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Chapter 27 - Seeking Harmony
🕑 Added 2025-02-27 18:00:10 +0000 UTCArchie’s feet slid across the dirt as he dug in and squatted, solidifying his base. With a powerful step forward, he unleashed a mass of noodles that made a warbling sound as they stretched and extended toward his target. He was fast. Faster than ever.
But not fast enough.
Picea dashed forward, closing the distance between them and leaving the noodles grasping at nothing. As she raised her massive spatula high in the air, Archie had to choose between pulling the noodles back in an attempt to salvage the attack or hardening his skin to absorb the blow.
He chose the guarantee of minor pain over the risk of major pain. He flexed his arm and hardened it with sugarskin, the spatula landing with a crack! At least it wasn’t her famous meat tenderizer.
When Archie first arrived in Khala, the pain would have sent him to the ground. He still thought himself weak, but Picea had done much to iron him out. He endured the blow and jumped back, closing his noodles down on Picea. But the pain had caused a lapse in concentration, weakening the noodles. They wrapped around Picea’s legs, but had lost too much essence to contract magically, leaving only the physical. Archie tugged as hard as he could, but for as outmatched as he was in matters of essence, he was even more outmatched in muscle.
Picea stood as firm as a tree, scowling at Archie. “Pull!”
Archie yanked again but only managed to give himself whiplash.
“Aren’t you a Chef? Pull!”
Archie gripped the noodles with both hands and unleashed his essence into them, commanding the noodles to contract. Picea’s feet slid a few inches in the dirt, but she remained stable. He channeled his essence, the noodles becoming an extension of his body. But then his scarred leg ached and disrupted the balance. The noodles fell limp before disintegrating.
He had failed, and Picea’s spatula was coming down fast as punishment. He leapt backwards, not caring how he landed, and spread his thumb and forefinger apart, conjuring a noodle around them. With his other hand, he conjured a blueberry, hardening it as much as he could as he used it to pull back the noodle. He fired the slingshot as his back slammed into the ground, knocking the wind out of him. He barely managed to track the blueberry as Picea swatted it away with her spatula.
It was at least a good enough attempt that she stopped her assault. She looked down at him with mild approval.
“You got it out fast, which is good. But it was too weak. That wouldn’t take down a bird, let alone a yeti.”
Archie rubbed his lower back. “It was supposed to explode into a smokescreen.”
“Then why didn’t it?”
“I don’t know.” Archie looked down at the ground and rubbed his leg. At first, he had thought the pain of the scar had something to do with his Gluttonous episodes, but now that he had conquered those mental breaks, he realized that the scar was its own curse. It still ached when he exhausted himself of essence. He still couldn’t form sugarskin over it. “Sometimes I feel like I get…tangled up inside. Like I lack a sort of…I don’t know what to call it.”
“Harmony?”
“Yeah, harmony. It’s like, when I get tired, my essence runs in opposite currents sometimes.”
Picea stepped forward and offered a hand. Archie used it to pull himself up.
“Meditate,” she instructed. “Go to the plaza every morning. Participate in the rituals. Perform your own ritual before you sleep.”
Archie forced a smile. Ever since their mission had become clear, he had been unable to participate in the morning prayers. Sitting in one place that long seemed like torture, and he could never clear his mind. His mind burned at both ends, the flames stoked by Sutton’s academic curiosity. He didn’t have Nori to quell his increasingly manic behavior. If he had any ritual, it was missing her. Worrying about her. Every night he fought the urge to go find her.
“Before I sleep? If I’m already in the Monastery, which way am I supposed to bow?”
Picea snorted and shook her head. “Your own ritual. One that’s unique to you. Take our flower, for example…”
Picea turned to look at Blanche, who sat in the low bushes at the edge of the garden, her eyes closed and her hands tangled up in the vines.
“She can’t hear us, but only because she does not listen to us. She listens to nature. I guarantee you she can hear every petal that moves in the wind. Every bird. She ceases to exist beyond that nature. She plants herself, our little flower. It calms her. Steadies her. It’s what makes her such a capable cultivator.”
“Well, I don’t know that I have that,” Archie dismissed.
“Growing up, where did you find peace?”
“Petrichor,” Archie answered. He didn’t even need to consider the question. “Its kitchens.”
“And do you have a relic of that?”
“I suppose. My dad gave me an omnihandle. He got it as a goodbye gift—he never used it himself. But it’s probably the closest thing I have to a piece of home.”
Picea smiled and nodded. “That’ll do. Every night, practice with your omnihandle.”
Archie winced and scratched the back of his head. “I…I kinda do already. I guess it doesn’t work?”
“When you do, what do you think about?”
Archie shrugged. “Whatever…there is to think about?”
“Focus on nothing else. Nothing but the omnihandle. Don’t think about anything else. Don’t think about thinking. Immerse yourself in it. That’s meditation.”
“I’ll try.”
“Good.” Picea cupped her hand, molten cheese bubbling through her skin and pooling in her palm. She tossed it onto the ground.
“Head Chef Picea,” Blanche playfully scolded, her eyes still shut. “Are you trying to get my attention?”
“You missed lunch, flower.”
“Oh!” Blanche opened her eyes and sat up straight, her trance broken. “Is it really time for lunch already?”
Picea shook her head. “It’s almost time for supper. You need to eat. You need some fat on you if you’re gonna survive the mountains. Need some reserves. Archie, feed our flower, will you?”
“Ooo, yeah!” Blanche cheered. She jumped up and ran over to Archie, dragging him to the kitchen. “What are you going to make me?”
“You can have blueberries, noodles, or both.” Archie was happy to cook for her as long as he also got to train his affinities at the same time.
“Hm. Let’s do…noodles. Oh, and I have some stuff I found. Chanterelles and junipers. Make it with those.” Blanche had started taking on some jobs of her own, going out with the grazing herds of yaks and using her newfound foraging skills to bring back bags of nature’s treats.
Archie laughed at Blanche’s decisiveness. “Anything else, Your Majesty?”
Blanche accepted Archie’s sarcasm and leveraged it to make more demands. “I want it creamy and buttery. And with cheese.”
“Yak cheese?”
“No!” Blanche recoiled in disgust. “Yak cheese is so hard. I want something soft. What kind of soft cheeses do we have here?”
“Well…it’s pretty much the yak or the goat.”
“Goat, then.”
“Alright. It’ll take me about an hour. I’ll make enough for everyone.” Archie expected Blanche to turn away—she always avoided the kitchen if she could—but she stayed with him.
“I can hang out with you,” she hinted.
Archie nodded back to the yard. “I’d rather you keep training.”
“Oh.” Blanche’s face sank. “Yeah, I…I guess I will. If I see one of the others, I’ll let them know…”
Archie cursed at his own bluntness as Blanche sulked away. Truth be told, he wanted her company. But there were other things he wanted more. Sutton spent all day compiling maps and stories to try to find the location of the grove, but Blanche was the real key. Sutton could only get them so close. Blanche’s ability to locate the trees through foraging would be essential.
“Blanche,” he said, prompting her to spin around with a renewed, hopeful smile.
“Yes?”
He thought of saying that he had changed his mind, but since she had already agreed to going back to training, he decided against it. He needed her there more than here.
“Uh…where are the mushrooms?”
Her face sank again. “Fridge closest to the spice rack. In a yellow bag with a purple string.”
“Thanks.”
Archie got started in the kitchen, blending barley flour and crushed juniper berries together. He missed his durum wheat, wondering how it fared in his absence. He feared he might have to restart his greenhouse plot entirely when he returned.
He poured the flour out on the counter and made a well, cracking three eggs inside, adding a bit of water, and whisking with a fork. It thickened up nicely, and as he used his hands to knead the dough, he wondered if maybe this was his ritual. He loved kneading, and for as much as trouble seemed to find him, the kitchen was a bit of a sanctuary. His own space. He focused on the motion of his hands. The pressure on the dough. Nothing could interrupt him here.
“Are you from The Platter?”
Archie looked up, noticing the girl’s black hair first. For a moment, he thought it was Nori, but looking at her face proved otherwise. She wasn’t as sharply Urokan as Nori. If anything, she looked more like a less Platterian Blanche.
“Me?” Archie pointed a flour-covered finger at himself. Then he realized the stupidity of his question. “Uh, yeah.”
“So you know Nori, then?”
Archie’s heart skipped a beat. “Did something happen to her?”
“Is she around here?”
“No…”
“She’s been missing. I’ve been looking all over for her.”
Archie’s eyes widened. A Urokan looking for Nori? That couldn’t be good.
“I went to the Urokan embassy,” the girl continued. “Apparently they didn’t even know she was here. They said they’d look for her too.”
Archie’s throat locked up. Harpers looking for Nori was even worse.
“At first I thought she was mad at me,” the girl said. She pouted just like Blanche. “She invited me to come have dinner here with her friends, and then I didn’t…I wanted to, it’s just a long walk, and I’ve never been to the Monastery, and—”
And Archie could breathe again. “Wait, you’re her friend?”
“Well…” The girl curled her lips back to reveal clenched teeth. “I’d call her my friend. I don’t know if she’d return the favor. You know her. She can be a little…Uh…”
“Abrasive?” Archie smiled. This girl wasn’t trouble for Nori. Nori was trouble for her—and that was the natural order of things.
“That’s harsher than I would say, but it’s certainly in the right neighborhood.” The girl giggled, then remembered her mission and snapped up straight. “So wait, do you know where she is?”
“She, uh…” Archie considered his words. He believed in the innocence of this girl, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t lead the Harpers to Nori. “She went out of town on a job. She’ll be back in…I don’t know, a week or two.”
The girl breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh, good. I was so worried that I had offended her or something had happened to her.”
She looked around the kitchen awkwardly. She had satisfied her purpose, now seeming completely out of place. Archie remembered his manners.
“Well, she’s not here, but why don’t you eat dinner with us? I’m making a creamy barley pasta with junipers and chanterelles. And goat cheese!”
The girl looked around the counter. “No seafood?”
“Uh, no. Sorry. Nori’s usually the one to make seafood.”
“Oh, no, it’s quite alright. I’m glad you said no. Today was my first day away from the docks in a long time. I was hoping I could go the whole day without seeing a fish.”
Archie laughed. “Well, no fish here. Just a Khalyan-style dish made by a Platterian.”
“Okay. Well, sure, I’ll eat with you. I’m Shiso.” The girl stuck out her hand. Archie looked at the scraps of dough on his hands, but Shiso reassured him by extending her hand out even farther. “Most of the time, these hands are inside fish. I don’t mind a little flour.”
He shook her hand. “I’m Archie.”
“Archie! You’re the one that works with Nori, right?”
A warmth filled Archie’s cheeks. “Uh—I—yeah. She, uh, talked about me?”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Shiso warned with a sly grin. “It wasn’t all good.”
Archie shook his head as he cupped his hands around the dough. She knew Nori, alright. He filled his hands with essence, but rather than forcefully expelling his essence, he let it flake and fall away to drift through the dough, relaxing it. The most insurmountable challenge of pasta was letting the dough rest, but it was a challenge that Archie was eager to conquer.
“Can I help?” Shiso asked.
“No, it’s all pretty easy from here.” Archie knew he’d feel guilty if he let Shiso stay after he cast Blanche out. But that left him wondering what to do with Shiso. “You could, uh…”
And then a third voice joined their conversation. “Archie! Blanche said you might need help.”
Archie and Shiso turned to see Hawthorn approaching. He wore a grin as he always did, but this one was filled with unusual wonder.
“Who is this?” he asked, his jaw dropping as he stared at Shiso. “You look like a princess!”
Shiso giggled and covered her mouth. Archie took a second look at her, confused by Hawthorn’s enthusiasm. She was pretty, sure, but she was no Nori.
“I’m Shiso,” she said, extending her hand.
Hawthorn dropped to one knee and took her hand, kissing the back of it. Shiso’s giggling doubled.
“I’m Hawthorn. Would you like to run away with me?”
Shiso’s giggling grew out of control, compelling her to pull her hand back so that she could cover her mouth completely.
“Can we go somewhere warm?” she asked. “I like a real summer.”
Shiso’s encouragement filled Hawthorn with overflowing life. “Ambrosia City, then.”
“Archie can be there to greet us.”
“Yeah, I’ll be sure to roll out the red carpet for your arrival,” Archie said. He blinked and looked down at his dough. He’d never get anywhere with it with the amount of energy bouncing between these two. “Hawthorn, this is Shiso’s first time in the Monastery.”
“What?!” Hawthorn jumped up, keeping Shiso’s hand in his. He tugged her away. “Come on, let me show you around.”
Left alone to focus on his work, Archie spent another few minutes accelerating the resting process of the dough before setting it aside. He sauteed the chanterelles in butter, cooking them down into little golden-brown crisps before adding a bit of life to them with a splash of cream. As they cooked, he cut the dough into little strands and dropped them into boiling water. He wondered what Nori was eating for dinner.
A few minutes later, he took out the cooked pasta, put it in the skillet with the mushrooms and cream, and sprinkled goat cheese on top. He fetched Barley to help with the plates, tasked Sutton with wrangling the others, and by the time the sun dipped below the peak of the mountain, the group sat down to eat.
The meal was a hit—even the exceptionally picky Sutton managed to eat everything on the plate without a complaint. Blanche thanked Archie but otherwise ate in silence, exhausted by her training. But it was never quiet, as Hawthorn and Shiso had no trouble filling their table with chatter.
That night, while Blanche slept like a baby and Barley rolled around in bed and Sutton stayed up late reading, Archie practiced with his omnihandle. He thought of Picea’s advice. Finding a sanctuary. Finding his peace. Meditating.
As he transformed it from spatula to spoon to flat iron, he tried to focus not on Petrichor but the feeling of Petrichor. Waking up and going down to the kitchen. The woven basket of bread with stained cloth over it. A little breakfast. Quiet mornings. Cooking a little pan in the great stone oven. He tried to calm his mind. Empty his thoughts. Feel.
He wondered what Nori was doing.
