Page 11 of Sanctuary and Spices (Tales of the Ardent Veil #1)

JANI

T he afternoon service brought a steady stream of customers, each eager to discuss the upcoming festival. A Krythari artisan inquired about incorporating crystal resonance into the menu, while a Pel’ax merchant asked about specialized nutrient requirements for their species. Three Ulthari engaged in a lively debate over optimal crystal formation patterns for food preservation.

“You’re becoming quite popular,” an elderly Thaskari observed as I served their usual afternoon tea. Their scales held a warm bronze hue, reminiscent of Soryn’s.

“I’ve only been here two days,” I said with a chuckle, shaking my head.

“The station knows what it needs.” They sipped their tea with careful reverence. “Some of us have learned to simply accept that.”

“Your aura’s quite strong today,” a young Syrithan noted as I placed their order before them. Their sensory tendrils wove intricate patterns in the air. “The plants certainly notice.”

I glanced at the garden. The crystal formations pulsed in steady rhythm with the station’s energy flow, but the plants themselves seemed more active than usual. Leaves subtly turned to follow my movement. Blossoms opened as I passed, as if drawn toward me.

“They like you,” the Syrithan mused, their voice tinged with curiosity. “That’s rare.”

The end of service brought another hushed conversation between Soryn and Ronhar. Ronhar’s markings flickered faintly, his broad shoulders held tight with tension. Whatever they discussed carried weight, but I didn’t dare interrupt.

Their expressions darkened as they slipped into the back office. The kitchen fell eerily silent around me, leaving an unfamiliar sense of unease curling in my chest.

Rather than returning to Barou’s, I found myself wandering through the Havenstone Commons. The station’s evening cycle bathed everything in a softer glow, the environmental systems adjusting to mimic the warmth of a setting sun. Crystal formations caught the artificial starlight, casting prismatic reflections across the walls.

I drifted toward the docking levels, drawn to the mesmerizing way ships connected to the station. Unlike the crude docking bays of the Crown, each vessel here linked through a shimmering portal—a doorway of pure energy bridging the gap between ship and station.

The portals lined the outer ring of the Commons like jewels adorning a vast necklace, each one uniquely sized and shaped to accommodate different vessels. A massive cargo hauler’s portal stretched wide to allow freight to pass with ease, while smaller personal ships required only a narrow, elegant arc of energy.

“First time seeing the docking rings?” a Pel’ax merchant asked, their bark-like skin shifting in subtle patterns. Their gracefully curved antlers gestured toward the nearest portal. “Quite something, aren’t they?”

I nodded, watching a group of Krythari traders emerge through the shimmering field. “I’ve never seen anything like it. At the Crown, ships just locked onto external docking clamps.”

“Ah, but this is ancient tech.” The merchant’s antlers quivered with enthusiasm. “The founders built these portals using Leyline energy. Keeps the ships safely in vacuum while letting crew and cargo pass freely.”

Each portal had its own character. Some maintained a steady, hypnotic shimmer. Others pulsed in time with the station’s power grid. A few sparked and crackled, their containment fields dancing with barely restrained energy.

Temporary structures clustered around each active portal—canvas awnings, portable kiosks, floating displays broadcasting ship registries and cargo manifests. Crew members hurried to set up small stalls, eager to trade goods directly from their vessels.

“Look there.” The Pel’ax pointed toward an especially elaborate display. “The Teiria Star’s booth. They always bring the best crystalline fruits from the outer colonies.”

I studied the nameplate—hand-carved wood inlaid with luminescent crystal, glowing softly in the station’s ambient light. Ships clearly competed to create the most striking displays. Some relied on intricate holograms that shimmered and shifted, while others showcased masterful craftsmanship in traditional materials.

A small crowd gathered near one portal as a new ship prepared to dock. The energy field fluctuated, its glow intensifying. My skin tingled as Leyline power surged through the connection point.

“Watch this part,” someone murmured nearby. “The phase shift is stunning.”

The portal’s light twisted inward, spiraling like a whirlpool before expanding in a cascade of colors. When it stabilized, a sleek vessel had matched perfectly with the energy field.

Its crew moved with practiced efficiency, unfurling banners, arranging product displays, and positioning their nameplate with careful precision. The entire process unfolded like a well-rehearsed performance.

“Each ship gets assigned a permanent portal frequency,” the Pel’ax explained. “It makes docking seamless and allows them to maintain a consistent presence in the Commons.”

I noted how the temporary structures around each portal reflected their respective ships’ personalities. A Krythari vessel’s booth gleamed with intricate crystal formations. A Thaskari freighter’s stall favored practical, rugged design. An Ulthari science vessel’s display shimmered with dynamic energy patterns.

“The festival will bring even more ships,” the merchant continued. “The docking ring becomes quite the spectacle. Speaking of which…” They studied me with sharp, faceted eyes. “You’re the new chef at the Rest, yes? The one everyone’s talking about?”

I shifted uncomfortably. “Word travels fast.”

“Everything travels fast here.” They gestured toward their own compact booth. “I supply specialty nutrients for Pel’ax crystal gardens. Perhaps we could discuss your festival menu? Some of my products might interest you.”

The portal nearest us flared unexpectedly, its energy field crackling. A ship’s crew barked urgent instructions, hastily adjusting their connection.

“Unstable harmonics,” the Pel’ax muttered. “They’ll need to recalibrate or risk feedback through the Leyline grid.”

I watched the crew work, mesmerized by their deft manipulation of the portal’s energy. Their movements were practiced, adjusting field strength, tuning resonance patterns, stabilizing the ship’s link to the station.

The temporary structures around their portal swayed with each fluctuation. Yet the nameplate remained unwavering, anchored to the station’s power grid with a quiet, unshakable confidence.

“Clever system,” I said. “The portals create a buffer zone between vacuum and atmosphere while still letting ships maintain a presence in the Commons.”

“Indeed.” The merchant’s antlers shifted thoughtfully. “Though lately, some connections have been less stable. Trade routes through the Reach growing more dangerous...”

The graceful arch of the Eppersip’s Dream’s sign caught my eye as I passed the docking portal—delicate metalwork inlaid with luminous crystal that shifted colors like an aurora. A human woman stood beneath it, adjusting the display of what looked like antique teapots.

Her short, purple-tinted coils bounced as she worked, and her dark skin was scattered with freckles that caught the portal’s shimmer. She moved with the easy grace of someone used to shipboard life, compensating automatically for the subtle vibrations that carried through the docking connection.

I slowed, studying the intricate patterns worked into the temporary structure around the portal. Unlike the utilitarian setups of cargo vessels, this one had been crafted with obvious care—panels of translucent fabric caught and diffused the portal’s light, while precisely arranged crystal formations created rainbow patterns across the small space.

The woman looked up, caught me staring. Her amber eyes crinkled at the corners as she smiled.

“See something interesting?” Her voice held warmth and genuine curiosity.

“The metalwork.” I gestured toward the sign. “I’ve never seen anything quite like it.”

“Krythari craftsmanship.” She adjusted one final teapot, then turned to face me fully. “They have a way with making functional things beautiful. I’m Erynn, by the way. Captain of this particular traveling tea shop.”

“.” I studied the display more closely. “These aren’t just decorative, are they?”

“Good eye.” Erynn lifted one of the teapots, letting light catch the subtle patterns etched into its surface. “Each one’s designed to enhance specific properties of different tea varieties. The crystals resonate with the leaves during steeping.”

My chef’s instincts perked up. “Like how different cooking vessels affect flavor development?”

“Exactly!” Her enthusiasm was infectious. “Would you like to see how it works? I just got in a fascinating blend from the outer colonies.”

I glanced at my tablet, checking the time. I’d been planning to start researching my menu for the festival. “I really shouldn’t...”

“You’re the new chef at the Wanderer’s Rest,” Erynn said, turning toward the shelf. “I saw the footage from the Crown.”

I stiffened.

“No judgment here.” She selected a specific pot from her collection. “I started over too. The station has a way of gathering lost souls.”

“Just a quick cup.” Erynn’s eyes sparkled. “Consider it research for the festival. I heard you’re planning something special.”

“News really does travel fast here.”

“Everything travels fast here.” She gestured toward the portal’s shimmering field. “Come on. I promise it’ll be worth your time.”

I followed her through the portal, that brief moment of transition sending tingles across my skin. The Eppersip’s Dream’s interior opened before us—all warm woods and polished metal, with crystal formations providing natural light.

The main space had been converted into an intimate tearoom, with low tables and comfortable cushions arranged to encourage conversation. Delicate lanterns floated near the ceiling, their light shifting in gentle patterns.

“Welcome aboard.” Erynn moved behind a curved counter inlaid with more crystal work. “Make yourself comfortable while I prepare things.”

I settled onto one of the cushions, watching her work. Her movements were precise and practiced, each gesture flowing naturally into the next. She selected a specific teapot from her collection, checking its crystal formations before adding carefully measured leaves.

“The tea itself comes from hydroponic gardens in the Reach,” she explained, adjusting the water temperature with tiny adjustments to the brewing station’s crystal array. “But the processing method was developed by Pel’ax herbalists. They found that exposing the leaves to specific crystal resonances during drying creates entirely new flavor profiles.”

The scent reached me first—something floral and complex, with underlying notes I couldn’t quite identify. Erynn poured with practiced grace, the tea catching rainbow patterns from the crystals worked into the cup’s rim.

“Most of my clients just want something warm and familiar,” she said, settling across from me. “But every so often, someone comes along who really appreciates the artistry involved.”

I lifted the cup, letting the aroma fill my senses. “The crystal resonance affects the molecular structure during processing?”

“Among other things.” Erynn’s eyes lit up. “The Pel’ax believe that intention matters as much as technique. Each batch is dried while focused on specific emotional states. They say you can taste the difference.”

The tea’s warmth spread through me as I sipped, bringing unexpected calm. Flavors bloomed across my tongue—familiar elements combining in ways I’d never experienced.

“That’s amazing.” I took another sip, trying to identify individual notes. “Almost like... but not quite...”

“Hard to describe, isn’t it?” Erynn grinned. “That’s what I love about it. The taste is different for everyone, depending on what they need in that moment.”

My chef’s mind raced with possibilities. “Could this technique be adapted for other ingredients? Maybe using different crystal formations during preservation?”

“Now that’s an interesting thought.” She leaned forward, eyes bright with curiosity. “What exactly are you planning for the festival?”

I found myself relaxing into the conversation, trading ideas about crystal resonance and flavor development. Erynn’s enthusiasm matched my own, her knowledge of tea preparation offering fascinating parallels to my cooking experience.

The portal’s light shifted, catching rainbow patterns in the crystal formations around us. Other guests drifted in and out of the tearoom, but Erynn kept our conversation flowing naturally, sharing stories of encounters throughout the Reach.

“...and then the Krythari merchant insisted that the proper resonance frequency could only be achieved during specific stellar alignments!” She laughed, pouring another cup. “Which might even be true, but I suspect was mostly an excuse to charge higher prices.”

I checked my tablet again and startled at the time. “I should get going, I’m afraid.”

“Of course.” Erynn stood smoothly. “But come back tomorrow? I’d love to hear more about your plans for the festival. And I might have some ideas about those crystal preservation techniques you mentioned.”

I found myself nodding. Something about her easy warmth made our connection feel natural, without the pressure I’d grown used to on the Crown .

“I’d like that.”

“Excellent!” She walked me back to the portal. “Oh, and ? Don’t let the festival preparations overwhelm you. Sometimes the best discoveries happen when we leave room for surprise.”

The portal’s energy tingled across my skin as I stepped through. I nearly walked into Ronhar as I rounded a corner. His markings blazed bright, worry etched in every line of his body. Before I could speak, he pulled me into a fierce hug.

His arms were solid, warm, grounding me in the moment. His markings pulsed where our skin touched, sending a subtle warmth curling through me. The scent of the garden clung to him—green things, mineral-rich soil, something unmistakably him.

“You’re safe,” he breathed, his voice rough, edged with something deeper. Relief. Something else.

My pulse kicked up, heat rushing through me. He didn’t let go right away, and I wasn’t sure I wanted him to.