The Tale of Mally Biddle (22 page)

“Twenty-three,” said Maud, putting a large bag on the counter.

Mally hastily handed over the money and picked up the bag.

“I know who you are.”

Mally stopped and looked at Maud who was staring at her so intensely Mally wondered if she was breathing.

“People ain’t got no eyes, do they?” she whispered with a crooked grin.

“Sorry?”

Maud gnashed her teeth through her grin, which looked more like a grimace.

“Hold your head—hold your head just like ’er … just like ’er.” She seemed to be speaking to herself, though her black eyes never left Mally’s face. “Where’d he get it, eh! EH?” she suddenly exploded and Mally took a startled step back.

“I’m sorry … get what?”

But Maud didn’t seem to have heard Mally for she was chuckling and repeated quietly, “
Where’d he get it?
”

Her grin widened at the shocked and confused look on Mally’s face and her chuckling intensified to a cackling laugh. Her gaze lingering on Mally, she turned and slowly limped away from the counter, down a set of stairs into darkness, laughing and repeating her strange question as if it were a riddle that only she knew the answer to.

23
Kettle's Folly

Two weeks into December, Mally awoke to such a blizzard that she and the rest of the inhabitants of Bosc were barricaded indoors. But even after a day and a half of constant shoveling, Mally’s spi
rits could not be dampened. Christmas was in the air.

The city seemed to have been decorated overnight. Bows and garlands covered the shops, houses, and lamp posts. Wreaths with berries hung on every door and gate, and no one could walk over a threshold without the threat of mistletoe. Bosc looked like a winter wonderland with the castle as its iced centerpiece.

Inside the castle, Mally and Lita could barely function thanks to the scrumptious smells of cranberry-glazed turkey, gingerbread, and chocolate pecan tarts wafting through the corridors from Archie’s kitchen. Indeed, Archie seemed to spend more time shooing away knights and servants alike, armed with a wooden spoon, than cooking.

Along with the several feet of snow, December also brought the traditional Winter Ball. Mally had heard talk of it before in Blighten—about its splendor and extravagance—but Lita told her not to get overexcited.

“The Winter Ball means four times the work,” she said dryly over breakfast. “Who do you think gets the castle looking so amazing? Plus, we have to tend to
all
the fireplaces because the guests stay for a few days before and after.”

“Who comes?” asked Mally. “I didn’t think people looked fo
rward to stepping into the castle.”

Lita snorted.

“Do you think any of them would have the guts to tell the king ‘No’?”

Betty leaned over Christopher and said, “The upper class is who’s invited. All over Lenzar. Some of them put up a good front—pretend not to mind being surrounded by knights. Act like they’re good old chums.”

“Others are as shaky as a leaf in a high breeze,” Lita added.

Even though the Winter Ball was scheduled to begin the last week of December, preparations began weeks before. The entire castle was scrubbed from top to bottom and Mally feared that her hands would forever look like prunes from the constant mopping. Cushions were aired and fluffed, sheets and pillowcases washed, jewels polished, floors waxed, garden paths shoveled free of snow, stables cleaned. Mally couldn’t keep all the work in her head. In addition to her regular chores, she was supposed to be buffing all the statues on the third floor corridor, while also retrieving carrots from the covered vegetable patch for Archie’s stew at the same time. After she exploded to Lita about the insanity of it all, Lita informed her quite calmly not to fret.

“If Archie needs carrots so badly, he can get Rosa to pick them or go out himself, the lazy lump.”

Fireplaces were cleaned of ashes and reloaded, the high arching windows were washed, even the imposing glass chandelier that hung in the great hall was rubbed till it gleamed, much to the danger of the five servants on the tip-tops of ladders, with ropes tied around their stomachs in case they fell. Lita was so horrified by the proceedings that she had to leave the great hall and Mally didn’t see her again for at least three hours. Sam was needed along with a dozen other horses to pull fifteen Christmas trees to the castle. Two were placed on either side of the huge staircase in the great hall while the other twelve filled the ballroom. They towered over fifteen feet and it took Mally and a dozen others over two weeks to decorate them all with thousands of sparkling ornaments and baubles. 

Mildred hummed carols under her breath as she placed wreaths adorned with red and blue berries and satin bows on the front doors. Mally had even spotted Evelyn with a small stem of holly in her hair. And Nanette helped Mally weave ribbons and garlands around the banisters.

With the frenzy of cleaning and Lita nearly poisoning herself, Mally had let her rebel job of questioning the servants slide. But as she and Nanette draped giant satin bows over the windows, Mally had a sudden burst of inspiration.

As she tugged her ribbon into place she said, “I wonder what the Winter Ball looked like during King Sebastian’s time.”

Nanette dropped her bundle of ribbon and it unwound across the floor. She seemed quite startled and quickly looked around her, to see if a knight was near.

“Don’t go blurting out his name!” she hissed. “Do you want to spend the winter in the dungeons?”

She looked very flustered and Mally waited for her to regain her composure.

“Sorry,” Mally apologized.

“You should be,” Nanette said fiercely, picking up her ribbon. “That’s downright reckless.”

“But was it different? The Winter Ball, I mean?” Mally pressed.

Nanette’s lips were pursed tightly, but Mally saw the corners of her mouth tug upward.

“A bit,” said Nanette.

“A bit?” Mally repeated, unbelieving. “It must have been completely different! For starters, I bet the guests weren’t intimidated into coming.”

“No. No, they weren’t,” Nanette conceded. “And there were many more of them.”

“And I bet the servants got more appreciation for all this work,” Mally went on.

Nanette grinned.

“I’m not too sure about that. Cayla—Cayla Black, I mean—was always trying to convince Meriyal that we should get the week off following the ball.”

Mally turned to Nanette.

“Oh, that’s right. You were friends with Cayla Black. I heard she was the princess’s maid. You must have spent a lot of time with the princess if you were so close to Cayla.”

Mally had hit the nail on the head, for Nanette went as stiff as wood at the mention of the princess.

“Yes … yes, I suppose I did,” Nanette said guardedly.

“So you must have seen the fever symptoms,” Mally continued, hoping that Nanette would rebuke the story of the princess’s death, as Gladys had.

Nanette swallowed and stared at Mally for the longest of seconds before abruptly gathering up the ribbon and saying crisply, “We need to get these up before teatime. Hurry up, Mally.”

Mally felt herself deflate as she watched Nanette march down the corridor. She knew something, Mally thought to herself. But unlike Gladys, Nanette seemed to have a harder shell to crack.

After that awkward conversation, Nanette had her guard up around Mally. If they were suddenly alone together, she would think of something to do and rush off. It didn’t seem likely  that Mally would get any information from Nanette anytime soon. Pe
rhaps if she let Nanette relax, then she would be able to try again.

Even though Mally was exhausted, and could barely move once she’d collapsed in a chair, she couldn’t help smiling widely as the holiday excitement rushed through the corridors. She didn’t even mind Bayard’s intimidating sneers.

Often when Lita and Mally had a break—or, more accurately—managed to escape from their duties, they had a mug of steaming apple cider or almond toffee and cookies in Archie’s kitchen. Archie was so fond of Mally that he allowed her to have the very first sample of the highly prized Christmas wheat, an honor, Lita assured her, that had not been bestowed even on the king.

Soon the ball was only a week away and last minute touches were in order, but many of the servants stopped and reveled in the splendor of the castle. It glistened. It sparkled. Mally had never seen anything more beautiful. Even the servants had been given new attire for the occasion: skirts, pants, and shirts without patches or soup stains.

It had become somewhat of a tradition for Mally, Lita, Gerda, and Rosa (and whoever else wished to join them) to gather in the kitchen late at night to sing carols and roast all sorts of sweets over the fire. At first Archie grumbled over his kitchen being used as a gathering spot for such frivolity, but after a mug of almond toffee with a splash of good whiskey, he was soon singing louder than anyone.

Three days before the ball, the servants’ spirits seemed even more merry. When Mally asked Lita why there was such giddiness, Lita replied, “Tonight’s our night off. We all go down to the Lone Candle and have dinner. We take over the place.”

“And the knights approve?” Mally asked skeptically. No one serving the knights dinner? No one lugging up wood for their fires?

Lita laughed.

“Of course not. Molick always gets livid about it. He hates eating outside of the castle. But King Salir insists, so we get our night off.”

Mally thought that was odd, but she had to confess that she still didn’t know quite what to think of the king. He seemed so perip
heral. It was
Molick
who the servants were hiding the passages from. It was
Molick
who was frantically sniffing out the rebels like a bloodhound. It was
Molick
who ordered the knights around. It was
Molick
who believed that Bosc Castle was his. And King Salir hadn’t raised a finger to stop him.

King Salir wasn’t the strongest of men. It seemed to Mally that he knew quite clearly that his title was nothing more than a title, and that he was not interested in risking his life to try to reel Molick in. But did that mean King Salir was just as bad as Molick? Was standing to one side and pretending nothing horrible was ha
ppening just as terrible as what Molick was doing?

But he wasn’t a complete coward. He wasn’t helping Molick find the rebels. He wasn’t ordering the servants to show him the servant passages. Instead, he gave his servants a needed night off. He was charming and polite. He had even gone so far as to demand the servants’ safety. And Mally had not forgotten the fact that he had saved her life.

Later that evening, when the servants would usually be serving the knights and loading their fireplaces with wood, Mally and the others pulled on heavy cloaks and walked out into the crisp D
ecember night. A gentle snow was falling and Mally found herself grinning stupidly at Lita who grinned stupidly back.

The Lone Candle was filled to the brim with people, most of whom were the castle’s servants. Lita hadn’t been kidding when she said they took over the place. Mally had never seen the ser
vants with so much life in their eyes as they laughed and danced to the festive music. The Lone Candle looked like its soul had returned. Heavy streamers draped from the ceiling in great swooping arks and one giant wreath hung on the far wall, its glass balls glinting red and gold in the dancing candlelight. Mally began searching the crowded room for Galen or Ivan and when she heard Galen’s ringing laugh, Mally bade Lita a momentary good-bye and hurried to the bar.

“Merry Christmas,” Mally said warmly as Galen passed Nathan and Gerda two pints.

“Merry Christmas,” Galen replied, grinning widely. “Give me a hand?” he asked, indicating the door behind the bar.

“Sure.” Mally left the crowded room, whose inhabitants were becoming louder and louder, and followed Galen into the kitchen. “Is Ivan coming tonight?”

“I doubt it,” said Galen, suddenly smiling roguishly. “Coletta came yesterday.”

“Coletta’s here?” Mally asked.

Galen laughed again and Mally found herself smiling ridiculously as the sound washed over her. It really was infectious. “She sure is. I think Ivan’s been in denial. But neither Coletta nor his mother are going to give up.”

Mally was surprised that the news of Coletta’s visit wasn’t causing her chest to clench in jealously. It had when she had first heard of Coletta, but now, she felt nothing. She had to admit that she had been attracted—or maybe infatuated—with Ivan. She had certainly never met anyone as dashing or handsome in Blighten. But now, he seemed more like an annoying older brother than an
ything else.

“Hold this for me,” said Galen.

Mally picked up a wide tray and held it out as he loaded it down with cookies. Then without warning, Galen leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek. It took a full second before Mally realized what he’d done, and then she blushed hot red. Galen, just as flushed, looked like he couldn’t believe he’d had the nerve and stood tense as a rod, as if expecting her to lash out at him. But then, awkwardly, Mally smiled.

Relief flooded Galen’s face and with shy giggles and shuffling feet, they carried the trays into the bar.

***

It was the night before the start of the Winter Ball and Mally was once more in Archie’s shimmering kitchen. It was nearing midnight, but the festivities had not yet died down. Archie and Jack Arrington had just started another booming round of “O Come All Ye Faithful.” Mally smiled slightly but mostly she sat in her chair against the wall, slowly drinking her hot chocolate. She was still replaying her evening with Galen. They had been too e
mbarrassed to do much but laugh and blush. She’d told Lita on the way back to the castle and Lita had roared with laughter. Gerda took a lesson from Mally and finally threw a pillow at Lita as they got ready for bed.

Mally bit her lip as she grinned at her hot chocolate. Try as she might, she couldn’t keep herself from smiling like a fool. Meriyal sat beside her, a bottle of apricot cordial at her elbow.

“Are you sure you don’t want any?” Meriyal asked Mally for the fifth time, indicating the cordial.

Mally shook her head and dunked another hazelnut cookie in her hot chocolate. Meriyal shrugged and splashed some more of the amber liquid into her glass.