The cuisine of the Caliphate was quite interesting.

“It’s like we took a broad look at food and went: ‘Hey, it’s all in the taste and the texture.’ Then took that idea and ran with it,” said Karim.

Taking a look at the dishes arrayed in front of us, I had to agree. There was a basket of unleavened bread, a bowl of mashed potatoes, a salad and a plate of shredded meat. None of them flavoured, all of them bland. Other than that, there were several small glass jars containing colourful sauces.

“This is the classic hot sauce, that one’s sweet cream with onion, and oh, this one’s mango chutney… my favourite. It’s why I keep coming back here. I don’t know how they managed it but they have a direct channel with an orchard in Indus. Every spring and summer they get a supply of fruits. And they really make the best sauces with them,” enthused Karim. “Fruits are rare enough on the grassland, as it is. And it’s not for nothing that they call the mango the king of fruits. I’m always surprised by how affordable they keep the rates. You’d need to spend several times more for the same dish at our capital…”

It seemed that other than horses, food was another topic Karim was really enthusiastic about.

Letting his chatter flow over me, I took up one of the parathas – as the bread, more of a tortilla, really, was called – and layered some meat and vegetables on it. I poured a bit of the sweet cream over the filings, a bit of the mango chutney – to see what the fuss was all about and because sweet went well with sour – and after hesitating a bit, a dash of hot sauce. Rolling up the bread, I brought the impromptu wrap up to my mouth and took a bite.

I’ll spare you the clothes-shattering, climax-inducing version of the description… but it tasted good. I mean, like really good. I had never tasted something that was such a perfect combination of sweet and sour before. If Indus had more stuff like this mango chutney on offer, if I went there, I might never leave.

Quickly finishing off the wrap, I reached out to make another one. This time with different sauces.

These guys had really tried to take food and break it up into its constituents. It shifted a lot of the responsibility of making the food taste good upon the diner. The chef might make the best sauces but if the diner got the combination wrong, they could end up with a disaster of a meal. On the other hand, someone experienced enough would get just the flavour he was in the mood for at the moment. Like all things it was a double-edged sword.

As someone who enjoyed spending time in the kitchen and drew satisfaction from the contented faces of those who ate my meals, I didn’t much like this idea of modular dining. Sure, the chefs still made the sauces and were praised for them. But they lost the ability to plan the course of a meal.

Phobos sometimes compared planning and executing a full course meal with directing a war. And I rather agreed with her. If each link of the meal didn’t blend seamlessly into the one that followed, or progress logically from the one that came before, it would mar the entire experience. It was just like how a failure at one point on the battlefield could cause a chain reaction that would spread over the rest of it.

It took days of preparation. You had to decide upon a theme for the food. Then go shopping for ingredients ahead of time. (Some of the ingredients required that you let them ferment or cool in a freezer for weeks.) Then there was the matter of snooping around and gathering information about the tastes of your opponents – your diners. What they liked best, what they hated, what they had allergies to… whether they were flighty creatures who couldn't decide whether sweet or spicy dishes were their favourite. Looking at you Deimos! Then, finally, you could get down to the actual cooking and that was a battlefield all on its own.

But the sense of satisfaction, of fulfilment when all that hard work paid off and you had a table full of smiling people patting their bulging bellies… it was priceless.

The chefs here would never experience it.

But then again… this type of mix and match was really interesting!

Maybe a bit too interesting.

Slumping heavily back into my chair, I patted my taut stomach. While my thoughts had been wandering, my hands had kept themselves busy making more wraps and stuffing them into my face. I felt bloated, like a python that had just swallowed a deer. I could feel a food coma coming on. I didn’t think I would be moving anytime soon.

Glancing around the table, I found that the rest of our group was in more or less similar conditions.

Except Hei Lian. She didn’t need to eat, the poor thing.

“So,” asked Phobos. “You were going to tell us about the Trial…”

“Oh, yes. The Trial. Ahem. Well, the tasks for the Trial are chosen with some considerations in mind. One thing the planners think about is how best to show off some aspect of their nation. Another consideration is whether there is some sort of event that they could use some extra help with – after all, if you look at it sideways, every Swayamvar participant is essentially free labour. Talented free labour.

“If you look at your nation’s skirmish with the Shogunate at sea, or the Egyptians with their Scarab Tide, they are a clear example of the latter. But as we don’t have some sort of pressing problem we need to deal with. Our Trial is more of the former.”

He grinned.

“We want you to realize how much better that you we are in certain fields, then we want you to go back to your country and initiate trade with us for our expertise.”

Well, that was some confidence he had right there.

“Fields?” asked Artemis, stressing the plural. “Will there be more than one competition? And what fields are you talking about?”

Karim nodded.

“Yes, your highness. There are three events planned. One for each standard Aspect of wind. The first one for the Aspect of Wind will be a footrace; against a very special opponent. A test of your speed. The one for Lightning will pit your research capabilities against those of others. A test of your intellect. And the final one, for Sharpness, is a well-kept secret. Not even I have been told what it is.” He shrugged. “It seems we’ll just have to wait to find out.”