Soul of the Fire

Dalton Campbell, at last seeming to finish with his list of questions and instructions, lowered his arms, one hand loosely holding the hand holding the papers.

"Is there anything you would like to report, Drummond?"

The kitchen master licked his lips, seeming not to know what the aide was talking about. "No, Mr. Campbell."

"And everyone in your kitchen, then, is doing their job to your satisfaction?" His face was blank of emotion.

Fitch saw eyes in the room cautiously turn up for a quick peek. The work going on all about seemed to grow quieter. He could almost see ears getting bigger.

It seemed to Fitch like maybe Dalton Campbell was working around the edges of accusing Master Drummond of not running a good kitchen by allowing lazy people to avoid their duties and then failing to punish them. The kitchen master seemed to suspect the same accusation.

"Well, yes sir, they are doing their job to my satisfaction. I keep them in line, Mr. Campbell. I'll not have slackers ruining the workings of my kitchen. I couldn't have that; this is too important a household to allow any sluggard to spoil things. I don't allow it, no sir, I don't."

Dalton Campbell nodded his pleasure at hearing this. "Very good, Drummond. I, too, would not like to have slackers in the household." He scanned the room of silent, quietly hardworking people. "Very well. Thank you, Drummond. I will check back later, before it's time to begin serving."

Master Drummond bowed his head. "Thank you, Mr. Campbell."

The Minister's aide turned and started to leave, and as he did so, he caught sight of Fitch standing there. As he frowned, Fitch lowered his head on his shoulders even more, wishing he could melt into the cracks in the wood floor. Dalton Campbell glanced back over his shoulder at the kitchen master.

"What is this scullion's name?"

"Fitch, Mr. Campbell."

"Fitch. Ah, I get it, then. And how long has he worked in the household?"

"Some four years, Mr. Campbell."

"Four years. That long." He turned fully around to face Master Drummond. "And is he a slacker, then, who ruins the workings of your fine kitchen? One who should have been put out of the household long ago, but has not been for some mysterious reason? You haven't been overlooking your responsibility as kitchen master, allowing a slacker to be under the Minister's roof, have you? Are you truly guilty of such dereliction?"

Fitch stood in frozen terror, wondering if he would be beaten before they threw him out, or if they would simply show him the door and send him away without so much as a morsel of food. Master Drummond's gaze flicked back and forth between Fitch and the aide.

"Well, uh, no sir. No, Mr. Campbell. I see to it that Fitch pulls his share of the load. I'd not let him be a slacker under the Minister's roof. No sir."

Dalton Campbell peered back at Fitch with a puzzling expression. He looked once again to the kitchen master. "Well, then, if he does as you ask, and does his work, I see no reason to demean the young man by calling him Fetch, do you? Don't you think that reflects badly on you, Drummond, as kitchen master?"

"Well, I-"

"Very good, then. I'm glad you agree. We'll have no more of that kind of thing in the household."

Either with stealth or bold intent, nearly every eye in the kitchen was on the exchange between the two men. That fact was not lost on the kitchen master.

"Well, now, just a minute, if you don't mind. No real harm is meant, and the boy doesn't mind, do you now, Fitch-"

Dalton Campbell's posture changed in a way that halted the words in Master Drummond's mouth before they could finish coming out. The noble-looking aide's dark Ander eyes took on a dangerous gleam. He seemed suddenly taller, his shoulders broader, his muscles more evident under his fine, dark blue doublet and quilted jerkin.

His offhanded, distracted, casual, and at times stuffy official tone was suddenly gone. He'd transformed into a threat as deadly-looking as the weapon at his hip.

"Let me put it another way for you, Drummond. We'll not have that sort of thing under this roof. I expect you to comply with my wishes. If I ever again hear you demean any of our staff by calling them by names intended to be humiliating, I will have a new kitchen master and you put out. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir. Very clear, thank you, sir."

Campbell started to leave, but turned back, his whole person conveying the image of menace. "One other thing. Minister Chanboor gives me orders, and I carry them out without fail. That is my job. I give you orders, and you carry them out without fail. That is your job.

"I expect the boy to do his work or be put out, but you put him out and you had better be prepared to provide proof of why, and moreover, if you make it hard on him because of my orders, then I will not put you out, but instead I will gut you and have you roasted on that spit over there. Now, is all that absolutely clear, Mr. Drummond?"