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The truth. The truth was that Ilse sometimes had watched the cooks at their work when she was a child. “I don’t,” she said, fighting to keep her voice calm. “That is, sometimes the kitchen girls let me chop carrots or stir the sauces.”
“In other words, you know enough not to lick the spoons.” Mistress Raendl sighed and looked doubtful. “You came from money. Why aren’t you still there?”
She had hoped to be done with that question. “You could say I left home because of money, Mistress Raendl. I have none now. And I need work.”
“And we need willing dependable hands. You’ve a quick tongue, I’ll grant you.”
Ilse couldn’t tell if the woman was pleased or resigned. “Then you’ll have me?”
Mistress Raendl laughed, and suddenly she looked more like her daughter. “Didn’t you hear me? Of course you have a place here. Lord Kosenmark promised you one. Though he would listen to my opinions if I disagreed. He listens to all of us, whether we like it or not.” Her mouth tucked into a fleeting smile. “We’ll start you in here with easy chores. More when you prove yourself. Now there are six other girls who work in the kitchens. Kathe will introduce you around and show you your new quarters, but that comes later.”
Mistress Raendl went over the details of Ilse’s new position. Kathe would tell her the rest, she said, and if she had questions, she might ask the other girls. She then gave Ilse her first task of rinsing a huge pan of rice, and came by at intervals to inspect her work. More light tasks followed—washing apples and pears and other, more exotic fruits, picking the stems from plums and cherries, setting out clean wine cups for another girl to fill.
She was given a break, which she took with Kathe in the courtyard outside. Resting on comfortable wooden benches, they drank a pot of tea and ate fresh cheese tarts and biscuits layered with spiced beef. Several of the kitchen cats made a hopeful circle around them. For the most part, Ilse fed and played with the cats, listening while Kathe chatted about Tiralien in spring and summer, when trade ships crowded the harbor and the house took so much business they had to hire extra hands. All too soon the break ended and they returned to the kitchen.
It was easy to tell when visitors began to arrive, for the pace quickened noticeably. Ilse cut and arranged the fruit under another girl’s direction. After that, Kathe set Ilse to washing and drying the heaps of dirtied cups and plates and silverware. Two of the regular serving girls began loading trays with wine carafes and crystal wine cups. A few hours later the fare changed to platters of meat pastries, plates of grilled salmon garnished with peppercorn from Veraene’s tropical south, poached eggs drizzled with spicy red and golden sauces.
The third hour bell that night rang before the pace finally slowed. Mistress Raendl checked over the next course of sugared confections, added another few loaves of bread to the ovens, and sank onto her stool with a sigh. “We’ve passed the flood tide,” she said to no one in particular. “Now they’ll drink wine and coffee until midnight. Kathe, take Ilse to her new rooms. I’ll see to the shift change myself.”
Her new quarters were on the third floor, Kathe explained as they followed yet another route through the first floor. She would share the room with the six other girls who worked in the kitchen. Other dormitories housed the runners, still others the chambermaids, and so on.
“Common room’s mostly empty by this hour,” Kathe said. “We’ve more private rooms on the second floor—dining rooms, pleasure rooms, libraries. Some of the customers like to talk.”
Or entertain one another. Music filtered through the doors of several parlors they passed—a reed-pipe’s breathy notes, the twang of a guitar. A man shouted out bawdy lyrics to the song, both musicians broke off their playing, and the piece ended in laughter. Farther on, she heard muffled conversations and softer moans, a woman’s urgent voice babbling a str
ing of promises, a man’s abrupt groan as he reached climax. Her heart beat faster.
“How can they?” she murmured.
Kathe hesitated a moment, then said, “I asked once. Adelaide—she’s the senior courtesan—said she felt like part of a theater, only with an audience in her arms and not yards away in their velvet-hung alcoves. She was a courtesan in Baerne’s Court, you know. She came east when Lord Kosenmark did.”
Kathe continued her explanations of the various rooms and what they were used for. Servants might enter the public rooms on errands, but they also had their own private corridors that ran beside and behind the public rooms. Some of these had peepholes set at intervals. These were for the servants, to check if a room was occupied before they entered. “You should learn the house,” Kathe told her. “We have two serving girls, but at times we’ll need you or the other girls to carry trays. Just remember, there are three routes to any room. Come. We turn here.”
A stairwell took them directly into the servants’ wing on the third floor. Ilse’s new dormitory was a large room at the end, with eight beds and a large fireplace. No one had lit a fire, but there were stacks of wood and kindling. On the mantelpiece stood three half-consumed candles and one lamp.
Kathe lit the lamp with her candle. “This bed is yours,” she said, indicating a narrow bed near the room’s washstand. It had a plain dark coverlet and more blankets stacked at the foot. Kathe pointed to the trunk at the bed’s foot. “You’ll find enough clothes in there to last until we’ve measured you for new ones.”
“But I don’t need—”
“We all dress properly for our station,” Kathe said firmly. “Lord Kosenmark’s orders.” Then her face relaxed into a smile. “I’m so glad you decided to stay. I was afraid I might frighten you off, or my mother would with her fierce looks. Speaking of my mother, I must go. I’m to supervise the next shift for a few hours. I’ll come by tomorrow morning to show you where we get our breakfast.”
Alone, Ilse made a circuit of the room, taking in more details. A straw broom in one corner, with a dustpan nearby. Small trinkets stood on several of the other chests, and one wall had a series of pencil sketches. Cards were laid out beside one bed, as though a game had been interrupted. Another bed was rumpled, with clothes heaped over the covers. Small clues to her new companions.
I wonder if I’ll like them, was her first thought. And then, I wonder if they’ll like me.
She felt a bubble of panic. Once or twice, Ilse had caught the other girls staring at her. None of them had talked to her, but then Mistress Raendl had kept them all busy, and whenever Ilse had a question, Kathe had immediately appeared to answer it. But she knew enough of maids and servants to realize she would have to learn fast and work hard to earn her place among these girls.
The bubble of panic subsided, but did not entirely disappear.
She went back to her bed and opened the trunk. A cotton nightgown was on top. Underneath, a couple of woolen gowns for serving in the common room, and more dark smocks and skirts for kitchen work. Caps, shifts, stockings, and bandeaus. There was also a store of new clean rags for her courses, which were due next week.
Footsteps sounded in the corridor. Ilse closed the lid and stood up, but whoever it was continued past her room.
She unlaced her dress and slid it off. Her shift followed. The cool air lapped against her bare skin. Without warning, she saw Alarik Brandt’s dark eyes, staring as she undressed for him.
Stop. He’s not here. He cannot hurt you.
She picked up the nightgown. A faint draft from above rippled over her body. Softer than a lover’s kiss, she thought. Like a caress from memory that had never been.
