, and sew three gilded roosters’ tails to its bum in place of its normal tail. Now, what may I serve instead?
June 13, 441
All that may be prepared ahead of time is done. Recipes are written for those who read, and those who do not read must ask the readers for help! A master timetable is drawn up, with lesser timetables for each area of the kitchens. Everyone knows what to do and they will do it, or they will answer to me.
June 14, 441
One of my best undercooks is ill! Not Judita, thank all the gods. I could not manage without her level head. No, it is Mathy. He is the best at making pies, and we have so many pies! I must oversee those myself, as if I will not be half-mad with all else!
My prayers to our hunt god Herdun were answered. The hunters brought us a buck deer. It is lean, but a night’s steeping in wine and spices will make the flesh tender. With the gods’ will, the Carthaki ambassador will be pleased. But how could Mathy do this to me?
June 16, 441
Gods all bless us, the feast is over. Those foreign diplomats returned to their embassies belching and talking of how well fed we are. “So much for the tales of famine!” the Carthaki ambassador is said to have told his captain-at-arms. We cooks left an offering in our little shrines for Mithros and the Great Mother. They treated us well today.
Nor were the gods the only ones to be generous. As we finished our supper, Seneschal Wellam entered the kitchen. He was actually smiling. He placed a fat purse on the table before me. “Their Majesties’ thanks to you and your staff, Master Hobart,” he said. “I am instructed to say that you have all done the realm good service, and to ask that this purse should be divided between you, as you see fit.” He looked at my people. “Very fine work!” he told them, and then he left us. I did not torment them by holding the purse back until I could write up the contents and list who received how much. I called upon Mistress Judita to help me to distribute the coin and made certain everyone received a fair share, from her to the spit boys. They had all earned every copper of it.
August 23, 441
That craven, fawning hedge pig! I will go to Bartly about this! It cannot be legal! Something must be done! One of the undercooks, Ranulf, just left me. (Little loss, the man produced a pie crust as heavy as lead and couldn’t season a sauce to save his life!) But he secretly copied my recipes, and he is using them, my recipes, recipes stolen from me. He means to hire on as head cook to some wealthy Corus upstart whose wife wants to boast that her cook serves food the equal of that served at court!
Ranulf has stolen my name and my reputation! No one will believe that I did not sell recipes meant only for Their Majesties’ table, or that I did not serve them recipes from those of lesser persons! I will be cast out with no good word from any court official. No one will hire me without the recommendation of my previous employers! I will be made to cook for eating houses, my reputation dragged through the mud. Judita says I must take my case to the magistrates, but I have no coin with which to hire a man of law, who understands these things. My savings went to send my nieces and nephews to school.
My days in these beloved kitchens are numbered. How long before that scut destroys me?
Added long after the clock chimed midnight:
I was awake when Mathy knocked upon my door. With him were a fellow masked in black and that maggot-pie Ranulf! I snatched up a carving knife I had been sharpening to ease my mind, but Mathy bade me to calm myself and asked if they might enter. Once inside, the masked man locked my door. Mathy ordered Ranulf to give my recipes to me.
Ranulf hesitated to obey. The man in the mask prodded him in the back. Ranulf took a dirty wad of papers from inside his tunic and thrust them at me. He jumped at a second prod from the man in the mask and said, “There’s no other copies. This is the only one.”
I took the papers and leafed through them. They were all my recipes, all in Ranulf’s vile writing. I threw them on the fire. “How do I know you won’t use them again from memory?” I asked.
“This hedge pig is going on a journey,” Mathy said, and cuffed Ranulf’s ear. “We go to put him on a ship, be assured, Master Hobart. He’ll be a long time coming back.”
“If he dares, but you don’t, do you, laddy?” asked the man in the mask. Though it was Mathy who had cuffed him, Ranulf flinched away from the masked fellow.
“None of us in the kitchen want to work for anyone but you,” Mathy explained to me. “So I looked up my friend here, and I explained our problem. He knows a bit of this and a bit of that. He helped me find and remove Hedge Pig from his hideout and make his travel arrangements.”
“And who might you be?” I asked the masked fellow, suspicious that a man who spoke with the accent of the Lower City ran loose in the palace so late at night. His eyes were familiar to me—hazel with long lashes. They reminded me of those of the Lioness’s husband, Baron Cooper. Could it be?
“Someone as is very partial to your soups, Master Hobart,” the man replied. “And beggin’ your pardon, but it’s time for us to be off.” He and Mathy gripped Ranulf, each by one arm, and took him away. I locked up for the night. The next morning I rose, feeling thoughtful about my undercook and a crafty fellow who walked the palace halls in a mask, yet talked of tasting my soups. Before I did anything that day, I went to the Trickster’s shrine and made an offering, since such a quick change in my fortunes could only be his work.
I will not ask Mathy about his friend. I would hate for him to feel he must lie to me. I am very nearly positive he would lie if I did ask.
August 24, 441
Judita’s candied violet petals will be perfect for the subtlety of a castle in the third course. They will add texture and color to its walls, as well as a delicate flavor. She has many clever ideas. Nuts will serve as boulders and spun sugar ribbons as flags. The design is my own, but I will leave the decoration of it to her.
August 25, 441
I must arrange for delivery of more flour from the royal granary.
August 26, 441
After the feast, I must get more large cooking pots. Bartly will complain about the expense, no doubt!
August 27, 441
I have decided to include gooseberry tarts. Her Majesty loves my gooseberry tarts and such beauty should be made happy. Her Majesty is so gracious that it is a pleasure to do any little thing to make her smile. I also did not know her preferences so well when she bore our heir, Prince Roald. I will make it up to her now that she carries a second child.
August 29, 441
How can I produce a great feast without help? Mathy’s assistant now informs us he cannot be here for the next few weeks! His wife was just delivered of a child, and without female relatives to look after things—he is from Whitethorn—he must stay home to care for her, the new baby, and his other children. Why could she not wait a week to give birth, instead of upsetting all my plans? Has she no sense of timing?
Well, there is nothing for it. I shall pay for a servant for their house out of my own pocket. Mathy cannot spare the fellow, and I do owe Mathy a favor, after all. The pastries are too important for Mathy t
o be short-handed.
August 30, 441
Gods bless us, the feast is today!
September 1, 441
I think I will sleep for a week. The court loved the food. We received great praise, but I will admit here that it gets worrisome, trying to outdo myself time after time. Still, it is not for nothing that I am called the greatest cook in Tortall. Once again Their Gracious Majesties sent a fat purse to us, and the staff raised their cups in salute to me. It is all most gratifying.
I have placed copies of my feast menus in the back of this book, so I will be able to see what I served Their Majesties on the most important occasions. There must be no repetitions in the upcoming banquets this year or next, not at the high tables.
September 2, 441
With the harvest coming in, we must make cider from the apples and perry from the pears. It is also time to put up fruits and vegetables to keep against the long winter, and make dandelion wine. There’s winter verjuice to prepare, the potted meats, fruits preserved in honey, soft cheese in oil, pickled meat and fish, and pickled eggs and cucumbers. Our next large feast will not be until Her Majesty gives birth, though of course there will be important guests at court dinners before then. Those are simple affairs and grant us plenty of time to prepare for the winter. I cannot imagine how lesser folk manage without the great cold cellars beneath this palace. I am exceedingly grateful for them, particularly after the famine. No one here goes hungry if I have anything to say about it!
November 8, 441
Goddess be praised, Her Majesty is safely delivered of a beautiful little girl! With mother and infant thriving, it is time for a grand banquet to honor them both. With the famine we could not celebrate Prince Roald’s birth as we wished, so our welcome for Princess Kalasin will be an occasion for great feasts and celebrations throughout the realm! Not just the finest food and drink, but fireworks, great displays of magic, plays, and assorted entertainments are planned here in the city. Actors, singers, musicians, and many other entertainers will be hired. While my sole responsibility is the court’s banquet, I also have been asked for suggestions by those who must prepare feasts for three different guilds. I cannot help but be proud that my reputation has spread so far. I must also take care that I am not so occupied with assisting others that I fail to give Her Young Highness my very best efforts!
November 9, 441
So many people will be here for the celebration that my feast will really be two feasts—an elaborate one for the court, visiting royalty, nobles, and ambassadors, and a second for more common folk. Both will overflow with good things to eat, so that those who are present will talk of their meal to their children and grandchildren.
November 10, 441
I have created a delicious new soup for the lesser feast and based on a hunch, I have named it George Soup. I confirmed that Baron George Cooper, husband to the King’s Champion, was truly once a common man of the Lower City. There are rumors that he is also the true spymaster to Baron Sir Myles of Olau’s official one, and that he makes friends everywhere he goes, on the chance that they might be of use to him. I also know Mathy chooses his friends very carefully. I think that Mathy’s commoner friend in the black cloth mask, the one who saved my recipes and my reputation and said he liked my soups, was Baron Cooper himself in disguise! If I am wrong, he will only think I am trying to curry favor with a noble, and there will be no harm done. If I am right, he will know I have thanked him.
My George Soup is made from poultry cut into quarters, bacon fat, onions, breadcrumbs, wine, chicken livers, verjuice, vinegar, and assorted spices and herbs. It is very flavorful but sits easily on the belly.
November 11, 441
I sent Assistant Cook Ingeram to the royal hunters with my order for all the venison I need for the feast. He will also give them my needs for game birds and small game animals. They will be busy lads in the coming week!
November 12, 441
In honor of the queen and Princess Kalasin, we shall do a subtlety of a mother bird in a golden nest with two young—a larger, feathered chick for Prince Roald, and a smaller, downy bird for the princess. A branch of gingerbread with candied sugar glaze shall bear the father bird, His Majesty. This is another good idea from Judita. I find myself depending on her for more and more. She is a most reliable person for one of her years.
November 13, 441
The kitchen help is grumbling, but I am insisting that every pot, pan, and kettle be thoroughly scrubbed before the feast. I shall check each of them myself before we begin to cook. I want no unpleasant surprises, such as crusts from old meals, and we will need to use much of what we have. I am still tempering the new pots I purchased.
November 14, 441
The town merchants cannot be counted on. I need fresh eels, yet the fishmonger I always use is not sure he can get enough for me in time, and this after all his promises! Well, perhaps it is time I spread my business about a bit. If he cannot do the task, I shall find someone who will.
November 16, 441
We have done it before, but it is so popular that we will do it again. I will serve a peacock in its plumage. The look on the faces of the feasters when the peacock is brought in is a sight to behold. We can gild the tail silver and gold, alternating, in salute to Mithros and the Great Goddess.
November 17, 441
Mathy will not be here to assist with the feast! Before our feast was scheduled, I gave him leave to go to Godsfork to assist at the wedding supper of some cousin of his. Now that I need him, I am honor-bound to let him go. This is what comes of being a gracious employer. I had no idea that Her Majesty would be delivered of her daughter at the same time! I wonder how many more unwed relatives Mathy has?
November 18, 441
The sauces are all finished and safe in the cold cellar. That will save time in preparation the day of the feast. All we will need to do then is heat them, pour them out in the cradle-shaped dishes we used for Prince Roald’s birthing supper, and serve.
Later that day
My head! My poor, aching head! My sauce cook just told me that he has been offered the post of head cook to the lord of his home in Arenaver. He will leave immediately, now that the sauces are done! What am I to do? None of his assistants are ready to succeed him, and I cannot face Midwinter without a head sauce cook! He says he is too old for the pace of things in the palace, and he misses his relatives in Arenaver. He is too old! What of me? I am ten years older than he if I am a day, but you don’t see me complaining of age and retirement!
I had best take myself to the healer for a headache tea. I have no time for illness.
Where will I find a head sauce cook for Midwinter Festival?
November 20, 441
Feast today.
November 22, 441
Another grand banquet, another awed court. Judita, Ingeram, and the rest of the staff outdid themselves. Their Majesties were very generous with their reward. And now I am taking three days to myself, largely to sleep.
That night:
My stars! I returned to my rooms this same night to find a long, wide wooden box. It contained rows of plump bottles, each bearing the name of the costliest, most flavorful, most difficult to find spices of the Copper Isles, the Yamani Islands, and Carthak! It is a treasure beyond belief! With it was a note that read only, “Your George Soup is very fine.” Gods bless the man! I vow I shall serve it whenever he is at court!
November 28, 441
I just examined the records from the feast. I can’t believe how much wine was consumed. Remarkably, the red was more popular than the white. I must order a great deal more from the southern fiefdoms, to ensure there is plenty for the winter months. Of course Bartly will grumble at the cost. Perhaps he is incapable of smiling. Was he born that way, or might it come with the job of being seneschal?
By the hand of Harvester Scalzin, Fort Mastiff
Reports sent on to the Chancellor and the Whisper Man by Fast Courier
April 10, 459 H.E.
Both documents are triple-coded. I request Hostlers on detached duty, the best you have, fluent in Scanran, woodcraft, and codes, and some good mages able to deal with both educated mages and local hedgemages. Word is getting around about these things—I’ve even heard whispers among local soldiers. Dunbar and Kaaber are a good hundred miles apart at the least, with Anak’s Eyrie another fifty miles to the east of Kaaber. That’s too far for the latest scare tale to spread in less than a week. I think the mages of Scanra have found themselves some manner of new monster to help them fight us.
I need the supplies and help as soon as may be. Please alert Their Majesties.
April 3, 459
From Sparrow Mus, village of Kaaber, Scanra
I write in haste.
The people of my village are packing their things to flee.
Three days ago a group of warriors camped in our streets. They drank all the ale our small tavern had in its cellars and told the owner he should not complain because there would be no more travelers from the town to the south to drink it. They said, “The victory maidens ride the lightning for the new king of all Scanra.”
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