Jala watched my hands for a moment. “The scents from your cooking have made many curious... and hungry.” Her golden eyes swept over the pile of ingredients on the table.
“I’m making a version of Coq Au Vin for the Baron’s dinner,” I told her, smiling as a look of confusion crossed her face.
“Coq Au Vin?”
“On Earth, it’s chicken braised with wine and vegetables.” Of course, in space, I didn’t have a chicken... I wasn’t even sure they existed. What I had was a long, skinny, ferret-looking thing called a lutit and an assortment of wonky alien vegetables. Thankfully, though, I’d been able to match the flavor profiles enough that I thought the dish might work.
“Sounds delicious,” Jala sighed.
“I’ll have extra. I’ll save you some,” I offered. I knew the look of a hungry woman when I saw one.
“Thank you. The Baron is very proud of your skill.” Jala wandered over to inspect my range setup, which was nothing more than an indoor fire pit and metal grates. I missed my Viking dual range so much it hurt.
“Good.” I wanted the Baron to be proud of me. I wanted him to be so proud of me he’d do anything to keep me cooking, including finding my friends.
“The Baron is so proud, in fact, that he has made a wager,” Jala said, coming to stand beside me. “That is why I’m here.”
“A wager?” A prickle of excitement raced up my spine. I laid my knife on the counter. I knew one too many chefs who’d lost a fingertip for cutting when distracted.
“As you know, the Baron is hosting Duke Ako’s birthday dinner in a few rotations.” Jala smiled down at me, which seemed strange. I was used to being the tallest woman in the room.
“Yes.” I reminded myself that a rotation was nothing more than a day... the word didn’t translate.
“He has bragged that you are the best chef in the universe, a claim deemed by many as false since you are... well, human.”
Human, my ass. At least we knew about salt.
“Baron Palloy has challenged this claim. He and Baron Oppao have settled upon a competition between you and the best chefs in the universe to begin tomorrow.” Jala’s golden eyes centered on my face, assessing me.
“Really?” I tried not to act too excited. It was short notice, but I loved cooking competitions. I’d won every major competition at least twice, including the Bocuse d’Or, and I’d never lost at Iron Chef.
Jala made a face.“I do not like the idea of this competition.”
“Why?” I bristled. I always bristled when someone made a less-than-favorable insinuation about my cooking. “You don’t think I can win it?”
“I do not worry about your skill,” Jala smiled. “But I do worry for your safety.”
“Why?” I nearly cut my thumb off once during a cooking competition. Even so, the contest wasn’t what I’d consider dangerous.
“You are one of few humans in this sector of space. Even though you have the Baron’s protection, some would not see that as a hindrance in trying to claim you for their own.”
Well, shit.
“I still have to watch out for kidnappers? Are you kidding me?”
“I do not kid human Pearl.” Jala picked up one of the curved knives from the counter, twirling it in her fingers in such a way that made me think the girl could handle herself. “I am responsible for planning the event and will ensure your safety.”
“What do you have in mind?” I picked up my knife, flipping it in my hand. It was well-weighted and threw straight, as I knew from experience.
“The best way to ensure your safety is to obtain the right assistant.”
I bristled again, uncomfortable prickles erupting over my skin.
“I don’t use a sous chef,” I told her flatly, crossing my arms over my chest for effect.
“Sous chef?”
Jala intoned the word. In her alien dialect, it came out assauce chok.
