Book 2: Chapter 41: No Pun Intended

Book 2: Chapter 41: No Pun Intended

Lit by the warm glow of tiki torches and the half moon high above, a silence stretched between us that was only interrupted by the soft buzz of Bumblebro and Queen Bee.

Barry shook his head at me.

“Are you serious, Fischer?”

“Uhhh... yeah?”

“This is why you’re banned from naming things!”

I raised my eyebrows, giving him an appalled stare.

“How dare you?” I caught both insects and shielded them with my hand. “Don’t listen to him, guys—he’s just upset he has a basic-bitch name like Barry.”

Maria leaned over, peeking around the back of my finger shield.

“It’s nice to meet you—I’m Maria.”

They flew out and buzzed a hello her way.

She giggled, covering her mouth.

“You’re both super cute. Did you make that honey?”

Bumblebro shrugged—which I had to admit was super cute—and pointed at Queen Bee. The honeybee matriarch tilted from side to side in a so-so gesture.

“Queen Bee’s hive did,” I answered. “Seeing as though she’s the queen, that kinda makes it hers. And Bumblebro is being humble—a humblebee, if you will.”

“Get out,” Maria said, pointing toward the ocean.

“Hey, this is my land!”

“I don’t care—get.”

She made a shooing motion, but I caught the smile wrinkling her eyes.

“Anyway,” I continued, “as I was saying, Bumblebro is a humble—sorry, sorry!” I held my hands up, warding off the backhand Maria was threatening to send my way. “He was showing humility when he deferred to Queen Bee. He saved her life—and every drop of her honey—when the hive was attacked last night.”

“What attacked?” Ellis asked, his eyes furrowed as he scribbled in his notepad.

“A gang of hornets—they sealed the bees in with something toxic, then burrowed into the back of the hive.”

“Ah,” the former archivist said. “Tree-borer Hornets. Horrifying insects.”

I gave him an appraising glance.

“You’ve heard of them?”

“Oh, yes. There was a plague eighty or so years ago, and they wreaked havoc on the insects the Osnan family uses for pollination. There was a rather thrilling recounting back in the capital of the steps taken to reduce their numbers.”

“Thrilling?” Keith shook his head. “Your brain is terrifying, you know that?”

Ellis scoffed.

“Hardly. The records of it are stored in the general library—you could have read it yourself if you’d felt so inclined.”

“No one other than you would feel so inclined,” Theo added, laughing. “Still, it’s pretty amazing that the bumblebee—er, that Bumblebro was able to fight them off.”

I gave a wincing smile.

“Yeaaah, I may have caused him to awaken before that...”

I relayed the story from mine and Bumblebro’s perspective. I’d spent a large chunk of the morning conversing with the little bee and it had been surprisingly easy to understand each other, given that he spoke in buzzes. Supplemented by my growing understanding of the local language—and Bumblebro’s ability to write in said language—we had communicated the entire tale within a couple of hours. When I got up to Bumblebro’s awakening, Barry spoke up.

“With just regular sugar?” he asked. “That’s... new.”

“What do you say we get started on the sweets?”

***

Everyone took turns explaining their contributions. There were cakes, sweet buns, and even one of Helen’s berry pies—all of which used either sugar or sugarcane juice from the secret crop. Finally, it was Peter’s turn. I couldn’t help but stare at him as he stood behind the tray he’d shown so much care for when arriving.

“This dish was the king’s favorite dessert,” he said, bending down slowly to grab the cover.

I leaned in—as did anyone with common sense. With a single smooth movement, he revealed the contents for all to see. Rows of ramekins lined the tray and porous, golden-brown cakes rose from within them.

I swallowed.

“Is that...?”

“Souffles,” he answered. “The exact recipe favored by generations of Gormona’s rulers, with one small adjustment.” He set the lid down and gazed at his precious desserts. “I sweetened them with Barry’s sugar.”

I swallowed, my mouth watering at the sight of them. Souffle pancakes and ice-cream with a drizzle of honey was my favorite dessert on Earth, and I hadn’t realized I’d been craving it until I saw the fluffy little dish before me.

“Great,” Maria said. “You broke Fischer.”

My eyes cleared, and I looked up to see a smattering of amused faces watching me.

“What? You’ve never seen a man have an existential crisis over food before?”

Danny snorted.

“We saw Peter have one not a half hour ago.”

“I had at least two, thank you very much.” Peter smiled at himself. “Now, before we go any further off course, these will be best before they cool down.”

I let out a heavy sigh.

“All right—I suppose I can eat one now.”

***

When my plate was absolutely covered in dessert, I lowered my new dipper into the honey.

“Thanks for making this for me, Brad,” I said to the woodworker. “It just wouldn’t be the same without it.”

He smiled at me and removed the previously jam-covered finger from his mouth.

“You’re most welcome—I was wondering what it was for, but I’d never have guessed it was for honey.”

“The grooves let you collect more of it,” I replied, removing the dipper from the jar. “And that lets you drizzle the perfect amount.”

I circled it over my plate, smothering part of each desert in copious amounts of the sweet liquid. Following my action, everyone did the same, and I stayed there to help my animal pals—it could be an awkward thing to wield without opposable thumbs.

As I sat down, I couldn’t wait any longer, and I dug my spoon into the souffle.

It went in like a hot knife through butter, and I dipped the spoon into a puddle of honey. Without further ado, I put it into my mouth. The moment the honey hit my tongue, my mouth turned into a faucet. It was sweet—almost too sweet after not having honey for so long, but that quickly faded when I chewed the souffle. It was as fluffy as it looked—on par with those served by Michelin starred restaurants back on Earth. I closed my eyes as the flavors swept me away. It was like eating a cloud, and no matter how much I chewed, the souffle seemed to remain fluffy. Hints of vanilla, cinnamon, and something else joined the overbearing taste of honey. I must have kept shoveling more in because it never seemed to end, and any awareness of time escaped me as my body floated on the inescapable sensations.

Something touched my cheek, and I opened my eyes, returning to my spot by the fire.

“Are you okay?” Maria asked softly. Her face was tender, and I blinked, causing a tear to fall down my other cheek. She leaned over and wiped it away.

“Y-yeah—I’m good...”

I peered down at my plate, seeing I’d only taken a single bite of the dessert-filled ramekin.

“Good, right?” Peter asked from across the fire, beaming at my reaction.

“Mate... good doesn’t even begin to cut it.”

I took a deep breath, then focused on my spoon again, getting another honey-smothered mouthful ready.