He put the cupcake back in its tasteful pink and white striped box, which rested on the counter. She could see that one of the four cupcakes was missing. He deftly retied the white ribbon in a perfect bow. And then, task complete, he came around the end of counter in two strides, and grasped the flesh of her arm. “You’re coming with me.”
“Master Oldrick,” she cried, alarmed. She struggled against his grip, considering her next move. A swift kick to the groin perhaps?
Master Oldrick bustled through the swinging doors. “What’s all this? No customers behind the counter,” he said.
She suppressed an exasperated snort. Of course he would be more concerned with the rules of his shop being violated than her honor.
“He says I have to go with him but he won’t say why,” she explained, trying to draw her master’s attention to the more important issue at hand.
“Well, sir, I mean no disrespect, but I canna let you to take my apprentice without at least an explanation why. I’ll call the city guard,” Master Oldrick said, crossing his knobby arms before him.
The man readjusted his fingers on her arm, tightening his grip. With his other hand he pulled a card from his pocket. “I am Grandmaster Callidus of the Confectioner’s Guild. And this woman is coming with me.”
Chapter Two
Sacha glowered at the grandmaster from across the jostling coach, trying to keep the embers of fear tamped down with the weight of her anger. Who did this man think he was? Bursting into the shop and forcing her to accompany him to god knows where, when her only apparent crime was having made a cupcake so delicious and beautiful it made grown women weep? Just last week a woman actually had teared up at the sight of the petit-fours Sacha had made for her birthday party, decorated like a field of wildflowers. Sacha would bet money (if she had any) that this man had never made anyone cry from his sweets, no matter how grand a master confectioner he was.
“Where are we going?” she asked, for the third time.
For the third time, he responded with a contemptuous flick of his gaze to her face, before his icy stare returned to the window.
“Why have you taken me?” she asked, for the fourth time.
“If you seek to bore me to death with your incessant questions,” he said, his spidery fingers splayed over neatly crossed knees, “I assure you that you will be unsuccessful. I deal with guildmembers and politicians all day.”
She narrowed her eyes, unable to tell if he was joking. He didn’t seem the joking type.
The carriage wheels thunked into a particularly large pothole and Sacha’s head practically hit the ceiling of the red-velvet lined carriage. Callidus was unperturbed. Had the man even moved? It was like he was suspended in a bubble of his own unpleasantness, unaffected by the outside world.
Despite her questions, Sacha had been keeping a close eye past the lace curtains of the carriage, and had a strong suspicion of their destination. As they turned off the packed dirt road onto the smooth granite blocks of the town’s center, her prediction was confirmed. The Confectioner’s Guildhall. Just visible in the distance, the guildhouses sat like petulant children at the knee of their mother, the grey behemoth Tradehouse where the guilds did business with each other and the rest of the city. The Confectioner’s Guildhall was a massive marble monolith resting in the place of honor at the Tradehouse’s right hand, and was arguably the most magnificent structure of the impressive specimens that lined Guilder’s Row.
The carriage rolled to a stop in front of the steps of the guildhall, and the coachman opened the door.
Callidus swept out the door before her and quickly resumed his position as her captor, grasping the flesh of her arm as soon as she had cleared the steps. It was clear he had no intent of letting her escape. This realization itched at her nervously, for he apparently thought she had something to flee from.
She struggled up the towering steps of the guildhall, scraping her shins as Callidus pulled her up. Five steps for the five levels of the guild: apprentice, journeyman, craftsman, master, and grandmaster. Some designer had been so intent on his symbolism that he had thrown practicality straight out the window. She could imagine the heated debate: “We shall have five steps!”
“But we have ten feet of height to clear…” some less visionary but more practical craftsman must have said. That man clearly lost the battle. Practicality always lost the battle to passion.
Servants in black and gold opened the wide plate glass doors before them, bowing low before Callidus. Sacha found herself pulled through the lobby of the guildhall for the second time in her life. And for the second time, she found herself wishing she had something better to wear.
The first look at the guildhall had been six years ago. That time, it had been Master Oldrick’s fat fingers gripping the flesh of her arm. She had been a grimy orphan, fresh off the streets of Maradi.
It had started innocently enough. She had been rifling through the trash in the alley behind the shop and had found a worn piping bag, mostly empty save for a dollop of shimmering green frosting. Any other street kid would have squirted the whole bag of sugar into his mouth, but the frosting called to her. She knew such an act would be a waste, a sacrilege. Passion wins over practicality yet again. Crouched under the eaves of the building to keep warm, she had grasped the smooth parchment paper of the bag and decorated the hard shell of the snowbank with a pattern of ivy leaves. The leaves sparkled against the snow in the low light of the alley, mesmerizing her, pulling her into a daydream where she was surrounded by lush green foliage, rather than frozen garbage.
Master Oldrick had woken her with a kick in the dim grey morning, but as she scrambled away down the alley, he called to her. “Stop!”
She kept running.
“I’ll feed you!” he called.
She froze, looking over one shoulder, her gnawing stomach compelling her to turn around…even if it was a trap. But it wasn’t. He had fed her half a loaf of warm bread smeared with butter and jam, and a glass of sweet milk. Once she had eaten, he made her scrub her hands in scalding water until they were pink, and gave her an audition.
Sacha swirled ganache, puffed powdered sugar, drizzled white chocolate and piped more frosting, her hands seeming to have a mind of their own. When she tried to sneak a taste of the ganache, Master Oldrick whacked her hand so hard with a wooden spoon that she felt the vibrations in her teeth.
“Never. Never. Eat the confections!” he said.
But despite her faux pas, she had passed his test. That afternoon, he had marched her, dressed in a tattered woolen dress with wrapped rags for shoes, into the marble cavern of the Confectioner’s Guildhall. And she became his apprentice.
The interior of the guildhall looked exactly the same as it had six years ago, but for the exchange of one sour-faced captor for another. The walls were made of creamy veined marble, and the tall pillars around the circular antechamber rose to form a massive dome, coated in gold-filigree. A magnificent crystal chandelier hung from the dome, refracting the light from the windows lining the hall.
Sacha eyed Callidus sideways as she struggled to keep up with his pace. Guildmembers seemed to part before him as walked, nodding deferentially and sidestepping out of his way. He didn’t acknowledge any of them with so much as a smile or nod in return. So he was someone important. And he was most definitely an ass.
They ascended a twisting staircase at the far end of the antechamber, heading towards the upper floors. She longed to know where they were going, but didn’t want to give Callidus the satisfaction of knowing that his silent treatment was flustering her. They continued up three more levels until they reached a floor of the guildhall that was quiet and empty of people. Two guards in black and gold livery stood at the top of the stair, golden spears resting on the polished wood floor. Their uniforms bore the symbol of her guild on the breast, a golden whisk and spoon, crossed like the letter “X.”
Sacha and Callidus continued down a long hallway lined with golden sconces until they reached a carved mahogany
door. Callidus rapped three times with his pale knuckles, and stood back.
Sacha’s heart hammered in her chest, as her mind filled with a parade of horrible reasons she might have been summoned here. Was she being kicked out of the guild? Had she poisoned someone with her cupcake? Human sacrifice? They were so deep in the guildhall, if she screamed, would anyone hear her?
Chapter Three
The door swung open and Sacha almost laughed in relief. A short ruddy man with a rotund belly and a thick head of snowy white hair stood before her. He reminded her of nothing so much as one of her cupcakes, the red velvet kind sprinkled with coconut shavings.
“Come in, come in,” he said, waving them into the room enthusiastically. He wore a crisp shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and his substantial forearms were covered with downy white hair. As she passed him, she caught a whiff of butterscotch.
“Have a seat my dear, have a seat,” he said, motioning to one of the two studded leather chairs that sat before his huge desk. The room was not the dungeon she had expected, but was rather bright and cheerful, with tall windows letting in streams of sluggish summer sun.
Sacha sat, smoothing her light cotton dress over her bony knees.
“Callidus, feel free to sit,” the man said, motioning to the other chair.
She shied away from it involuntarily.
“I’ll stand,” he said, his arms crossed before him, leaning against a bookshelf by the door.
The man paused for a moment. “Of course you will. I hope Callidus didn’t scare you too terribly,” he said. “He lacks something of a bedside manner.”
Sacha laughed, a forced bark that belied her nervousness. “He was a bit…mysterious,” she said, fixing Callidus with a sidelong glare.
“Well, let’s put the mystery to an end,” he said. “I am Grandmaster Kacper, Head of the Confectioner’s Guild. And you are?”
“Sacha,” she said. “Sacha Confectioner,” she added, in the Alesian style. Guildmembers who didn’t wish to keep their parents’ names, or who didn’t have parents’ names, could take the name of their craft as their surname.
“It’s an absolute pleasure to meet you Sacha,” he said.
“Did Callidus explain why you have been summoned here today?”
“No,” she said.
“Of course he didn’t,” Kacper said, pursing his lips. “You are no doubt wondering why you are here. Callidus, where are those cupcakes?”
Callidus dropped the box on the desk between them, before resuming his statue-like pose against the bookshelf.
“Excellent,” Kacper said, opening the box. He removed one of the cupcakes and turned it before him, admiring it from various angles. “These are magnificent, my dear. I have masters who could not do such a job. What level of craft are you?”
“Apprentice, grandmaster.”
“Apprentice!” His brown eyes flew open. “For how long?”
“Six years, grandmaster.”
“Six years!” He harrumphed. “Your master is exploiting you! I won’t have such mistreatment in my guild. No more.”
“Thank you, Grandmaster,” she said, keeping the vindicated smile from her face. She knew Master Oldrick had been lying about promoting her within the guild, she just hadn’t figured out what to do about it. He wasn’t a bad man, just very greedy. If he promoted her to journeyman or craftsman level, he would have to pay her higher wages.
“You clearly have a gift for confections, a true gift. Those with such gifts are highly coveted in the guild. And rare,” he said. His eyes gleamed in the sunlight as he studied her, setting the cupcake before her. “You must have sampled your confections, have you not?”
“No, grandmaster,” she said. “Master Oldrick forbids it.” More for the customers. And the cash register.
Grandmaster Kacper sputtered, slapping his hands on the desk. “This Oldrick fellow, I like him less and less! How can you make chocolate if you’re never allowed to taste it!”
“I get it right the first time,” she said. No need to tell him she had snuck a taste a time or two when Oldrick wasn’t looking.
“Quite right, quite right. I suppose that explains how skinny you are. No respectable confectioner should be skinny!” he said, slapping the girth of his stomach and laughing, a warm husky sound. “Confections are what make the world go round, don’t you agree!”
Sacha smiled. His enthusiasm was infectious. “I’m not sure the politicians and military would agree, but I do think they add a wonderful element.”
“Let’s just see about that,” he said, as if he had a secret he couldn’t wait to share.
He reached into the breastpocket of his shirt and pulled out a heavy gold coin. It was an Alesian gold crown, more money than she would make in a year. He handed it to her.
She cradled it reverently. “What is this for?” she asked.
“Flip it,” he said. “If you get heads, you can keep it.”
Sending a prayer up to the gods, she flipped it and caught it, slapping it on the back of her other hand. The rugged outline of Mount Luminis gleamed on the surface. Tails.
Trying to still her disappointment, she put the crown back on the desk.
“Bad luck,” he said, the corners of his eyes crinkled in a smile.
“Eat the cupcake. It’ll make you feel better. In fact, I think I’ll have one myself.”
She looked at him, unsure of his game. But the cupcake did look good, and she had missed lunch today, what with the bustle of the shop. He was already unwrapping his own, devouring half the cupcake in one massive bite. She shrugged and retrieved hers, unwrapping the lace around its base.
The first bite was the best. They always said it was. The sweet vanilla flavor of the fluffy cupcake mingled with the silky sugar of the frosting, hitting her taste buds in a cascade of goodness. She closed her eyes as she chewed, trying to commit the pleasure of the moment to memory. She opened her eyes and found Kacper watching her with an amused expression on his face.
“Ehts gud,” she said around the bite of cupcake. Her body buzzed pleasantly as she swallowed.
“Yes it is,” he said, licking frosting off his fingers.
She set the rest of the cupcake on its wrapper on the desk. “It seems a shame to eat it,” she said. “It’s so pretty. I love making those.”
“And your love comes through in every bite,” he said. He tossed the coin back to her. “Fancy another go?”
She shrugged and flipped the coin, thinking that this was very unlike how she imagined this meeting would go. When she turned the coin over she laughed with delight. The face of the former king Glatiolus shined up at her. “Heads!” she said.
“I guess your luck has changed!” Kacper said, just as pleased as she.
Callidus made an exasperated noise against the wall, but said nothing.
“Best two out of three?” Kacper asked.
“No thank you,” she said, clutching the coin in her sweaty palm, dreaming about what she could do with the money. New shoes. A proper dress that wasn’t three inches too short. An oil lamp for her room, rather than the stubby candles she had been using for years.
“Go ahead. You can keep the crown even if you lose. Humor me.”
Wondering if it was a trap, Sacha nevertheless did as she was told, flipping the coin once again.
“Heads!” she said.
“Try again.”
Another toss.
“Heads!”
“One more time.”
She tossed again.
“Heads,” she said, shaking her head in amazement.
“What if I asked you to throw tails,” he said.
Getting into it now, she tossed the coin again and hit tails. Not once, but three more times.
“Alright, I think you get the point,” he said.
She looked at him in amazement. “Is the coin enchanted somehow?”
“No my dear. You are enchanted.”
“What?” She shook her head, confused. “I am about the leas
t lucky person in Maradis.”
“You were the least lucky person.”
“Get to the point man, I’ve got places to be,” Callidus growled from his place at the bookshelf.
“Don’t begrudge me a bit of theatrics,” Kacper said. “It’s not every day I get to reveal one of our biggest secrets to a new initiate.”
Callidus huffed.
Sacha looked back and forth between them. She was completely lost now.
Kacper stood and came around the desk, picking up the cupcake and sitting against the desk. “This cupcake is magic,” he said. “It imparts luck upon whoever consumes it.”
An incredulous laugh escaped her throat.
“I assure you, it is no laughing matter. Such an item, in the wrong hands, could alter the destiny of nations. Wars could be won. Kings could rise. Or fall.”
“I don’t understand,” she said. “Was something done to it? A spell of some sort?”
He shook his head. “The guilds regulate the practice of their craft within Alesia. But do you truly think that a bunch of chocolatiers or cheesemongers or wine-makers would warrant this kind of influence?” He waved his hand at the office, at the decadent guildhall around them. “No. This is the secret behind Alesia’s political and economic success. The secret behind the royal family’s continued victories over their enemies. A select few of us have an ability. An ability to imbue food with magic. You are one such individual. When you lovingly crafted this cupcake, frosting each rose petal, you filled it with magic. With luck. So that whoever ate it—their life would be forever changed.”
Chapter Four
Sacha’s mouth fell open as she looked at the cupcake, then to Kacper’s face. Could it be true? It was insanity. Magic. True, there were tales of magic. Witches and sorcerers and genies in bottles. But they were children’s tales. There was no true magic in the world. Just the grim reality of working day in and day out until your body broke down and they laid you under the ground. She looked at the golden coin in her hand. She couldn’t deny that something had happened with the coin.
“It is much to take in at first, I know,” he said, putting the cupcake down. “But I assure you, it’s all true. And now you understand why we can’t have products like this, made by a person like yourself, out in the world.”
That Moment When: An Anthology of Young Adult Fiction Page 37