A familiar taste of disgust filled Kyn’s mouth. Why did his mother have to be like that? Why couldn’t she love him without being so obsessive? She always made him feel like he was still a little boy.
Kyn sat up in his chair, trying to imitate his father’s posture. “Now that I know you’re in Toren, I’ll be here often. Yesterday, I found something of yours, and I realized that you might not be living in the country after all.”
Kyn pulled the crinkled map from his pocket, smoothed it out, and placed it in the old woman’s lap. “I visited Albur in the stables, and he was able to give me directions to your house. I need some information that I believe you can provide.”
“Me?” said the old woman.
“I believe this is your handwriting.”
Ulabet picked up the paper and moved it close to her face. “Yes,” she said, scrunching up her brow. “Yes, it is.”
“Can you tell me more about the girl you drew it for?”
Ulabet nodded slowly. “She came with two younger boys. They were darling.”
Kyn grunted and reached down to rub his shin. It was still tender. He wouldn’t use the word darling for someone who could kick as hard as Nora.
“How did you end up drawing her a map of Palace Liard?” he asked.
Kyn glanced at Ivin who looked grim. Ulabet could probably be thrown in prison for abetting a break-in.
“Well,” said Ulabet, “she and the boys knocked on my door. The girl said they were on their way to the palace to apply for work and had heard that I worked in the palace for many years.”
Kyn nodded. “Go on.”
Ulabet looked at him with concern in her eyes. “Did something happen? Did she turn out to be an unfit servant? She seemed so sweet.”
“I’m sure she’s a good servant,” he said, not wanting to upset her. “Nora and the boys left unexpectedly. We need to gather any information we can to find them.”
“Did she say why she wanted a map?” Ivin asked.
“She wanted me to draw it so they would have an advantage getting around once they were hired.”
Ivin looked at Kyn and rolled his eyes. What did Ivin expect? Not everyone was as cynical as a soldier.
“So you drew her a map?” Kyn asked.
“Yes,” said Ulabet. “And in return she baked me the best bread I’ve ever had. She had some excellent herbs with her and cooked me a loaf with them. I ate the last of it yesterday. I wish I could have offered you some.”
“Was there anything unusual about her cooking?”
Ulabet rubbed her chin. “It was unusually good. Her bread was perfectly baked, and the smell was heavenly. My house smelled of bread and herbs for hours.”
Kyn searched his mind, trying to recall the details of his brief interaction with Nora. “You said it was just her and the two boys,” Kyn said. “You’re sure there wasn’t anyone else? A little sister perhaps?”
“Yes, my boy. I’m quite certain it was just the three of them.”
The prince took a deep breath and sat forward in his seat. “Do you know where they’re from?” he asked.
Ulabet frowned and closed her eyes as if to concentrate harder. “I don’t think they ever said where they were from exactly, but I think they had been traveling for at least a week. The dark tunnel dust was on their clothing, and they seemed happy when I brought them a basin of water to clean up in. They were definitely from Liardia in any case.”
“They’re Liardian peasants?” Ivin asked.
“Yes sire. I’m certain of that.”
Kyn folded his arms across his chest. “Why are you sure they’re from our kingdom?”
“I think they were from some node past Clove,” Ulabet said. “Yes. They had to pass through Clove.”
Kyn nodded. The tunnels from kingdom to kingdom only connected through capital nodes. If Nora was from a different house, she would have come straight to Toren. She wouldn’t have passed through Clove.
“How do you know they passed through Clove?” Kyn asked.
Ulabet smiled at him, her cheeks rippling with wrinkles. “I remember the girl’s brother mentioning something about not stopping in Clove on their way here. He seemed to think she had been in too much of a hurry.”
The tunnel to Clove was short, probably a two-day walk, but he and Ivin could make it by nightfall on their pacs. If she had stopped, they could catch her there.
“Thank you for your help, Ulabet. You’ve given us a strong lead,” Kyn said. He hugged and kissed the old woman, even though Ivin was watching, and promised her that he would be back soon. He slipped some coins into her hand as they left.
The two men remounted their pacs and started up the lane.
“Nicely done,” Ivin said.
Kyn couldn’t keep a grin off his face. Ivin wasn’t the kind of soldier who threw compliments around lightly. They would catch Nora. This mission would be successful. He felt his confidence bursting through like an orb with buoyant energy.
Chapter Nine
The Canteen
“You want your silver? I need fifteen cakes by dinner,” said Cameel, the canteen’s gruff owner and head cook. He eyed Nora with raised eyebrows. “My other cooks are busy with a huge bread order. You make the cakes; you get the coins.”
“Yes, sir,” Nora said. “You won’t be disappointed.”
When they’d first arrived at the canteen, Nora had insisted she would prefer washing dishes with the boys, but two long days in the scullery had left them with nothing but cracked knuckles and six pieces of copper. At that rate, it would take them weeks to save enough money for the tunnel passage home. Nora rubbed her hands together. Earlier that morning, Cameel had gathered the entire kitchen staff, desperate for help from anyone with cooking experience. And even though she was hesitant to show her cooking skills, Nora couldn’t pass up the opportunity. She would make the cakes, get the money, and hopefully never see Cameel or his kitchen again.
Cameel snorted and looked Nora up and down. “You look like you’d blow over in a storm.” He patted his own thick belly. “I don’t trust a skinny cook.”
Not sure how to respond, Nora stayed silent.
“But I’m desperate, so I’ll give you a try. I’m working on the soups, so you’re on your own. Here’s the recipe.” He pulled a dirty piece of paper from his apron pocket and placed it in her hand. Cameel held on to the paper longer than he needed to. Nora quickly tugged her hand away. Thank the stones today would be their last day if she could earn the silver.
“I’ll pay you at the end of the day if the cakes are good.”
Nora nodded. What else could she do? She twisted the edge of her tunic in her hand and followed Cameel into the kitchen. His kitchen was surprisingly clean for a man who looked like a slob. The cupboards and countertops gleamed, and all the equipment looked well cared for.
Cameel pointed to a stack of grey and black speckled stones. “The range stones are over there. All the pullers are in that drawer,” he said, pointing to a drawer next to the range stones. “Except mine. Mine are worth a lot of coin. They’re powerful enough to pull Creen. Did you know we own a piece of Creen?”
“Yes, sir.”
Nora wanted to say, “You’ve mentioned your Creen at least three times today,” but she kept her mouth shut. Cameel owned the canteen, and he seemed to need constant praise from the workers.
“That over there is Creen,” said Cameel, waving his hand toward the small, yellow stone. “We’re the only canteen in all of Clove that has a power stone.”
“It’s beautiful,” she said. The stone was tiny, only the size of a large pebble, but the color was magnificent. Like the sacred stones in the Liard’s kitchen, it sparkled and glowed.
Although Cameel’s rock was what was only a power scrap—a little piece of sacred stone broken off in the mining process—it was still powerful. Cre
en infusions made a person mellow, uninhibited and, in large quantities, drunk.
Cameel puffed out his chest. “I’m sure you’ve never seen one of the seven power stones before, but don’t even think about touching it. I’m the only one allowed to.” He patted his apron pocket. “You wouldn’t be able to get anything off it anyway. You would have to own pullers as powerful as mine. I got mine as an apprentice in House Castor.”
“Oh,” said Nora politely.
Cameel folded his arms. “At House Castor I worked with power stones every day.”
Nora thought of the sacred stones in the Liards’ kitchen. Maybe she really wouldn’t ever see a sacred stone again. She sighed.
“I have my own pullers,” said Nora as she reached into her tunic pocket and took out two stones.
“Those look awfully small for making large cakes.”
“They are very powerful.”
“If you say so,” grunted Cameel. “If the first cake doesn’t work, don’t waste any more ingredients.”
“Yes sir.”
Nora turned her back to Cameel and the rest of the kitchen workers. The kitchen was loud, but she was tucked away in a back corner that felt somewhat apart from the chaos. She tuned out the noise and bustle and read the recipe.
It was a recipe for a simple butter cake with a cream frosting, but Nora knew she could make a better one—a cake that would leave no doubts about whether she had earned the silver. The flour would give the structure. The eggs would bind it together. But the butter would be the key.
She walked around the kitchen, quietly rummaging around to find the bowls and pans she would need. Several harried workers bumped into her, but none of them apologized or even offered a greeting. Two of the cooks she passed by were sweating over range stones. They were cursing their weak pullers. Another worker in a mad rush tripped and spilled the flour he was carrying.
Didn’t they know that cooking should be a joy? This frenzied, frantic mixing didn’t allow for care or thought to be added in.
But no matter the hurry or the task, Nora noticed that everyone tried to keep out of Cameel’s way, and for good reason. She nearly gagged when she saw him pinching one of the other girls. Nora had been avoiding Cameel as much as she could since her first day at the canteen. It was harder in the kitchen than in the scullery, but she would stick to herself and concentrate on her cooking.
She set a huge glass bowl on the counter, ground some nut spice with a pestle, and used her right-hand puller to bind the nut spice to her eggs. The nut spice would give a very subtle coral tinge to the batter and would add a warm flavor.
Next, circling both of her pullers, Nora pulled the hardness out of the butter. The rocks in her hand reached out with just enough pull to leave the butter soft but not melt it completely.
A couple drops of rose extract bound to the butter and Nora could smell a fragrant, floral aroma. She whirled her hands in a quick creaming motion, the wet mixture quickly becoming light and smooth. Satisfied, she added her dry ingredients and pulled in air at the same time to ensure the cake would be fluffy.
Nora smiled, totally focused on her mixture. She took her right-hand puller and circled it gently over the bowl, mixing the batter from side to side while using the left-hand puller to rotate the ingredients down to the bottom of the bowl and back up. This step was what she thought of as activating. No one had ever explained the process to her. She simply knew that it worked.
Batter done. One quick taste.
Yes, it was perfect.
Nora prepped her cake pans and went to find a large range stone that she could use for baking. As she looked through the various stones in the kitchen, she overheard two cooking assistants talking.
“Be careful with that soup. You get it too salty and you’ll feel it tomorrow,” one of them said.
“What do you mean?” the other asked.
“See this scar on my cheek? Cameel threw a pudding at me. The dish cut.”
“What was wrong with the pudding?”
“Burnt a bit at the bottom.”
The other assistant grunted his sympathy.
“He thinks he’s the world’s gift to cooking,” continued the first one. “He pulls a teeny amount of Creen from his power scrap, barely enough infusion to change the fruit spurt, and he thinks he’s a concoctor.”
The other cook scoffed.
“I mean, honestly, Cameel’s fruit spurt only gives you a bit of mellowness. It’s not like anyone can get drunk off it.”
Nora shook her head as she picked up a large flat stone. She couldn’t imagine cooking day in and day out in this hot, miserable kitchen. She would show them what real cooking tasted like. These were going to be the best cakes anyone in the canteen had ever eaten. She would earn her silver and get home to Dani.
Several hours later, fifteen perfect cakes sat in a uniform row on the counter.
“How did you do this?” demanded Cameel. The cakes stood like soldiers proudly awaiting inspection. Nora tilted her chin a bit defiantly. You’d think the cook would be pleased that the cakes had been completed ahead of time, not to mention they were obviously perfectly baked. The color was a warm, mouth-melting golden brown with the sugar crisping to a delicate, buttery edge. A rosy, nutty smell wafted through the air. Cameel’s taste buds would meet a richer, more flavorful experience than he had ever known.
“Your ingredients are superior, and the recipe was ideal,” said Nora, hoping to evade the impending questions.
“Let me see your pullers,” Cameel demanded.
Nora hesitated. This was the part she had been dreading.
“Show me,” he insisted.
Nora reluctantly showed him her pullers.
Cameel snatched them from her. “You can use the kitchen pullers to make the icing. I’ll hold onto these for you.”
Nora glared at Cameel. She highly doubted he would give them back when she was done. Her pullers weren’t expensive, but she liked the way they fit in her hands.
“That’s quite alright. I think I’ll just keep using my own, thanks,” she said, holding out her hand. Cameel scowled at her but slowly dropped the pullers in her palm. He wasn’t going to pay her the silver coins at the end of the day. She felt certain of it.
Cameel’s cold eyes narrowed, and he rubbed his dirty apron where his stomach made it bulge. “Make the icing. Then I’ll do a taste test.”
He stomped off, no doubt to go torture some other worker. Nora glanced around. Everyone was back at their stations. Nobody was paying attention to the counter where the Creen scrap was embedded.
Nora quickly grabbed a bowl, filled it with milk, and walked over to the Creen with her head held high. The trick was not to act suspicious.
With fluid movements she put her bowl over a section of the Creen and circled her pullers over the bit of stone. She pulled with both stones, a hard, steady pull. Nora gasped. It was just like in the kitchen at Palace Liard. She was calling to the Creen and it was answering her. Up close she could see the blue and pink flecks in the stone. The bit of Creen shimmered, and in three quick seconds, her work was done.
The stone’s heat had surprised her yet again. Did concoctors feel that pull every time? Did they get used to it? Or was it always a little startling?
She walked back to her station looking at her bowl of blue milk. There was loads of Creen in it, and she knew it would do its job.
Nora dumped finely ground sugar, butter, and rose extract into the bowl with the milk. Whipping her two pullers back out, she prepared to make the frosting. She held one puller in her left hand to soften the butter and used the puller in her right hand to beat everything together. There. The frosting looked creamy and delicious. Hopefully Cameel wouldn’t notice the slight blue tint. Dumping the frosting over one of the cakes, she used a large spoon to smooth and fluff the frosting in puffy swirls.
; “The first cake is done and ready for a taste test,” Nora told Cameel.
He walked over, leered at her and leaned in. “I’ll be the judge of that.”
Nora handed the large cook a knife.
Cameel cut a piece of cake and used the knife to plunge the entire slice into his wide mouth. Almost as quickly, he stopped chewing, and a look of pure shock covered his jowly face.
“How did you—” he began.
“Have another piece,” Nora interrupted.
Halfway through the second piece, Cameel began giggling. The kitchen ground to a halt as the giggling got louder.
“Besht cake ever,” he slurred.
“Worth two silvers?”
Cameel bent over double with laughter. The Creen infusion was working. He came back up, reached into his pocket, and gave Nora two pieces of silver. The moment would have been perfect if he hadn’t leaned over, his breath full of the sticky sweet smell of Creen, and burped in her face.
Chapter Ten
Pebble in a Quarry
Kyn and Ivin walked around the corner, finding themselves on yet another shop-lined street in Clove. Kyn groaned. “How many people do you suppose live here?”
Ivin squinted as he looked down the crowded street. “I believe there are around ten thousand, but at any given time there are probably several hundred more in town to trade goods.”
“Do you think she passed through without stopping?” Kyn asked.
“That’s possible.” Ivin never stopped scanning the people on the road.
Kyn rolled his shoulders back with a jerk. Why was Sir Ivin so calm about all this? They’d been searching for two days, asking every shopkeeper in town for any information about a red-headed girl named Nora, or her brother, Limar. They had talked to hundreds of people with no results. Kyn kicked at a pebble that was wedged in between two paving stones. He didn’t even know her last name.
“Chin up, Your Highness. Our best chance is to continue here in Clove until we’ve done a full sweep of the city,” Ivin said.
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