Marron nodded. "Marron Louvel. Traveling chef, Meadowbrook Guild. I was told to report here by Guildmaster Halloway."
The woman's lips curved. "Halloway. Old-fashioned taste, that one." She flipped through a glowing tablet, her nails clicking softly. "Your evaluation's scheduled for dawn tomorrow. You'll need to prepare a dish that represents your philosophy. The Guild provides ingredients, tools, and an audience."
Mokko raised a brow. "Audience?"
"It's all recorded, of course. For sponsorships."
Lucy whispered from her jar, "I think I'm scared of this place."
Marron glanced around—at the chandeliers shaped like wineglasses, the golden trays floating midair, the chefs posing more than stirring. "Don't be. It's just another kitchen with better lighting."
