“Your Highness, Master Gise lives here, and I will sleep here as well tonight.”
They would pass me on the way to their pallets! I crept toward the aisle of stalls. I had to get out, and quickly.
“Then I will stay only a minute or two and let you have your rest. Will you join me in an Ehlodie—oh! I meant eulogy—to these remains.”
Did Master Dess know my name? I couldn’t remember.
I tiptoed by the carts as fast as I could go.
“We must leave this life”—her voice rose on leave, a signal for me, as if I needed one—“all of us, whether goat or grasshopper, child or chicken, person or panther, human or heron. . . .” She was entirely carried away. I hoped she would continue until I escaped.
While she named more pairings, I reached the middle aisle we had entered through and worked my way past the stalls. As I went by, I peeped into Master Thiel’s stall for a second glimpse of him. The stall was empty. I halted, squinted, looked away and back again. Still empty.
“. . . and even an ox or a camel or a bumblebee may be mourned. La! Perhaps not so much a bumblebee.”
Had I looked in the wrong stall? No. There was the broom I’d knocked over. Had I imagined Master Thiel?
“The goat will surely be mourned. Maker of goat’s milk, giver of goat cheese, happy in life, she deserves these few words in her memory.”
I neared the doors.
“Now, masters, I will let you finish the night in sleep.”
I was out. I flew up the stairs and waited for her in the inner ward.
What would I do if Master Gise or Master Dess decided to escort her to the donjon?
She came out alone. “Was I not quick-witted to secretly tell you to leave? Did you find Nesspa?”
I nodded, then shook my head. “I may have missed him in the dark.”
She patted the top of my cap. “You did your best.” She yawned. “I shall continue the search tomorrow. Go to your bed, Ehlodie, and I will go to mine.”
I went to my pallet but not to instant sleep. A servant nearby moaned from a dream. At home, Albin was a quiet sleeper. The cottage was small, cozy. I would be tucked into bed, a pallet there, too, nestled in our little house tight against our mountain, thrice snug and sheltered.
And thrice loved.
I rolled onto my side. What had I learned tonight?
That the princess was kind and gave away caps and was going to marry an ogre despised by her subjects. That Master Thiel and Master Dess could pop up anywhere. That Master Dess was an animal physician. That a dog was not easily found. That, so far as I could tell, I had discovered nothing to help my masteress deduce or induce and nothing to keep His Lordship from harm.
Chapter Seventeen
Awareness of the meeting with my masteress must have awakened me while my fellow servants still slumbered. My eyes felt gritty from too little sleep. I sat up and straightened the princess’s cap, sliding the bows from my left ear to my chin.
The fire had died down to nothing. I placed my satchel under my mattress and tidied the blankets over the lump. The pallet would be stacked, but I didn’t know where, so I left it. I owned nothing to interest a thief.
Hugging my cloak, I exited into the inner ward. At the well I splashed my face, although a little water wouldn’t pass for cleanliness with IT. Then I ran through the postern passage, an arched tunnel to the postern door, which opened onto the west side of the outer ward.
Dawn hadn’t yet come, but the growing light revealed a fishpond to my right and a double row of fruit trees along the outer curtain, the castle’s outermost wall.
Where would IT land? Each side of the castle was a quarter mile long. Had IT come down already on the other side? IT wasn’t in the sky, and I might be expected to deduce where IT would land. Enh enh enh.
I smelled not a whiff of spoiled eggs. I started toward the back of the castle, reasoning that IT would be unlikely to land in front, where the gatehouses were and where guards might come swarming out.
As I rounded the tower, I saw ahead three fenced-in herb and vegetable gardens. Along the inner curtain bloomed Lepai rosebushes, which can flower through a light frost.
Ah, there IT was, flying from the west. IT sailed over the outer curtain, then wheeled to and fro just as the sun rose.
“Masteress!” I cried.
The tip of ITs tail flicked, in recognition of me, I supposed, but IT continued to fly, swooping here and there. When ITs face turned toward me, I saw a wild grin.
IT landed in the middle of the ward with ITs right claw outstretched. ITs left claw held three filled skewers.
I heard a terrified yeep! As I watched in horror, IT raised a fat brown hare to ITs flame. A minute later, IT held out the roast.
“Would you like a haunch, Lodie?”
I shook my head and kept half the ward between IT and me.
“Then come and eat your skewers. Breakfast will be gone by the time you return indoors.”
I rushed close for the skewers—uncooked—then backed away.
IT sat, placed the hare on ITs thigh, and carved the meat with ITs talons.
“Are you the ogre’s poacher?” I blurted.
ITs smoke blued. “I induce and deduce flawlessly, but occasionally I forget common sense. I should have let the rabbit live.” IT devoured ITs meal quickly, bones as well as meat. “I am no poacher”—ITs smoke whitened, ITs discomfort over—“not since I gave up catching and toasting young maidens.” Enh enh enh.
I smiled, although I imagined a squirming, shrieking girl in ITs claws. My fear of IT surged back.
“Lodie . . . come closer.” IT held my gaze.
I went, but slowly.
“Answer me. Even if you are a budding mansioner, I will know if you are lying. Do you believe I might roast a person?”
I swallowed. I wished Goodwife Celeste had never frightened me.
ITs smoke was bright pink, ITs scales red. “Angry as I am right now, am I flaming at you?”
I shook my head.
“I could broil you and eat you, and your parents would not know and no one here would care. . . .”
His Lordship might care. “You told me to doubt everyone.”
“Yes, but test your doubt. You slept in my lair unharmed for two nights. And during one of those nights, you were grimy and flea ridden. Awareness of your dirty state troubled my sleep.”
When I’d been awakened by the roaring, IT had been soundly asleep.
“Yet I did not harm even a lobe of your ear. Alas, you are almost as filthy as before, for all that you now have a cap.” IT lowered ITself onto ITs belly, keeping ITs head high. “Tell me what has happened and what you have learned.”
The most important news first. “Her High—”
“Wait.” IT lumbered to the outer curtain at the end of the herb gardens.
I followed, munching on bread and cheese, no longer afraid.
“The castle has ears, but the outer curtain is deaf. Now, speak.”
“Princess Renn is to marry His Lordship.”
“Start at the beginning, Lodie.”
I did. Under ITs prompting I recalled details I would have forgotten. For a mansioner, this was fine memory training. Still, I didn’t remember enough to satisfy IT. I had a sinking feeling of failure, just as I used to about the geese.
When I raved over how sweet the monkey was, IT held up a claw. “Emotion is of no consequence.”
But it was! “Please, Masteress, listen. He is a kindly ogre under his gruffness.”
“Inconsequential.” IT asked a dozen more questions about the journey to the castle, then progressed to my meeting with the princess. IT enh enh enhed endlessly over the monstrous shadow.
“If people in Two Castles know she is to marry His Lordship,” I said, “they must be furious. No one in the town wants to be ruled by an ogre someday.”
“I agree.” IT went on to questions about what had taken place in the stable.
Finally, when I thought I might p
ass the rest of my life in the outer ward, IT asked, “Is there anything else?”
My mind squeezed itself until I had a headache. Oh! How could I have forgotten this? “Master Thiel was sleeping in the stables. He slept through Princess Renn’s shrieking.”
“Or seemed to.”
I blurted, “Masteress, is he in need? Without a home?” Suffering? Could I help him?
“His father left him nothing and gave the mill and the mule to his brothers, but never fear. Thiel will make his fortune through marriage. Half the maidens in Two Castles are wild for him. If you have set your new cap for him”—enh enh enh—“you had best have more than three tins. Thiel’s blood runs noble. His great-great-grandfather, a knight, was the first owner of Jonty Um’s castle. Thiel’s bride—”
“What happened?”
“Lodie, do not interrupt your masteress.”
I apologized.
“Debts, extravagance. Jonty Um’s grandfather bought the castle from Thiel’s grandfather without regard for the opinion of the town.”
Another reason for people to dislike the count.
“Thiel looks much as the old man once did. I do not fancy him for you, so it is just as well you are poor.”
I didn’t enjoy being teased. “The stall he’d been sleeping in was empty on my way out.”
“Mmm. You peered into the same stall of a certainty?”
“I dropped a broom there.”
“Think. He may have moved the broom to a different stall.”
I blushed. I should have thought of that. “I picked this up in a wagon in the stable.” I pulled the little pouch out of my purse and opened it. The contents were only a few half-dried leaves. When I brought them to my nose, I smelled peppermint.
Goodwife Celeste?
“What is it?”
“Peppermint.” Had she been in the stables and then gone? I turned the pouch over in my hand, looking for some distinctive mark, but it was plain brown wool of ordinary quality. I thought back to the cog and was certain I hadn’t seen a pouch. “Do the goodwives of Two Castles carry peppermint?”
IT held the pouch up against the sun. “A healer might. A traveler might. The animal physician may have dropped it. A goodwife of the town would keep her herbs at home.”
“On the cog the goodwife Celeste gave me peppermint leaves. Do you remember I told you that I met her and her goodman when I was proclaiming?”
“Naturally I remember.”
I took a deep breath. “I didn’t mention that she warned me against you. She said you’re moody and might do anything if . . .”
IT stretched ITs neck and aimed a puff of fire skyward. The flame guttered out before reaching the ground. “Because dragons have fire, we’re believed to be hot-tempered.”
IT did have a temper.
“Everyone has a temper, Lodie.”
“Masteress, she wears a bracelet of twine. Master Thiel has a twine ring. Is there a league of wearers of twine jewelry?”
“Mmm.”
Mmm again. I returned the pouch to my purse. “Masteress, I like her, and she may not have been in the stables.”
“She warned you away from me!” IT stood on ITs back legs. “I will return at the nine-o’clock bells tonight. As soon as His Lordship’s guests arrive, remain with him.” IT flapped ITs wings. “Do not let him out of your sight. Trust no one. Keep him safe.”
How could a girl keep an ogre safe?
IT circled above me. “You can shout. A person half your size can shout. Act!”
Chapter Eighteen
In the kitchen, Master Jak, chief third assistant cook, whom I’d awakened the night before, swore at me for my late arrival, then grinned evilly. “Onions, Ehlodie. By thunder, onions.” He led me to the long kitchen worktable.
I scanned the room for Master Thiel, but he wasn’t there.
“Sit.”
I climbed onto a stool next to a sack of onions that rose to my elbow. Master Jak supplied me with a chopping knife, a peelings pail, and a big bowl for the chopped onions. He said a scullery maid would take away the bowl when it was filled and bring it back empty.
“His Lordship likes onions in his soup and onions in his stew,” Master Jak said, “and he is devoted to his onion pie. Don’t stop until they’re all chopped. By thunder, no weeping into them, Ehlodie.”
I began. Soon tears were falling into my lap, and yes, into the onions. Weeping made me think of mansioning. A true mansioner won’t use an onion to make her cry. I wondered if a true mansioner could conjure happiness and not cry in spite of a mountain of onions. I couldn’t.
Hoping the owner wouldn’t mind, I took the peppermint out of its pouch and put a leaf on my tongue. The mint helped against the onions, but not much.
The onions and I were stationed at the menial end of the table, far from the actual cooking. At the important end, yards and yards away, a baker kneaded dough, her arms floury up to the elbows. Next to her, another baker rolled out pastry. A scullery maid complained that her mortar and pestle were missing, and how could she pound the garlic and thyme without them? Master Jak told her to find a bowl and a spoon and cease griping.
At his own table, the butcher cut apart a lamb. Blood ran down grooves in the table to a pail on the floor. A small spotted dog—not Nesspa—sat at the butcher’s feet, staring ardently upward.
Master Jak and three others stood at the largest of three fireplaces, tending whatever was cooking. I wondered if Master Jak’s companions were the chief second assistant cook and the chief first assistant cook and the exalted cook.
I considered whether Nesspa could be stowed here somewhere. The lower half of the enormous cupboard between the two lesser fireplaces was big enough to hold a sheep. As if a fairy was granting wishes, a kitchen boy opened the double doors to get a frying pan, and I glimpsed shelves crammed with pots and pans. I saw no other likely place to hide a dog.
Sharing my end of the table, a boy—my age more or less, cap strings untied, narrow face, small brown eyes—peeled cucumbers.
He winked at me. “I’m in your debt, young mistress, for taking the onions.”
I was not partial to winkers, but I winked back. “I’m new, young master. I never saw the inside of a castle before today.”
Another wink from him. “A castle’s big so a count or a king can bring his friends in and keep his enemies’ armies out.”
“How clever.” I nodded encouragingly. Tell me something that will lead me to Nesspa or that I can tell Masteress Meenore.
“Thick walls, soldiers within, enough food to last a month. If we die, the rats can eat us for another month.”
Ugh!
He winked yet again. “If grand folk didn’t have enemies, they could live in houses.”
If poor folk had money, they could live in castles. “I never saw an ogre or a dragon before I came to town.”
“How do you like them?” He picked up another cucumber.
I’d minced three onions to his single cucumber. “They’re both big. I saw the ogre turn himself into a monkey. What a sight that was!”
His smile reached his ears. “He’s a fine monkey.”
“Do you think him fine as an ogre, too?”
“His Lordship”—he stressed the title—“pays better wages than any other master, and never a beating or a harsh word.” He winked. “Hardly a word at all. What does that matter?”
“The people of Two Castles seem not to care for him.”
“That den of thieves! None of us comes from there. They won’t work for him, and we wouldn’t work for anyone else.”
If all the servants came from elsewhere, then Master Thiel couldn’t be a groom or any sort of servant. “They say His Lordship’s dog was taken right here in the castle. Who would do such a thing?”
He thrust his head at me, then drew back because of the onions, no doubt. “We wouldn’t!”
He had no more winks or words for me. I nicked my finger and sucked the drop of blood that beaded up. Master Jak w
ould see red if the onions were pink.
The castle bells rang midmorning.
A hand gripped my shoulder. “By thunder, His Lordship wants you to be cupbearer at the feast and pour for him, the king, and the princess.” Master Jak turned me on my stool. “Have you poured before?”
The king! “At home, from pitcher to cup.”
“At home.” He sighed and let my shoulder go. “Pitcher. Cup. By thunder.”
The boy laughed. Master Jak glared at him, and he lowered his head and peeled.
“I have a steady arm.” But I didn’t know how steady it would be, pouring for Greedy Grenny.
“Cellarer Bwat will show you. Ehlodie, those you serve should have what they want before they know they want it. Watch their hands, their shoulders, their faces. Even though you stand behind them, contrive to see.”
How? I would lean over and spill wine on everyone.
“His Lordship requested you. The princess will be forbearing, but if you spill a drop, even a speck of a drop, on the king . . . By thunder, don’t.”
What if I did? A flogging? Prison?
A woman’s voice called, “Master Jak, do you have the suet crock?”
He called back. “There’s another in the cupboard.” He put his hand under my chin and pulled my face toward his. I saw his pores, the veins in his eyes, a drop of sweat sliding down his nose. “If you spoil His Lordship’s day—if you cause him a moment of grief—you will feel the wrath of a chief third assistant cook. Cellarer Bwat will come for you in a minute.” He strode away.
I lifted the half-full bowl of onions onto my lap. With the side of my knife, I scraped chopped onions from the chopping board into the bowl.
Master Jak stood over me again. “I near forgot. After the second remove, before the mansioners perform, His Lordship would like you to recite for his guests.”
“Recite?” I jumped up. “Something? Truly? Oh, Master Jak!” I wiped my tears with my fist. “What should I recite?”
“Whatever you . . .” He looked down.
I did, too. Unaware, I’d let my bowl slide to the floor, spilling the onions.
I was sorry, but I didn’t care. I was going to mansion!