The servant’s hallway was unusually empty. She ran down it listening to the echoes of her footsteps on the bare walls, and across the inner courtyard to the dinner kitchens. Inside, she caught the scent of perfume in the form of meat roasting over open flames, bread baking, and there were pies and cakes spread out one after the other on tables set back from where cooks worked. All of them were better aromas than those imported perfumes the highest of the Royal Ladies wore to obscure their underlying stink.
“Come on, you,” a familiar voice called. Ella reached for a small oval tray. “You’re late. Hold it in two hands, like this. Offer the tray to any who indicate they wish a sweet, or two. Circulate. No talking. I’ll be watching you closely.”
“I’ll do a good job.” Hannah took the tray to where sweets were spread out on tables. A cook she didn’t know placed several on it. She nodded to Hannah and said, “When these are gone, come back for more.”
“I will.” She smiled and raced to the doorway leading into the main hall, then she almost tripped as she saw the inside of the normally dismal room turned into the festive dining hall. Colorful drapes hung on every wall normally barren of decoration, stringed music sounded from at least three bands, dancers twirled, and jugglers tossed flaming torches into the air. A bear did tricks for the amusement of the Royal children.
Other Royalty milled, talked, ate, and laughed, ignoring the army of servants weaving in and about them. At the far end of the narrow dining hall, a dais held a table where the Earl and Countess sat beside each other, their chairs, high enough to look over the spectacle they presided over, both wearing faint smiles. Beside them, at the far end of the same table, sat a tiny man with a mane of brilliant white hair. The Old Mage, without a doubt.
Hannah drew in a breath and set her goal. She started moving in his direction, careful to offer her tray to any who glanced her way. She pasted a smile on her face. Before reaching half way to the head table, her tray emptied from greedy fists snatching the jelly rolls, candies, and cinnamon sticks. The sweets she carried seemed irresistible. Drawing a nod of approval from Ella, the woman in charge of the servers, she scurried back into the kitchen, this time choosing those treats not as attractive, and more of them. She entered the great hall again, trying to avoid anyone looking hungry.
Hannah moved along the edges of the crowd so she wouldn’t get swept up in the dancing, nor trip or jostle a dancer. Both hands. She spun, twisted, and slipped past nobles of every rank with a turn of her hip, a few times ignoring the grasping hands. At last, she reached the dais and managed a quick look at her tray . . . and beyond. A few sweets remained, but she ignored them, other than shaking the remaining items on the tray to move them apart, so it appeared to hold more, but her target remained the Old Mage.
Sweat broke out on her forehead. She felt limp and scared, but determined. The white-haired man glanced her way, and she flashed him a friendly smile, as if in answer to his call, or she hoped it looked that way to any observers. Holding the sweets before her, she stepped up and offered them briefly to the Countess, who refused with a small shake of her head. The Earl selected a pastry filled with fruit and seemed pleased at her offering. The Mage waved her off with a flick of his hand as his eyes focused elsewhere.
No! He can’t do that to me. But, he could. He lifted a spoon and slurped soup, his eyes watching a pair of half-naked female dancers. Hannah moved closer and noticed she’d managed to garner the attention of one of the King’s Knights standing on guard duty behind the trio of Royals at the table. The Old Mage finally glanced her way again. She tilted the tray downward to the crowd, concealing her right hand from nearly all but the Mage, and her right hand slipped from the handle to underneath the tray, as if it was a shield. It hid her hand from the inquisitive Knight, and all others in the room for just a second. Only the Old Mage saw it, and her fingers.
She ignited a tiny flame on her fingertip. The Mage’s eyes widened momentarily, and he nearly choked with a gold chalice at his lips. His mouth hung open; his wide eyes fixed on her finger as if nothing else in the room existed. She quickly extinguished the flame, waiting for the King’s Mage to speak to her, or motion for her to move closer and speak with him. He had seen the flame on her finger and would give her the recognition she deserved, or at least start a conversation.
Instead, he half-turned away and slurped more soup. His eyes traveled over her to watch the female dancers again as if she was invisible. She took a step to the side where he had to see her. His eyes shifted away to look elsewhere. Try as she might, she failed to attract his attention; he refused to look at her again. The Knight stepped in front of her and motioned with his chin that she should move along. She stepped off the dais as if stepping off a cliff.
She knew he’d seen the flame. His eyes and open mouth spoke more than words, yet he ignored her. She barely held back tears. Her plan had failed, and the dreams of being his daughter extinguished as certainly as if they were the flame she had put out. It no longer burned at her fingertip, and the dreams no longer burned in her mind. Her future became clear in that instant. In the morning she would again tend to the morning fires, and when older, another child would replace her at that mind-numbing task. In years to come, she would move on to bake bread or roast meat, and learn to put up with the catcalls and taunts that would last a lifetime.
She stumbled back to the kitchen as if in a dream. When she arrived, Ella grasped her roughly by the upper arm and leaned close. “I’ve been watching you, girl. Twice you passed by Royals reaching for sweets, and once you bumped into a handmaiden and didn’t so much as stop, let alone excuse yourself. Your job is to serve them, not walk by like you’re in a dream.”
“Sorry Ella, I don’t feel good.”
The older woman leaned close and peered into Hannah’s wet eyes, Noticing the sweat on her forehead, her demeanor softened. “Yes, I can understand that you were so excited to serve, but now you look as if you’ve caught a fever.”
Hannah nodded, allowing Ella to make up an excuse for her.
“I appreciate a girl so willing to serve that she works while ill, but there is no need. I have other servers. But I’m impressed, Hannah. You go to your room and rest. We’ll talk again tomorrow.”
Ella pulled the tray from her grip, and Ella’s soft hand on her shoulder directed her out of the kitchen. The boy, Cleanup, waited outside dancing around his shovel to the music drifting outside. He rushed to her side and asked, “Well, did you meet him?”
“He wouldn’t even look at me.”
Cleanup fell into step with her. He didn’t talk until they reached the door to the wing where she lived. He opened the door for her and said, “I guess he doesn’t want any part of you.”
“He’s not my father.”
“That’s not what everyone’s saying. I heard you went right up to the Old Mage with your tray, and everyone could see you were his daughter when you stood there in front of him. They said you have the same skin color, the same nose, lips, and eyes. Even those who don’t like you saw it and are talking.”
Hannah hadn’t noticed or looked for similarities. She had hoped the Mage would see them and rush to her with open arms. Instead, he had ignored her. But for a second, just the briefest amount of time, she knew that he had seen something in her with the flame.