"Eat," Vol said dismissively, hiding the fact that he too was feeling more than a little hungry. Jev's cooking had a way of doing that to a man. They'd all grown used to the flavour of his food in particular, even if he did not cook all the time. His were the sorts of the meals that they'd learned to look forward to. And now, he had managed to cook for them again, despite the injury that he'd incurred, and despite the relentlessness of the road. He'd apparently risked starting a fire in another iron pot in order to give them such a gift. It was a wonder that his carriage had not burned down.
He lifted the lid, and he nodded for Harland to serve them the stew in the bowls that had already been prepared. Stew was Jev's speciality. He had three variations on them, depending on the meat. That day, it was dried beef, but you would never have guessed that it had ever been dried. With the simplest of ingredients, he made everything seem fresh and refined.
