8. The Recipe Book

They were only halfway along the route to the Lion Palace when the next animals knocked on their door. Two okapi—animals who looked like deer, but with the striped legs of a zebra—asked for help with their sick son. He refused to eat anything and called all food dirty.

Chef had to reject them.

She had to race towards the king, no detours, no pauses, for as long as the bells still rang.

A day’s ride from the palace, a cockatoo knocked. Their habitat in the south of Equator had been hit hard by the constant wars between different religions. They could barely grow any more food and asked Chef for some wondrous seed that made ten times as much grain.

Chef had such a seed. By selecting only the best seeds for years, she was sure that her plants would give them more food.

But she had to reject them too.

She bent over the four ingredients on her workbench: Bumpbaracht, Dinodear, Turnbacktulip and Fishfool. Very little was left of every single ingredient. She could not experiment or waste a single leaf—she had to be right the first time.

Chef’s head dropped in her hands. Exhausted, she sought support from the windowsill. She would disappoint everyone, she would. She was the Bad Chef.

“If only you had a recipe book now,” Minneka said with a grin. “If only you had listened to a wise fox who spoke of—”

“Yes, yes, rub it in.” Chef looked outside. At the setting sun and the red glow it casted on the shiny white palace on the horizon. “I thought I was a better chef. That I could do without it. But that book knew everything … and I apparently knew nothing.”

Minneka frowned. “Wait. You didn’t know? You never realized?”

“What?”

Her cloak fell of her shoulders. “That book is not a recipe book, Chef. You were in the possession of the Book of Meaning! And you placed it on your windowsill, naked and unguarded. You basically invited thieves to come and get it!”

“The Book of … where did I heart that name before?”

“It’s one of the Heavenly Objects! The Book belonged to Bella, goddess of Wisdom. The King of Lions would have paid you a million Soliduri to get that book!”

“What would I have done with a million Soliduri? You can’t eat gold.”

Minneka joined Chef at the window. If you could forget the ringing bells, the palace looked peaceful and magical.

The final red sunray illuminated the many symbols that the gods once scratched into those walls. When they still ruled and walked around Somnia.

“Many legends run through my family,” Minneka said, “told to us by Feria. She mentioned a different planet with life: Dalas. They ate stone there, so who knows.”

“All I want,” said Chef, “is a filled belly for everyone. Tell that to the king. If I can save him—”

“When you have saved him—”

“Tell him I don’t want golden coins or treasure. Makes me uncomfortable, that it does. I want my recipe book back.”

“That might be hard,” Minneka said. “Rumors have been spreading. Rumors that certain groups are still trying to collect all the Heavenly Objects. They follow a prophecy that, once all Heavenmatter is combined, they can also wipe out all the demigods. And you might just have given away the most powerful object of all … like it was nothing.”

Minneka needn’t say any more. Chef just wanted to help and be nice. But now she’d been nice to the wrong person and only caused more suffering.

“The strongest object? It’s just a book that tells you how to bake Pumpkin Cake or make a Liquorice Pullpie. Clever panther if they can attack you with pie.”

Chef tapped her chin. “Although, I did accidentally burn a Kinese Knibbler once, and then they become so hard that you might—oh, that reminds me of the time I was in the Hima mountains near Kina and—”

“The book is what it has to be for the one who reads it. For you, it only contained recipes and plant knowledge. For me, it would have probably contained stories of other demigods. Maybe an answer about where they are, or what power I have.”

“Then we will surely ask the King of Lions to retrieve that book for us.”

Chef realized how odd the theft truly was. Perzwa didn’t have to come back with the Turnbacktulips. He could have stolen much more, or fled with the book before they came back the first time.

Maybe a thief with honor? The book was so valuable that he was fine with helping at first?

Listen to yourself, she thought. Even a thief who steals Heavenmatter still gets praise and good intentions in your mind.

Silence reigned in the jungle. Awful silence. Chef and Minneka grabbed each other’s paws in a panic.

The bells had stopped ringing.

Minneka jumped out. Chef’s vision blurred, her surroundings suddenly ten times as dark, as if Minneka had received ten giant shadows that want to pull her into the ground.

“Help! Help! Come and pull the wagon!”

“Who is there?” a guard answered from the first palace tower.

“The Good Chef! With the medicine!”

The palace gates opened. A herd of Equids—who were called Horses by most these days—galloped outside and surrounded the wagon. Chef improvised ropes, made from vines she grew in her veggie patch, and bound them around their neck.

She was against letting other animals pull her car. But this was an emergency.

With horsepower, she traveled faster than ever. Chef fell backward and was pushed into the back wall. By the time her vision cleared up, they already raced through glimmering gold gates. The white marble of the palace was enchanting, but also great at obstructing all moonlight.

And so the wagon hobbled through a completely darkened hallway. The rare torches on the wall were extinguished by the passing wagon.

Chef felt around her. The ingredients weren’t on the table anymore, but scattered around the wagon.

“Can I get some light?” Her voice echoed against the walls. Somebody freed the horses. The wagon sunk half a meter and came to a standstill.

“Hurry up! Hurry up!” yelled Minneka, but she sounded distant. “How is the king?” she asked a second set of footsteps that entered the hallway.

“I dare not make any statements about his health,” a low and serious voice answered.

Chef blindly reached around herself. Was she holding the Dinodear now? No, these felt like the thorns of the Turnbacktulips. She had to find her flintstones. For light. For heating the cauldron. But where were they?

“It is now or never, Chef!” Minneka yelled, suddenly close. “Please give us your best medicine. Please!”

She felt as if a thick blanket had been thrown over her wagon that choked her. Her heart raced and breathing was foreign to her. Her head screamed two thoughts at once.

You can do this, Chef.

You are going to fail, Chef.

She ignored both and prepared a medicine by touch.