Culinary Nexus

Had the night gone exactly as planned, Ermina would’ve been overjoyed. It was her first time running the family stall by herself. She’d changed up a few of the recipes (with her father’s approval), added a few of her own specialties, and doubled her usual amount of preparations. She’d checked and rechecked her supplies, her portable stove, and the structural integrity of the stall, and when the day of the festival finally arrived, she felt she could not have been more prepared. For the crowds, at least.

For the most part, the evening went off without a hitch. Her sticky sweet treats and savoury deep fried goodies were a hit with the crowds. Though her stall had very little in the way of shelter from the elements, it also didn’t have any sort of temperature control. Several hours spent whirling around like wind up toy, tossing spices, dunking fried goods, and exchanging coins for treats, had Ermina worked up into a full body sweat. She had her trusty waterskin at hand, but the popularity of her stall had the unfortunate side effect of leaving her with almost no time to stop and rest for a moment.

It would be worth it, she told herself, when the night was over. When she could return home with a coffer full of coin to show her parents that she was more than ready to strike off on her own.

Twenty-two years old, still living at home, and lacking in future prospects, her mother loved to say. No friends to speak of, no beau, no ambitions outside of work.

Her mother didn’t understand that food was her ambition. She dreamed of being a world-renowned chef someday, grander than any sort of stall runner. She wanted her name to be whispered by the most crusty of the upper crust. The sort of chef that nobility clamoured to hire. And she would only pick those engagements that spoke to her. The ones that let her build her own inspired menu, create entire worlds around taste and experience.

Such dreams took time to build. They took a great deal of investment and dedication. It wasn’t that Ermina didn’t like people, but far too often, all those social engagements and bonding experiences took time away from hours she could be honing her craft.

Her mother didn’t understand these things, but hopefully someday she would.

The crowds began to clear out as interest turned toward the hatching dragons. Ermina had always wanted to see a hatching up close. She supposed this was the closest she would ever get.

During a lull between customers, Ermina paused to take a swing from her waterskin and watch a few of the colourful wisps darting through the crowd. They were curious things, the wisp dragons. All fuzzy brilliance that floated on impossible currents, then coalescing into sleek little bodies no larger than a kitten. She wished she could see the other kind as well, but she had customers to feed.

Ermina turned and began to prepare a few fried sticks of meat. Her newest customer was starving. Though she had to make sure they were not too fried. And perhaps throw three more on.

“I’m working on it. Patience,” she muttered under her breath. Then she wondered who she was talking to.

In fact, who was she preparing food for? The name was Framba, that much she knew, but she hadn’t heard an order spoken out loud.

Ermina turned, sticks of meat in hand, to find a little, strawberry red hatchling hauling herself up onto the counter of her stall. The hatchling sat back on her haunches and held out stubby little forepaws to claim the food.

::I’m coral red though,:: Framba corrected her.

“I'd say you're definitely strawberry. You look so pretty too, Framba,” Ermina said. She handed the hatchling one of the sticks, then laid the other two on the counter beside her. A grin worked its way across her face.

She’d hoped only to see one of the swamp light dragons, yet here she was conversing with one in her mind. She knew with the certainty of all new bonders that Framba was tied to her now, and she to the little hatchling.

::As long as you think I'm pretty,:: Framba replied with a mental purr.

Ermina turned to put on some more meat and take the other three sticks off the fire. She wouldn’t need quite so much for…

There was another name in her mind. Nojpeten. With it came a cool breeze that chilled the sweat on the back of her neck. Ermina let out a happy sigh as she rolled her neck and basked in the cool air.

When she opened her eyes, Ermina spotted a fuzzy blue orb of light dancing around the edges of her stall.

“Nojpeten?” she asked.

The blue light purred, a very unexpected noise to come from a ball of light, and bounced closer. As it neared Ermina, it resolved into a miniscule blue body that flitted and danced through the air, then landed on her shoulder and chirruped a greeting.

“You’re mine as well?” she asked.

Another chirrup, a purr, and a mental warmth that confirmed her words. Along with it came a steading of the air temperature around her and a deep seated sense of self-pride.

“And you can control the air temperature? My how handy you'll be in my kitchen,” she said with a laugh.

“Mommy, look! A dragon stall,” a shrill little voice shouted.

A short distance away, a little girl tugged on her mother’s skirts and pointed toward Ermina’s stall. Framba still sat on the counter, daintily nibbling on the second of her meat skewers.

“Oh, how cute,” the mother cooed.

Together they came over to the stall, the little girl staring in wide-eyed wonderment at Framba. The dragonet, for her part, played up the adorable hatchling angle without switching focus from her meal.

“Are you a dragon rider?” the mother asked.

Ermina paused for a moment, caught off-guard by the question. She understood that Framba and Nojpeten were now inexorably tied to her life, but she hadn’t considered that title before. Dragon rider.

“I suppose I am,” she murmured, wondering at her own realization. Then her business sense kicked in again and she held up one of the new skewers to the family. “Care for a treat?”

* * *

For the remainder of the evening, Framba attracted customers, Nojpeten kept her cool, and Ermina cooked up a storm. The presence of the two hatchlings renewed interest in her goods, and by the time the festival began to wind down, Ermina had to close up shop as she’d sold out of everything. It was the best sort of ending to the day that she could have hoped for, though never would she have imagined it to include two new little minds attached to her own.

Sitting against the inside wall of her stall, with a closed sign deterring any lingering festival goes and the fire of her stove reduced to embers, Ermina stared in silent contemplation at the crackling red coals that remained. Framba curled up on her lap and Nojpeten tucked up tight to her neck, both of them content and exhausted from their exciting introduction to the world.

“So…” she said into the comfortable ambiance of distant festival music and the crackle pop of still hot embers, “this’ll be a thing to tell my parents.”

::They’re going to love us,:: Framba said with conviction, her little head remaining comfortably fitted to the palm of Ermina’s hand.

Ermina chuckled.

“You’re very sure of yourself,” she said.

::Sure I’m sure. Just as I’m sure that we’re going to be a hit all across the Nexus.::

Ermina’s gentle caress of the dragonet’s head stilled, and she tore her attention away from the mesmerizing embers to look down at Framba.

“What do you mean?”

::When you go to visit the other worlds to learn their cuisine. We’re not just going to be world famous. We’ll be worlds famous.:: There was a note of dreamy delight in the hatchling’s mental words. Ermina found it infectious.

“That… I didn’t think of that before,” she said. Though now she could think of nothing else. To see other worlds, to taste their foods and take that experience to others around the Nexus, it was beyond anything she could have imagined on her own.

::Of course not. You didn’t have us before,:: Framba said, as if the answer were obvious.

“How did you even come up with that?”

::I saw it in a dream.::

Ermina blinked and stared at her little dragonet. Her bond. That thought would also take some getting used to. She knew the swamp light dragons to have magic of some variety, but prophetic dreams?

No, just ambitious dreams. Just like her. Ermina smiled, content with the dreams of the future for that evening.

Tomorrow, the work would begin.

* * *

As it turned out, prophetic indeed. Anytime Ermina left Framba near an open flame for long enough, the strawberry (coral) coloured dragoness came back speaking of the great things they would do in the future.

Flames that Framba regularly had access to given that Ermina’s life over the next three years consisted of nothing but training, cooking, training, and studying. Between Framba’s hints of things to come and Nojpeten’s blessed ability to provide her air conditioning in even the most torturous of kitchens, Ermina rocketed up in popularity among Lantessama’s culinary connoisseurs. Her specialties soon became world famous, and she became known as the most gifted dragon-riding chef to fly the skies.

Yet she never lost sight of that dream from the night of the festival. She held it close to her chest, jealously guarded from all who might try to claim it as their own.

So it was when Ermina sat down with her parents three years later, a full fledged dragon rider and decorated chef, that they were completely caught off guard by her declaration; she was moving out.

“Moving out where?” her father demanded. He’d been a stalwart supporter of his daughter’s career over the years, and had even benefitted from her fame. The shock and dismay in his voice was equal parts for a father’s love and a franchise owner’s loss of a celebrity figurehead.

“The Nexus,” Ermina replied simply.

Nojpeten lay in a tight ball in her lap, his twin wings tucked up tight to his body. He cooed as she stroked a hand idly down his spine. Ermina was grateful for the cool breeze he kept swirling around her head and neck, to stave off the flush brought on by panic and excitement.

“What do you mean the Nexus? You can’t move out to the Nexus,” her mother protested, a scowl pinching her lips together. “That’s a generalization. Not a place.”

“I intend to travel across it. I’m going to visit other worlds, learn their cuisines, and create new recipes. Then I’ll bring these dishes to other worlds and learn more.”

“That sounds expensive,” her father said, a faint hope in his voice.

“I’ve made some connections over the years. Laedryss Trix thinks she can set up a tour for me.”

“A tour.” Ermina’s father’s voice switched from its sad tenor to an excited note in an instant. Like all chefs, he knew the value of a tour. The possibilities.

Ermina smiled to herself, keeping her own excitement in check. It was important to remain a block of calm in the face of her parents’ emotions. Anything else might end in all of them spiraling into a mess of tears and raised voices.

“A tour,” Ermina confirmed.

“What kind of tour?” her mother demanded. “Where will you be staying? Who’s going to pay the bill? I certainly hope you’re not expecting us to contribute.”

Ermina bit back a sharp retort, drew on the calm, sleepy presence of Nojpeten in her mind, and then formulated her response.

“No, mother. It will be paid for by the respective worlds. That’s the whole point. The Laedryss ran my suggestion past a few of her associates, and some were quite keen on the idea. So I’m going as a guest.”

Ermina’s mother pinched her lips in even further, forming a puckered line that threatened to put permanent wrinkles on her face. Her father, however, beamed with unabashed pride.

“My daughter, a guest of other worlds. Ermina, this is wonderful.”

“It’s everything I’ve always wanted,” Ermina said.

Then, seeing that she was outnumbered, Ermina’s mother let out a short sigh and rolled her eyes.

“Well… so long as you’re happy, darling.”

“I am, and I’ll stay in touch. I’ll write often,” Ermina promised.

“Where are you going first?” her father asked.

“A world I haven’t heard of before. Apparently it’s nothing but jungles and mountains and oceans. The people there thrive on spices. I’m headed to a place called the Warren on Tris’Hath.”

“Tris’Hath,” Ermina’s father said, his mouth fumbling the unfamiliar name. “Bring back some of those spices if you can. And Ermina,” he paused, his face breaking out in a wide grin, “have fun.”

Ermina drew in a deep breath and held it in her chest a moment. She wanted to savour this scene, this feeling of joy and heartbreak and panic. She wanted to capture this memory for all time and work it into everything she made from then on out. This was the moment that her dreams came true. The first of them at least. The first of many.

“Don’t worry dad,” she said, confidence in every word, “I know I will.”