The question made Sylvie quiver. Once again, Julia’s words floated through her mind.Betrayed by an old friend. But Godard trusts him.Plus, Guy had helped her get here.Hadn’t he?Confusion swirled through Sylvie. She wasn’t sure she could trust anyone anymore. She hated feeling like nothing was what it seemed.
“We’re running out of time, and options,” snapped Sylvie.
“Don’t worry. Monsieur LeGrande always greets the commis at the end of the competition,” said Arjun. He glanced at Georgia, who was staring at a vibrant tray of animal-shaped lollipops. Miniature dragons puffed out smoke while the tiny horses whinnied. “First time at the Golden Whisk?”
“Yes,” said Georgia, still ogling the display.
Sylvie pointed to Flora’s commis pass as she threw together an idea. “Each of us won our school’s Commis Contest, but we got delayed. Can we still get to the kitchens?”
“Don’t worry. You’re not the first assistants to show up late,” said Arjun. He pointed to a row of doors in the distance. “There’s a shortcut through there. Go past the seating area toward the stairway on the left. It has a sign above it that says ‘Sky Deck.’ That’ll lead you to the competition kitchens.”
“Thanks,” said Sylvie.Maybe there’s still a way to find LeGrande.
Sylvie headed toward the doors, maneuvering past the banner of a dimple-faced chef with thick brows. He held a rose meringue playfully over one eye. A whisk, sprouting red roses, twirled in his other hand.
“Is he trying to win a cooking competition or looking for a date?” asked Georgia.
Flora rolled her eyes. “That’s Jasper Rose, head of the British team. The Brits have never won gold, only silver. They say Jasper could be the one to change that. His execution is killer, and his spells are, well …” Flora stared dreamily at the poster. “Utterly brilliant.”
Georgia just shrugged and pointed to the poster dangling above the door in front of them. “Who’s that?” A man wrestled with a dragon, as flames the size of a bonfire shot out of its mouth.
“That’s the guy I told you about … Ewald Zotter.”
“Oh! He couldn’t get the gallus plumes for his showpiece. Right?” added Georgia.
Flora nodded. “Another epic battle.”
Sylvie gave the door a push. Once again, an uneasy sensation settled over her. She had a feeling the most monumental battle in the Golden Whisk’s history was about to take place.But what if I can’t cook my way out of this one?
“Whoa!” said Georgia.
Sylvie set the question aside and stared at the arena. There must’ve been ten thousand seats decked in gold. Each one sparkled like a grain of sand at the beach. Above them, glass kitchens floated through the air like a fleet of blimps. Behind the kitchens, dangling like a giant banner, was an enormous rice paper scroll. Projected onto it was the stage below. The podium now stood empty, marking the spot where the first-place winner would soon be crowned. All around them people screamed and cheered, waving a patchwork of signs and pennants.
Sylvie looked around. Beyond a group draped in Italian flags was the staircase with the signSKYDECKabove it. “Over there.” Sylvie pointed past the crowded seats.
The stadium seemed larger and even more impressive than it had in Godard’s memory.
“I bet the Eiffel Tower would fit in here,” said Georgia.
“Actually, two,” said Flora. “The competition has become so popular, last year, LeGrande renovated.”
Sylvie spotted a group of Sages searching through the stadium. Gold pins were hooked to their shirt collars. She stopped short. “Gold pins and they’re scanning the arena like bloodhounds. I bet they’re undercover CCS agents.”
“Let’s not find out,” said Flora, snaking her way around them. Sylvie and Georgia followed.
The Swiss team’s kitchen floated overhead. Sylvie paused. She could see Ewald Zotter working inside. He wore a red chef’s coat, just like her mom once had.
Zotter pulled out a contraption that looked like a miniature alphorn. He took a deep breath and blew. But instead of music, a giant sugar bubble emerged.
Georgia gave her eyes a rub. “Either I’m hallucinating, or I just developed eagle vision. ’Cause I’m pretty sure humans aren’t supposed to see this far.”
Zotter slipped on a pair of gloves, twisting and pulling, until the sphere morphed into a silvery dragon.
“No kidding,” said Sylvie.
This was like spotting a plane, then noticing the passengers inside snacking on peanuts.
“It’s a speculum spell.” Flora looked up. “It makes the sugar glass surrounding the kitchens work like a magnifier in a telescope. LeGrande wanted to make sure everyone, even the nosebleed seats, got an up-close view of the action.”
