Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 130991 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 655(@200wpm)___ 524(@250wpm)___ 437(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 130991 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 655(@200wpm)___ 524(@250wpm)___ 437(@300wpm)
“I’ve come to assist in any way I can,” Gaston said.
“Where is George?” Sean asked.
We had both assumed that George would at least be present to observe. If you cut George, he would bleed pure intrigue. This whole affair with high political stakes would be irresistible to him.
“George can’t come. He sends his regrets, however. And me.” Gaston winked.
“I thought he settled things with the Valkkinians,” I said. I had given him a sure path to victory.
“Oh, he has. It’s not the Valkkinians. It’s his wife.”
“His what?” Sean and I said at the same time.
“His spouse. His much better half. Perhaps I could come in and explain in detail? Over a beer and a bite to eat. I have rushed here from across the galaxy without much to sustain me on the way. Still, as eager as I am to get inside, I must warn you that there is a female werewolf watching me from the roof of the building directly behind me. I’m reasonably sure she will pounce the moment you open the door. Forewarned is forearmed. Please come and fetch me at your earliest convenience.”
9
When we last left the inn, its new splendid décor had passed the Dominion’s critical inspection. Helpful assistants are gathering around our heroes in their moment of need.
And someone made an honest man out of George! Large is the Universe, and the wonders within it.
Watching Gaston eat was like witnessing someone have a religious experience.
He cut a small piece off the duck leg, wielding his fork and knife with the elegance of a concert pianist, slipped it into his mouth, and chewed, closing his eyes. Behind Sean, who sat on the left, the entire kitchen staff waited with bated breath, including Orro.
“Divine,” Gaston said finally. “It is a multilayered symphony. The meat melts in your mouth, tender yet with a delightful texture, the skin is crisp yet delicate, an ode to all that is savory. The hint of thyme is sublime, the trace of garlic is almost buttery in its smoothness, and I detect something else, something non-Terrestrial. A touch of storran herb perhaps? Spring harvest, not fall.”
Orro’s quills trembled just a fraction. If he had been a cat, he would’ve purred. “Indeed.”
“This is much more than a dish. It is a memory.” Gaston smiled, displaying serrated teeth. “I shall treasure it, my friend.”
Orro gave a brisk nod and the chefs dispersed.
Some beings viewed food as fuel, some enjoyed it, and yet others were like Gaston. Not simply fans but connoisseurs. Somehow the chefs could identify them by some hidden sixth sense and gave them special treatment. Gaston had been part of George’s retinue during the peace summit that ended the Nexus war and Sean’s contract with the Nuan Clan. He and Orro had formed a symbiotic bond. The moment I told Orro that Sean went to get him, the entire kitchen snapped into the “VIP Imminent” mode. It was just Gaston’s luck that Orro’s prized duck, which he had worked on for three days, had finished cooking.
Gaston cut off another piece, speared a sliver of potato dusted with herbs, and chewed with obvious pleasure.
“Should we leave you two alone?” Sean asked.
“No need. It’s just so difficult to find good duck confit outside of the solar system. I have had several variations on the theme, but none can compare.”
Gaston reached for his wine glass and took a sip. “And of course, the Malbec pairing is perfect. You are so fortunate.”
We were sitting in the Ocean Dining Hall with the amber waves splashing past the terrace. After we terminated the call, Sean had gone to fetch Gaston, while I went to tell Orro that his favorite guest was coming. It took Sean over fifteen minutes to come back, which gave Orro enough time to plate and serve his masterpiece. Fetching Gaston should’ve taken two minutes at most, so clearly an altercation with the female werewolf must’ve occurred. Neither Sean nor Gaston had elaborated on it.
“I suppose I should begin,” Gaston said, dabbing his lips with a napkin. “It all started in childhood, you see…”
The inn chimed. Another return visitor from Baha-char.
“Hold that thought.” I got up and stepped away.
I walked outside the dining room, folded space to save time, and reached for the door leading to the galactic bazaar. It swung open revealing a terminally cute creature. He was just under four feet tall, with sandy fur, a fluffy tail, and the jeweled apron of a Merchant. He stood on his hind legs, holding his paw hands in front of him. He twitched his lynx ears, making the two golden hoops in his left ear clink, opened his blue eyes wide, and held out his arms.
“Dina!”
“Nuan Couki!” I bent down and hugged him. It was like squishing the world’s fluffiest fox.
“So formal,” he said.
“Well, I can’t call you Cookie now. You have two hoops in your ear.”