Leave-Taking by

Leave-Taking

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All was quiet in the large kitchen. The Feast of Good Children had concluded, and the feast hall had been cleaned and tidied, and now it was only Alf and Harper left. Most of the lights had been extinguished, except for the kitchen hearth fire, and a few lanterns that lent a warm golden glow to the place. The floors had been mopped and polished to a gentle gleam; the dishes were washed and put away; and firewood had been split and stacked by the hearth. The scent of woodsmoke and spices lingered in the air. Outside the windows all was dark but for the lights in the windows of Wootton-Major, and the stars glinted in the clear and moonless night sky. “Well, Harper, it’s nearly time for me to go,” said Alf. He had come to Wootton-Major with no baggage, and was leaving the same way. “You will do very well as Master Cook. You’ll have a much better time, being a local lad.”

“Thank you,” said Harper. He was ready to take up the post, though sad to see Alf go. He had been a very good master, and Harper had learned a great deal from him—and not only about cooking. He knew better than to ask if Alf would write, or ever return to visit. The post did not come from where he was going. “You will be greatly missed,” he said instead.

Alf grinned. “By some, I hope,” he said, “but others will be happy enough to see the last of me. He went to the door and donned his cloak, a thick fine garment with strange designs sewn about the hood.

“Are you leaving now?” Harper asked. “It’s getting late!”

“The stars are out,” said Alf simply. “Fare well, Harper, Master Cook of Wootton-Major! You will win yourself and your kitchen great renown in the coming years!” And with that he was gone, with only the door clicking shut to mark his passing.

Harper sighed, and turned away from the door. Then he paused, seeing upon the hearth a great cauldron that had not been there before. It gleamed like silver, and was decorated with stars and flowers around the sides. It was not Smith ’s work, and it seemed to shimmer with a light all its own—or perhaps that was only Harper’s fancy. He drew closer to examine it, and found around the rim what looked like tiny letters, though in a script he could not read. It was warm to the touch, as though it had been sitting for a while over the coals. He tapped it with a fingernail, and it hummed with a pleasing, musical sound. Harper smiled, and turned away to blow out the lamps.