Page 11 of Tusks, Tails & Teacakes
She was a child again, barely tall enough to see over the counter in her gran’s kitchen, but clinging to the edge with small fingers. The air was thick with the scent of cinnamon and butter from the pot bubbling and hissing on the stove, its rich aroma making her mouth water.
"Come here, little one.” Her gran’s wrinkled hands beckoned her closer, palms chalky with flour. "It's time to roll the crust.”
Lira had eagerly climbed onto the stool and let her gran guide her hands onto the mound of stiff dough. She’d been solemn and attentive, even when it pillowed between her fingers, watching in awe as her gran's deft movements transformed the lumpy mass into a perfectly flat disc.
“One day you’ll make this apple tart for your own little ones.”
The memories of the sticky dough, the rich sauce that was poured over the slices of apple, and the crust that became golden and flaky as it baked in the oven were so strong Lira could almost taste it.
A pang of longing jolted her back to the present, her gran’s voice fading as quickly as it had appeared. She blinked rapidly, pushing away the ache of loss that always accompanied thoughts of the past. There was no time for regret or daydreaming. Not when there was work to be done.
Lira found a rag that wasn’t too filthy and set to scrubbing the counters, grateful for the distraction to focus her mind. As layers of grime gave way to the worn but solid wood beneath, she moved piles of dishes, rearranged utensils, and began creating space.
From outside the swinging half-doors, the sounds of off-key humming drifted in as Sass attacked the floors with gusto. The dwarf's enthusiasm was almost comical, given how spectacularly off-key she was, but Lira didn’t dare utter a word of critique. At least the dwarf was a hard worker and didn’t complain.
Once the table was scrubbed clean, Lira straightened and rubbed the back of her neck, daring to let a spark of excitement creep in. “This place isn’t a total disaster. There’s a good set of mixing bowls, and the pans hanging overhead are good quality. They just need a decent scrubbing."
“Aye, if you say so.”
Lira jumped, putting a hand to her heart. “Don’t sneak up on me like that!”
Sass leaned on the knobby handle of the broom. “No one’s ever accused me of being quiet enough to startle them before.”
Lira remembered the clatter the dwarf had made trying to break into the till and wasn’t surprised.
“You were in your own world, talking away to nobody,” Sass said, although her tone wasn’t judgmental.
Lira couldn’t tell her that she’d been talking to her gran, running things by her like she often did, though not always out loud. Better the dwarf think she was talking to herself than communing with a woman long dead.
“What do you plan to do with this place once it’s clean?” Sass asked.
“The tavern used to be known for its food. Not fancy, but solid fare. It could be again.”
Sass huffed out a breath. “I hope you aren’t counting on me to help with the cooking.”
“Didn’t you learn to bake when you were a child?”
Sass made a face. “Dwarven fare isn't known for being fancy, and I’ve never known a dwarf mum to relish baking. About the only thing I can make is a decent bean soup. Now, if you want to learn how to throw an axe,thatI can teach you. My gran made sure I could split a hair at fifty paces."
"Axes, huh?" Lira grinned. "I suppose every family has their own traditions."
"Speaking of." Sass eyed Lira. "I didn't know elvish females were known for their cooking skills."
"I'm only half elf. My gran—the one who taught me to cook—was human."
Sass's face brightened. “Only half-elf? Is that so? Well, that makes me like you a bit better."
Lira couldn't help but laugh at the dwarf's blunt honesty. Despite their rocky start, she was beginning to actually like Sass. Who would have thought she'd enjoy the company of a failed thief—and a dwarf, no less?
Lira didn’t think of herself as an elf, despite her lineage, but the friction between dwarves and elves went back so many generations it was almost engrained in her to be suspicious of them. Not that she didn’t also have reason to be wary about the elves, who possessed natural magical abilities that they kept for themselves.
Lira pulled a copper pot from its hook on the wall and began to polish it. “My gran was a wonderful cook, especially when it came to pastries—fruit tarts, meat pies, spice cakes, scones.”
"Grognick’s beard, woman," Sass groaned, touching a hand to her belly. "You're making my stomach growl something fierce.”
Their conversation was interrupted by Durn lumbering through the swinging doors. The tavernkeeper’s perpetual scowl softened slightly as he took in the improved state of the kitchen.
He grunted, which Lira took to be high praise. "Not bad. There's some bread and cheese in the pantry if you’ve worked up an appetite.”
