~~*~~ Fort Weyr - Kitchen ~~*~~
After rising up an imposing flight of steps you enter an elaborate vaulted ceiling. The delicious smells that gently infuse the air drift out from this portion of the cavern. The head cook, Rickard, bustles about creating the masterpiece dishes that the weyr as a whole consumes. His extensive collection of prized copper cookware hangs upon their custom-made racks, reflecting soft light back out into the cavern proper. A handful of sub-cooks and helpers are engaged in an variety of food preparations, moving briskly but efficiently about their work. A pair of spit canines trot in their wicker wheels, continuously turning the spits with their slowly roasting joints that hiss and crackle over the fires.


Things are quiet in the kitchen now that dinner is over - or at least quieter than the pre-dinner rush, anyway. It's clean-up time for the most part, though a small section of the kitchen remains active as food to be served throughout the night is prepared. Having somehow weaseled out of the dishwashing duty that some of the others in her position have been landed with, Amethyst has the task of stirring the giant stew cauldron that sits over the hearth, into which more ingredients are constantly being poured.

Thankfully, Ravyal's damp steps have dried enough not to trek water in as he pokes his head into the kitchen. He's still somewhat bundled from the outside, with his cloak wrapped securely around himself. But it's /warm/ in the kitchen, and the weaver looks absolutely thrilled at that prospect. Seeing Amethyst there is of course a bit of a surprise, and there's a nervous look around as he hurries across the kitchen to get nearer. …Granted, he's also taking great lung-filling breaths of the smell of stew while he's there. "A..Amethyst? What are you doing?" Gasp! "Your master wasn't so mad about the jewelry that she sent you to the /kitchens/, was she?"

"Nope," Amethyst replies with a grin and a wink; "but she will be, when she finds out. Tashryn's still in Ruatha, I've not spoken to her yet." She sets down her stirring spoon, turning to Ravyal and tapping her shoulder. Right there, instead of her usual Smith's knot, is a plain white one. "We found a clue, Rav! Out on the road in the forest? One of the earrings was there!"

Ravyal's eyes widen just a bit at seeing the change in knot on the woman's shoulder. "O..oh!" Well that certainly would explain pot-stirring and all that. The weaver looks a little embarrassed though, gaze flicking from the now-candidate to the caldron and back again. "Am…I allowed to have some?" The teen is quite..distracted by the smell, it would seem! "I..sort of missed dinner time, and..um.. Wait, you found one in the forest?"

Amethyst beckons for Ravyal to follow her to another pot, that's just off to the side of the one she's been stirring. "That one's not done yet. The tubers are probably still raw… but here, this one's from dinner. Want to grab a bowl and spoon, and I'll butter you some bread? Then I can tell you what happened - it was luck." She winks, then turns to go and do what she said she would. It's not an especially long task, so she meets Rav back by the stew pot when he gets there.

Ravyal perks up, hurrying to get himself a bowl for the stew. /Food!/ He comes back with it, a bit eagerly trailing after Amethyst. "Luck, huh?" He comes around the stew pot, peeking inside of it hungrily.

"Luck," Amethyst replies, serving up a portion into the boy's bowl, and handing him the bread she's prepared. "I was out with some of the guards, following the trail, when Kee - the runner I was on - went lame. Why? Because she'd somehow stepped on an earring. It was there! Embedded in her hoof! Poor thing was in pain, of course, which was awful, but that forest-lead the guards found must mean something, right?" She's excited, even though she's had to take up stirring the cauldron again. "Though… what in Faranth's name was it doing there?" Except there's no opportunity for them to discuss it further, as one of the kitchen staff comes over to drag Amethyst's attention back to the stew she's supposed to be stirring, giving her a telling-off for letting it catch on the bottom of the pot.