I grab Dana’s hand and turn to face her. “What… I… you… hweh?”

She giggles. “Well, since you went to such extreme lengths, I wanted to help. This was the best idea I could come up with. So, I went and rounded up Gimmel and some of his lads at the Hephaestus Consortium.  They were willin’ to help, so… ta-da!”

I stare, awed, before opening my menu and contacting Harvenhaight.

“Hello!”

Harvenhaight’s voice comes through clearly, but he’s out of breath. “Ky! How are things? Bit busy right now- DUCK! WATCH THE FLAMES!”

I blink. “Flames?”

“Sorry, I’m with some of the guys from Lord Elif Thade’s troupe. We’re practicing for a big show in a few days. I’ll send you an invite, okay?”

I smile. “Sounds fun, I look forward to it. I WAS going to ask if you wanted to help a ghost renovate her home, but I’ll leave you to it! Have fun with your rehearsal!”

I end the connection and try Marika.

 

“Hello, Marika? It’s Kettrin, are you busy?”

A squeak comes through, followed by a second voice, female, with a strong Scottish accent. “She’s not, and neither am I!”

I smile. “Oh, hey Sionnach, nice to hear from you, too. Are you two interested in coming and helping a ghost redecorate?”

A long moment of silence, and then a barking, cackling laugh that sounds exactly like a fox. “Ah, why the fuck not? Gimme the location and we’ll make ourselves presentable and be there as soon as!”

 

The connection breaks, and I blink, tilting my head. “Presentable? But you don’t need to dress up for construction work…”

Dana cackles, “You’ll figure it out, cutie, don’t rush it.”

About half an hour later, Marika and Sionnach arrive, wearing tunics and pants with multiple pouches and loops for tools. Marika’s tunic goes down to her waist, but Sionnach’s is a tube top. Marika’s face is almost as pink as her hair, and her eyes keep drifting towards Sionnach’s tail.

I watch as the pair of them collect tools and co-ordinate with Gimmel’s team, Ulged sawing logs into planks with ease as he hums loudly, Gimmel’s dwarves singing in deep, harmonious voices, the sounds of hammers and saws filling the air.

I ask one of the team leaders if I could borrow a few trestle tables, and, with permission, I set them up in a nice, shady spot outside. I then head to the nearest store and buy several items and return, setting up and placing down a cutting board, then a pair of tripods and massive pots. While everyone else performs their assigned tasks, I begin dicing meat and vegetables.

Dana wanders over, smiling, sawdust shavings stuck in her hair. “What are you up to, sweetie?”

I smile. “Well, I’m not great with carpentry or crafting, but I do like to cook. So, I figured I could make lunch for everyone! Do you know if there’s a usable well on the grounds?”

“Well? If you need water, I can handle that!”

Clawdette bounds over, grabbing the first of the huge pots, darting away, her leathery wings flapping to increase her jumping range. I stare. “… When did she get here?”

Dana chuckles, looking at the selection of ingredients. “… I think you’ll need a few more things, want me to get ‘em for you?”

I smile. “Oh, you think I need more? I didn’t wanna overdo it, but if you think I need more, I’ll trust your judgement!”

  “Oh, yeah, workmen always eat big portions, so they’ll appreciate having a good meal!”

I smile. “Good point; I’d be grateful for the extra ingredients, then, thank you, love!”

 

Dana smiles, and I pause. “What is it?”

“You called me ‘love’. I liiiike it!”

I blush as she leans in and kisses my cheek, butterfly wings of light forming, as she rises into the air and swooping off.

I keep preparing the materials for lunch, as Clawdette staggers over, lugging the pot. It’s almost as tall as she is, and could technically be repurposed into a bath. She lowers it onto one of the tripods, and I pile some of the firewood I’d bought under it. “Do you have flint and steel, Clawdette?”

She grins and her hand bursts into flame. “No need! I can do this thing!”

I blink as she thrusts her flaming hand into the middle of the lumber, causing it to ignite and burn brightly, the water inside the pot ready to boil, as I scoop some water into a separate pan, using it to wash the starch off of a mound of potatoes

By the time Dana returns, the water is bubbling gently, and I pour a measure of oil into the other pot, adding the chunks of meat in and searing them on all sides, stirring with a very long-handled spoon.

The diced vegetables sizzle as they join the meat, and I stir thoroughly, before adding the potatoes to the pot of boiling water. While those do their own thing, I work on a thick, spicy sauce made with hot peppers, tomatoes, mushrooms, and various seasonings, using a little water to thicken the cornflour first, whisking it into a smooth paste.

 

By the midday hour, the smell of food is starting to lure the work crews out in ones and twos, while I set out bowls filled with buttery mashed potatoes and stew, dishing up as people settle on the grass and eat, chatting about nothing in particular, or about the next step of the work.

Dorothea even helps, using her telekinetic power to bring me empty bowls, and taking food to those who haven’t come outside to eat. I smile as I watch her running about with a huge grin on her face.

I relax for a minute once I’m sure everyone’s had at least one portion, spooning a mouthful of my own meal into my mouth. Nicely seasoned, spicy enough to tingle, but not so bad that it hurts. Ulged wanders over, holding a bowl out.

“Any more goin’ spare, lass?”

I smile. “Oh, sure!” I dish up another portion of stew, and Ulged pulls something from a pouch at his waist. A bottle, coated in thick black paint. I look at it curiously, and he grins. “Ah, this is a li’l’ summin’ Ah use tae give mah fuid a wee kick! Ah’d offer ye a taste, but ‘tis likely tae mek ye wail!”

 As I blink, a familiar, nasal voice breaks the pleasant chatter.

“The fuck is this?”

The now-standard glare on his face, Randy stalks towards the gathered players, twirling a wicked-looking hooked-bladed knife. I tut, “Didn’t my dad kick your butt hard enough? Wow, you are SUCH a masochist!”

Ulged throws his head back and howls with amusement.  “Whoa there, lass! Nae need tae commit a murder!”

I shrug. “Hey, I never invited him to show up and be an asshole at me. If he wants to harass me, he should be prepared for me to retaliate.”

Ulged sets down his bottle of whatever, just as Randy sticks the point of his knife into the table. “Give me a bowl of that too.”

I bristle, but Ulged winks and nods, so I dish up a bowl for our unwanted guest. Ulged grins and pours a decent measure of his special creation, a thick, viscous black sauce, into his bowl.

“There we go, just what Ah need to bring this tae life!”

Randy looks over, eyes narrowed. “What, you think a bit of hot sauce is enough to frighten me?! Fuck you, dog-boy!”

He snatches the bottle out of Ulged’s paw and tips it upside-down, emptying the entire thing over his serving.

Ulged says mildly, “Ah’m no’ trying tae daunt yeh. Ah’m jes’ trying tae enjoy mah vittles.”

The huge Gnoll raises a spoon, tiny in his gigantic grip, and shovels a heaping mound into his jaws. As his breath washes over the contents of the spoon, flames begin to rise from it, an unnatural blue and green, as he closes his fangs over the flaming food. I stare, Randy starts to sweat, but, to his limited credit, doesn’t back down.

As the Gnoll grinds his jaws together, chewing with a blissful look on his muzzle, I start to feel a twinge of pity for the poor, dumb fool who picked this time and place to make an idiot of himself in public.

“Dude, you don’t have to eat that, I’ll get another bowl-”

He flips me off, pulling his smoking dish closer. “Fuck off! Don’t patronize me, you bitch! I know what I’m doing!”

I step back hands in the air. “Alright, fine! I get it, you’re a BIG, TOUGH, MAAAAN! If you’ve got a problem with me, you can write it on a bit of paper, fold it, and shove it up your ass!”

Then, raising my hands to my mouth, I shout, “Hey! This guy here challenged Ulged to a spice-off! He’s gonna chicken out!”

 

Immediately, a dozen people surround the duo, eagerly placing bets on the outcome. Unsurprisingly, everyone seems to be betting on the Gnoll winning this little ‘battle’. Randy glares at me as I cut off the last way he can back out without losing face.

Dana grins, sauntering over and draping her arms around me. “What evil little tricks are you pulling now, you minx?”

I smile and kiss her cheek. “Not my fault. He wanted to pick a fight, well, he’s gotten himself into situation he is NOT prepared to handle.”

 

As Ulged finishes his bowl, Randy has yet to take even a single bite, his eyes darting between the contents of his dish and the flames still licking out of Ulged’s jaws. The Gnoll licks his chops. “No’ bad. Ah can do better on the spice, though.”

I watch for any change in Randy’s expression. Any moment now. He’s going to break, I can tell-

With a sharp jerk, Randy opens his mouth and practically inhales half-a-dozen spoonfuls back to back. Things start to go wrong when he takes a breath, though. As he gasps, a jet of blue-green flame roars from his mouth and he falls onto his back, legs kicking like he’s doing the Highland Swords Dance,  his hands clutching his throat.

Ulged saves the bowl before it spills, placing it hurriedly on the table, before he tugs a bottle from his pouch, popping the cork, and shoving his paw into the flames Randy’s producing without a second thought. A few moments pass, and the fire fades, Randy’s strangled ‘eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee’ finally becoming audible.

 As the hapless moron’s eyes refocus, Ulged reaches over and grabs the half-eaten bowl, and, with a flourish, demolishes the culinary war-crime in seconds.

Mur, having been working on the roof, practically dive-bombs the gathering, landing on the trestle tables and belly-sliding along like a scaly golden penguin. He rolls off and pounces on the black-tarred bottle, shaking it desperately.

“All gone?! Why the bottle all gone?!” he frantically begins working his long, reptilian tongue down the narrow neck of the bottle, urgently trying to salvage any traces of the bottle’s contents. Ulged grins. “Dinnae fash yersel’, li’l man. Ah’ll make summat even hotter’n that’n fer yeh.”

Mur, his tongue buried as deep in the bottle as he can get it, says thickly, “Mur will holdh Ulged to that promish.”

Sitting up, Randy rasps, his throat ravaged by the results of his own self-inflicted suffering, “You’re fucking crazy! That’s not normal, just how fucked-in-the-head are you?!”

Ulged grins. “This’s nothing. Mah wife’s Korean. If ye cannae handle MY spices, yeh’d best never come tae dinner at MAH house. ‘Tis a cryin’ shame, really. Mah wife does so love entertainin’.  Ah well, your loss!”

Randy splutters, “what kind of freak IS your wife?!”

Ulged’s tail ceases its customary wagging blur. His ears fold back. Mur slinks away to a safe distance, still worrying at the bottle like a dog with a bone.  Gimmel shakes his head. “You dumb bastard…” he mutters, loud enough for everyone to hear.

Ulged settles down on his haunches in front of Randy. “Look, laddie. Ah feel sorry for yeh after what ye did to yersel’. So, Ah’m givin’ yeh ONE chance to retract that statement. Will ye take mah offer?”

Randy, clearly too wrapped-up in his own martyrdom, spits, “You’re a freak, too! You and whatever jughead decided to marry you-!”

Ulged’s huge paw snakes out like a flash of lightning, seizing Randy about the shoulder. Rising to his footpaws, Ulged effortlessly hefts the spice-addled guy into the air.

“Listen here, ye feckless wee bawbag. Jus’ cause yeh cannae handle anythin’ approximatin’ flavour, does NOT give yeh the right to call mah wife that. Yeh had a warning. Yeh chose to ignore it. An’ Ah’m gonna tek this elsewhere so’s we dinnae disturb these guid folk….”

Still holding the squirming dumbass in a single huge paw, the Gnoll stalks off, his tail almost brushing the ground, stiff and fluffed up in anger.