That explained so much, down to minor details like tomatoes. Before his change, he had not been fond of tomatoes, but the first thing he hadcravedafter coming out of the clock tower had been tomato soup. It was just his mind working differently, more human, now. The realization hit hard and was a little scary as well. Thankfully, Aniriel had finished her thoughts and replied.
“Perhaps. It’s what the recipe says. And it’s easy to see that everything relates to the fire element in some way. So maybe we should do it?”
It sounded more like a suggestion than an opinion, and Kraghtol shrugged.
“Yes, you are right. We should start with preparing the bugs and moss, though, so we have everything ready in time.”
He knew the materials well enough. People commonly used sunflowers for cooking, but the healer’s apprentice knew of no remedialproperties. Sunmoss, which grew on the south-facing side of stones, had a red-yellow color and a burning sap, but, if dried and mixed with cherry stones, could help warm a stiff neck. Fireflies were known for their faint ghostly glow at night, but only when alive and not ground into a powder. So, nothing save for burning the substances would have produced any light normally, and Kraghtol couldn’t help but wonder about the mysterious Activator. Was it so powerful that it turned the mixture into something entirely different?
They set to work, and preparing the ingredients first proved to be a good idea. Grinding the materials into powder wasn’t complicated, but it took time. After one or two minutes, Aniriel broke the busy silence — filled only with the crunching sound of insect shells breaking under the mortar — with her quiet voice.
“I don’t think he meant to talk badly about you.”
Kraghtol looked up at her, the confusion painted on his face.
“What? Who?”
“Valir el Greylune. You keep looking at him, so I suppose you were wondering about it.”
Kraghtol hadn’t even noticed, but now that she mentioned it, he realized she was right. Now and then he had indeed looked up from his fireflies, and like a magnet, his eyes had been drawn to the handsome face and the arrogant smile of the noble student. For some reason, he couldn’t get over the apparent condescension the man radiated.
“I don’t know. Perhaps he didn’t mean to attack me personally, but he does not strike me as the kind of man who cares much about others.”
Aniriel shrugged but appeared out of her comfort zone.
“Perhaps. But why do you care if you don’t even know him?”
That was a surprisingly good question.
“I… don’t know,” he admitted. “I guess people like him just rub me the wrong way.”
Aniriel didn’t answer that, and Kraghtol didn’t want to talk about it any longer either, so he changed the topic and asked her about something else instead.
“I don’t mean to pry, and you don’t have to answer if I’m being inappropriate, but I have to admit, I’ve never talked to an elf before. You are not from Winterstone either, are you?”
She smiled, and her entire posture relaxed noticeably at the question, as if she had heard it before many times.
“No, I’m not from around here. I come from the Starlit Plains in the south, like most of my kind. And don’t worry, you don’t offend me by asking. I, too, noticed that elves are relatively rare here in the north. It feels lonely in a way.”
Kraghtol grimaced.
“I know exactly how you feel. Being the only —”
He stopped and blushed, much more clearly visible on his pale skin. That had been close.
“The only what?”
If she had noticed anything out of the ordinary, her voice didn’t give it away.
“Err… The only one from the north. I mean, Winterstone is the northernmost big city, so, obviously, most people come from the south, but…”
He had exhausted the idea and stopped, but Aniriel shook her elegant head.
“I don’t think that’s quite the same. At least when people look at you, they don’t immediately recognize that you are an outsider. It’s not that they are unkind because of it, but you still feel like a stranger.”
Kraghtol just nodded. That didn’t even begin to describe his own experiences, and for a moment, he considered telling her about his true identity right here in a low voice, just to feel sympathetic. But that would have been unwise; the only way his secret would stay safe was if he told no one.
“I think the oil is boiling now.”
