Lunch at the Ambrosia Bistro

Author's note: This story was written for a shared world anthology.

Holothuria – Entertainment district

Sedra Mercado sloshed and squished through the gummy, glowing orbs blanketing the pier.  A zing of tingles spurred her to hurry. The Ambrosia Bistro was engorged like an iridescent, milk-fed pumpkin. 

“I wondered if you were going to show up.” Chef Toby Brixham clutched the quivering doorjamb. His dark hair and chef’s coat were dotted with glittery stains and he was barefoot. Talk about a health code violation.

“It looks like you need a contractor or a vacuum crew, not a professional fixing agent.”  Shiny ooze sprayed on her long coat. How disgusting, but signs of amped up power usually were at first. “I’m surprised you called after all this time.”

He squirmed and nearly lost his grip. “It’s only been a few weeks. And I meant to call you, but we got busy with the prep for the contest.”  Once chefs stirred up power there was no taking their eyes off the pie.  She’d been the subject of Toby’s delicious focus so it was hard not to be jealous, even if she did understand the draw. And really, she could have called him. 

“You’re not the first chef to run into trouble. I’ve had a lot of work lately.” She reached into a coat pocket for a pinch of peering salt and flung it over her shoulder. “Why didn’t you set up a suppression cloche?  You’ve got hours, maybe, before the whole sector implodes. I hope you warned the neighbors.”

“I did set up a cloche. It dissolved.”

She laughed. “You’ve been watching too much Extreme Chef Mage. You must have made an error. It’s a complicated process.”

“I can set a suppression cloche in my sleep.” He stood up straighter. “It sat in place for about twenty minutes and then pop, pop––poof.” Toby sighed. “If I lose the building, I can’t compete.”  Never mind the loss of the family business.

The new High Council decreed that Holothuria make it to the cooking contest in Ketmari. Any Holothurian chef capable of even conjuring up a decent meal was required to participate, no matter the risk. Holothuria had never produced enough magic energy to operate a gate to the central marketplace. This was either the opportunity of a lifetime or the end of life as she knew it.

Sedra waved her scrying spatula through the air and turned it over. “There’s anomalous gravity in there, not just structural damage.” She shivered.  “Wow, I never expected you to achieve such major power output.”

“Yeah, it is quite a surprise.” Toby was a mid-level chef mage at best, or so she thought. The Ambrosia Bistro specialized in cosmetic and mood enhancements, which both relied more on precision than power.

“Is that an actual black hole?” Sedra detected the outline and heat signature. It hardly seemed possible, only an extremely powerful chef could create this kind of display.

Toby frowned. “I assume so. Lost two chefs in the large walk-in before we figured out what was happening. And emergency services were no help at all. They said if the cloche failed, my only option was to call in a fixing agency.” He let go of the building with one hand, teetered, and caught hold again. “I’m glad you came.”