The Heavenly Host

“Chef Jerod, you are a true genius!” Trisfelt complimented the chef. “Never have I had such a delicious preparation of jahiva fish. The citrus marmalade was an incredible touch that perfectly complemented the fish’s spiciness. And the soup, as I said after eating it, was heavenly.”

“Did you not enjoy the appetizers?” Chef Jerod asked worriedly.

“My dear man, of course I did. They were marvelous! I simply had to pause to gather air to continue. Before you ask, the salad was the best I’ve had outside of the Grove and it could give anything there a run for its money,” Trisfelt assured him.

“Excellent!” Chef Jerod said, beaming. “But I fear we only have three more courses to go!” He shook his head worriedly. “Perhaps I should get to work on another course? We are about to serve the entrée; I should have time.”

Trisfelt’s eyes popped open wider, “My dear sir, are you trying to explode me?”

Hilda grinned. She had to give silent thanks to Tiernon for her sainthood so that she could actually enjoy such meals without the fear of gaining weight, or even getting too full. Chef Jerod was the best chef in the city, and certainly the most expensive; however, her managers had greatly increased her budget, thanks to her excellent results.

“Ugh, I fear I shall never eat again,” Trisfelt moaned after finishing the final course of roasted and spiced nuts. They had literally gone from soup to nuts this evening. Hilda smiled; she too had enjoyed the meal, perhaps almost as much as Trisfelt appeared to have enjoyed it.

“Shall we adjourn to more comfortable seating?” She gestured towards the sofa and stuffed chairs in the main part of the parlor.

“I’m not sure I can move,” Danyel moaned. He looked quite sick, Hilda thought. The lad, being young and inexperienced, as well as mortal, did not have the gastronomical fortitude of a professional like Trisfelt or a saint like herself. He had left food on his plate at every serving, starting with the entrée. It was as if he had gotten full on the amuse, appetizer, soup, and fish alone. He had left a third of the venison and vegetables on his plate, ate half his slice of cake and only picked at the nuts. He had, however, finished the sorbet that had come after the venison and before the cake.

The lad had also stopped taking new wine with each course at about the same time. He had not even had a sip of the dessert wine accompanying the cake. The poor lad could not have known what he was missing. And the cognac with the nuts? He had not even touched it. Youth was clearly wasted on the young, Hilda reflected. However, she could not help but smile, knowing that Danyel had most likely never anticipated being able to enjoy such a meal in his life. Rod members typically did not get to eat such meals unless they were to advance to knighthood, and not many ever managed that.

It really felt good to be able to mentor young people and show them new experiences. Teaching and mentoring had been one of her favorite duties in the Sisterhood. It was not something she was able to do in her current job, or even her previous job. Maybe she could convince the powers that be to reassign her as sort Tierhalloc envoy, or more accurately, a spy, on a permanent basis. She had to chuckle. Would that not be true heaven!

“Ahh...” Trisfelt sighed as he sat down on the sofa. “I must say, tonight you have been an absolutely heavenly hostess!” He shook his head. “I fear I shall never dine or drink so well again in my life!”

“You flatter me, Master Trisfelt.” Hilda smiled brightly, not least at the unintended reference.

“So, My Lady, shall we all watch the balling now?” Trisfelt asked.

“Excellent idea!” Hilda exclaimed. “However, before we start, shouldn’t we open another bottle of wine?” Danyel made a gulping noise in his chair behind her, apparently not feeling the need for more wine. Youth.

Trisfelt chuckled. “I swear, my dear Hilda, it is as if someone dropped you from heaven into my camp that night!”

Hilda laughed. “Oh, my. What a lovely and poetic, if slightly preposterous thought!” Hilda replied, while admitting to herself that technically it was a fairly accurate statement. “What variety shall we have?” She looked over to the wine chest. The chest had two compartments: one for reds, the other with ice in it to nestle the bottles of white wine. “If we don’t have it, then I can have Bowker, Chef Jerod’s wine steward, retrieve it for us.”

“No need for that, my dear. I must admit, I am so full and sufficiently tipsy that I think we should stick with something tasty, yet mundane. I am not prepared to savor something like we had with dinner.”

“Hmm, perhaps a drier white? A hint of citrus, perhaps?” Hilda asked while shuffling through the cold half of the chest.

“Excellent. I await your choice.”