He nodded, looked at Caldenia and Qoros, and gave them a hard stare. Her Grace wriggled her fingers at him. Qoros put his hand on his chest, pretending to be shocked.

I stepped out into the hallway. A large figure emerged from the soft gloom, a Quillonian, so old, his quills had turned pure white.

I bowed. “Thank you for accepting my invitation, Grand Chef.”

“After that muffin, how could I not? Is he expecting me?”

“He has no idea.”

“How did you find me? The apprenticeships of the Red Cleaver chefs are a closely guarded secret.”

“When I invited Orro into the inn, I ran a complete background check. On the day he sent out the soup that ruined his career, you entered a period of mourning. You were in seclusion for six months. Only a devastating event would have caused you to abstain from your art for so long.”

Chef Adri nodded. “He is my brightest pupil.”

I led the elder Quillonian into the hall. In the center of the banquet floor, Orro held a platter of rolls, looking for a spot on the far table. He turned and saw us. His hands shook.

Chef Adri smiled.

Orro dropped the platter onto the table and fell to his knees. Chef Adri rushed to him and picked him up.

“None of that.”

“Master…”

“Today there are two masters here. I have come to learn from you, my former pupil. Share with me what you have discovered. I cannot wait to taste your food.”

It took another couple of minutes to get Chef Adri seated, primarily because Orro couldn’t find a chair worthy enough. Finally, everyone took their places. I rose and looked over the banquet hall, the guests who would leave, the friends who would stay, and I was grateful to be exactly where I was.

The lanterns flared gently. A shower of pale petals rained from the ceiling. Soft music filled the room.

I smiled and said, my voice carrying through the inn, “Welcome to the Treaty Stay.”

The End.