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The moment Bolaire stepped foot into the upper seats of the Hallowed Round, he could tell something was seriously wrong.
Several flats were face down on the stage. One of the members of the troupe was seated on the edge of the stage, getting his arm bandaged by Olgud who, even from the distance Bolaire was at the top of the Round, was obviously giving the person a tongue-lashing.
As he got closer, he could make out several damaged props scattered about the stage and the ground just beyond. Pieces of tattered fabric were caught on the cedar tree at the middle of the Round, and there was also a large branch from it halfway hanging and looking as if it was about to fall at any time.
It honestly looked like a whirlwind had torn through the place.
His host’s heart was beating rapidly while some small point of panic in himself had Bolaire heading down the steps at almost breakneck speed. He knew that Hal had been there, as had Shadia; they’d been preparing for the next show in two days, setting up the last of the flats and doing touch-ups on paint and costumes. They were due to do a dress rehearsal in the morning; but, with the Round in this condition…
He didn’t see either Hal or Shadia.
Had they been hurt? Or something worse? There was a gibbering fright in his mind that just kept repeating those two questions.
Had Hal and Shadia been hurt?
Or had something worse occurred?
He sighed in relief as he caught sight of Hal coming out from backstage. He didn’t seem to be injured, only very tired. Hal glanced up, catching Bolaire’s eyes and smiling slightly as he approached. “Hey,” he greeted, his normally resonant voice sounding thin.
“Are you and Shadia all right?” Bolaire demanded, clutching Hal’s forearm lightly.
“We’re both fine,” Hal sighed. “But the mess…”
“What happened?” There was so much damage.
“Someone who didn’t want the Round to open officially.” Hal ran a hand through his hair. “We had some sort of fanatic show up. She threw some magic around, all the while screaming that this had been Azgra’s cursed place and we’re pandering to a dead god. There was also something about deity resurrection, but who knows what that was all about.” He groaned, waving his hand at the destruction. “All this was done before the guard showed up.” He leaned forward, voice pitching lower. “Azune was the one who took her into custody. He’s going to check to see if there are any more like this woman. He said he was surprised no one else had kicked up a fuss earlier, and I suppose he was correct…”
Hal just looked so defeated, this was his life’s work. Bolaire’s heart went out to him. “Is there anything I can do?”
“Thanks, but not that I can think of.” He did look grateful at the offer. “We’re going to need to set things back up again before the rehearsal tomorrow. I’m just glad that we only had one injury,” he waved toward the man Olgud had fixed up, and who looked very unhappy with.
"Why is Olgud giving him so much grief?”
Hal rolled his eyes. “Idiot tried to take the magic user down by himself, instead of taking cover like anyone else with half a brain. He’s damned lucky he wasn’t killed.”
Bolaire shook his head. Hal was right about that; when someone started acting crazy with magic, everyone ran. It was basic common sense.
He took another look around. It looked just as bad up close, the flats were pretty well wrecked. “Can you get things put back together before the rehearsal?”
“We’re going to try. I don’t want to have to put off the premier…” Hal turned back toward the destruction, sighing heavily. “And it wasn’t like I didn’t already despair of the state of the world before this…”
In that moment, Shadia came around from backstage, looking just as a devastated as her father, with dried tear tracks on her face. “Hi, Uncle Bolaire.” She leaned into him, taking his arm. There were only a few people he tolerated physical touch from, and she was one of them. “It’s terrible, isn’t it?”
“Yes, darling, it is.” It was a travesty. The Shapers were done and dusted – and, if anyone should have been certain of that, it was him – but that didn’t stop the fanatics thinking everything innocent people did meant they were trying to bring those thrice-damned gods back. If this person had done just a fraction of their research, which Bolaire supposed was a lot to ask, then they would have known that Hal’s former partner was an actual Lloy, and Shadia herself was Thaisha’s daughter. That would have told them something.
He handed Shadia his handkerchief. It looked as if she needed it.
She thanked him quietly and wiped her face.
There was a reason he carried handkerchiefs even if he didn’t need them himself. He’d learned quite quickly that the mortals in his life could cry at the slightest provocation.
No judgment. He just didn’t understand.
“We’re going to need to work into the night to get this cleaned up.” Hal straightened his shoulders.
“Do you think you can?” Bolaire knew his friend, knew his strength, but this just seemed even a little beyond that. The flats alone had taken weeks to paint and prepare.
“We’ll do our damnedest.” Hal, then, also leaned against Bolaire, as if taking strength from his as well.
“What can I do?” He wasn’t about to step away and let them do all the work.
Hal stepped around to look Bolaire in the eyes. He was smiling in gratitude as he put his hands on Bolaire’s cheeks, cupping them strongly, almost as if Hal was hugging him. Bolaire reveled in it. “Dear, you know you’re fairly useless with construction. The last time you picked up a hammer you almost gave Uli a concussion on the back swing.”
Bolaire was embarrassed to be reminded of that, but Hal was right. Building things like flats and props was something he’d never had to learn; he might have been made for the Panto, but that didn’t mean his creators had given him any sort of crafting skills…not that he’d needed any to help kill a god. He’d only get in the way and slow things down.
Then, before he could even register what he was saying, “If you’re going to be here this late, then why don’t I have something ready to eat for you when you’re done?”
Hal blinked in startled surprise. “Are you sure? I have no idea how long we’ll be…”
“How long you’ll be, Dad,” Shadia piped up. “I still have to go over to Jono’s for my last fitting, so I can just stay there tonight. We’re supposed to be back first thing anyway.”
“Sorry, I’d forgotten about that. You sure, sweetheart?”
“Yeah, Dad. It’ll save me a trip home and maybe I’ll get a little more sleep tonight if I don’t travel through town to get back.”
“All right.” He turned to her, kissing her on the top of the head. “Why don’t you go and help get started on pulling down the wrecked flats? I’ll be there in a little bit.”
“Will do.” She tugged Bolaire down by the collar and kissed his cheek. “Thanks for the offer, Uncle Bolaire.”
“Just trying to do what little I can.” He certainly didn’t feel as if it was enough, though.
Shadia winked at him then headed to the stage, vaulting up onto the boards easily. Bolaire smiled faintly as he watched her take command of the troupe, pointing them toward certain jobs that needed to be done.
“It’s nice of you to offer to make dinner,” Hal began.
“I understand you have no idea when you’ll be home. But I can make something easy to reheat, like soup or stew or something.” Certainly Bolaire would put that sort of thing together, even though he had almost zero experience with any cooking at all.
It couldn’t be that difficult.
Right?
**********
Two hours later…
Yes, it could be that difficult.
Bolaire had watched Hal cook at least a dozen times, but he hadn’t actually seen him go through the entire process. Usually he would come in at some point during the actual meal preparation, either to see Hal stirring a pot or flipping things in a pan or so many other things that went into it.
He’d easily found what he thought were all the ingredients for a hearty stew: beef, vegetables…and a bottle of cooking wine in one of the cupboards as he was looking for utensils. He also found some rather mysterious objects that seemed more fit for other things than cooking, like the leather-bound journal tied shut with a faded blue ribbon that had to have been where Hal jotted down ideas while he was in the kitchen, doing other things.
He put it back, despite the urge to read it. These were Hal’s private thoughts, and Bolaire didn’t feel he had the right to look at them.
He did a good enough job cutting up the carrots, celery, and onions – and did onions always smell this strong when sliced up? – although he had to remove his gloves to do it, even though he didn’t like the sight of his fleshy fingers one little bit. The last thing he wanted was to have the leather stink, and was especially glad when he got to the onions.
And what did he do with the flaky little bits that came off the onions when he chopped them?
The potatoes were another matter; no matter how he held them, they would roll in his hands, the knife making strangely shaped cuts that didn’t look a thing like what Hal would produce. Also, was he supposed to take the skin off? He’d never really seen potato skin used except for when Hal would bake the potatoes, then serve them slathered with butter. Perhaps the skins cooked off or something?
In the end, Bolaire ended up dumping everything into the large pot he’d found in the cabinet next to the oven, lighting the hob and then setting the entire thing on it. He stared at it for a few seconds, wondering just what sort of liquid formed the broth…then dumping the entire bottle of wine into it. After all, a little wine was good…wouldn’t a lot of wine be better? Hal would need the fortification after working to put the Round back together.
So, two hours later…
The smell was…awful. The meat had turned this odd, grey color, and the vegetables were mush except for the potatoes, which had somehow not cooked at all. There was nothing that Bolaire had made that looked even remotely like any stew that Hal had made.
How was he going to fix this? Bolaire had no idea. Cooking was simply not in his repertoire. He could trick someone into putting him on, butcher the leftover body, and clean up the evidence so that it looked as if nothing had happened.
But making a meal was a lot more difficult.
Well, Bolaire did have a couple of things he could do, all of which had to do with buying dinner out somewhere then plating it when Hal eventually returned.
However, that negated his need to do something nice for Hal, for the totally wretched day he’d had. Bolaire felt like such a failure. He’d told Hal that he would make something for him, and he couldn’t even fix a simple stew. He’d failed in the one thing he’d wanted to do for the person most important to him.
Bolaire would have thrown a hissy fit if he hadn’t felt so completely dejected.
Although the hissy fit was still on the table if he couldn’t come up with a way out of this mess.
Just as Bolaire was ready to give up and go the nearest tavern for dinner, he heard the front door open and a familiar voice call out, “Hal?”
And it was suddenly worse.
Bolaire popped his head out of the kitchen to see Elodie removing her cloak in the hall near the door. “Oh, good evening,” he greeted her, trying to remain nonchalant but the smell coming from the kitchen was pretty noticeable.
Elodie smiled at him. “Good evening, Master Bolaire! What a pleasant surprise!”
He gave her a little bow. “I’m afraid Hal isn’t here. There was an…incident, down at the Hallowed Round. Both him and Shadia are still there.” He explained about the zealot attack, and the damage done.
Elodie sighed. “Such a damned shame. Hal hasn’t made it a secret that he wanted to reclaim what was once a symbol of Azgra’s power and make into something for the people.”
“There are those who don’t understand,” Bolaire pointed out, “and those who don’t listen.” He shrugged. “Not sure where this one falls, but it’s the same result.”
“Unfortunate, but true.” Elodie had always been one of Hal’s biggest supporters. Bolaire quite liked her for that alone, even if Hero wasn’t involved in those feelings. “Can you give Hal a message for me?”
“I’ll be glad to.” So far, she hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary, and Bolaire was grateful.
"Let him know that I got the information for that musical camp Hero was interested in, and to let me know when we can get together to talk it over.”
Hal had mentioned that. It was a special group for gifted musicians, and Hero definitely fit into that category. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do to pitch in, as it were.”
Elodie shook her head fondly. “And this is yet another reason why you’re her favorite uncle.” She moved back toward the hook where she’d hung her cloak.
Then, she stopped.
Oh dear.
“What is that smell?” she inquired, glancing back toward Bolaire, wrinkling her nose.
Bolaire was aware of just how shifty his expression was. She made note of it, raising an eyebrow.
“Just what are you up to, Master Bolaire?” she asked casually.
Bolaire hung his head. There was nothing for it but the truth. “I…couldn’t help out at the Round, so I told Hal that I’d cook something for him when he was done so he wouldn’t have to worry about it. I…failed to take into consideration that I don’t actually know how to cook.” He raised his hands – still bare, he noted absently – and shrugged.
Elodie canted her head in surprise. “You…don’t know how to cook? How do you handle your own meals?”
He couldn’t tell her that, until Hal had taken an interest in his body’s wellbeing, Bolaire had sometimes gone days without eating anything. “I usually accept Hal’s invitation or go to the nearest eatery.”
She shook her head. “Just like many bachelors I’ve known. Would you like some help?”
Bolaire wilted. “Please.” Admitting defeat was the only thing he could do. At least it was to Elodie, who wouldn’t judge him for it.
She kicked off her shoes, setting them on the mat near the door. “Then let’s see how we can salvage any mess you’ve managed to make.”
In that moment, Bolaire was so very grateful that Hal loved her.
Elodie moved past him and into the kitchen. She went to the stove to stare into the pot. Her eyebrows went up, and she grabbed a long handled spoon that Bolaire had taken out of a drawer just in case he’d need it.
Bolaire watched as she began picking around at the contents of the pot. “I see your first problem…you needed to put the vegetables in at different times. Potatoes first, because they take the longest. Then carrots, onions, and celery later.” She prodded a chunk of beef. “And you didn’t brown the meat first.” She sniffed the steam coming from the pot. “Is this… alcohol?”
“Yes, it is.” Something told him that adding so much had been a mistake.
“All right.” She passed him the spoon. “See if you can put all the meat into a bowl. I think we can salvage that at least. The rest is a wash, I’m afraid.”
Bolaire reached up into the cabinet over his head for a bowl, even as he was doing as Elodie bid. It had never occurred to him to actually cook the meat first. That made sense, and he was sorry he hadn’t thought of that himself. As for putting ingredients in at separate times…no, he never would have come up with that himself.
“I’m going to see if I can find Hal’s recipe book,” Elodie added. “I can sort of guess what spices he uses to flavor the stew, but not in what measurements.” She began to pull drawers open, making an ‘ah ha’ noise as she pulled the very same leatherbound notebook from where he’d put it back.
Wait…that was Hal’s cookbook?
Bolaire couldn’t believe he’d not even glanced at it. He’d thought it private, full of Hal’s thoughts, and had left it alone.
He’d been so close to getting it right…
He decided that scooping out the rest of the meat was the way to go, and not harp on needing help when it had been right there all this time.
“I think I have it all,” he said, swirling the spoon around in the slop just in case.
“Good. Let’s fry this up. Hopefully we can cook some of the alcohol out so Hal won’t get tipsy with dinner.” She sounded amused, which had Bolaire smiling.
“I’m not so sure Hal wouldn’t mind, actually, not after today.”
Elodie chuckled. “You might be right about that.”
She set the recipe book down on the counter, so that both of them could see it. “Hmm…let me find the spices.” She opened a cabinet in order to begin her search.
“And I’ll dispose of my first attempt…which I will do outside, to keep the smell from getting any worse.” He hefted the pot, which was quite heavy with all the mess in it.
He chose to take it out back, and hopefully the birds of the Rookery who found it didn’t get drunk on the remains.
Or perhaps the birds would be too smart to try to eat any of it.
By the time he was back, Elodie had found a knife and was cutting the meat into smaller pieces and inspecting the insides of the chunks she’d sliced open. “Yes, I think we can save this. It might not brown up as well, but it’s a shot.”
“Thank you,” Bolaire said gratefully. “I was just about to go to the nearest, decent tavern and bring something back.”
“Why did you offer to cook something, if you can’t cook?” Elodie sounded curious as she put the beef into a skillet that already had butter melting in it.
Bolaire considered the question. It had been a spur of the moment thing, and even he couldn’t think of a valid reason for it. “It was either this, or commit accidental homicide with construction tools.”
She laughed. “You’re worse with hammer and nails than you are with cooking?”
He had to chuckle along with her. “Shocking, isn’t it?”
“And this was the only way you could think to help Hal.” Elodie glanced at him fondly. “Should I be asking what your intentions are toward my ex-lover?”
Bolaire froze. That…what?
“You don’t have to answer,” she added. “It’s been pretty obvious that the two of you are quite taken with each other. And, honestly, Hal needs someone to look after him. Even if that person can’t make a stew without creating a potential health hazard.”
Bolaire didn’t know what to say to that. It was strange hearing that from someone on the outside, as it were. It was also a little frightening, as Bolaire had done his best to keep that side of himself hidden. He’d only admitted that to Hal what…a couple of weeks ago? So had it been obvious for far longer?
Still, he thought she needed some sort of answer. “Hal and I…we, well, we had a sort of disagreement not that long ago.” It was the simplest way to put it without getting into any detail. Even though they’d since gotten back to their usual equilibrium.
Bolaire liked Elodie too much to dump all that on her. Perhaps someday he’d come clean to everyone he was close to, but that was not today, if just to keep her safe.
Elodie’s eyes were sympathetic. “And this is a way to make that up to him?”
It was. Bolaire could admit that, now that it had been pointed out to him. “And to help him. I’m just useless in how I chose to do that.”
“Get yourself a good cookbook,” Elodie suggested. “If you intend on cooking for Hal again, a cookbook is the way to go. This one,” she tapped the open page of Hal’s, “belonged to Hal’s mother. I think there are even some recipes going back to before the Shaper’s War in it.”
“I’ll do that.” There were many decent bookshops between here and the Archanade; Bolaire could afford to take a little time and search for the perfect one.
“Now, let’s get this started. Are there more vegetables in the pantry?”
Bolaire went to fetch them. “I’ll even cut them up…although the potatoes were a pain in my backside.” He still had his gloves off, after all.
He appreciated Elodie not mentioning it, since this would have been the first time she’d ever seen him this naked. However, she could have just expected it since he’d been working with food.
Elodie laughed. “I’ll show you how to do it.”
**********
Bolaire was reading on the sofa when Hal got home.
Elodie had stayed long enough to get the stew simmering, and the smell was so much better than what she’d walked in on. The air was full of spices and beef, and even Bolaire had to admit the scent was fantastic.
She’d also tried to make him promise not to tell Hal that she’d helped, but Bolaire was done with keeping secrets from him. When he’d pointed out to her that making that promise would mean he’d be hiding something from Hal and he wasn’t going to do that, Elodie had smiled happily, kissed him on the cheek, and had given him her blessing to court Hal.
Then she’d left him to think about that.
Did he want to do that? Bolaire wasn’t that certain. Yes, he cared about Hal a great deal, but courting? Would Hal even want that from him?
Bolaire couldn’t see it happening.
Still, the notion sat at the back of his mind, simmering like the stew left on the hob.
When the door opened, Bolaire looked up. Hal was exhausted, his face drawn, and it had him on his feet immediately, moving toward his friend and taking his cloak. “Is it done?” he asked softly as he maneuvered Hal to the sofa.
Hal sighed. “No, but I was kicked out of the Round to get some rest. Olgud put his foot down and told both Shadia and I that we weren’t allowed to come back until an hour before rehearsal tomorrow.” His lip quirked upward. “Like that’s going to happen. I still have too much to do.” He took a sniff. “That smells wonderful.”
“I’ll get you some,” Bolaire said. He bustled out to the kitchen, prepared a tray with bowls for Hal and himself, and drinks as well. “I had help,” he admitted as he brought the tray out to the sofa. “Elodie stopped by and showed me where your cookbook was. Without her and it, this would have been a disaster.” There, get the truth out in the open right away. “She also wanted to let you know that she received the information for that music camp that Hero wants to go to.”
He left out the courting part. Bolaire still wasn’t sure what to do with that.
Hal rubbed his forehead. “I completely forgot that she was coming by tonight.”
“Understandable, after what happened earlier today.”
“True.” His eyes followed Bolaire as he brought their meal over. “And Elodie helped?”
Bolaire set the tray down on the sofa between them, then took a seat, careful not to tip anything over. “Yes, she found me in quite the state. You see…when I said I would cook something, I didn’t take into consideration that watching you at various states of food preparation wasn’t the way to learn. I…ruined the first attempt.” He was chagrined about it, but he was willing to admit his mistake.
Hal was grinning. “It should have occurred to me that you might not know how to actually cook.” He took up the bowl closest to him, the spoon’s handle resting on the edge. “It’s not something you would have needed to learn.”
“Exactly.” Bolaire picked up his own bowl. “All I knew was that I wanted to help, to make something a little easier on you, and didn’t even think that it might not work out all that well.”
Hal spooned up some stew, sighing happily once he’d swallowed. “It’s really good. Thank you.” He looked at Bolaire askance. “Perhaps we should have some cooking lessons, you and I. I can teach you a few things and maybe you might decide you’d want to cook again sometime.”
Warmth flashed through Bolaire at the idea. “I’d like that. Now, eat. You can then get cleaned up and head to bed. You look as if you’re about to drop.”
“And I have a very busy day tomorrow. You’ll be at the rehearsal, right?”
“No place I’d rather be.” That statement had more meaning in it than just an acceptance of an invitation. Bolaire was glad that Hal wanted him there, even though he knew he’d be welcome without it. Being asked made it different than assuming.
“Good.” Hal began to shovel the stew into his mouth in earnest.
Bolaire ate along with him. The stew really was quite good. The smell coming from the kitchen had actually made him look forward to trying it himself. Even if he’d have to deal with the gross physical prospects later.
As they finished their meal in silence, Bolaire found himself looking forward to learning to cook with Hal.
And he was going to get himself a cookbook as soon as he could.
After all, he didn’t know if Hal intended on assigning homework.