Deeds of Honor (7 page)

"Kolin, bring that jar of mixed dried fruits; we'll put some in the morning rolls. Efla, you'll chop the fruit. Evenly, no pieces bigger than your little fingernail."

The usual morning rhythm soothed Farin—check the ovens' heat, cut and shape the dough, tell this one to slice the breakfast meats, that one to fetch the eggs, another to stir the porridge...she did that herself, this morning, between starting the eggs, keeping an eye on Efla, who chopped slowly, but steadily, the little pile of red and purple and orange fruit-bits slowly filling the bowl Farin had given her. Farin took it, sprinkled the roll-dough with the dried fruit, drizzled some honey, sprinkled figan and zettz, then rolled each up and set them on a griddle, and the griddle in the oven.

Efla, without being told, replaced the rest of the fruit in the right jar, took the jar to the pantry, wiped the knife clean. When she came back to the work table, Farin nodded to the pan full of stirred eggs, still half-liquid. "Keep those on the move," she said. Efla nodded without speaking. Maybe, just maybe, she was doing what Farin had told her, putting all of herself into her parrion. It had saved Farin; maybe it would save Efla.

* * * *

A few days later, days of tension that had everyone in the household on edge, Farin heard shouts from the front of the house shortly after breakfast was done, and then a rush of scurrying feet. One of the other mageladies stopped in the kitchen door. "Stay here!" she said, and made a sign in the air. Then she turned away. Farin found make-work for her staff, for herself. Whatever happened, someone would want food, so something would have to be sliced or chopped, ground or sifted, stirred or kneaded. An extra batch of bread never came amiss. She caught glimpses of servants rushing back and forth in the passage, heard voices—some loud and angry, some merely mumbles and grumbles in the distance. Then silence, a silence heavy with magery.

The feel of magery moving...doing somewhat...made Farin's skin crawl. Blocking the door, that was a small thing; this...this was more than one of the mages, and another mage—one or many?—opposing them. She heard no voices, just felt the magery, invisible but heavy, sliding past her on this side and that. Like the silent popping of a bubble, the spell that blocked the kitchen door broke and vanished.

Then came shuffle of many feet entering the great hall. And a man's voice she had never heard, declaring something she did not understand, except for the last bit—the command for all to come forth. Farin looked around the room, gathering her people.

"Should we clear everything first?" Jaim asked.

"No," Farin said. "Best not." The work table, with its heap of redroots and bowl of red-root slices, the mound of dough she'd been kneading, that could wait. No other house servants would have to come through the kitchen to reach the front hall; the knives and tongs and open pantry doors would be safe enough. She led them out into passage, around the turns, to the great hall, into the mass of servants at that end. At the other, she saw with astonishment, the mageladies stood surrounded by armed men in uniform, uniforms she did not recognize.

And with them, a tall woman, clearly a Verrakai by her face and coloring, though sun-marked darker than the others. She wore men's clothes—a soldier's clothes—with steel throat-guard at her neck, mail, leg-guards on her legs. The sword at her side was no jeweled plaything. Her expression promised, as all Verrakaien did, punishment for disobedience. Her gaze moved from one side of the servants to the other; as it passed over her, Farin felt the power. This too was a mage.

"I am your new Duke, by order of the crown prince and Council," she said. Her voice was firm, a voice used to command. "From now on, all orders come from me. Is that clear?"

Others murmured; Farin's voice locked in her throat though her lips moved. What horrors would come from such a woman? A woman duke? How could a woman be a duke?

"If you obey me, no harm will come to you. If you do not, I will consider you conspirators in the treason which brought Attaint to all in the family and you will be transported to Vérella to stand trial. What say you?"

Farin puzzled over the unfamiliar words. Conspirators? Treason? Attaint? What did that mean? But "if you obey" and "what say you?" were clear enough, and she had just opened her mouth when the steward pushed through the servants and confronted the woman. Farin hoped the woman would stick her sword into him, but instead she answered his challenge with an explanation Farin could almost understand.

Duke Haron was dead; he had done something bad—the woman did not say what—and been killed. Farin wished she'd said what the Duke had done and who killed him. Every member of the family was under attainder—whatever that meant—and the mageladies had tried to attack this woman—and failed. She was the new Duke, strange as that seemed, and a mage with the power to control Lady Verrakai. Lady Verrakai and the other mageladies were prisoners now, and would be taken away. A flicker of hope rose in Farin's heart, but she pushed it down. One mage might fight another, but that did not mean the winner would spare the loser's servants.

The steward, Farin knew, lied when he said he acknowledged the woman as Duke. Did the woman realize it? Apparently; she called him and the footman called Coben toward her. Farin felt the pressure of magery in the hall, making it hard to hear and harder to understand everything said between the new Duke and the two men. She watched, and seeing them from behind saw the flick of fingers the new Duke could not see, from the steward standing slightly in front of the footman. Sure enough, once bound they lurched toward the new Duke...and her escort ran them through.

Even as they fell—before Farin could do more than grab Efla's arm to keep her still—she heard noise from outside and three men ran through the crowd of servants, pushing them aside, waving knives and pokers. Knives...where had they found knives like that? The long one, with a little curve...but in the chaos, Farin couldn't think. The other servants squealed, pushing and shoving to get away from the attackers; Farin stayed where she was, watching the new Duke. She held Efla and Jaim in place even as others ran into her, recoiled, ran the other way. Kolin, pushed hard, fell to her knees, then staggered up, pulling on Farin's apron for balance.

The new Duke stood still, watching them all, as the three attackers fell to soldiers' blades, then glanced at the mageladies. Farin followed her gaze; the mageladies were grinning. She guessed they must have had something to do with whatever had happened, but even as she watched their faces went blank and their shoulders slumped. The new Duke, tall and proud, had mastered them again. Now the Duke was walking around the fallen bodies, and now she came toward the servants.

Others fell to their knees; Farin lowered herself as well, still holding to Efla and Jaim. No one spoke until the new Duke did. She asked first for nurserymaids, and the six of them shuffled forward on their knees. She dismissed them to care for the children, sending guards with them. And then she asked for kitchen staff.

Farin's knees hurt. If she was going to be sent back to the kitchen, she might as well get up now. She clambered up, dragging Efla and Jaim up with her, and curtsied to the new Duke. Then glancing down respectfully, she saw the knife in one dead man's hand. And the pokers.
Her
knife.
Her
pokers. He had been in her kitchen with his dirty mucky boots, and he'd stolen her knife to attack the Duke...!

Rage swamped the last of her fear and the words burst out of her: "He's tooken my best carving knife, that wicked Votik, and him no more than a kennelman!" She hardly knew what more she said, until she ran out of breath, and saw the Duke looking at her with the merest crimp of the mouth that might mean she was laughing inside. Farin stood, breathing hard, wondering if she was about to die, being loud to a Verrakai mage.

But the Duke just nodded. "You should go back to the kitchen with your helpers, and fix a meal for the young children. Someone will bring in the kitchen tools when we're finished here."

Farin knew dismissal when she heard it; she ducked her head, and stomped off, muttering warnings to Efla, Kolin and Jaim on the way. "An' if we ever see that knife again I'll be surprised, indeed I will."

As she'd expected, the kennelman and the grooms had left filthy footprints on the floor. She sent Jaim for more water. It was not long before one of the soldiers brought the pokers and knife to the kitchen, setting the pokers by the fireplace and the knife on the work table. He said nothing, but nodded at Farin; she nodded back. The new Duke did not appear in the kitchen until much later, after dark, when she came in from the stable-yard and asked Farin's name.

"Farintod, m'lord," Farin said. "I'm called Farin, or just Cook."

The new Duke nodded, and went on through, not asking for food or giving orders. Farin finally shrugged, and sent the others to bed up in the servants' garret. She put the new dough in the warming oven, and crawled under the work table to sleep.

When she woke in the pre-dawn, she knew the house was astir, but no one had said when to serve breakfast. The stirred the fire, checked the dough—not quite risen enough—and lit the kitchen lamps. One of the soldiers looked in; she asked about breakfast.

"The captain—the Duke—is eating with Sir Valthan," the man said. "We have our own rations, for now."

"Then I will cook for the children," Farin said. Soon enough, her helpers showed up, wide-eyed and eager to pass on the gossip from the servants' quarters.

"She
is
a Verrakai," Jaim said. "But they cut her out of the family rolls—"

"Because she ran away," Kolin said.

"And then she went to Chaya and became a knight, and a mercenary and she's fought in Aarenis with the Duke they call the Fox."

"Why did she run away?" Farin asked. "And stir that porridge, Kolin; don't let it scorch."

"She didn't say. The oldest nurserymaid, she remembered seeing the new Duke as a girl, and she was always in trouble, but why she ran away Cynta doesn't know."

Or Cynta would not say. Not to Kolin. Farin kept that thought to herself and checked the dough again. Now it was ready. She shaped it all into loaves, that being easier, and plain bread more suitable for children and servants than fancy rolls.

"And Methlin says the new Duke made all the ladies undress to the skin and put on servants' clothes—Methlin was wearing a lady's dress one of them took off—"

"Enough chatter," Farin said. She didn't know what to think of that. "Those ladies are still mages, and still nearby."

That quieted them down, for a time. Farin put the dough in the oven, and turned the ladyglass on its shelf.

"Porridge is ready," Efla said. Jaim stood back with a sigh of relief.

"Go up and tell them to send down the bowls on a tray," Farin told him. "It's early, but it will keep the children from running down to see what is happening."

By the time the children's food had gone up, and the empty dishes come back for washing, Farin and the others had eaten a bowl of porridge each, and a slice of bread—more than usual and Farin hoped they would not be punished for it. She ignored the noises from the front of the house, merely nodding when one of the other servants reported that the mageladies and most of the troops had gone away, turning north on the other side of the ford.

Then three women came to the kitchen, escorted by one of the remaining soldiers. "They were prisoners in the dungeon," he said. "They say they can cook and want to work here."

Farin looked at the women, dressed now in finery from the mageladies' closets. Did they really know anything about cooking? But it did not matter, if it was the Duke's orders. She nodded; the man left, and the two women stood almost leaning on each other.

"Come on in," she said. "You'll need aprons over that—Kolin, fetch them aprons. I am Farin. Who are you?"

Suli, Varnin, and Meris had some knowledge, she found, but had never cooked beyond their own families. They were willing to do anything, they said, and Farin assigned them the simplest chores: picking over redroots and cutting out the black spots, stirring another pot of porridge, sweeping the floor. From them she learned that the new Duke had freed all the prisoners, treated the dead boy's body with honor, and sent the boy and his father—who died in the night—home to be buried in their village.

"An' she had us all fed and washed and given clothes right away, and she spoke soft to us and then bade those soldiers treat us well. An' they did. An' any of us who want to stay here can stay—Sella and Nandin are going to make over the mageborn's clothes so they're not as obvious. She said there might be other Verrakaien who weren't here to be captured, who might hurt us."

Farin thought that over, along with the other things the new Duke had done—some she had seen herself—but she still could not believe that a Verrakaien mage could be trusted. Let her temper be tested, and the new Duke would be just like the previous. Yet, though she had given orders to kill, she had not taken anyone into the tower to torment them. In the meantime, Farin told Efla to start a pot of soup for the servants, using more vegetables and a precious jar of beef broth instead of water, as a treat. Perhaps the new Duke would not come to the kitchen again, and the women who had been prisoners needed more food.

Later in the day, the Duke herself came into the kitchen, looked around, nodded to them, and came directly to Farin. "Farin, I know that some medicines are given in food, and in some houses the cook prepares them. Do you know of such things?"

Farin felt cold. Yes, indeed, this Verrakai mage was all too like the others. She answered respectfully, eyes lowered, leading the Duke to the dry pantry and pointing to the box of special herbs.

The Duke had the keys—she must have taken them from Lady Verrakai—and tried them until one opened the box. "Do you know which is which?" she asked.

Farin nodded. She pointed to the packets and jars one by one, naming what was in each and how it was prepared, and then at the box within the box, also locked. "And that box has powdered deathwish, from something grows on rotting logs in the forest. Only the Duke is allowed to use it."