Riss Cobalt, sorceress supreme, enters a cooking contest in this short adventure that spoofs Iron Chef. This story takes place before the novel Kismet and Tell.
Iron Riss:
An Early Adventure in Sorcery
I walked into the small city of Monnterre early that morning, my steps slow and heavy due to an extreme feeling of dejection I had. You see, I was broke at that point, having spent my money a couple of days before in another town. But it had been worth it. The food had been delectible beyond all expectation. But that’s not the reason I felt dejected. The reason for that was that by the time I had reached Monnterre, I hadn’t found any bandits to rob to replish my money supply. So I couldn’t afford to eat or get a room at an inn. My only hope was that someone in the city would need my help and would pay me to solve their problem for them. Otherwise, I would have to leave the city and camp out again.
I walked along the already busy streets for a while, hoping that any one of the citizens I saw would not run away from me and would instead stop me and beg me to help them, willing to pay whatever price I named. But no such luck. I was resigned to having to camp out again, until I came to the little city park, where posted on a tree I saw a sign.
What’s this?, I thought. I walked up and read the notice. First Annual Cook-off?? The greatest chefs from all around will compete for 1000 gold pieces?! Local competitors are welcome to try their luck?! YAHOO! I haven’t had the chance to really cook in a long time! Plus, 1000 gold pieces will go a long way! I’ve got to enter this! Then I thought of something else. But, with my blue hair, everyone will know who I am. Everyone knows that only person in the world of Andor with blue hair is the ruthless mercenary sorceress Marissa Cobalt. And I’d like to have fun and win this contest fair and square. A wry smile formed on my lips. Or at least as fair and square as possible. I don’t want them to hand me the victory, just because they’re afraid of upsetting me.
I then remembered passing by a haberdashery during my aimless wanderings. It struck me that they might have the answer to my problem. So I retraced my steps until I found the shop. I opened the door and walked in.
The elderly woman behind the counter gasped as she saw me. “May…May I help you, Miss Marissa?” she asked.
“I hope so,” I said as I walked up to her.
****
Less than half an hour later, I walked out of the store with a smile on my face and a wig of red hair on my head. I left the elderly shopowner standing in the doorway, watching me walk away with wide eyes. In her hand she held a small diamond. A few gems were all I had that I could use for currency, so I gave her the smallest I had. As long as the disguise worked, I’d consider it money well spent. But I really needed some normal currency. I didn’t want to waste what little “money” I had on basic necessities. The gems were worth too much for that. And I’d have a hard time finding someone who had change for a diamond, ruby, emerald, or whatever.
Then I set off to find where the contest was being held, so I could register. I fairly ran, because I didn’t have much time.
****
Later that morning, the contest began.
I entered a building usually used as a theater for plays. I signed in at a table by the door. I signed under the name I had registered under: Maria Conchita Allehandra Consuela. I know. It’s a mouthful. But I certainly wasn’t going to use my own name. That would go against the whole purpose of being in disguise, now wouldn’t it?
After I signed the book, the young girl in charge of the table gave me a big sign with a number 08 on it.
“Here,” the girl said. “Wear this.”
“What is it?” I asked.
“It’s your contestant number. Tie it around you, with the number on your back, so the judges will be able to identify you.”
“Oh. Okay. Thanks.”
“Sure. No problem. Head back to the theater’s dressing rooms and wait until you’re called.”
“All right.”
I walked off into the theater. Curious as to the set up, I merged with the crowd of spectators heading into the auditorium and peeked inside.
The large room was already very filled with spectators sitting on the rows of benches lining the walls around the stage set up in the center of the room. On the stage, two large tables stood. On the tables were all the untensils that the contestants would possibly need. A stove stood beside each table. On the floor around the stage were tables and boxes of various foods: meats, vegetables, breads, etc. Evidently, they were the ingredients the contestants were to use. A long table was set up near the stage. I figured it was the table for the judges.
Looks like a nice set up, I thought. I don’t think I’ll have any trouble. Then I headed off for the dressing rooms to wait for my turn.
****
I sat in a room normally used as a dressing room for the actors who commonly used the theater to put on plays. With me sat seven other people, five men and two women. We chatted for a little bit while we waited for the contest to begin. It turned out, to my surprise, that I was the last contestant to register, and was the only contestant who wasn’t an invitee. Meaning, no one in the town, besides me, had wanted to challenge the “greatest chefs from all around”. Not even for 1000 gold pieces. What cowards. I figured that it’d serve the town right if I, a mere fourteen-year-old girl, put them all to shame by defeating the invited chefs.
Then, at last, the door opened. A young redheaded man peered inside. “First match!” he called. “Master Jeryl Missto and Miss Ambyr Lisshan!”
A dark-haired, middle-aged man wearing a 01 sign, and a blonde lady wearing a 02 sign stood up and followed after the young man.
About half an hour later, 01 returned to the room with the redheaded boy and reclaimed his seat.
“Next contest!” the boy said. “Master Allek Kissht and Master Laim Noovell!”
Two men in their late forties stood up. One was brown-haired, the other blonde. The blonde one, who had introduced himself earlier only as Allek, wore a 03 sign. The other wore a 04. They followed the boy from the room.
I and the others in the room faced Jeryl.
“So, what happened?” I asked. “Where’s Ambyr?”
“I won,” Jeryl said. “Whoever wins gets to stay here and compete in the next round. The loser has to leave.”
“So, what’s it like? What can we expect?”
“It’s hard. Harder than you’d think. You have a time limit. During that time, you have to cook at least three dishes. At the end of the time limit, the food will be judged. The judges will score you on not only taste, but on presentation, as well. So, your food not only has to taste good, it has to look good.”
“Ahhhh…” I and the others said.
Having been given that warning, we sat down in silence to plan what sort of dishes we might make.
Within half an hour, 04 returned with the redheaded boy.
“Miss Brianna Hossten and Master Pietre Volask!”
The black-haired twentyish woman with the 05 sign and the black-haired thirtyish man with the 06 sign followed the boy from the room.
I looked at the only other contestant not called yet – a twentyish man with blonde hair wearing a 07 sign.
“Looks like we’re next, Allen,” I said with a wan smile.
“Yeah,” he said. “Good luck, Maria.”
“Thanks. Good luck to you, too.” You’ll certainly need all the luck you can get to beat me, I thought, because I plan on winning no matter what. Sorry, Allen.
In due course, about half an hour since leaving us, 05, also known as Brianna Hossten, returned to us.
“Allen Russtis and Maria Conchita Allehandra Consuela!” the redheaded boy announced (and gasped for breath after calling my name).
07, also known as Allen Russtis, stood up the same time I did, and together we followed the boy from the room.
****
Allen stood behind one table on the stage, and I stood behind the other. I stared in awe at all the plates, bowls, untensils, spices, and various ingredients from the boxes on the floor by the stage that had been arranged on the table. A middle-aged man then stepped up on stage.
“The next match!” he called out with a loud voice that echoed in the theater. I had a feeling that a Projection spell had been used to allow his voice to carry throughout the theater. “On the left,” the man continued as he waved a hand in Allen’s direction, “the reknowned Allen Russtis! On the right…” He waved in my direction. “…the only contestant to challenge the great chefs invited to this meet, Miss Maria Conchita Allehandra Consuela!”
The theater audience applauded wildly.
I was impressed. He actually managed to get my name out without gasping for breath afterwards.
The man continued speaking. “Contestants, you will have twenty-five minutes to cook at least three dishes. The judges below will then taste you dishes, and score you on both taste and presentation. The one with the highest score will win and go on to the semifinals. The loser will have to leave. Your twenty-five minutes begins….NOW!” A bell rang. “Good luck!”
The man jumped off the stage, and Allen and I instantly set about fixing our entry dishes.
I grabbed some vegetables and sliced them up, tossed them in a pot of water, and added some strips of beef and a few dashes of a couple of spices. Then I sat the pot on the stove atop the oven by the table to heat up. I also quickly whispered a simple little spell to augment the stove and oven so that the dishes would cook faster. While my soup cooked, I started on another dish. I tossed some breadcrumbs, some chicken, and some more sliced vegetables into a cassarole dish, spiced it up, and stuck it in the oven. By then, my soup was ready. I removed it from the stove and started another dish. This one was going to be a favorite of mine: blueberry pancakes. I quickly fixed the batter and started cooking them on the stove while my cassarole cooked. By the time I’d cooked all my batter and had a really nice stack of pancakes on a plate, my cassarole was done. I took it out and started frying up some bacon to go with my pancakes. When I had that done, I started on dessert. I decided to go simple, and arranged a rather lovely fruit salad with a side dish of chocolate sauce for dipping.
Our time was almost up. I looked at Allen’s progress. He had a small potroast, a soup, and a small cake. He looked at me and my dishes, and frowned.
Then a bell rang. Time was up.
The announcer climbed back up onto the stage.
“Time’s up!” he called. “The judges will now decide the winner.”
Three men climbed up on stage and began taking our dishes down to the table where the five judges sat. Then the judges tasted Allen’s entries first. They muttered amongst themselves for a minute.
“Judges, your scores for Allen Russtis, please,” the announcer said.
The judges held up a number sign each: 8, 8, 7, 8, and 8.
“Ladies and gentlemen, Allen Russtis scored a total of 39!”
The audience appluaded.
Then the judges tasted my entries and muttered amongst themselves.
“Judges, Miss Maria’s score?” the announcer asked.
They held up a sign each: 8, 8, 9, 8, and 8.
“Ladies and genltemen! The winner, with a score of 41, is Miss Maria Conchita Allenhandra Consuela!”
The audience applauded wildly.
Allen walked over to me and shook my hand. “Congratulations, Maria,” he said. “Good luck in the semifinals.”
“Thank you, Allen,” I said.
Allen walked off, and I was escorted back to the dressing room.
****
The redheaded boy poked his head into the dressing room again. “Jeryl Missto and Brianna Hossten!” he called.
They stood up and followed him off.
Half an hour later, Brianna returned.
“Laim Noovell and Maria Conchita Allehandra Consuela!” the redheaded boy called.
We stood up and followed him.
****
For this round, I made a dish of broiled trout with some boiled vegetables on the side, some ham and potato chowder, and an apple pie.
Heh heh. Isn’t it great to have an oven that’s cooks faster than normal?
At the end of the twenty-five minutes, the judges judged Laim’s dishes of baked chicken, roast beef, and some pudding. He scored 8, 8, 7, 8, and 7, for a total of 38.
Then they tasted and judged mine. Signs with 8, 8, 7, 8, and 8 were held up. They totaled 39.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the announcer called, “the winner, and just barely, is Miss Maria!”
The audience applauded wildly as Laim congratulated me and walked off. Then I was escorted back to the dressing room.
****
After a brief half-hour break, the redheaded boy came to the dressing room again.
“Miss Brianna, Miss Maria, it’s time,” he said.
I followed the two down the hallway back to the auditorium. My footsteps dragged, because I really couldn’t think of anything else that I could cook. I was out of ideas. I couldn’t really think of any spells I could cast, either, that wouldn’t give myself away. Casting a spell to animate a fish or something while Brianna was cooking it would have been fun, but would definitely be suspicious. So I did the only thing I could while I stood at the table, staring at the ingredients and waiting for the contest to start: I prayed silently to the god of Goodness and Light, Dumarh, to give me an idea.
The starting bell rang.
Brianna instantly started cooking something. I just stood there, staring, trying to come up with an idea.
Then, in a flash, I knew what I wanted to cook.
First, I fixed some omelets with a side of hashbrowned potatoes mixed with chopped onions and green and red peppers. I added some of the chopped peppers to the omelets for color. Then I fixed a roasted leg of lamb, adding some boiled vegetables on the side. For dessert, I made a double layer chocolate cake.
Then the ending bell rang.
Our dishes were taken down to the judges.
Brianna’s dishes – baked lemon trout, a delicious looking T-bone steak and baked potatoes, and cherry cobbler – scored nines all around for a total of 45.
Then the judges tasted mine. I watched nervously.
Four 9 signs and one 10 sign were held up.
I sighed, releasing the breath I hadn’t even realized I was holding. I stared at the signs in amazement. I’d done it. I’d won. And the only spell I’d used was to enhance the oven and stove. I hadn’t had to resort to sabotaging my opponents or anything.
The audience applauded wildly as Brianna congratulated me. Then she walked off. The judges approached me, congratulated me, and handed me two leather bags containing 500 gold pieces each. I thanked them and walked off.
****
I was putting one bag of gold coins into the magic pocket of my cloak as I walked out of the theater and on down the street. All of a sudden, I found myself falling down to the ground as someone crashed into me from out of nowhere.
The person picked himself up. I looked at him. It was a young boy about my age. His clothes looked a little tattered.
“I…I’m sorry, miss,” he said. Then he ran off.
“Kids,” I muttered to myself as I picked myself up and dusted off my clothes. Then I bent down to pick up my other bag of coins. But it wasn’t on the ground. I looked around, and didn’t see it anywhere.
I growled. “That kid!” I said. “That little thief! He stole my winnings!”
I quickly chased after him.
****
My chase came to a skidding halt when I found where the kid had run. The area of the city where I tracked the boy to was a rundown section. I saw many people living there, in dilapidated shacks. They all wore raggedy, dirty clothes. None of them looked as if they had had a bath in a good, long time. I wandered around, looking at the poor conditions these people were living in. Some of the people looked as if they were sick, too.
I found the boy inside a shack. He sat on the floor with a little girl in a ragged pick dress. I figured she was his sister. They sat beside a pallet on which lay a dark-haired woman of about thirty or so. She looked ill.
“Mama,” the boy said. “Look. I found us some money. Now we can buy medicine to make you well, and we can buy food, too. There’s probably enough here that we can even leave this place and find a better home.”
Tears streaked down my cheeks. I couldn’t help it. All these poor people…
I walked inside the house, startling the boy and girl.
“Miss…what…” the boy said.
I walked up to his mother and knelt beside her. I placed my hands over her and whispered a spell. A white light engulfed her. A minute later, it was gone, and I stood up. The woman gasped and sat up. Her pallor was no longer a sickly pale white but more of a healthy pink.
“Who…who are you?” she asked.
“No one of consequence,” I said. I turned to the boy. He looked afraid of me.
“Are…are you going to tell the authorities?” he asked.
“No,” I said. “Keep the money. Use it to move out of this slum.”
He nodded. “Thank you, miss.”
I left the house and walked off. As I did so, I dragged the other bag of coins from my magic pocket. I opened it, and as I walked along, I let the coins drip out onto the ground. The people here needed the money much more than I did. And Marissa Cobalt had other ways of getting money.
As I walked out of the city, I took off my red wig and tossed it aside. Time to find some easy money.
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