Post by moseley on Jun 27, 2008 23:37:05 GMT -5
At age 15, I, Océane nó Eglantine, was planning extravagant fêtes, with ice sculptures, floating candles and walkways of roses. I was writing recipes of fantastic roast boar and honeyed pear. But it was only on paper. Making them work and taste good was a skill that I still had to acquire. Naturally I worked in the kitchens of Eglantine House, and so I did cook. But I was rarely given the opportunity to experiment. My duties to Eglantine were to learn the arts of a Servant of Naamah and to perfect my art. Which didn't include my experimental cooking.
So when I turned 16 began talking in earnest to the kitchen staff and the Dowayne about my debut. I wanted to have a fête to rival any royal natality. And truly in my naiveté I believed I could. "Perhaps," the Mistress of the Kitchen told me with a love in her eye, "Perhaps someday you will be a great chef in the Palace. But for now you are an adept in the Court of Night-Blooming Flowers and you must be realistic." I nodded, knowing in my mind that it was true, but often things we know in our minds make little sense to our hearts.
And so I returned to my room, barely restraining the tears in the halls. In my room I broke down and wept bitterly. I felt as though my world had been destroyed. All my ideas seemed worthless. The tears fell hot on my cheeks as I rocked myself on my bed, trying to fall asleep. But I could not. Thoughts of my debut filled my mind and I could not abandon the idea of hosting and planning my own fête.
I approached the Dowayne the next day. As I stepped into her office, I couldn't make myself be meek. This wasn't Alyssum, after all. "Dowayne," I said. My voice was surprisingly even. "I have another idea for my debut. With you're permission, I would have a fête." I paused for effect. When the Dowayne opened her mouth I hastily added, "But it would be a smaller affair. Perhaps a bakers dozen plus one more peers of the realm."
"Surely Océane, you do not expect fourteen peers to come to the debut of an Eglantine cook, even one as skilled as yourself. And do you expect to be able to pay for the food as we'd discussed earlier out of your virgin-price and patron fee?"
"I do Dowayne." In my heart of hearts I did too. "If there is a dividend, then I promise to make it up by working the entire day in the kitchen."
The Dowayne smiled at me. "Ah! Océane, dear. I only say this out of love. I do not wish you to be hurt. I think that eight is the perfect number. Eight peers of the realm?"
"A dozen." I was not of Bryrony, but I could gamble. I said a dozen knowing ten would suffice.
"Ten. That is my final offer. I am not one for the games of Bryrony. If you refuse, I will sell your marque there."
"I accept your final offer. Ten peers of the realm. Can I trust you to the invitations?" I smiled as I left the room, feeling proud of myself for bargaining as well as any Bryrony adept.
The weeks passed slowly, but the days were too quick. I sat down with the cookbooks of Eglantine, and conversed with the Palace cooks, deciding on an seven-course meal, one course for every one of the Companions excluding Naamah. I would be the eighth course.
So when I turned 16 began talking in earnest to the kitchen staff and the Dowayne about my debut. I wanted to have a fête to rival any royal natality. And truly in my naiveté I believed I could. "Perhaps," the Mistress of the Kitchen told me with a love in her eye, "Perhaps someday you will be a great chef in the Palace. But for now you are an adept in the Court of Night-Blooming Flowers and you must be realistic." I nodded, knowing in my mind that it was true, but often things we know in our minds make little sense to our hearts.
And so I returned to my room, barely restraining the tears in the halls. In my room I broke down and wept bitterly. I felt as though my world had been destroyed. All my ideas seemed worthless. The tears fell hot on my cheeks as I rocked myself on my bed, trying to fall asleep. But I could not. Thoughts of my debut filled my mind and I could not abandon the idea of hosting and planning my own fête.
I approached the Dowayne the next day. As I stepped into her office, I couldn't make myself be meek. This wasn't Alyssum, after all. "Dowayne," I said. My voice was surprisingly even. "I have another idea for my debut. With you're permission, I would have a fête." I paused for effect. When the Dowayne opened her mouth I hastily added, "But it would be a smaller affair. Perhaps a bakers dozen plus one more peers of the realm."
"Surely Océane, you do not expect fourteen peers to come to the debut of an Eglantine cook, even one as skilled as yourself. And do you expect to be able to pay for the food as we'd discussed earlier out of your virgin-price and patron fee?"
"I do Dowayne." In my heart of hearts I did too. "If there is a dividend, then I promise to make it up by working the entire day in the kitchen."
The Dowayne smiled at me. "Ah! Océane, dear. I only say this out of love. I do not wish you to be hurt. I think that eight is the perfect number. Eight peers of the realm?"
"A dozen." I was not of Bryrony, but I could gamble. I said a dozen knowing ten would suffice.
"Ten. That is my final offer. I am not one for the games of Bryrony. If you refuse, I will sell your marque there."
"I accept your final offer. Ten peers of the realm. Can I trust you to the invitations?" I smiled as I left the room, feeling proud of myself for bargaining as well as any Bryrony adept.
The weeks passed slowly, but the days were too quick. I sat down with the cookbooks of Eglantine, and conversed with the Palace cooks, deciding on an seven-course meal, one course for every one of the Companions excluding Naamah. I would be the eighth course.