The Soup Connection
13. November 2022
We left Odwald and Riffin in Susan’s care, less out of choice and more because they were reluctant to tag along now they had seen the chaos we could cause on a simple shopping trip.
On the way to the Tenders we kept a lookout for Perch Guard patrols and avoided them as best we could. Olive and Crispin passed the time by berating me for some of my recent behaviour.
“We’re not saying you’re a Birdfolk supremacist, Plume,” said Olive carefully.
“Wait, we’re not?” Crispin mumbled through a mouthful of street food he’d picked up while we weren’t looking.
“But you could try to be a bit more sensitive,” said Olive. “Just try not to assume so much without asking, and remember that in general Birdfolk lives are less of a struggle here in Alderheart than for Humblefolk.”
I desperately wanted to rage, but I trusted Olive and I knew she was probably right. I nodded, reluctant but accepting of the criticism.
Fortunately, I was saved from having to reply by us arriving at the Tenders headquarters down in the Roots. Outside a mole Humblefolk was ploughing shallow furrows and a rich loamy smell filled the air.
“Hello there,” I called out to the mole. “We’re looking for Havel, I don’t suppose you’ve seen—” The words caught in my throat. “Err— well, I mean…”
“What? Eh?” he shouted and looked round in alarm with squinted eyes.
“Honestly, Plume.” Crispin shook his head disapprovingly. “Not cool.”
“Where’s Havel?” Olive reiterated while I kept my beak shut.
“Where he always is,” said the Humblefolk brushing dirt from his paws before gesturing inside. “Upstairs in office.”
The inside of the Tenders headquarters was decorated with a lot of potted plants and woven fabrics. We followed the directions of two laid-back Cervan and approached Havel’s office, just to the right from the main stairway. There was no door as such, just a curtain of beads that clicked together gently as we stood outside.
“After you,” I said, standing back to let the others go first. “Height order, right?”
“If only we were going by presence…” Crispin muttered as he shuffled into second place.
Olive pushed through the beaded entrance and into Havel’s office.
It was a small room, sparsely decorated aside from yet more leafy plants, but the large window on the back wall let in the warm sunlight and a gentle breeze. Havel sat behind his desk but jumped to his feet when he recognised us.
“Defenders of Alderheart!” cried Havel. “What can I do for you?”
He bustled round the desk to greet us properly, shaking hands with Olive and me and then getting a little bit stuck in Crispin’s unexpected embrace.
“I need at least thirty seconds,” Crispin whispered into his shoulder.
“Well, come on in then you two,” said Havel to the rest of us and opened a wing in invitation. “Don’t stand there looking left out.”
We explained our search for the Borealis and, at first, Havel sat in quiet contemplation. After a minute or so, he took a silver handbell from his desk and rang it gently. The tinkling chimes echoed through the wooden halls and in a moment five Tender initiates joined us in the office.
“Listen closely,” said Havel. “I need you to look through the archives and bring me everything that contains a reference to the Borealis. That’s the Bo-re-aa-lis, got it?”
“It’s a kind of soup,” Crispin whispered conspiratorially.
“I… don’t think that’s true,” said Havel, but two of the initiates were already nodding deferentially to Crispin. “Just bring back what you can find.”
The initiates trooped out and Havel turned back to us.
“We’ll have beds made up for you here tonight. Let’s meet again tomorrow to discuss what they have found.”
I went outside to the field where the afternoon light was pooling in a warm haze. The mole Humblefolk continued his work, ploughing the field with powerful strokes and leaving the earth piled neatly to each side in his wake.
“Hello there,” I shouted.
“Eh? You again?” said the Humblefolk.
“Yes, I wanted to apologise for earlier,” I said. “And to offer you some help if you’ll allow it.”
The mole raised an unconvinced eyebrow.
“It ain’t easy work, ploughing. Not sure if you’d cause more trouble.”
“I don’t lack strength,” I said, “but recently I have lacked an appreciation for the Humblefolk doing this kind of work. And I’d like to fix that.”
“As you like,” the Humblefolk grunted. “Start there then, and let’s see what you manage.”
I put my axe to the ground and got to work. The dirt was wet and heavy, and it took all my strength to drag the great axe through it and break the ground into the same furrows that the mole created effortlessly beside me. I snarled quietly and fueled my efforts with a burst of rage and settled into a good rhythm.
A solid hour later, I had managed one furrow the length the field and the Humblefolk mole had finished off all the rest.
“Thank you for letting me help,” I said breathlessly. “You were right, it’s not easy.”
“Aye,” said the mole and ran his paws through my handiwork. He nodded. “Not bad for beginner. Saved me a good eight minute or so.”
I wandered back inside to the kitchen where Crispin was making a ratatouille. My muscles were sore and my stomach growled insistently.
“Smells delicious,” I said, hoping some well-timed praise might get me a bigger portion.
“If I was back in the soup kitchen,” mused Crispin, “this would have been a soup.”
The next morning we assembled again in Havel’s office to hear the initiates’ report.
“We’re really sorry, but we had no luck with the soup,” said the first initiate. He hung his head in shame. “The closest we could find was a recipe for Borsch Regalis.”
Crispin sighed. “I was sure there was a soup connection.”
“What about a bisque?” piped up the second initiate.
“Chase it,” said Crispin firmly.
One of the other initiates, a Luma, glared at the first two with irritation. The expression was eerily familiar, and my gut twisted with Olive’s earlier words.
“We did find reference to the Borealis in other sections of the archives,” she said, producing neatly inked notes, complete with references. “The old Tenders hid the ice staff, the Borealis, in the south of the Scorched Grove near a frog shaped rock.”
The information was so clear, so uncluttered by riddles or ambiguity that we all just stood listening in astonishment.
“You’ll need some Skyleaf.”