Soul of the Fire

Angry at herself, maybe, for going up there in the first place. But he guessed she couldn't very well have refused to go see the Minister if he asked for her. Then Inger the butcher would have thrown her out when the Minister told him that his Haken girl refused to go up to take his special request. No, she couldn't very well have done that.

Besides, she wanted to meet the man. She'd told him she did. Fitch knew, though, that she never expected he would have his way with her. Maybe it wasn't the Minister she was so distraught about. Fitch remembered that man, Stein, winking at him. She was up there a long time.

That was still no reason for her to hate Fitch. Or to hit him.

Fitch came to a halt. His fingers throbbed from having them in scalding water for so long, scrubbing and scraping. The rest of him felt sick and numb. Except, of course, his face.

"Yes, sir?"

Master Drummond opened his mouth to speak, but then closed it and instead leaned down. He frowned.

"What happened to your face?"

"One of the billets of apple slipped and hit me as I picked up an armload, sir."

Master Drummond shook his head as he wiped his hands on his white towel. "Idiot," he muttered. "Only an idiot," he said, in a voice loud enough so others could hear, "would hit himself in the face with a stick of wood as he picked it up."

"Yes, sir."

Master Drummond was just about to speak when Dalton Campbell, studying a well-used piece of paper covered with messy lines of writing, glided up beside Fitch. He had a whole stack of disheveled papers, their curled and crumpled edges protruding every which way. He followed down the writing with one finger as he nested the papers in the crook of his other arm.

"Drummond, I came to make sure of a few items," he said without looking up.

Master Drummond quickly finished at wiping his hands and then straightened his broad back. "Yes sir, Mr. Campbell. Whatever I can do for you."

The Minister's aide lifted the paper to peer at a second sheet beneath.

"Have you seen to putting the best platters and ewers in the ambry?"

"Yes, Mr. Campbell."

Dalton muttered absently to himself about how they must have been changed after he'd looked. He scanned the paper and then flipped to a third piece. "You will need to make two additional places at the high table." He flipped back to the second page.

Master Drummond's mouth twisted in agitation. "Two more. Yes, Mr. Campbell. If you could, in the future, would you kindly let me know such as this a little earlier in the day?"

Dalton Campbell's finger flicked at the air, but his eyes never left his papers. "Yes, yes. Only too happy to do so. If the Minister informs me of it sooner, that is." He tapped a place in his papers and looked up. "Lady Chanboor objects to the musicians' stomachs grumbling along with their music. Please see to it that they are fed something first, this time? Especially the harpist. She will be closest to Lady Chanboor."

Master Drummond dipped his head in acknowledgment. "Yes, Mr. Campbell. I will see to it."

Fitch, ever so slowly so as not to be obvious, slipped backward several paces, keeping his head down, trying not to appear as if he were listening to the Minister's aide giving the kitchen master instructions. He wished he could leave, rather than risk being thought a snoop, but he knew he'd be yelled at if he left without being sent off, so he compromised at trying to be inconspicuous but at hand.

"And the spiced wine, there needs to be more of a variety this time. Some people thought last time's selection skimpy. Hot and cold, both, please."

Master Drummond pressed his lips together. "Short notice, Mr. Campbell. If you could, in the future-"

"Yes, yes, if I am informed, so will you be." He flipped over another page. "Dainties. They are to be served at the head table only, until they have had their fill. Last time the Minister was embarrassed to discover them gone and some guests at his table left wanting more. Let the other tables go wanting, first, if for some reason you have been unable to acquire a proper supply."

Fitch remembered that incident, too, and he knew that this time Master Drummond had ordered more of the deer testicles fried up. Fitch had pilfered one of the treats as he took the fry pan to be washed, although he had to eat it without the sweet-and-sour sauce. It was still good.

As Dalton Campbell checked his papers, he asked questions about different salts, butters, and breads, and gave Master Drummond a few more corrections to the dinner. Fitch, as he waited, trying not to watch the two men, watched instead the woman at a nearby table make the pig's stomachs, stuffed with ground meats, cheeses, eggs, and spices, into hedgehogs by covering them with almond "spines."

At another table, two women were re-feathering roasted peacocks with feathers colored by saffron and yellow turnsole. Even the beaks and claws were colored, so that the newly plumed birds looked like spectacular creatures of gold-like gold statues-only more lifelike.