I shrugged. “The fae made all kinds of strange things before humans came to Britain. Best not to look for mortal reasons in their ways.”
“Will it cook for us?” Belis looked worried, chewing her lower lip. “How high are its standards? How does it even know if we’re brave or not?”
“How should I know?” I asked, a little disgruntled. “It’s magic. I was magical but that doesn’t mean I understand it. Besides, you’ve fought in battles, you’re a blooded warrior, I wouldn’t worry overmuch.”
Belis rocked back on her heels, casting concerned looks at the cauldron. I knew she was thinking about her sister. I was harbouring my own doubts about the cauldron’s judgement but I thought it would be unhelpful to say so. I sighed and clapped her on the shoulder.
“Let’s bring the meat over and begin preparing it,” I said, “and I’ll light the fire. The best way to start is to start.”
She said nothing but when I headed towards the wagon I heard her sigh and follow me. There were six large pig carcasses, each dressed and ready for the pot. Tucked in beside them were bushels of sweet-smelling sage and rosemary, dill and thyme. Small barrels of wine and pots of honey sat beside a bag of coarse-grained sea salt and a sack of parsnips.
I hoisted the parsnips over one shoulder and gathered the herbs in my arms. Belis heaved one of the pigs onto her back, her biceps straining at the weight.
“Is there a particular order we should add in?” she asked, gritting her teeth. I considered the question, reviewing my ownmeagre knowledge of cooking and the weeks of Belis’s tasteless stews.
“Just throw everything in the pot,” I said eventually. “It’s a magic cauldron. It can work it out.”
Belis grunted and set off back to the fireplace. I left the meat to her and began ferrying the herbs and barrels of wine to the cauldron. There I hunted down a footstool and began adding everything in, leaning on the rim as I glugged the wine into the pot. Every few minutes Belis would bring over another side of pork and I helped as she shoved it into the cauldron.
Once the entire contents of the wagon were in the pot I bent down to start building the fire. I stacked the smaller logs into a pyramid and filled the centre with dead leaves and wood shavings, remembering the way Belis had built her fires on the journey through Britain. I concentrated hard on the structure, trying to make sure it wouldn’t collapse in on itself when the fire caught.
Belis crouched down next to me, turning over her kindling pouch in her hands. I waited for her to make adjustments.
“Not bad,” she said, surveying the pyramid. “Here.” She tossed me the pouch. “Set the spark.”
I caught the small leather bag in my hands and opened the drawstrings. Inside was Belis’s fire steel and a chunk of flint, nestled in a pile of soft tinder. I picked out a handful of the tinder and leaned over it. The fire steel was about the length of my thumb, a rough rectangle of metal with an elegantly curved handle so the user could hold it while striking. I gripped it in my left hand and took the flint in my right.
I struck the steel against the sharpest edge of the flint, the way I had seen Belis do. It sparked immediately but the tinder didn’t catch. I tried again, striking over and over. I ground my teeth in frustration.
“Here.” Belis put her hands over mine and moved them lower so that they were almost touching the pile of wood shavings. “Try now.”
I struck again and this time the tinder caught, a handful ofsparks catching the edge of the soft fibres. Belis picked it up, cupping it in her hands and blowing gently so that the orange pinpricks blossomed into flames. When the fire had truly caught she slid it into the pyramid I had built and I leaned over to help her blow more air. After a few minutes the rest of the kindling had caught and the thinner logs were beginning to glow orange and yellow.
“Nicely done,” Belis said, sitting back on her heels. “Did you put all the food in the cauldron?”
“All apart from the honey.” I looked around for the pot. “Hang on, the lid’s stuck.”
Belis held out her hand and I gave her the honey jar. She twisted it off with no discernible effort and handed it to me. I climbed back on the footstool to drizzle it into the cauldron, enjoying the sweet smell of it, the spirals of gold pouring into the pot.
“More water, too, I think,” I called down to her. Belis nodded and grabbed a pitcher from one of the trestle tables and filled it at the water barrel. I took it from her and poured the water on top of the pork, using a long ladle to stir it in.
“How does it look?” Belis asked, jumping to try and see over the side.
“Good.” I clambered down and handed her the ladle. “Besides, I don’t think that the quality of the food is that important, just whether we can get it to cook.”
Belis nodded and added a few more logs to the fire. It had built in the short time it had taken me to add the honey and the water and I could already feel the heat of it licking at my exposed hands and face.
I reached out to test the surface of the cauldron with the back of my hand. It was still cool. I glanced at Belis but decided to keep this to myself. The metal pot was thick, thick enough to take time to heat up. I would give it a while before I started worrying her.
An hour later as we sat tending to the fire I was trying not to panic. Around us the preparations for the feast were ongoing. Long strings of flowers were being hung between poles, low benches were carried in to serve as seating for the tables and in one corner of the field a small platform was being erected, a stage for the bards and players.
My face was hot from sitting so close to the flames and Belis had turned as red as her hair, but no matter how high we built the fire the cauldron wouldn’t heat. I tested the surface again and cast a worried look at Belis.
“Still nothing?” She wiped some of the sweat from her forehead. “Dammit, it’s never going to work.”
I moved away from the heat, trying to think clearly.
“The cauldron thinks we’re cowards,” Belis said, coming over to join me. “It will only cook for those it deems worthy, those it deems brave. We’ve been found wanting.”
