“You saved me,” he mumbles, sounding like a chastised child.
“You call yourself the captain’s guard?” I lash out.
“I just—”
“Don’t expect me to do that ever again, human. Understand?”
Wen goes pale, but he nods all the same, taking his trembling right hand to rub at his flushed neck. Humility suits him as well as an oversize skirt.
Someone claps their hands in a small round of applause. Our attention is drawn to an old woman standing before a pair of sliding paper doors. They’ve been left ajar, allowing a glimpse of the interior. A kitchen, large enough to feed an entire army. What interests me most, however, is her smile.
Dazzling—like a star.
“That was thrilling!” she says with a giddy laugh. She sounds like a reed flute, sweet but raspy. “Oh, it’s been so long since anyone has come this way.”
Sonam’s hand falls to his sword, hovering just over the pummel. “Who—”
The woman waves her hand dismissively. At first glance, she appears nothing more than a stout old lady. Her hair is as white as a scroll of parchment, and almost nearly as long. The corners of her bright white eyes wrinkle as she smiles ever wider.
“There’s no need for that, boy,” she says sweetly. “I mean you no harm.” She gestures toward the kitchen. “Come inside the bathhouse and rest. I’ve prepared a feast in honor of you making it this far.”
Sonam and I exchange a suspicious look.
“Who are you?” I ask.
She gives a delicate curtsy. “You may call me Kelai, keeper of the Court of Hunger.”
23Yue
Hunting Log #386:
How is it that the gods seem less trustworthy than the demon in my company?
Ithought the star gods wereall brothers,” Wen says. “Like in the stories.”
Kelai presses her lips into a thin line. “Disappointing, but unsurprising. It wouldn’t be the first time your kind has written a woman out of her own story.” She turns, silent as an owl gliding upon spread wings. The goddess enters the kitchen, wagging a single finger over her shoulder to beckon us follow. Whatever darkness once marred her brow disappears and is replaced with a grin. “Come along!” she all but sings.
The moment I step inside, my mouth waters uncontrollably.
Food. Mountains upon mountains of food.
I’m uncertain why I hadn’t noticed it before, but now that I’m surrounded by sizzling meats, aromatic spices, and roasting vegetables, I’m left lightheaded. A long row of clay ovens lines one side of the kitchens, all of them blazing with iron woks placed on top.Ladles stir soups and fry up sauces all on their own, enchanted to cook ceaselessly.
The kitchen opens up into a large atrium of glass, its domed ceiling dotted with winking stars. Suspended in the very center sits a chandelier in the shape of a glowing silver moon, so round and full it appears to have its own gravity, pulling me closer and closer like water at high tide.
“It’s an illusion I’ve cast,” Kelai explains with obvious pride. “After a millennium spent underground, I must say I dearly miss the sky. Come, friends. Sit and eat.”
With a snap of her fingers, a circular table and five low chairs suddenly appear in the center of the room. A wide assortment of dishes appears from out of nowhere, glistening in oil and cradled in rising steam. The star goddess takes her seat without a fuss. She places a brown clay teapot over a small candle to warm the brew before helping herself to a little bit of everything.
Sooah is the first to sit, though not without hesitation. Wen follows, then Sonam, and finally myself. No one reaches for the food, so I volunteer, plucking a braised chicken leg from a nearby plate. I sniff at it.
“It’s not poisoned,” I murmur.
“Of course not,” Kelai says with a laugh. “You have nothing to fear. I promise I’m nothing but a gracious host.”
The first bites come cautiously. When none of us keel over or choke on our own tongues, we realize the star goddess is speaking the truth. The humans are hungry beyond words, digging in with rapt appreciation. Rice, pork dumplings, and garlic beans. Sweet buns, roasted beef, and sweet egg drop soup topped with minced green onion.
Sooah piles her bowl high. Wen stuffs his face. Sonam eatswith refined posture and all the manners one might expect from someone of his upbringing. And I…
