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I close my eyes and swallow hard, turning away because I don’t know what to do with the feelings that her smile stirs in my chest. Opening my eyes I get my cooking pots out and fill the larger one with a broth I made two days ago. I set it on the stove to begin warming while I prepare vegetables.
As I get my cutting board and knife out she steps into my peripheral, watching me work with interest. I glance over and nod. What else should I do? I feel like there is some social nicety that I should do here but I do not know what it is.
I dice the vegetables and then add them to the pot. I throw in some spices and then from another cabinet I pull out a piece of meat I’ve been saving. I’ve been aging it but now is as good a time to use it as any. Meat is such a rare commodity since the Shaman has increased the patrols. Even the herders are being forced into doing patrols and making weapons. Soon there will be an open war with the lizards so preparation is necessary, but I think it is ridiculous to do so at the cost of being able to live comfortably. Of course my opinion does not matter.
I place a skillet on the stove and add a touch of oil to heat up. Once that is going I cut the meat into cubes. I hold my hand over the skillet to check the temperature. Satisfied it is hot enough I add the meat then seasonings.
“Can I help with anything?” the female asks.
“Your name,” I say.
“Huh?”
“Is your name you?” I ask.
“No,” she says, shaking her head. “Oh! Right. I know your name but no one told you mine. I’m sorry. My name is Niyah.”
“Nih-yuh,” I sound the word out. “Not Zmaj?”
She looks perplexed for only a second before shaking her head.
“No, it’s not,” she says. “My language. We call it Common.”
“Common?” I ask. “How strange your language had a word in Zmaj?”
“No, but that’s what we all call it in the Zmaj tongue.” I nod as this makes at least some sense. “So, can I help?”
“Hmm,” I say looking around. I don’t ever have help when I’m cooking. It’s my retreat from the world. My safe place but with her standing there staring and her nervous energy I will not be able to relax. Maybe she will ease up if I give her some work. I hand her a ladle and point at the vegetable pot. “Stir?”
She nods and moves to my other side so she can reach it. She puts the ladle in and stirs it rapidly.
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “Slow. Stir slow.”
“Okay,” she says and adjusts her speed. “This okay?”
“Yes,” I say, watching her stir while I toss the sizzling meat in the skillet. The smells are rising, filling the room. I inhale deeply, testing the flavors. As I do Niyah jumps, her head twisting rapidly towards me. Her mouth drops open and her eyes are wide. “What is wrong?”
“Sorry, nothing,” she says, but she stumbles on the words.
“Not nothing, what?” I ask, my voice growls even though I do not mean to.
Why do people do that? It is clear something happened, why not say so? It is irritating.
“You, uhm, the sound, it startled me,” she says, her cheeks shading to a rich red color once again.
“I am sorry,” I say. “I smell the food. It’s how to tell if it is…” I search for the word in the stupid lizards' language. They do not have enough descriptive words. No words that tell of flavors and odors. “Right.”
It’s a terrible word choice but she seems to get it. She smiles and nods. I sniff again and am satisfied that everything is well seasoned. I motion for her to step aside. When she complies I lift the skillet and dump the meat into the stock.
“Stir,” I say then realize that was very demanding which is no way to treat a guest. “Please.”
She nods and resumes stirring. While she does I get out two bowls and two glasses then place utensils and all onto my table. Once I have that sorted I return to the pot and look into the stock. It smells and looks right. I motion for her to sit at the table.
Once she has I serve the soup. I do not know how much a being of her size and frame needs to eat so I give her two ladles. If she needs more there will be plenty. I fill my own bowl then take my seat across from her.
I watch her closely as she blows on her utensil and then takes her first taste of the soup. When it passes her lips she makes a humming sound as her eyes widen. She swallows and then looks at me.
“That is amazing,” she says.
