Emily could speak intelligently about everything from the history of Glenfall and the kingdom at large to the principles that kept the town's mills running. When Jane mentioned something about the mathematics behind her baking calculations, Emily didn't just nod politely. She asked follow-up questions that showed she actually understood.
This was a new experience for Jane. Bella sometimes didn’t understand what Jane did, and they made do by simply not letting that matter to either of them. Emily understood those things, at least partially. It was a nice thing about her, and Jane decided to enjoy it thoroughly.
The conversation turned to the difficulties of being a librarian, which Emily described with a mix of genuine affection and actual exasperation.
"The worst part is the books you can’t get back," Emily said. "Sometimes people don't return books, and then they get lost. Or the people leave town. I have this mental list of every book I’ve lost, and it haunts my dreams.”
Jane laughed. "Do you ever confront the people who took them?"
"Sometimes. Very politely. It never works. It drives me crazy.”
They talked about acquaintances they had in common, too. Jane shared what she knew about Frank and Deborah, about the bakers to whom she had taught her keln recipe, and about the various merchants who had welcomed her to the market district. Emily had insights about all of them. Each perspective helped Jane flesh out her picture of the town even more.
It was well past dark when Emily finally stood to leave.
"This was good," Emily said. "Really fun. We should do it again."
"We should. Come by whenever you want."
Jane walked her to the door and watched her disappear down the street. She definitely wanted to spend more time with Emily. The woman was interesting and nice. As far as Jane was concerned, that was more than enough foundation for a good friendship.
Jane took a quick bath and climbed into bed. Her worries about reopening the bakery were still present, but after a long day and plenty of wine, it was easier to ignore those worries and fall asleep.
—
The kitchen was waiting for her when she woke up. She immediately got to work prepping for the day. Once she had the ovens lit and the ingredients gathered, she let herself relax into the now familiar process of making her breads.
Then, feeling bold, she decided to attempt the difficult cake again.
The recipe was still chancy, but last night's success had given her confidence. If the cake collapsed, it collapsed. If it didn’t, she could possibly sell it. Either way, it would be a learning experience, and she was happy to find she could accept that without a hint of stress.
When she pulled the cake out, it was perfect. She was cheerfully setting it on a cooling tray when a familiar knock sounded at her back door. Bella burst in, already talking.
"Good morning, Jane. Is that an empty wine bottle outside? What did I miss?"
"Emily stopped by,” Jane explained. “We talked for a while."
Bella was grinning. "Did you? Good. I was hoping you two would become closer friends. She's a good person, and I think she has a hard time finding people who understand the things she wants to talk about.”
"She's interesting. I'd like to spend more time with her."
"Then do. Now listen. I think I figured out a solution for one of your little worries, if you are interested.”
Jane paused in her arranging. “One less worry is always welcome.”
“I have something for you. It's outside.” Bella held up a hand. “But you have to promise me you won't actually look at it until the end of the day."
"What? Why?"
"Because I said so."
Jane decided to play along. If Bella thought it was better this way, it likely was.
"Fine. I promise."
"Good girl. I’m going to get back to my shop. I’ll check in this evening.”
Bella went out through the front door, leaving it unlatched. The first customer walked in less than a minute later.
The day had officially begun.
"I was hoping you’d be open,” the customer exclaimed. Jane recognized her as the bakery’s first-ever customer on that original opening day. “It’s so much more convenient than walking to the next shop. Thanks.”
"I'm glad to be back," Jane said, and she meant it.
The woman bought a loaf of burnt-top bread and a dozen cookies. She didn't mention the dragon, and she didn't treat Jane any differently than she had before. She was just a customer, buying bread from a baker.
The next customer was the same. And the next.
As the morning progressed into afternoon, Jane found herself serving person after person who seemed entirely unconcerned with her status as an archmage candidate. They put in dinner holds and chatted about the weather, but somehow magically ignored the fact that Jane had kept the town from flooding right off the mountainside.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
It’s wonderful. But how?
An older man Jane had never seen before stopped in around midday and kept that cycle going.
"You're the one who figured out Shelby's keln recipe, right?” he asked.
"I am."
"Good. I was a friend of hers, back in the day. Glad someone's keeping her tradition alive." He bought three of the flatbreads and a small cake, then paused at the door. "She would have liked you, I think. You've got some of the same look in your eye."
He was gone before Jane could figure out how to respond.
Throughout the day, she made sure to let each customer know that she might not be able to maintain normal bakery hours just yet. It felt like the right thing to do. If there were days when she couldn’t open the shop, she didn’t want to disrupt folk’s schedules.
Everyone accepted this without question or complaint.
"Just put up a sign,” they all assured her. “We'll figure it out."
By the time the afternoon rush had faded and the last dinner hold had been collected, Jane was exhausted in the best possible way. She locked the front door and leaned against it for a moment, just breathing.
Then she remembered Bella's gift.
She had promised not to look until the end of the day, and the day was definitely over now. Curiosity pulled her outside. There, propped against the wall beside her front window, was an A-frame chalkboard sign, bearing a very particular message in Bella’s handwriting.
Archmage Jane is just Baker Jane today. Please act accordingly.
Bella had put this up before the shop opened. With nothing but a bit of chalk and a suggestion, she had set a standard of how Jane wanted to be treated. And that was all it had taken.
It was remarkable, really: the kind of calculation only Bella could have pulled off.
People math, indeed, Jane marveled. This was people algebra, at the very least.
—
The second day flew by in similar fashion, except this day came with post-bakery plans. As soon as the afternoon rush was over and her dinner holds were loaded into the cabinet, Jane put on her excellent coat and boots and set out for the edge of town, the same side that Bella had led her to before.
Even though her aunt had told Jane that she wasn’t needed for the job, the impending danger to Glenfall continued to occupy Jane’s thoughts. She’d been so distracted throughout the day that she had actually ruined a few loaves of bread.
That can’t stand. Sorry, Aunt Cecelia. I’ll need to do some work of my own.
Jane had limited time before dark, but it was at least a few hours. If she hurried, that was long enough to get much further upstream than she and Bella had managed before.
She mounted the stone steps that led upwards and away from town, already dreading the uphill hike that stretched before her. Glenfall lay on a flat shelf. The mountain above Glenfall was determined to get to its own summit as quickly as possible. Jane knew she would pay for every step with soreness tomorrow.
The path was familiar at first. Jane followed the same winding route Bella had shown her, past the mills and up into the woods. The path became thinner and harder to see the further she got from the city. Her pace inevitably slowed as she carefully considered whether or not any given step was taking her off-course.
Jane knew the possibility of getting lost was very real. The thought made her shudder. She could certainly signal people to come help her, but the idea of being tangled in some bush while conventional people had to fish out her archmage candidate self was terrible. She imagined herself alone in the dark, waiting for nice normal folk to lift her off a patch of briars so they could lead her home like a child, and found herself blushing with embarrassment over something that had not in fact happened.
To keep it from happening, she decided to keep the river in earshot. This seemed like a reasonable compromise between caution and progress. If she could hear the river, she could navigate to it, and from there back to town. The rushing water was a constant thread of sound connecting her to safety.
Yet this plan turned out to be harder than it seemed. As she got away from town, the path seemed increasingly determined to bend away from the river. She tried to bend her own path back, but it was difficult to push through the undergrowth that thrived in the moist soil near the river. Every time she tried to push toward the sound of the water, something new and thorny blocked her way.
She pressed forward anyway, picking her way through the wilderness with sheer determination. The sound of the river faded and returned, playing games with her sense of direction. More than once, she had to stop and listen carefully, filtering out the bird calls to rediscover the sound of flowing water.
Every so often, she pushed straight through to the bank and filled a small vial with water from the river. She touched the water each time, letting her magical senses spread through the flow. She touched the stones, too, feeling for the layered residue she had found behind the waterfall. She kept her awareness open to catch any hint of the wrongness that had made her stomach turn.
There was nothing. The water here was clean. Not just acceptably clean, but genuinely pure in a way that almost shocked her. The stones held no corruption. No layers of accumulated magical filth. If anything, this stretch of river felt healthier than the water in the lake itself.
Later on, she would have to reassess how the lake was supposed to feel. If she was calibrating it off the city water she was used to, when she should be using this river as a baseline, her assumptions about the lake itself could have been terribly off.
She continued on. The path grew narrower and less defined, becoming more animal trail than human road. Finally, after she’d been walking for over an hour, she reached a point where the path simply ended. She would have to start back soon if she wanted to make it home before dark. Pushing further wasn’t viable without a clearer path or a lot more time.
Settling down in the shade of a massive oak, she pulled out a small snack of bread and preserved meats. The bread was her own work, one of the simpler loaves she had made that morning, and the sausage was the work of some unnamed master whose shop she had passed on her way out of town. She enjoyed both thoroughly, sitting on a root that had curved up from the ground to form a natural seat.
As she ate, she thought about what this lack of contamination meant. Whatever was fouling the water had to be coming from somewhere. The contamination Jane had found behind the waterfall was building up over time, layer upon layer of magical wrongness compressed by the constant action of the falls. Something was feeding that buildup. Something was producing the corruption in the first place.
Yet if the source was upstream, the corruption would be getting stronger. Since there was nothing up this way, then the source had to be elsewhere. The contamination wasn't flowing into the lake from the mountains above. It was originating somewhere in the lake itself, carried away from the lake and over the falls to the lands below.
Or it's coming from something in the lake. Something at the bottom, maybe. Something old.
The thought was unsettling. Jane had been hoping to find a simple answer. Instead, she was looking at a mystery that might require diving into the depths of the lake itself to solve.
She finished her bread and sausage, brushed crumbs from her coat, and began the long walk back to town. Her aunt would want to hear about this. The lack of contamination upstream was just as important as finding contamination would have been.
The return journey was faster than the outward trek, as return journeys often are. She knew where the worst of the brambles lay and which false paths to avoid. The sound of the river stayed with her the whole way, ensuring she was on the right track.
Aunt Cecelia will probably be back tonight, she thought. Or she’ll find a way to check in. I’ll tell her what I learned, and we’ll figure out what to do about the lake.
For now, Jane had a bakery to clean up.