The Bawdy Butterfly Cafe

 

!!Menu!!

**Soporific Soup**

Can’t sleep? Try our range of soups! A combination of gentle spices and a secret ingredient will quickly have you nodding off.

**Cakes of Happiness*

One bite of our famous tea-time treats is all it takes to boost your happiness and smother you in joy! Our secret ingredients guarantee it!

**Platters of Plenty**

Feeling weak and feeble? Try one of our platters! If you can manage to eat the whole lot, we guarantee you’ll be feeling beefed up and ready to take on the world. Try it!

**Speedy Cakes & Fast Crepes **

Our popular to-go offerings are not only quick to serve and eat, they’ll make you faster too! Got a race coming up? Perfect!

**Love To Order**

Try our bestselling love cakes! Turned down for a date? A bite of one of these and it’ll be love at first sight. Gift boxes included free!

**Fortifying Fare**

Need feeding up? Any item on our menu can be fortified with extra nutritional goodness - just ask!

**Note: All our recipes are much more potent and delicious than anything you’ll find elsewhere - especially the Gobbling Gila!**

Wari Cavanatho stood outside the Bawdy Butterfly Café, eyeing their new menu with distaste and some amusement.

Nice try, she thought. Its proprietor, the detestable Chavit Mosebi, certainly deserved points for effort; he was trying his best to outdo her, especially with that cute little note at the end. But he didn’t stand a chance. All of Gaudiguch knew that the recipes at her bakery, the Gobbling Gila, were unbeatable.

They ought to be. The bakery had been founded by her father fifty years ago, and the recipes had been refined and perfected through many years of careful effort. No brand new upstart was ever going to beat that!

Chavit appeared in the doorway, shading his eyes from the strong midday sun. ‘Here to pick up some tips, Cavanatho?’ he called.

‘In your dreams,’ she snorted. ‘And that’s Miss Cavanatho to you.’

He grinned, showing a sharp teeth. He wasn’t bad looking, she thought, admiring the way his scales gleamed in the sun. And that grin was positively cute.

Shame he was such an idiot.

‘You sure? I’ve got a couple of love cakes going spare. Pretty sure they’ve got your name on.’

Wari narrowed her eyes to thin slits and stared him down. ‘I hope you aren’t trying to flirt with me, boy.’

‘No, no,’ he said with another wicked grin. ‘Just trying to help out. A dried up old stick like you needs all the help she can get.’

Wari did not deign to grace that with a response. She turned her back on him, flipped her gauzy sun-coloured scarf over her shoulder and stalked off.

‘Maybe another time!’ Chavit yelled after her.

You wish, she thought. She wouldn’t normally risk being seen anywhere near the Bawdy Butterfly - she certainly didn’t want anyone else to think she was looking for tips! It was better to appear wholly indifferent to her competition. But gossip had brought her news of the new menu, and she’d felt compelled to go and look.

Having done so, she felt satisfied that it posed no particular threat. True, Chavit was now offering all the same services she offered at the Gila, but nobody could really think they were as good as hers.

Chavit knew it, too. He couldn’t keep up with her, not in a million years. Bravado was all he had.

When his fancy new menu failed to change his fortunes, he’d be ready to do something desperate. She saw it lurking behind his cocky little grin.

Time to prepare.

She ambled home in no particular hurry. It was far too hot to run, or even to walk fast. The sun baked her scaled skin in the most delicious way, warming her to her core; she felt rejuvenated by it as she strolled along, waving occasionally when she passed her regulars (which happened often).

When she arrived back at the bakery, she found it buzzing with activity. People were queuing outside on the street, because there wasn’t room in the shop. The contrast with Chavit’s almost deserted café couldn’t be more striking.

Wari smiled to herself.

‘Hey Shibbi,’ she said as she slipped inside. ‘You keeping up okay?’

Shibbi was a drac youngster she’d hired to help run the shop. The girl had limitless energy, which was handy at times like these. She was juggling orders like a pro, somehow managing to serve three people at once. She grinned at Wari without missing a beat, nodding her head enthusiastically.

‘It’s going great! Wow! Seems like we’re more popular than ever.’

Wari smiled complacently and nodded. Of course they were! Her father’s recipes had been potent enough, and she’d spent years improving them even further.

She hoped Chavit would see this. And weep.

Shibbi was managing fine, so Wari stepped into the back room, shutting the door behind her. Her new project sat on a table in the centre of the room, waiting for her to finish it. It was a large chest made out of heavy teak, with solid steel hinges and the most secure lock Wari could find. The thing looked impregnable.

She opened it up and took out a sheaf of papers. She paged through them, her quick gaze flicking over the titles.

--Sunny Garden Tea Cakes--

--Winged Butterfly Pastry Swirls--

--Boozy Desert Heat Cordial--

-- Floral Summer Fruit Pies--

-- Ice Cream of a Thousand Colours--

There were more, lots more: all her precious recipes, carefully written down. The proportions were important and minute, and they had to be perfect in order to achieve the desired effectiveness and potency in the finished article. Wari had written them down in her own hand, and she’d had the beautiful new chest created especially to hold them.

She put the papers back, drew up a chair and began writing out another recipe. There were only a few to go, and then her collection was complete and she would never again forget an ingredient.

 

A few days later, Wari’s recipe chest was complete. She’d had the chest decorated in brilliantly-coloured jewels, making it as attractive as possible - after all, the thing contained her life’s work, and her father’s! It should look the part. It now stood, all locked up and solid, at the back of the Gobbling Gila. Customers could see it and admire it, but they couldn’t get at it.

Perfect.

Word travelled quickly, and customers began to come back just for a glimpse of the fabulous recipe chest. Since they invariably bought a few cakes while they were there, Wari was very well pleased with her gambit.

Chavit would have to try to match it, she knew. But how far would he go? Would he, too, commission a recipe chest like her own? It would be funny if he did. Nobody was going to travel from far and wide to see the receptacle for his paltry recipes.

Tim Nith had come in for his regular order: a couple of Sunny Garden cakes and a suppertime soup. The old man beckoned her over and lowered his voice. ‘Aren’t you worried about security?’ He nodded meaningfully at the chest.

Wari smiled. ‘No.’

Tim lifted his shaggy grey brows at her. ‘No? The thing looks solid, I’ll give you that, but it’s right out in the open. Lots of people would love to get their hands on the contents.’

Wari smiled some more. ‘I know. Don’t worry.’

Tim shrugged and shambled off.

‘He’s right, Wari,’ Shibbi said later. ‘It’s beautiful and it deserves to be seen, but surely you’re asking for trouble?’

‘You trust me, yes?’ Wari replied.

‘Well… yes, of course, but…’

‘Then don’t worry about it.’

Shibbi shrugged.  She was a good kid, Wari thought. Cared, but she knew that Wari knew best. She’d been a good find.

That evening, Wari closed up the shop with particular care, making sure that the beautiful chest maintained its pride-of-place position on the rear counter of the bakery. It was securely locked: she’d checked. She climbed the stairs to her apartment over the shop, smiling to herself. Everything was going so well.

 

The next morning, Wari came down to find Shibbi already at the counter. A queue was forming outside, but Shibbi hadn’t opened the doors yet. Her young face looked worried as Wari appeared.

‘Oh, Wari!’ she said immediately. ‘I was about to wake you, but I wasn’t sure… does the chest look quite right to you?’

Wari examined it. It didn’t look quite right, at all; its position had moved, ever so slightly, from the night before. Her quick eye detected something else: the lid was slightly ajar.

It wasn’t locked.

‘Oh, no!’ wailed Shibbi. ‘Oh Wari, I’m so sorry…’

Wari smiled to herself. The papers remained inside the chest, as she’d left them. A quick check revealed that nothing was missing. ‘It’s all right, Shibbi. Everything is still here. I probably just forgot to lock it last night.’

Shibbi blinked. ‘Forgot? But you’re so careful!’

Wari shrugged. ‘Everyone forgets things from time to time.’

Shibbi looked doubtful, but she didn’t say anything else.

‘Shibbi,’ Wari said on her way out of the door. ‘Could you pick up a copy of the Gossip tomorrow morning, before you come in? Bring it with you. Thanks.’ She smiled, and left. She had a long day ahead of her: some of the ingredients for her precious recipes were hard to get, and it took a lot of work to collect them up. She didn’t expect to return to the city until the following day.

 

When Wari ambled into the bakery the next morning, she found that Shibbi had followed her instructions about the Gossip. In fact, she had spread the newspaper out over the counter, open at a particular two-page report. Wari strolled over to take a look.

FOOD POISONING OUTBREAK, ran the headline. BAWDY BUTTERFLY CLOSED!

*An outbreak of food poisoning has swept the city in the past twenty-four hours; so far, fifty cases have been reported! The outbreak has been traced to a batch of cakes and pastries sold by the Bawdy Butterfly Café yesterday afternoon. The authorities have closed the Bawdy Butterfly until further notice.*

The rest of the report went into a great deal more detail about the symptoms of the malady, with exhortations to seek medical help immediately if affected. A brief interview with Chavit Mosebi had also been printed, alongside a sketch of him looking chagrined.

Wari read every word with great interest.

‘Isn’t it remarkable?’ Shibbi said, bustling in from the back room. ‘Goodness, I’m so glad nothing like that’s ever happened here!’

‘Oh, me too,’ Wari murmured, smiling.

 

It was late evening before Chavit turned up. Wari was waiting for him in the little garden at the back of the bakery, a glass of chilled Desert Heat on the table before her, her feet propped up on a cushioned footstool. A second drink sat waiting on the table opposite. Wari was almost asleep when Chavit burst in, wild-eyed and with his clothes covered in dust.

‘You set me up!’  he shouted at once.

‘Now, how could I have done that?’ Wari said softly, eyeing him from beneath half-shut lids.

Chavit ground his teeth together, his eyes blazing with rage. ‘You know exactly how! This outbreak is your fault. You ought to be publically disgraced. I’m going to report you. You’ll be closed down, just like me.’

‘I fail to see how your misfortunes are connected with me, Chavit, in any way at all.’

‘Those recipes,’ he spat. ‘They were bogus, weren’t they? You fed me poisonous recipes!’

Wari opened her eyes very wide. ‘Now, Chavit. Surely you are not saying you had anything to do with the theft of my recipes? The Gossip would be so interested to hear that, I’m sure.’

Chavit stared at her helplessly.

Wari gave him a lazy smile, and sat up a little straighter. ‘Drink?’ she offered.

Chavit snorted, tossing his head in a way that reminded her of an enraged horse. ‘You need to be taught a lesson.’

‘Do I?’ she smiled. ‘How exciting.’

‘Don’t you care about my customers?’ Chavit demanded, staring fiercely at her. ‘They’re sick because of you!’

Wari’s smile disappeared. ‘No, Chavit. They are sick because of you. Consider.’ She held up one finger. ‘First of all, you broke into my bakery and stole my recipes. This may be the city of freedom, but theft is still considered questionable, is it not?’ She held up a second finger. ‘Having copied out everything you found in my chest, you proceeded to recreate them exactly as I had written them. Trying to profit off stolen goods is just a little bit worse, wouldn’t you say?’ She held up a third finger. ‘Finally, you were an ignorant fool. If you really knew anything about food, you’d have known straight away that those recipes weren’t right. But you didn’t. So you’re a charlatan as well. This is your series of mistakes, Chavit; I merely gave you the means to prove what a waste of space you are. So I won’t have you trying to blame me.’ She smiled thinly. ‘I’ll be honest, I wasn’t expecting it to work. I thought that at some point, you’d realise what you were doing and stop. But you really are every bit as bad as I feared.’

Chavit was looking pale. He spat at her feet, then backed away. ‘You’re poisonous,’ he said. Turning to leave, he threw over his shoulder, ‘And that’s Mr Mosebi to you!’

Wari went back to lounging. When she had finished her own drink, she finished his as well. Finally, in a pleasantly alcoholic haze, she fell asleep.

 

Wari didn’t hear from Chavit again after that. A couple of weeks slid by, and the scandal faded out of the papers. The Bawdy Butterfly quietly reopened, with a completely new menu. Everything seemed to go back to normal.

Wari was manning the counter when a wakabi turned up at the door and shouldered its way inside, bearing a large package addressed to her. She quickly grabbed the proffered parcel, allowing the postman to make its way back out of the crowded shop.

The package was beautifully wrapped. Swapping places with Shibbi, Wari stepped into the back room and opened it up.

Inside was a box of cakes. They were absolutely beautiful: light, pale sponge cakes in prettily coloured cases, filled with buttercream and topped with delicate sugar flowers. They smelled heavenly.

Inside was a note.

Dear Ms. Cavanatho,

I can’t tell you what an inspiration you are to me! You have inspired me to take up baking myself, and I have practiced day and night for a week to bring you these cakes. I hope you enjoy them, and will look kindly upon my efforts.

Signed,

An Admirer.

The handwriting wasn’t particularly accomplished; it looked like the work of a child, or perhaps a young teenager. The cakes were all the more impressive for that, she thought. Why, they looked as though a grown-up had made them!

It was a shame that her admirer hadn’t left a name or a return address, so Wari couldn’t express her appreciation. What she could do was put the beautiful cakes to a good use. Her aunt was visiting later that afternoon, and she would be expecting refreshments. The timing couldn’t be more perfect.

Wari restored the lid to the cake box and put them in the garden, in the shade. Then she set about preparing beverages for the visit.

 

‘Auntie Uloro!’ she said an hour later, bestowing an affectionate peck on her aunt’s wrinkled cheek. ‘Gosh, it’s been an age since I saw you last! No hard feelings, I hope?’

Auntie Ulo was a meddling sort. She was the sister of Wari’s father, and she’d always had strong opinions on how his work ought to be used. Last time she had visited, she and Wari had got into quite an argument over the way Wari ran her bakery.

Honestly, Auntie Ulo seemed to exist to find fault.

‘Wari, dear,’ said Auntie Ulo, not bothering to return the greeting. ‘I can’t say that I’ve changed my mind, but I hope we can bury the hatchet and be friends again.’

Wari smiled. Auntie Ulo had said some perfectly awful things last time; Wari remembered every word. She stood by all of it, did she? Well well. ‘Of course, Auntie,’ Wari said. ‘Let’s forget about it all. Will you have a drink?’

Auntie Ulo sat down and accepted a drink. They made small talk for a few minutes, sipping at their drinks with genteel delicacy. Then, inevitably, Auntie began to talk of hunger.

She was always hungry.

‘Well, Auntie, I have a treat for you today,’ Wari said, opening the box of cakes and showing them off. ‘Aren’t these super? Not made by me, this time: I thought you might like to try something quite, quite different. They arrived in the post today. Do read the note, it’s so charming.’

Auntie Ulo read the note, and cast Wari a disapproving look. ‘Inspiring the youth, are we? I hope they won’t all follow your example to the letter, Wari dear. Your father never meant for his legacy to be so used, and to see it spreading across the city…!’

‘Now, Auntie, don’t get in a flap! These cakes are quite innocent, I’m sure. No special effects, no peculiar functions; no manipulative funny business at all, as you might put it. Just cake. I’d really like for you to be the very first to try one. Please do!’

Auntie Ulo seemed a little mollified. Taking a cake, she delicately unwrapped the paper case and took a bite. Her eyes widened.

‘Why, Wari, these are wonderful! Far better than anything I’ve tasted before, to be sure. I don’t wish you to take offense at that, my dear - you know I have admired many of your recipes before, but still these are quite - really, quite something.’ She devoured the rest in two bites and took another. ‘You won’t mind my having another,’ she said. ‘Are you going to try one, dear? You really should.’

‘Oh,’ smiled Wari, ‘in a little while, perhaps.’

Auntie Ulo was halfway through her third when her face changed. The smile disappeared and she began to look pained. ‘Now, would you believe? All of a sudden I don’t feel so…’ her words trailed off as she stood up and began to pace, holding her stomach. ‘Perhaps it’s something I ate before I…’ she stared at Wari in horror, then fell forward onto her face.

Wari sat watching as her aunt’s ghost began to pray for salvation. ‘Oh dear,’ she said mildly. ‘How unfortunate. I can’t think how that could have happened.’

Auntie Ulo was too busy with her prayers to reply, but her face as she shimmered and disappeared…! It was priceless.

If the Fates saw fit to send Auntie Ulo back, Wari wouldn’t be troubled with any more visits from her.

‘Oh, Chavit,’ she murmured under her breath. ‘You wily thing! I could hug you right now.’

Later, she composed a letter. She wrote it in her best handwriting, in silver ink on a piece of delicately pink and fragranced paper.

My dear, dear Chavit!

How can I possibly thank you enough for your very kind service to me? I have been trying to rid myself of the thoroughly tiresome presence of my aunt for such a long time, and thought I had done it! Only think how dismayed I was to receive a card from her, and a proposed visit!

Fortunately your very sweet offering arrived just in time. It is almost as though you knew I would be requiring your services, you clever thing!

I consider myself quite in your debt, and I trust you will inform me if there is ever any way at all in which I can repay you.

With fondest regards,

Miss Wari Cavanatho.

Xoxoxo

 

She received in reply only a single glass vial of crotamine, with the label: “Drink this and die!” stuck to the side.

This she framed, and hung on the wall of the Gobbling Gila Bakery.

 

She thought that would be the end of it, but she was wrong. Three days later, the wakabi post brought her a beautiful scroll made out of fine quality parchment. Words had been scribed upon it in a violent red ink, bearing the following inscription:

I, Chavit Mosebi, hereby challenge Wari Cavanatho to

A Food Fight

TO THE DEATH!

If you choose to accept my challenge, you will meet me at the Pyrodome at sunrise in two days’ time. You will bring a witness. We will find out, once and for all, who is the best baker of Gaudiguch!

Our only weapons shall be FOOD, and our only defences shall be FOOD.

The loser will close their shop and leave the city forever, leaving the good citizens of Gaudiguch to the superior skills of the winner!

If the above rules are not complied with, the contest is FORFEIT and the transgressor loses by default!

I will see you at the Pyrodome, Cavanatho!

PS: You won’t refuse to accept my challenge, of course, because what could the great Cavanatho have to fear from an ignorant upstart like me? But just in case you’re too lazy to turn up, know this: if I don’t see you at the Dome at the appointed time, I’ll be talking to the Gossip about your little recipe trick. My reputation’s already in tatters; it can’t get much worse for me. It can, however, get a great deal worse for you.

Think about it.

 

As she calmly folded up the scroll, Wari felt torn between laughter and rage. A food fight…! Of all the absurd things! It couldn’t possibly be taken seriously.

On the other hand, Chavit was obviously taking it very seriously indeed. The consequences of losing were severe. Did this imply confidence or foolhardiness on his part? Both. She knew he was an idiot, and here he was proving it again.

His closing threat disquieted her, however. He had a point: he could smear her name quite effectively if he chose to be so reckless. Everyone had seen the recipe chest in her bakery. It would all sound far too plausible (because, of course, it was). She couldn’t safely refuse to meet him as he demanded.

Looking on the bright side, the notion that Upstart Chavit could best her at any kind of cooking contest was absurd. She would have a ridiculous morning, but at the end of it Chavit would be on his merry way and she would be free of the aggravation offered by his silly Bawdy Butterfly Café. Why, even the name was ridiculous. She was growing irritated just thinking about it.

Wari set the scroll carefully aside, and began on her preparations.

 

Sunrise, two days later. Wari stood outside the Pyrodome, alone except for her witness (Shibbi). She was wearing a brand new set of enchanted robes, made entirely out of bacon. They stank, and they felt horribly slimy against her skin, but it was worth it. She guessed that Chavit, hopelessly outclassed, would try to squeeze by on a technicality; if he could successfully accuse her of cheating, he’d win by default. She wasn’t about to let that happen.

She had consumed a lot of food already this morning, and her stomach groaned with it. A platter of fish snacks had left her feeling much stronger and tougher; a few nibbles of pastry had boosted her speed; she had even had a couple of Happiness Cakes (hey, why not? It didn’t hurt to be in a good mood while you were destroying other people’s dreams).

Her inventory meanwhile was well stocked with assorted supplies. She guessed that regular elixirs wouldn’t be allowed; they were technically food, in that many of them had to be imbibed, but that was only a technicality. They didn’t count as baked goods or brews, so she would guess that Chavit would seek to have them outlawed.

So she had spent a whole night whipping up a new set of curatives. She had all the usual functions, but they were imbued into tiny baked goods - the smaller the better, since she was already stuffed. She also had a few flasks full of unusually restorative spirits (low on the alcohol - she didn’t want to be roaring drunk for this).

As for her weapons, she had done something she didn’t think Chavit would have thought of. She had baked BADLY. She had muffins of mass destruction, so overbaked they were completely solid and heavy enough to knock someone out if they hit. She had some whippy, creamy confections which would wipe out his eyesight if she managed to get one in his face. And she had some more subtle pieces: a perfume spray held her brand-new recipe for Love Liquor, so new she hadn’t yet put it on the menu at the Gobbling Gila. If he breathed that in, he’d be too busy trying to kiss her to think of fighting, at least for a few seconds. And she had a flask of the cutely-named Soporific  Soup (as he’d called it on his stupid menu). If she could force him to swallow some, he’d be flat on his back in moments, snoring like a bear.

If any of these pleasing eventualities came to pass, she had her ultimate weapon: the vial of crotamine he had sent her. She had cooked some of it into one of her favourite, and very tasty, fruit compote recipes. Once he was sleeping - or begging for kisses - she’d pour a trickle of that down his throat, and it would all be over.

She was feeling pretty good about the whole thing.

Chavit turned up, only just avoiding the stigma of being late. He had a friend in tow that she didn’t recognise, a sleepy-eyed drac whose air of arrogance rivalled Chavit’s.

‘My brother,’ Chavit said briefly, jerking his thumb at the drac. He didn’t offer the chap’s name, and Wari didn’t bother to ask.

‘You know Shibbi,’ she said with a much more gracious smile, and Chavit nodded curtly at her. He was obviously preoccupied with Wari’s remarkable robes. To her annoyance, he didn’t look impressed so much as amused; a grin kept tugging at the corners of his mouth and when he met her gaze, his eyes were full of laughter.

‘Stylish,’ he said at last.

Wari drew herself up. ‘I had them made specially,’ she informed him. ‘My sister’s a tailor.’

Chavit nodded. ‘Well, my brother’s a smith.’ The unnamed brother drew something out of a large satchel and handed it to Chavit, who hefted it for her perusal.

It was a kind of mace, with a chunky handle and a large, spiky ball on the end. It looked like it was covered in salt.

‘What in the name of the Gods is that?’ Wari said, eyeing it with wide eyes.

‘Salt baked vegetables,’ Chavit said. ‘They bake pretty hard, and I found a way to bind the salt casing. Bro helped with the design.’

Wari began to feel a little nervous. She had been very clever with her equipment, creating so many marvellously sneaky things; she hadn’t expected that Chavit would go straight for brute force. And he was already taller than she, with - inevitably - more muscle mass.

Hiding her nerves behind her usual cool façade, she said, ‘Are those ordinary robes you’re wearing? They don’t look edible.’

Chavit grinned at her and began undoing buttons. ‘Don’t worry, baby,’ he said, shrugging the fabric away. ‘I won’t wear anything you can’t eat.’

He wasn’t wearing anything underneath. Wari averted her eyes, inwardly cursing the blush that stained her face. A flicker of anger replaced the nerves that had been tickling her belly. Shabby tricks!

She looked back to see him winking roguishly at Shibbi, who was openly staring at him.

 ‘If you two are finished,’ she said with dignity. ‘I assume you’ll want to verify that my equipment is permissible.’

They spent a few minutes comparing their weapons and defences, a process which brought Wari’s nerves flooding back. He’d gone all out for brute force, bringing an entire arsenal of solid and potentially very painful baked things with him. It made her arsenal of delicately dangerous edible objects look a little feeble in comparison.

Well, she thought grimly as she stepped into the Pyrodome. No matter what happens, he’s already proved that he’s an AWFUL baker.

She stood facing Chavit, one of her terrible muffins clutched in her hand, her other gripping her perfume spray. Chavit stared her down, his face full of pure bloody-minded determination, his powerful hands full with that ridiculous mace of his.

He looked like he wanted nothing more in this world than her immediate and bloody death.

Oh, Gods, she thought, swallowing. Maybe the recipe thing wasn’t such a great idea.

Too late to worry about that now. The fight began, and Chavit leaped at her, mace raised high. The thing looked like it would disintegrate if he hit her with it, she thought distractedly as she dodged out of the way, but it would probably crush her skull along with it. She blessed the speedy pastries she’d eaten; her heightened reflexes kept her alive through a few more whirling strikes. Seeing her chance, she darted in with her perfume spray and emptied it directly into his face. She caught him on an inhalation, and he blinked, dazed.

‘Wari…’ he said huskily. ‘Wait, maybe we shouldn’t… you look…’ he stared at her, looking thunderstruck.

Wari got her crotamine ready, relief washing over her. But before she could use it, his eyes narrowed and he glugged something out of one of the bottles he’d brought. The smell of strong alcohol wafted over her, and his eyes cleared.

He snarled, and swung at her again.

Wari threw soup into his face; he spat it out. She hurled a fluffity creamy pie at his face, but he dodged and it sailed past. She chucked a couple of muffins at his head, but they bounced off harmlessly.

He really IS thick-skulled, she thought irritably as she jumped out of the way of yet another swing. She began to think this was her best bet: keep ducking and diving until that stupid mace fell apart in his hands, which it was sure to do soon the way he was swinging the damned thing.

Maybe she could get another squirt of the Love Liquor in on him, if she was very quick. Seizing the first opportunity that presented, she pulled it off: another dose went right into his face, covering his mouth and nose. He couldn’t fail to imbibe some of it.

He paused a second time, mid-swing, that same dippy look crossing his face. Wari enjoyed the experience for a split second or two before she raised her crotamine vial, ready to shove it in his mouth.

He moved first, crushing her face to his in a long kiss.

It took Wari a couple of seconds to realise that his mouth was full of something, and now hers was, too. It burned as it went down, and she began to panic. Her muscles locked up, and she fell to the arena floor.

‘Kiss of death,’ said Chavit, looking down at her lovingly. ‘Sorry, darling.’

‘You-utter-bastard,’ Wari gasped. Her body was cramping as shooting pains lanced through her, but she managed to raise a flask to her lips and sip. Antidotes to just about every poison had gone into this particular liquor; she gulped plenty of it down.

‘Oh, no, you don’t,’ Chavit said, and raised the mace.

The love potion’s worn off, then, Wari thought as the mace came crashing down.

 

 

Closing the Gobbling Gila didn’t break her heart as much as she’d thought. The shop had been doing so well for so many years that she had a considerable private fortune amassed; quite enough to secure for herself an aethershop. She had it connected up to the Gaudiguch portals in a trice, and her old customers began to roll in to the new Gobbling Gila Bakery.

What’s more, she began to receive custom from all over the Basin. Her business took off; within a few months she was making more money than ever.

Chavit, on the other hand, was not doing quite so well. When she had come back from her visit to the Fates, he had been unbearably smug. She, Wari, had found it within herself to be gracious in defeat, knowing that the wily little bastard wouldn’t last five minutes without her around. Who would he find to imitate?

When the notice of the Bawdy Butterfly’s closure appeared in the Gossip, she had only celebrated a little. A very little. It was SO nice, being right.

Though she did feel a little sorry for him. What could possibly have prompted him to take up baking in the first place? He obviously had no real feel for food. That salt-baked mace…. It still made her laugh to think of it. Though she’d lost the fight, she privately felt that she had won the spirit of the battle. Her inventions had been mightily superior to his; much more clever, much more refined, and much more deliciously wicked. His interpretation of the challenge had been so literal.

No imagination, that was his problem.

She was still entertaining these pleasing reflections some weeks later when he suddenly walked into her bakery. He was, she was relieved to see, properly dressed this time, and some of the cockiness had gone out of his walk.

‘Miss Cavanatho,’ he said to her when he reached the counter. ‘How nice to see you.’

He’d never been so polite before. Narrowing her eyes, she stared him down. ‘Yes?’

He smiled slightly. ‘I wanted to congratulate you. I see you are still getting the best of me, even in supposed defeat.’

Wari merely nodded modestly. Well! It was only the truth, even if he did look rather depressed about it.

‘I was wondering…’ he began, and then stopped.

‘Yes?’ she prompted.

‘Are you busy tonight?’

She blinked. ‘What?’

‘There’s a new restaurant just opened in Gaudi, I don’t know if you heard. The Crouching Caterpillar. I was wondering if you’d like to check it out.’

‘You’re asking me out on a date?’

He shrugged. ‘You’ve been pretty awful to me, but I figure I deserved it.’

Wari stared at him.

‘We have a lot in common,’ he said with a hopeful smile. ‘Surely you can see that. Wouldn’t it be more fun to stop being enemies?’

Wari stared some more.

‘All right: I give up,’ he said, holding up his hands. ‘You have utterly defeated me, I admit my inferiority and I hereby withdraw from all further conflicts with you. I shall, furthermore, tell all my friends and family how marvellous the new Gobbling Gila is. Now will you have dinner with me?’

Wari narrowed her eyes. ‘ALL your friends and family?’ she prompted.

‘Every last one,’ he promised. ‘I’ll even write an ad in the Gossip if you like.’

Wari made a show of thinking it over. ‘You know, you’ve done me all sorts of favours with all your nonsense. I’d been meaning to expand the business for years, but I didn’t quite have the resolution to do it. Sentimentality, you know. But you made it happen! I salute you.’

Chavit winced. ‘Ouch.’

‘No, I was serious.’

‘I know.’

They stood looking at each other for a moment in silence.

‘Seven o’clock?’ Chavit said.

‘Seven-thirty,’ Wari countered.

Chavit’s wicked grin appeared. ‘Done!’ Oh, and Wari?’

‘Yes?’

‘Please don’t wear the bacon robes.’