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"Bellara?"
Emmrich's voice came to her through a thick fog. Vaguely, she wondered what the professor was doing here in… no, wait. He wasn't. And neither was she. Or not where she thought she was, anyway. Because now that she opened her eyes a slit, she could see that she was in the dining hall.
With something stuck to her face.
"Wha'?" she mumbled, wondering how long she'd been asleep.
Blearily, she noticed that he was in his Morning Exercise Clothes, which meant it was Very Early. She could trust the professor's sense of time better than anyone else at the Lighthouse except maybe Assan, whose belly made a pretty good clock. At least for mealtimes.
So she'd been asleep for at least an hour. Maybe two. Which wasn't terrible.
"You really should try to get some proper sleep, my dear," Emmrich said.
"I was asleep." She lifted her head. She felt whatever-it-was that was stuck to her start to peel away from her cheek.
"Well, yes, but it could hardly have been a restful slumber. What was so compelling that you nodded off right where you sat?"
She looked down. The open book that had been serving as her pillow lay atop a pile of scribbled notes. A thick strand of saliva stretched from the corner of her mouth to the page.
"Oh shit."
A little puddle of drool darkened the paper and black tendrils of ink had begun to migrate into it. A creeping sense of horror began to settle into her gut.
"Professor… I think I ruined your book."
"My book?"
She swallowed hard. "I, uuuuhh… might have borrowed a book from your library yesterday. At least, I think it was yesterday. The one on etheric movements between living and nonliving entities."
"Aedelberg's treatise?" he asked. "Whatever did you want that for?"
She stared sadly down at the mess she'd made of the text. "I was trying to figure out something the Nadas Dirthalen said. It didn't make any sense at the time and I've been working on it for days. So I borrowed the book and it felt like I finally getting somewhere and I just wanted to finish that chapter before I went to bed. And now it's ruined!"
She swiped at the page with her palm, but then the ink was on her hand and the words on the page weren't words any more but just weird smudges and…
"Oh no. Oh no." She was making it worse. She wiped her palm on her thigh, smearing traces of ink onto the cloth. "I am SO sorry."
"It's all right, Bellara. Why don't you just leave it alone and—"
"No, no, I can fix it, I think. I've used similar spells loads of times, trying to raise lettering on old artifacts or read faded script on scrolls." She hastily reached for a bit of Fade energy and started started to weave it into the familiar shapes.
"Bellara, are you sure that's a good—"
"It's gonna be good as new, professor," she insisted, tuning out his protests to concentrate on releasing the spell. "Just give me a sec."
The magic seemed unusually bright and she had to struggle to keep her weaves in order. Maybe she was a little more tired than she realized? Squinting, she focused even harder until at last words began to twine across the page, replacing the messy streaks and blotches.
"It's working!" she said. "See, it's aaaaaall coming back."
Something looked weird, though. Had the ink been that color before? She looked at the smear where she'd wiped her hand on her trousers.
Nope. Definitely black.
"Soooo… green's nice, right?" She peeked at him out of the corner of her eye.
"It's a lovely hue, though I confess I prefer—" He looked at her sharply. "Why do you ask?"
"We-ell…" She gestured vaguely at the page.
He sighed and the sheer disappointment in the sound made her want to slide down the chair and disappear under the table. "I see."
"Look, professor, I can fix it, really, just let me—"
He gently tugged the book out of her hands. "It's all right, my dear. I think you've fixed it quite enough for one morning. The color of the writing is immaterial, so long as it's legible."
"It might not even be that," she said, leaning forward and putting her head in her hands. "Does it look right to you?"
With a thoughtful hum, Emmrich carried the book toward the windows, tilting it to catch the light. "It's clear enough," he said. "But the text seems to be in another language. Perhaps Elvish? I do regret not studying that language more thoroughly."
"I need to work on that spell," she muttered.
"Isn't dalavur the word for 'leaf'? Ten leaves of… hm, this word's unfamiliar." He tapped his finger against the page. "You know, this almost looks like… a recipe?
"It can't be a recipe." She couldn't remember every detail from the page she'd been reading when she fell asleep, but she was certain it wasn't a recipe.
"Have a look," he said, tipping the book toward her.
She pushed herself up from her chair with a growing sense of apprehension. As she scanned the page, she gave a soft groan of embarrassment. "It's the recipe for mah'virmath."
"What's that?"
"Soup," she said miserably. "Every clan—every family—has their own version. This one's my father's recipe."
"Oh, how lovely! You must make it for us some time," Emmrich said. "I've heard you talk about your father's skills with herbs. I'm sure this dish must be delightful."
"It is," she agreed with a sad little sigh. "You have to simmer it over a low flame for hours. I still remember how good it smelled when he made it."
"I treasure my mother's book of recipes, you know. It's one of the few things I have from my childhood. All written entirely in her own hand." He looked back down at the book, a crease forming on his brow. "Is this green script in any particular handwriting?"
"It's mine, actually." Bellara frowned. "Which is weird because that never happens. Usually. I mean, it's never happened before, and I've cast that spell a whole bunch of times."
"Perhaps a manifestation of casting while we're here in the Fade?"
"Maaaybe? OH!" She clapped her hands to her face and started to bounce. "I was dreaming! While I was asleep just now! I think I was dreaming about cooking."
"Oh that's fascinating!" Emmrich's eyes brightened. "Perhaps some remnant of that imagery clung to you as you cast. Do you remember any more about the dream?"
"Well, it wasn't about that soup, specifically," she said squinting her eyes shut to try to remember. "I remember stirring something in a big pot, like the one we hung over the fire when we cooked with the clan. I was worried about whether we had the right ingredients, I think. Or whether I'd added them in the right order."
"I do so admire your skill with the culinary arts, Bellara. You've such a distinctive hand with herbs, in particular. I'm quite in awe of the way you manage to make the flavors meld so harmoniously—"
"PROFESSOR!" Bellara felt her heart racing. "That's it! That's it!"
She hurried back over to the table and gathered her research notes with one quick sweep of her arm. She heard a pen clatter to the floor and then a couple of pages slipped out from under her elbow.
"Damn it," she muttered, getting awkwardly down to her knees to retrieve them.
"Bellara? Is everything—"
"Cooking is about blending flavors," she said, reaching for the pen that had rolled under her chair. "You have to add ingredients in the right order, because some things take longer to cook than others, and if you add them too early or too late, it won't taste right."
"Yes, I see," Emmrich said in a decidedly equivocal tone. "Though I confess I don't fully understand your excitement about this realization."
"I'll tell you later, professor," she said breathlessly, crawling out from under the table with the errant pages. "I've got to go and talk to the Archive."
"…about soup?" he asked.
"About etheric transfers. It's all there, professor! My dream, and the recipe, and that page I was reading when I fell asleep. Don't you see? The way the flavors mix in the cooking pot is the same as the way the weaves mix when you apply the right kind of energy. It's Fade soup!"
"I'm afraid you've lost me, my dear. Fade soup?"
"We'll talk later!" she said as she burst out through the dining hall doors. "Gotta go!"
She raced across the courtyard, thoughts swarming like a cloud of brilliant butterflies. Her stomach growled and she realized she hadn't eaten since dinner. It was fine, though. She thought had some crackers stowed somewhere in her room. And maybe some almonds? Except she remembered eating the last of those while she was working on the archive's resonance crystal. She'd add them to the grocery list. And a few other ingredients while she was at it.
Because if this idea worked, she was going to celebrate with a huge batch of mah'virmath.