Chapter Twenty-Four

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Graydon pushed off the wall as the door to Naena's room opened. She had the travel cloak on and wore trousers and a shirt underneath.

"I probably missed lunch, didn't I?" she asked.

"You did, but we can pop down to the kitchen and make something," he said.

He knew she had gone to the cathedral and figured she hadn't had time to eat. Graydon led the way without touching her, out of the dorm and to his private place, the one place he knew he could always go without anyone finding him.

"A kitchen?" Naena asked. "Why is it empty? Did you kick everyone out? They have to prepare for dinner, you know."

"Called the trade kitchen," Graydon said. "Hasn't been used by students or faculty in years. They once taught bakery mages. Who would draw healing spells and the like in the breads and cakes they sold."

"There's no dust."

He shrugged.

"I might know how to cook a thing or two," he said.

He headed to the one working cold box and opened it, pulling a tray of eggs from inside. He set them on the counter before he pulled another tray, this one with chopped bits on it. To that all he added milk before he moved to the pantry and pulled out a hard cheese he particularly liked.

When he returned to the counter, Naena had a bit of sweet pepper in her grasp, almost to her mouth.

"So, this is called an omelet," he said.

"Never had egg before," she said. "Those are for rich and fancy people."

"If you've had breakfast at the hall, you've likely had eggs," Graydon said. "Maybe you should ask what things are before you put them in your mouth."

"I did that the first day and they got very annoyed with me," Naena said.

He shrugged as he went about the process of retrieving the tools he would need. The pan and flipper were already on the stove, having been washed during his last visit and placed there waiting for his next one.

"What in here do you like?" he asked.

"Which do you use in an omelet?" she countered.

"Whichever you like," he said. "There are many kinds of omelets. There's bacon and cheese and pepper. Some people like mushroom omelets."

"What about all of those things?" Naena asked.

"No, that's crazy talk," Graydon said, trying to sound serious. When she scowled at him, he smiled. "The great thing about omelets is everyone gets breakfast, and it can all be different."

Naena made a sound.

"I also like that and that," she said. "Can you mix cheeses?"

"Of course, lots of cheese for the lady," he said.

He went about preparing an omelet as Naena looked around the trade kitchen.

Graydon had always found kitchens to be intimidating. There was so much going on that he didn't know about. When he had found a fourth-year mage in the kitchen practicing baking magic, he had been both surprised and pleased. The young man had been practicing and taking his creations to a local shelter. The spells in the bread were created to fend off pox of all types.

He had wanted to take his skills home with him, where the pox ran rampant.

The young mage had told Graydon his schedule and explained how to use the spelled items in the kitchen, where to get ingredients from the main kitchen, and so forth. In return, Graydon had not reported use of the trade kitchen to Dean Trathor as he should have.

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