“That is fenykl. Very poisonous,” I cautioned, nodding at the red grass.
“This?” Her voice held disbelief, but she pulled her hand back cautiously. “It smells just like lemongrass.”
“Perhaps.” I gave, despite having no idea what this lemongrass might smell like. “But to ingest fenykl would kill you in seconds. Just touching the plant causes blisters on the skin.”
Out of an abundance of caution, I took Pearl’s hand in mine and poured a stream of water over her fingertips. Her skin was warm, soft, and perfectly smooth. I might have held her hand longer than needed, but Pearl didn’t seem to mind. At least, not until our gazes locked.
“We better get back.” Her voice sounded raspy as she pulled her hand from mine.
“Have you decided what you are going to cook?” Pearl changed her mind every time we found a new plant.
She stopped beside the skiff, glancing at me over her shoulder with a downright saucy smile.
“If you can get me a bottle of wine that’s not poisoned, I just might.”
Watching Pearl cook was magical.
The way she moved, the deftness of her hands slicing meat and vegetables, was more like a dance than a chore.
I’d found several bottles of valat on the ship, testing each one for poison. The Framaddi hadn’t been trying to kill Pearl. The poison I detected on the bottle was called tranglio. It didn’t kill, but caused horrible nausea and muscle cramps and would have effectively eliminated her from the competition.
We were the second team to return with a butchered behia, behind the female Framaddi and her Aljani guard, which put us in second place. All the other teams made it back before sunset, which meant each chef would prepare a dish for judgment.
I wasn’t worried.
Based on the scents coming from Pearl’s kitchen, there was no way anyone could best her. Her dish smelled positively orgasmic. Rich, earthy, and indulgent with the faintest hint of sweetness.
From a small stool in the corner of her assigned kitchen, I watched, mesmerized, as she cut a chunk of meat into small, cubed pieces. Patting each piece dry with a soft cloth, she then crushed pieces of the small rock she called salt and sprinkled the dust over the meat.
Next, she took five strips of heavily fatted meat, smiling to herself as it sizzled and cooked, melting the fat. She added the cut meat to this mixture, the rich, savory scent floating through the air so heavily I could taste it.
The vegetables came next, sliced with such a gentle hand that it was more of a caress than a cut. Finally, she added thevalat and water, covering the pot with a lid and relegating it to the depths of the small kiln.
Even the other contestants seemed hypnotized by her actions. Many times, I caught the other chefs paying more attention to Pearl’s food than their own.
By the time Pearl removed the dish from the kiln, the judges had left their table, hovering like rabid, starving beasts eager for a taste.
The female Framaddi went first, having earned the spot by being first to return from the hunt. While her braised meat looked appetizing, the aroma didn’t hold the plethora of flavors from Pearl’s offering.
When it was her turn, Pearl doled out a small dish for each judge, one for the Chancellor and one for me.
Lady Jessup of the Aljani looked down her long pale nose at the bowl, face flinching in disgust, first at the food, then at Pearl. She took the smallest amount of food on her utensil, lifting it to her mouth with an expression that said she’d rather be tasting rancid dorgot meat.
Then the food hit her tongue. An expression of pure pleasure washed over her pale features as she slumped into her chair, issuing a deep guttural moan of pleasure.
Counselor Trie of the Romvesians proved more adventurous, taking a large bite. His dark eyes rolled back into his head. I briefly worried he might have been poisoned until I heard the deep purr rumbling from his chest, a sign of intense pleasure for his species.
Master Iffas pounced on his bowl like prey. He didn’t bother with a utensil—most Kwado didn’t—and put his entire wide face in the bowl, slurping up the stew in huge gulps.
The Chancellor offered a more refined version of his species, although his back legs thumped so hard with pleasure that the entire floor shook.
I tried to hang on to my manners, but it proved difficult. The meat melted on my tongue, hearty and flavorful. The vegetables were rich and earthy, and the valat imparted a subtle sweetness. While I’d tasted the stewed cock dish delivered to Jala and found it delicious. This stew was simply the best thing that had ever lain on my tongue.
Pearl must possess some sort of magic to be able to create something this delectable from a lowly piece of behia.
“What is this dish?” Lady Jessup held her empty bowl as if it contained a precious relic.
All eyes turned to Pearl like they expected her to reveal the secrets of the universe.
