The Dragon's Throne

by Emily L K

  Dahl said nothing as Tarp wove around a pair of kitchen hands scrubbing spilled sauce from the floor, chortling to himself. Cori, however, moved closer to Dahl, handing him one of the satchels of tea leaves she’d been filling and binding.

  “Where did you hear that?” she whispered through the din of the kitchen. The secrecy around the intake was fascinating and since the night she’d worked as a server in the throne room, she’d found herself even more intrigued by the world of the Hiram. Did they learn magic from the Karalis himself?

  Dahl turned to her, his eyes brimming with untold gossip. He leaned in so their heads were close. “I overheard some of the stable boys talking about it last week. One of them said a Hiram who had arrived told him all about it!” He placed the satchel of tea beside the pots and lifted the tray, resting it in the crook of his arm. “He told the other lads that the Hiram kids all go into a room together with the Karalis and only the ones left standing after five minutes get to go to the school!”

  “Move on, Boy! That tea’ll get cold!” Tarp called to Dahl from across the kitchen. Dahl ducked his head. Years of practice kept the teapot on his tray from spilling over as he hurried among the cooks to the door.

  Cori watched him go and wondered if it were true, though she found it unlikely that a Hiram guest at the palace would take the time to tell a stable boy about the intake.

  “Don’t listen to him,” Bel said quietly, moving alongside Cori, wiping flour covered hands on her apron. A smear of white icing streaked her cheek. “You don’t get to see much from the kitchens, but I can assure you that the way those Hiram children dress like dolls for the intake is a guarantee they aren’t fighting anybody, least of all the Karalis. Now be a dear and go get me another sack of flour. The one I have at my workbench is full of weevils.”

  Cori did as her mother asked but she didn’t quite believe her either. That only a handful of the hundreds of applicants that applied each year were ever successful meant that something must happen during the intake trials. The school was designed for Hiram children to develop their magic. Surely they had to demonstrate it. She wished, with almost an aching jealousy, that she could watch the intake. As it turned out, all the flour in the storeroom was infested with weevils.

  “Saasha, you’ll need to go to town and pick some up,” Bel said when Cori delivered the bad news. She wiped her brow as she worked delicate sugar spirals onto the three tiered cake. “The next cartload isn’t due until tomorrow and we’ll need it for the bread tonight.”

  “Can’t you see I’m busy?” Saasha snapped, elbow deep in a huge vat of marinade and chicken breasts. The vessel came almost to her waist, but it was needed to feed the sheer number of guests flocking to the palace. Both Cori and Bel ignored her. Saasha was always short under pressure.

  “Cori, be a dear and run to town for your sister,” Bel said it so casually that Cori was sure she had misunderstood. Her hands touched the edge of her mother’s work bench, eyes wide with disbelief.

  “What? Me? Are you sure?”

  Her mother looked up at her with a tired smile. Loose strands of her black hair were plastered to her sweating forehead.

  “Yes, I’m sure. You’ve almost finished your training. It’s time for you to take on some of the responsibilities of an assistant cook. Off you go!” she made a waving motion with sugar covered hands when Cori gaped at her. Cori jumped and, before her mother could change her mind, raced to Dlores to beg money from the kitchen’s purse.

  “Don’t you be buying yourself treats, Cori,” Dlores waggled her eyebrows as she gave Cori a silver coin. “I know how much a bag of flour costs and I’ll be expecting the change!”

  Of course Cori would bring the change home. She still remembered, though she’d only been small at the time, what happened to Jules who’d spent the kitchen’s purse on a cream pie. Since then the duty of collecting stock from town outside delivery days had been stripped from the kitchen hands and given to the cooks. Cori slid the coin into her pocket, promised Dlores she’d behave, and headed out the door at a run.

  The town of Lautan rested below the cliffs of the palace against the ocean’s edge. When Cori stood right at the top of the road, she could see everything from the thriving port that harboured merchant vessels to the undulating hills that gave way to an expansive vista that was the borders of Shaw, Hale and Hearth. The town’s buildings were colourful, even from high up at the palace, and there was always people on the streets.

  Cori wasn’t unfamiliar with the town; often when they had a day off together, her mother would take her and her sister to the park, or to the wharves to watch the ships. She’d never been alone though or to run errands for the kitchen. She set off along the road that zigzagged down the cliff face with a purposeful stride. This was perhaps her favourite part of becoming an assistant cook; the time she was able to spend alone without supervision, and running tasks in Lautan would give her at least half an hour before she returned to the chaos of the kitchens.

  The main street of Lautan bustled today, with many of the lesser Hiram guesting at inns and taverns while they attended the intake. Cori wove in and around the people filling the streets, her slight frame making it easy to dodge bags of shopping and groups of friends.

  Colourful lanterns hung on lines between the buildings above and the shop windows were bright with displays. People walked together, laughing and talking as they showed each other their purchases and Cori took note of their clothing. Some wore clothes she was familiar with; deep shades of burgundy and emerald, sometimes navy with a splash of yellow that were current Tautan trends, but others wore strange outfits. She passed a pair of women sitting outside a teashop, exclaiming delightedly over a swatch of silk. Both of them wore dresses made of floating, chiffon material that rose high to their necks. She glanced over her shoulder, admiring the auburn material they had in their hands. Without seeing, she bumped into someone and stumbled back, landing hard on the ground.

  “Ugh, watch yourself, human!” Cori recoiled from the disgusted expression of the Hiram girl who looked down on her. She had one hand on her hip and the other arm was linked through that of her father who was turned away in conversation, oblivious to his daughter’s outburst. Heavily applied makeup and bright red lipstick made the girl’s age hard to place. She could be the same age as Cori, or she could have been older.

  “Sorry,” Cori mumbled, belatedly remembering her manners. She climbed to her feet. The Hiram girl stepped back as if she might catch some disease just by standing too close and her scrunched up nose and pursed lips suggested Cori should get out of her sight. Cori decided that the best thing would be to just ignore the girl. She ducked her head and moved on down the street.

  She found the Baker’s store easily enough. In all the other times she’d been to town, her mother had stopped in to buy flour, or sometimes a treat. She spoke briefly to the baker, a kind and stocky woman who knew exactly the flour that Cori was after. She paid the coin, hoisted the sack over her shoulder and went back out into the street. She walked slowly now, taking care not to bump anyone with her burden.

  As she rounded a corner of the main street, the setting sun cast an orange glow over the ocean. She paused to take in the view. An exotic drummer’s beat thrummed from a pub across the road and people were lining up outside, waiting to get in. They laughed raucously as only those filled with drink do. Cori wondered what it would be like to have nothing better to do with an evening except to go out and go dancing. She pushed the thought away; she knew there was no use dwelling on it, but sometimes she wished servants could have the luxury of a night in the taverns. A shout sounded from the street behind her.

  “Make way for the Karalis!”

  Suddenly people were rushing past her to crowd at the edge of the street. They jostled each other for places and Cori pulled the sack of flour from her shoulder into her arms to protect it. It was chaotic, but she allowed the crowds to sweep her closer and she craned her head to see. The procession of horses came close
r, and the bystanders went to the ground, prostrating before the Karalis. The wave of dropping bodies flowed up the crowd towards her. Heaving the sack from her arms to the pavement, she struggled to get to her knees. There was barely space to breath, let alone move, and a man swore at her when she accidentally stepped on his fingers.

  Then the procession was upon them; the Karalis sat astride a glossy chestnut stallion who pranced and dipped his magnificent head as he moved along the street. Around him were his guards and beside him was his sharp featured Advisor, all mounted on grey steeds. Only moments ago the bystanders had been raucous, now they fell eerily silent, the only sound was the neat click of horse hooves on cobblestone.

  Cori suddenly had an unimpeded view of the Karalis as everyone around her found places to kneel. She stood, frozen and staring.

  Slowly, he turned his strange golden eyes on her, pinning her where she stood. Though his face remained impassive, a wondrous voice filled her mind.

  Who are you?

  Though barely more than a whisper, it was undeniably the same deep voice that rescued her within her dream. Cori couldn’t answer, nor could she look away from him. In fact, she wasn’t even sure it was he who had spoken in her mind, and to contemplate that the Karalis had spoken to her in her dreams was terrifying. Her breaths were sharp through her nostrils and her hands held the top of the flour sack in a white-knuckled grip. He continued to stare at her, even as he lifted the reins to pull in his horse. A hand seized the hem of her robes and tugged harshly.

  “Get down!” A woman hissed.

  The spell was broken. Cori averted her eyes from his and dropped awkwardly to one knee, falling over her sack of flour to prostrate herself like the others around her. The procession moved on and those around her got up to continue on their way. Cori curled miserably over the sack of flour. She would undoubtedly be punished for her act of defiance.

  Chapter Three

  Cori went through the motions that night. She pounded the bread, stirred the soup and sliced apples for the tarts. Her limbs performed the tasks with a practised precision but her heart wasn’t in it and her mind constantly wandered to her frightening exchange with the Karalis. Decorum had been drummed into the servants their whole lives and she just failed the most basic curtesy, and in front of half of Lautan and the Karalis himself.

  Parts of the night were so busy that she almost forgot her earlier confrontation, but between each course, when the servers took the food away and the kitchen hands cleaned for the next round of preparations, she would pause for breath and the memory of the early evening would flood back, leaving her drenched in a cold sweat. Cori was aware of her mother watching her out of the corner of her eye, brows creased. She ignored her, but when Bel whispered something to Saasha, and her sister glanced up from the pot of potatoes she was tossing with oil, Cori had to turn away completely. She didn’t want them to worry about her and she certainly didn’t want to tell them what had happened.

  When the feasting ended and the servers returned with the half empty platters, the kitchen servants congratulated each other on a job well done and tucked into the leftover food. The kitchen hands swarmed around the sweet trays but Bel managed to extract a plate of sliced cheeses and fruits to bring back to their own work bench.

  “So what’s wrong with you?” Saasha asked while she pulled grapes from the bunch to pop in her mouth. Her tone was casual, but Cori knew their mother had set her up to the question.

  “Nothing, why?” Cori stared at the food and felt ill.

  “Because you keep looking at the door like someone’s about to come through it and put you in chains.”

  Cori’s head jerked up and a cold wave of fear washed over her. Would they arrest her? She might be locked up in Lautan’s watch house and never see her family again.

  “Did you spend the spare change?” Saasha continued as if she hadn’t noticed Cori’s renewed discomfort. “I know it’s tempting, but surely you could have restrained yourself on your first trip to town.”

  “I didn’t spend the coin,” Cori said hollowly. She stared at the door, trying to imagine what it would be like to live in a dank cell. Saasha waved a hand before her face, drawing her attention back.

  “You can tell us what’s wrong, love,” Bel offered gently from across the workbench. Cori glanced between her mother and sister, taking in Bel’s worried eyes and Saasha’s impatiently raised eyebrows. She pushed back from the workbench.

  “I think I’ll just go to bed.”

  At the doorway to the sleeping quarters she glanced back to see Bel and Saasha watching her. Bel said something and Saasha shrugged. Cori went to bed.

  The dream dragons were vicious that night, snapping at her arms and taking enormous pleasure in her fear and restlessness. The next morning she rose later than normal with gritty eyes and a creeping headache. She washed her face, dressed in clean, white robes and headed for the kitchen. Despite her uneasy sleep the previous night, she did feel more relaxed that morning. Somewhere between her frightful dreams, she had resolved that if the Karalis’ guards were going to arrest her for her lack of deference the day before then they would have done it by now.

  The kitchen bustled as always and Cori sought out her mother, dodging and weaving about kitchen hands as she went.

  “Why didn’t you wake me?” Cori stifled a yawn as she reached the workbench.

  “You seemed unwell last night. I thought I’d let you sleep it off.” Bel cupped Cori’s cheek in her hand, and smiled, though her eyes couldn't hide her concern. Beside her, Saasha rolled her eyes, but pushed a steaming cup of coffee towards Cori anyway. Cori shot Saasha a grateful smile and pulled a mound of bread dough towards herself and worked the sticky mixture between her hands.

  “You didn’t need to do that, I’m fine,” she mumbled. Bel frowned.

  “You were tossing in your sleep last night. Are you still having bad dreams?”

  “Sometimes,” Cori admitted awkwardly but didn’t elaborate further. For some reason, she hadn’t shared any details of her dragon dreams with her mother. They lapsed into silence after that, each of them absorbed in their tasks until Dahl raced back into the kitchen.

  “What is it?” Another cook asked as Dahl bent double to catch his breath.

  “Tarp sent me. I came as quick as I could,” he gasped. The cook gestured impatiently for him to get to the point. Dahl stood up straight as if to make a report. “The Advisor is coming.”

  The kitchen knew a moment of silence before everyone spoke at once.

  “We need to clean this place up!” Bel called to the other cooks.

  “I’m wearing yesterday’s robes!” Saasha whined.

  “What could he possibly want?” A server shouted across the din. A stack of freshly washed pots crashed to the ground as a kitchen hand ran by and several people converged on the mess to pick them up.

  Cori stayed quiet in the clamour, dread trickling down her spine. They were coming to get her; she knew it. She scrunched her hands into the dough as if it could anchor her to the table.

  Bel was shouting for calm when the Advisor stepped into the kitchen. Silence once again descended as everyone hastily faced him and bowed low.

  From her bent state, Cori snuck a glance at the Advisor. There was only one word to describe him: immaculate. His combed and oiled beard was a neat spike beneath his chin, his moustache similarly styled with the tips curled carefully upwards. His black hair was tied back in a slick tail and not a wisp of it came free. Obsidian eyes swept across the kitchen, taking in everything and giving away nothing. He looked down at his tailored red jacket and brushed away an invisible speck of dust.

  “You may stand,” he said evenly. His voice was soft, completely at odds with his sharp features.

  Cori straightened but kept her gaze low. As her palms sweat, she resisted the urge to wipe them on her robes.

  The Advisor’s eyes swept across the kitchen once more before he spoke. “I’ve come seeking a child between the ages of thirte
en and sixteen with blonde cropped hair.” He paused, taking in the identical shoulder length cuts that all the servants wore. “A girl, I think,” he added, then fell silent, waiting. Some of the adults whispered to one another, confused.

  Cori shuffled into line with the three other children who matched the Advisor’s description. She knew she should just step forward and name herself as the one he sought but she was too afraid of what would happen. Would he lock her up? Or perhaps he'd terminate her employment as a servant. People had been let go for less. Just thinking about it made her breath catch in her throat. Fifteen, while still young, was not an unpunishable age.

  The Advisor took a single step closer. Cori lifted her eyes to his. His expression curiously blank and his eyes glassy, he stared at the four children. His silence dragged on, and the whispering behind became more pronounced. Then he shook his head ever so slightly as if to clear it of some wistful thought.

  “You.” He pointed at Cori and her heart sank. “Come with me.”

  “What? What has she done?” Bel reached out, perhaps to grasp Cori, but Cori stepped forward, suddenly resolute.

  “It’s all right.” She spoke over her shoulder, then followed the Advisor from the kitchens. She didn’t need to look back to know that Bel and would have followed to watch from the door.

  Without explanation, the Advisor led her through the palace and to the second floor. Cori trailed along at an appropriate distance, barely seeing the rich tapestries and exotic plants that adorned the halls they walked along. Plush carpets lines some floors, while others were made of the same smooth stone that was in the throne room. The arched windows they passed afforded a vista view of the farmlands south of Lautan. Her mind jumped between the possibility of being imprisoned in the Lautan watchhouse or losing her role as an apprentice cook. Both prospects were daunting. She dragged two quick breaths in through her nose in an attempt to stay the terror that churned her stomach.