Renato peeled the turnips, cut them into irregular chunks, and dropped them into the pot.
The cast-iron pot he had bought in Brekka Town finally came in handy.
Only it was in a densely populated city, rather than out in the wilderness as he had imagined.
"How many cloves of garlic should I peel?"
"The whole head." Watching Perly pick at the skins with her fingernails made him frown. "Don't make it so hard on yourself. Give it here, I'll show you."
Renato smashed the garlic cloves, removed their skins, and tossed them into the pot.
Kira carried in a bundle of wooden sticks, set it on the floor, and dusted off her hands as she said:
"I broke up two stools. Will this be enough firewood?"
Renato hefted the bundle. The general store's wooden stools were solidly built, weighing close to ten pounds.
"Cut the legs in half again, or they won't burn well. Split the seats into thinner pieces too."
"You got it."
The cured meat was hard, and his dagger offered poor leverage. Renato borrowed the thief's short sword, divided the meat into small sections, then cut it into evenly thick slices.
The shop had a small kitchen, but it was thick with dust. The cookware rack was empty, and there were no ingredients anywhere. Clearly, Petro never cooked for himself.
Perly soaked the firewood with lamp oil, took a flint and a piece of steel from her pocket, and struck them together. Sparks flew, successfully igniting the dry wood.
Renato set the pot on the stone stove. The cured meat was too lean and tough, so he added half a lump of butter. The soup needed some fat to taste good.
"Renato, I found four red onions. Should we put them in?"
"Put in two, Perly."