If there had ever been a day to hide inside, it was today. The rain could be heard striking the windows from anywhere in the main room of The Shelf. Shula laid her head upon folded arms on the bar. She was still drying off from her sprint across town. A month ago she would have been stuck somewhere like the canal walkway under the Vestin Bridge. Even though her hair and shirt were damp she was more comfortable here in the tavern than out there.
Shula idly flipped a couple crumbs off of the bar as Elliot drew near with his broom. She watched him happily go about his task. He had still been shaking out his wet hair when Shula arrived but had gone right to work even though there was no one here to bother with. He was far from the confused simpleton she had spent years pestering. She watched him back into a table and scatter the chairs. She let the smile show partially.
Well, not so terribly far.
She stood and walked towards the kitchen as Elliot fussed with the chairs which were rising on their own and trying to return to their place. She didn’t want to trouble him with laughter before the day even began.
The kitchen was full of warm scents, and the cookery was already in motion. Pots were being stirred over fires, and floating utensils went about preparing meats and breads. Shula took in a deep breath to ward off the final chill of the morning. As she breathed out her face twisted in concern. Something smelled…potent. She approached the largest cauldron which held the soup of the day. As she neared she could smell an overwhelming amount of spice. She pulled back the lid and the steam that rolled out made her eyes water. Shula closed it again and looked around for the recipe.
She had requested that The Barkeeper have the recipes be left nearby for her to look over. In case something needed to be changed. The recipe for this soup was left on the table, on a small slip of paper that was near indestructible. The soup was an odd mix of things, but nothing in it should have been spicy at all, let alone have become the blistering mix that was heating currently. She walked over to the cabinet where the spices were kept, finding the jars that were enchanted to go to the pots as guided by the recipes. Finding the jar of red paprika she pulled it forward.
At once she knew it was the problem, a similar spicy scent came from the jar as she opened it, far from the sweet smell of paprika.
“Elliot!” she shouted.
There was a crash in the main room. Heavy footfalls in an uneven tempo approached, and she could imagine his hasty approach.
He appeared at the swinging door, his head hanging a bit low in caution at being addressed by her. It would take a while to separate past history. She pretended not to notice and only pointed at the jar.
“Did you refill this?” she asked plainly. Her upper lip pursed against her short tusks. Elliot’s head bobbled side to side as much as it did up and down.
“With?” Shula pushed, the question dragging out with a sigh.
He shrugged his palms up in innocent confusion as his mouth opened.
“Mo-more r-r-rred spice?”
Shula squinted at him. This was a problem, especially if he had stocked anything else incorrectly.
“There are several, very different red spices.” Shula snipped, but managed to cut off from further insult. “Come try what you’ve made.”
She walked over to the pot and picked up a hanging ladle. Taking a bowl from the table and filled it. She handed the bowl to Elliot and gave him an expectant look. He gingerly took it from her and held it as if it was dangerous. He gave it a sniff and seemed confused.
“I-i-it seems ok?” he asked hopefully.
Shula shook her head wondering if he could smell very well. She was about to urge him to take a bite when she heard a *doink* from the soup behind her. Shula spun to see the magically moving utensils dishing up another bowl. Before she could do anything the bowl vanished, already out to whoever had requested soup.
Shula dashed across the kitchen and out through the doorway. She saw the bowl drop down in front of the guest. It was a young human man that she hadn’t met yet. He was sitting back near where Mr.Ortemyre haunted.
She dashed forward trying to figuring out what to say as she hurried to stop him. She wasn’t sure if she really wanted to bother trying, but she was already here. He blew gently on the soup bowl as he unfurled his napkin. She loudly parted through the chairs. He looked up at her with the standard recoiling reaction, but with enough collection to not spill his soup.
“Wh-what do you want?” he sputtered with as much composure as he could manage. He was clearly cold and not fully awake.
Shula slowed and stood straight facing him trying to remember his name.
“Sir, the soup is not yet ready, it needs….adjusted.”
He regarded her, letting the tension fade, and his expression regained that sense of disdain.
“I’m sure it will be just fine, I am merely looking for a warm starter. You can go,” he said, finished tucking his napkin in his collar.
Shula flashed him a sharp smile before nodding and turning away. She heard a loud slurp followed by a sputter and gasp. She didn’t bother looking back, retreating instead back into the kitchen.
Elliot stood with an empty bowl, wiping a running nose on his sleeve.
“What?” Shula groaned aloud.
Elliot shrugged, “It was pretty good.” He sniffed loudly.
It was little wonder that he could tolerate it, but that didn’t mean others could. Then again, they needed only buy it, not eat it. She thought a bit. The Barkeeper didn’t want to be disturbed this morning, so it was to her to think up something. She had haggled things before. She grinned to herself.
“Elliot, good work, you made today’s limited-time special. Go bring back the sign, we need to fix it.”
“Fix it? he asked.
She nodded, “Yes, we need to let people know that Elliot’s Spicy Stew is here.”
Elliot smiled and turned pink. Then he dashed out to go fetch the sign. Shula let herself laugh in the kitchen, then set to add more to the pot to help balance the flavor to a more reasonable level.