68. The Competition
The Competition
Kain was at the barn before sunrise the day of the competition.
The White Skeleton sat on its bed of straw in the curing rack where he had put it a week back, pulled off the vine clean at the stem.
The skin had stayed white. No bruise, no streak.
He wiped it down with a damp cloth and cut a length of burlap off the bolt Sam had sold him for sacking potatoes.
He wrapped the pumpkin in two layers and tied the corners with twine.
He carried it out to Roan, and the horse stood for the loading and didn't fuss with the weight.
The fall festival was, in Kain's opinion, the best of them all. The loudest. The brightest. Everyone brought their wares from the harvest out and showed off everything they had grown or put up over the year.
The competition came with it. Held a few days before the festival itself. It was too big to be part of the festival proper.
Kain had kept an eye on the white pumpkin as the competition came up. He had cut it off the vine several days back. He had it on a bed of straw in the barn to cure.
On the day before the festival Kain was finishing up at the Kettle well into the night. Sasha and Carol were both there. The two of them were wiping down the last of the tables as the final warriors stumbled up the stairs or out into the camps to their beds.
"You can go on home, Kain." Sasha said. She and Carol were working on a stain on the long table.
"Not on your life." Kain worked the broom in a sharp rhythm. "The competition's tomorrow. This room's hosting it. I know you two will stay up all night if you have to. I'm not going to let that happen."
"We're almost done," Carol said. She bit her lip as she scrubbed the table. "Maybe. What got spilled on this. Doesn't look like blood or beer."
"Some sort of potion." Sasha shrugged. "There was a mage waving a bottle around. It was glowing. He was shouting something about turning himself invisible. He dropped it and it broke."
"Well, I'd appreciate it if it doesn't turn the baking entries invisible when we put them out tomorrow." Carol said. "I'm entering the baking competition for the first time."
"Hm." Kain looked up. "Not the jams this year."
"No. I made up plenty this year. I'd like to keep it all. I can never beat Mrs. McGrath anyway. This year I'm entering apple cake."
"Should be a good one."
"It is. My mother's recipe. She got it from her grandmother. Who got it from her grandmother. I've made it a few times for my father. I finally got the technique for a perfect crust. You're going to be blown away."
"I'll have a piece."
They didn't finish until almost an hour later. The hearth swept. The tables organized. The floor clean. The candles arranged. Mugs and plates set out.
Kain rode home to snatch a few hours of sleep before the day.
When morning came he was up early. He went out to the barn.
Roan snorted as Kain fed him and started grooming him.
"You'll spend the day relaxing in Carol's barn. We've got things to do."
As Roan ate, Kain went over and brought the pumpkin out from the curing rack and wrapped it carefully in a piece of burlap. He took Roan out of the stall, set the pumpkin up on his back, and climbed up after.
He rode out for town.
The sun wasn't up by the time he made Tillamore. A crowd had already packed itself around the Kettle. Dozens of warriors and adventurers stood at a distance, staring at the crowd in confusion. They'd figure it out.
Carol caught sight of him and waved. She took Roan and the pumpkin up. Kain lugged the pumpkin in burlap into the tavern.
By that point the tavern was nearly full. Kain let out a low whistle. Like last year, only more.
The tables had been pushed together in the middle of the floor. The baked and processed goods were piled on top of them. Along the walls and the booths the vegetables and fruits sat in rows. Kain found the area for pumpkins and set his on the table beside five other entries.
Jeremiah came over with a Judge ribbon at his shoulder and patted Kain on the arm.
"Looks like a good one. Don't worry. I'll be impartial."
"Don't be too impartial."
Jeremiah laughed. "You know me too well for that."
Kain slipped around behind the bar. Matthew toddled up and held up his hands. Kain bent and picked the boy up. The boy was now over a year. Strange enough in itself. He watched as the crowd worked in and the judging began.
Jeremiah, Sam, and Garland were the three judges. They walked over to the baked goods.
Kain looked across the spread.
Cakes and pies. Rolls and pastries. Croissants and bagels and pretzels and biscuits.
Almost two dozen loaves of bread in an assortment of shapes, some braided like rope.
Jars and jars of jam, around two or three dozen.
Jars of pickles. Jars of beets. Jars of minced meat.
Bottles of home-brewed ale and wine. Far more.
A few curious adventurers poked their heads in as the judging began.
Jeremiah took a pastry and cut a few small pieces off it. He handed the pieces to Sam and Garland. They each took a bite. They nodded to one another. They sampled the next pastry. The next. Down the line. Each one sampled. They conferred. They turned to the crowd.
"Third place, Elizabeth. Second, Mrs. McGrath. First, Mrs. Hereford."
The crowd cheered. Elizabeth glared at her husband for not picking her pastry as the winner. He made a few calming motions in her direction. The pastries went out among the crowd.
That was the best piece of the competition. After the judges decided, the food went out to the room.
None of the pastries made it back behind the bar. Kain saw several warriors sampling them at the tables and nodding.
The judging moved on to the cakes. Kain watched as best he could when they got to the apple cake. Carol stood off to the side, watching with her eyes on the judges. Jeremiah came forward.
"Third place, Carol. Second."
Kain didn't catch the second. Carol crossed her arms and glared.
The cakes were passed out among the crowd. Kain leaned forward and tugged at the sleeve of someone on the other side of the bar.
"You mind making sure I get a piece of the apple cake."
"Sure thing."
A beat later Kain had a piece in hand. Matthew looked at it with the eyes of a boy who knew what cake was. Kain fed him a piece when Sasha wasn't looking. He ate the rest himself.
It was good. The crust crackled. The center was rich. Moist and not gooey.
Carol was looking at him. He nodded across at her.
They couldn't talk for the moment. They watched the judges work through the rest. Cold sausages.
Jams. Breads. Pickles. All sorts of things.
Kain didn't ask for more food. The folks closest to the table filled up and started passing the extras back.
By the time the judging was through with the baked goods, Kain had eaten so much that a single more bite would burst him. Matthew had eaten his fill too.
Around noon the judges moved on to the vegetables.
Kain didn't have eyes for anything but the pumpkins.
When the judges got to them, all six entries were lifted up onto the long table. Kain's went on with the other five. Several of the farmers murmured.
It was good. He could see it. He had watered it carefully through the summer. He had protected it. He had nourished it. It showed. It was larger than any of the orange pumpkins. The shape was clean. The ribbing was even. No orange. No darkening at the corners.
「Achievement: White Pumpkin (purebred), First Place」
「Reputation Increased: Tillamore」
The three judges talked among themselves. Then Jeremiah stepped forward.
"Third place, Will Martinson. Second, Garland." A round of boos came up. Jeremiah shrugged. "Look at the thing. It's near perfect. Fine. Third place, John. Second, Will." The crowd cheered. Garland whacked Jeremiah on the back of the head. "First place. Kain Asheld."
The room applauded.
Kain held his jaw set.
Jeremiah patted the pumpkin on the side and shook his head.
"That is a pumpkin. Largest white pumpkin I've ever seen. Near perfect. And I think we'd all agree he deserves the win even if he hadn't saved all our lives."
A ripple of laughter went around the room.
Kain shook his head.
The judging moved on. When it was through later in the afternoon, the farmers helped reset the tavern just in time for the now-daily fried onion hour, and warriors started coming in.
Carol came around behind the bar.
"Well. You did it. I know how much time you poured into that pumpkin."
"Glad it turned out all right in the end." Kain set the cup down. "Mark would have done it right the first year."
"Maybe so." Carol paused. Then she glared. "And anyway. One of us needed to win first prize in something. Did you see what they gave me."
"Third place."
"Third place. I was robbed. That crust was perfect. Per-fect."
"It was perfect."
"Thank you. Someone needed to say it. I sampled a piece of the cherry cake that won. I'm not going to say it was bad. Did it have a crust like that. I don't think so."
She held up her hands as she walked into the kitchen to help serve.
"That's how I felt last year when I got disqualified," Kain called after her. "You'll do better next year."
"How am I supposed to do better. The thing was impeccable. I can't mulch my stove so it bakes better. I can't water the apple cake every day so it grows bigger than it did this year."
She scowled. A small twitch at the corner of her mouth said she was mostly joking.
Another competition had come and gone. Now it was time to prepare for the festival.