“Just thinking.”
“’Bout what?” he asked, chewing on a piece of yellow straw.
She lowered her voice, “Have you heard the Old Mage is coming?”
“Your father?” he responded, not mincing words and obviously surprised at the question. “Nope hadn’t heard, but it’s about time a full Mage came around if you ask me.”
A cook popped her head out the door, and her eyes found Hannah. “More wood.”
“Right away,” Hannah said without turning her head to see which Cook it had been. “They say he’s coming today, but who knows?”
“Did you ever have another father?” Cleanup asked.
“I said, more wood.” The cook repeated her demand louder and spun on her heel. She entered the kitchen without waiting to see if Hannah followed.
Hannah shook her head, “Never had one that lived with us, so it has to be him.”
“Just because you were born in the spring after the Mage left the summer before don’t mean nothing. There're two hundred more men that live here in this castle, and any one of them can be your father from what I hear.”
She stiffened. “My mother was a Lady, a friend of the Earl’s wife, the Countess.”
“So you always remind us, but even ladies get lonely. Your mother died more than five years ago, but that was a long time ago. Maybe it’s time you thought of other things, huh?”
Hannah grabbed three chunks of firewood and headed inside. Cleanup was right. Her mother had promised to tell her who her father was on the day she turned twelve years old. Then she died well before. Without a mother or father, or even a Royal sponsor, Hannah found herself appointed a kitchen fire-tender at age seven. No one was going to tell her the real story about her past, so she relied on the rumors.
She wanted to know the truth. Was that too much to ask? The only one who could tell her the whole truth was her father. If he was a mage, so be it. If she managed to meet with him and identify herself, he might be persuaded to speak to her.
Her mother had been a lady, from a minor Royal family and the last of her line. She spent nearly every day instructing Hannah also to be a lady, and telling her tales of far off lands in other kingdoms, and of how to serve Royalty of higher status. She taught her letters and the basics of reading, but Hannah remembered very little of it.
Instead of playing with the other children of the castle, she had spent her days listening to her mother teach her until she became ill. Death swiftly followed, and without parents, Hannah found herself unwanted by Royalty and despised by jealous servants.
The idea of identifying herself to the Old Mage in itself was almost a joke and a childhood fantasy at best. Fire-tenders for morning kitchens do not speak to Royalty, and certainly, do not talk to important mages, let alone to elder mages so important they dealt directly with kings and earls. She knew it for what it was, yet couldn’t get the idea out of her stubborn head. Everyone said she was single-minded.
Hannah stoked the fires and when satisfied with the results, peeked outside to the rear courtyard, but Cleanup had already left to gather more horse apples. She split more kindling to have something to do and placed it beside each stove for the morning. The kindling piles were larger than normal, but she worked hard to quell a nervous energy that had overtaken her. A food server playfully slapped the back of her head as she waltzed by, and then pretended she didn’t know what happened, to the amusement of the rest of the staff. Hannah took note of her, and the thin slippers she wore. The next load of firewood she dropped from her struggling arms would land on those pretty slippers.
Falcon, the overseer for all of the kitchens, stormed into the breakfast kitchen and made his daily inspection as he passed by each stove, sometimes sampling the food. He stopped at the doorway and turned, holding up his arms to draw the attention of everyone. “All right, if they haven’t eaten by now, they’ll make do with mid-day dinner and go hungry until then. Get this place cleaned up and don’t take all day to do it. We require your help at the supper kitchens today. All of you.”
“That means you too, Missy Hannah,” a thin woman who usually burned the meat for any meal, hissed from the side of her mouth as if she was in charge. The woman had a habit of disappearing between working the morning kitchen and the supper preparation, and thought herself better than other cooks.
Never trust a skinny cook. Her mother had told her often. Hannah raised her voice so the Overseer would hear. “To make sure I don’t get lost along the way, I’m going to follow you, Darla. I’ll do my best to stay very close.”
The Overseer hid his smile behind the back of his hand. Hannah had just taken over part of his duties. He had once told her in private he appreciated her quick tongue because it often made his job easier, especially if she was not addressing him. But the thin woman called Darla cast her a scowl, and one of the other cooks flinched at the evilness it contained.
But, if the woman had left her alone, Hannah would have remained silent. Lately, she had observed a measured increase in the respect others paid to her. Word was getting around. Mess with Hannah and you could expect retaliation.
Falcon started to leave by the rear door, but turned again, as if he had forgotten to tell them something. His eyes slipped past Hannah as if she was not there. “Today the whole staff will work late into the evening to prepare for the banquet. We are cooking a feast for a welcoming meal this evening.” He paused to allow the groans to die out, or at least, diminish. Again, his eyes refused to notice Hannah, looking over her head, as if he intentionally refused to acknowledge her obvious presence. “The King’s Mage has arrived, and there will be a celebration and feast.”
Hannah’s heart beat faster as she drew in a breath. The rumors were true. She felt all eyes shift to her, and heard a few whispers. But she held her face passive, waiting for the rude comments to begin. She didn’t have to wait long. As soon as Falcon stepped out of the doorway and away from earshot, they started, not even having the decency to whisper.
“So you’re gonna see your father tonight, are you?”
“Are you going to eat dinner with him? Sit at his table?”
“Too bad your mother isn’t here to bed him again. I heard he always wished for a son.”
There were more taunts she didn’t hear in the murmured drone. Hannah closed her ears and allowed her mind to ask herself many of the same questions. While the gossip flowers were in full bloom, as if they were spring tulips, she would see the man at the center of her shame and hurt, the one who threw her away to work the kitchens. She didn’t know if she should kiss the Mage or plunge a dagger into his heart if she met him. He deserved the latter if he was her father. Not because of the mistreatment of her, but because of all the vicious remarks that had been directed at her mother. However, like her mother, Hannah held her tongue, refusing to be baited by the cruel remarks. Her gut told her that some day, she would even the score.
She went outside and stood in the shade beside the chopping block, drawing in the cooler air and calming herself while she split another pile of kindling large enough to last for days. Revenge didn’t fit into her plans. No, she had another, more direct path to take, if she mustered the nerve. That was because she had a secret beyond guessing who her father might be. She already knew who it was.
The smile touched the edge of her lips as she remembered the first time she knew. After being assigned to the fire starting duties more than five years ago, there came a cold, wet storm last winter. The dampness had penetrated everywhere and everything. Even the cold kitchen at night absorbed the clammy air. The tinder had become wet, and no amount of sparks would light it, no matter how many times she struck the iron to flint. Not having a morning fire ready for the cooks would have cost her a severe beating and more.