Ell

"Here Ell!" Desha calls from the doorway, a bowl of soup that's practically as big as she is balanced on her head. "I made you soup!" What she means is Berndell made me soup because Desha would have sent her out to be flogged and dragged through the city by her ankles if she hadn't. Trying not to grimace, I thank her as kindly as possible. I'll thank Berndell later. Warm steam swirls up to my nostrils, but I can't convince my stomach. Nothing appeals after a night under the effects of mogdoggen. The drug makes you drunk with delight and then saturated in despair. Not to mention a headache like a battering ram at the temples. I wince, sitting up, as Desha plops the turreen on my lap. "It's good." She says, beeming with joy. I force my hand to take hold of the spoon and sip a few slurps. It burns like fire in my throat. But after the first few bites, the coating of mogdoggen washes away and a rich chocolatey taste fills my mouth. Berndell is a kitchen wizard, working magic with the most simple ingredients.

  "What kind of soup is this, Desha?" I ask, trying not to let a smile dance on my lips. Deshi hesitates. Of course she doesn't know.

  "Carrot." She says, not even blinkin an eye. She's a good liar. If I didn't taste chocolate on my tongue I would believe her in an instant. The realization makes me nervous as I wonder what else she'd be capable of doing to fool me.

  "Is it now?" I smile. "Well, it's quite good." Desha, convinced that her fib has done its work, turns to go.

  "Call me if you want some more. I can make all kinds of soups, and like, fish and pork and anything you want." She boasts proudly, her carmel colored curls bobbing against thin shoulders. She's quite a beauty, even at nine, and she knows it too. "Well, I'm off to my lessons then." She's half-way out the door when I call out to her.

  "Deshi. Tell Berndell that her soup was delicious."

Desha walks back in, blushing crimson.

  "How did you know?" She murmurs in disbelief.

My mouth curving, I bid her come closer. "Because, little sister, this is Berndell's chocolate soup. Not carrot." Desha looks sheepish. Growing serious, I add. "Don't practice lies, little Deshi. They won't flatter your face." Desha looks thoughtful. "Now, get along before Gorfuldo gets grouchy and makes you stay inside all week." I nudge her off towards the door and take another spoonful of the rich, dark brew, its soothing smoothness warming me inside. The throbbing in my head eases, and gradually I feel my eyelids falling down.