by J. D. Vaughn
“I meant no offense,” Xiomara assured Jaden. “I just wondered about your strategy.”
“None taken,” he said, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “I’ve spent the past months traveling the realm to meet with all my centurios, visiting each outpost in turn, and reviewing our strengths and weaknesses. I’ll give you and the Queen a full report tomorrow, but I won’t bore your guests tonight.”
Their dinner dishes were whisked away then and replaced by individually plated lemon cakes, each one laced with white icing. Brindl smiled, reminded of her meeting with Tonio.
“I met one of the bakers of these amazing cakes just this morning,” she said to her friends. “He helped me find the grainery when I was lost on the palace grounds.”
“Is he an ancient magician?” Chey asked, stuffing a large bite into his mouth.
“Actually, he’s our age,” Brindl said, “and very kind. He invited me to the bakery for breakfast tomorrow.”
“The young baker sounds as sweet as his cake,” Tali said, grinning mischievously. “But tell me, does he look as fine?”
Brindl was saved the embarrassment of a response by raised voices at the end of the table.
“It is quite true,” the Queen said to Jaden. “We prepare for the arrival of the regents from both Oest Andoria and New Castille.”
“I had heard this rumor, but assumed it was just that: a rumor. Surely you will not treat with these vipers?” asked Jaden.
Centurio Larus answered for her. “If you refer to the Battle for the Alcazar, Oest Andoria claims innocence. They say they knew nothing of the mercenaries.”
A flash of pain crossed Jaden’s face. Everybody there knew well that Jaden’s father, Commander Telendor, had led those mercenaries himself.
One of the counselors spoke then, his cloying remarks obviously meant to gain favor with the Queen. “The Treaty Talks will usher in a new age of peace and prosperity for Tequende. Our realm will be the envy of the Far World.”
“We have the best craftsmen in the lands. We’ll fetch a high price for our goods,” agreed another, nodding toward the Queen.
The first counselor looked smugly at Jaden. “The regents will be given a grand tour so they might see all we have to offer.”
“And expose our weaknesses,” Jaden said, pushing back from the table and standing up. “Excellent idea. Then they’ll gut Tequende of all its riches as they’ve done the rest of the Nigh World.”
“Sit down,” the Queen said, her voice just above a harsh whisper. “Upon the arrival of the regents, you will report directly back to the Alcazar, Commander, lest you offend our guests and ruin my chance for a trade agreement.”
“And what of your protection?” Jaden asked quietly, taking his seat as ordered.
“I am well guarded,” the Queen answered, indicating Centurio Larus nearby. “You will cordially, and I do mean cordially, greet the regents at the opening ceremonies. Then you will take your leave.”
An awkward hush descended over the table. Dessert could not end soon enough for any of them, the lemon cakes suddenly sour on the tongue.
Lady servants will not fraternize with those beyond the palace; develop friendships, if you must, within your own circle of service.
—CH. N. TASCA, Palace Etiquette
Tonio had been right. As soon as Brindl stepped out of the palace the next morning, she smelled a sumptuous aroma emanating from a large building nearby, its several chimneys puffing out wispy trails of smoke. The bakery. As the palace bells tolled seven, Tonio stepped through the double doors and smiled widely.
“Brindl! You made it,” he said, taking her elbow and pulling her through the entry.
The bakery was spectacular. A dozen people worked in the grand room, displaying an amazing degree of industry and organization. Some chopped ingredients of every color on a wide table that ran down the room’s center, while others had their hands deep inside big lumps of dough. Still others stirred giant wooden spoons in huge metal bowls. A tray with enough eggs to feed a giant sat in the middle of the table where the workers reached in and plucked them out in twos and threes.
Blue-painted shelving lined the walls on all sides and gleaming glass containers showed off their contents: flours and sugars, herbs and spices, honeys and oils. Bowls spilling over with fruit sat next to them. High windows above the shelves flooded the room with morning light. Though the bakers bustled about with bowls and trays, somehow without ever bumping into each other, there was a cheerfulness to the room, a warm energy. And the smell! Brindl felt more at ease here in a single minute than she had for the entire evening in the Lilac Room.
She turned to Tonio. “It’s a wonder! I never thought a kitchen could be so inviting.”
“A bakery is a sweeter place than an ordinary kitchen,” Tonio answered, leading her through a chorus of greetings and welcomes.
Such a world of difference from the mines, Brindl thought. No danger, no chill, just a toasty warm room filled with plenty of food. “How nice it must have been to grow up here.”
Tonio smiled thinly, and Brindl could see that her comment made him bristle. She continued to follow him, wondering what she’d said or done wrong, hoping she hadn’t just cut her new friendship short.
But Tonio recovered quickly, pointing out some of the stranger ingredients as they traveled through the great room. Some of the items hailed from faraway places whose names she’d never heard before. She bit into a chocolate candy he placed in her palm, delighted when the crunchy outside exploded to cream inside her mouth.
“That’s a karnot. I like to hide them inside pastries as a surprise.”
“It’s delicious!”
“Wait until you try the Saragasso syrup,” Tonio said, dipping a small stick into a jar and twirling it until the golden syrup formed a ball.
He handed the stick to Brindl, who popped it into her mouth. The syrup tasted tangy and sweet simultaneously. Then he unhooked the hinge on a jar and pulled out a small pale fruit rolled in sparkling sugar. “A clemente,” he said, offering it like a piece of gold. Brindl closed her eyes as the sugar melted on her tongue, giving way to the tart fruit flavor underneath. How could she ever eat plain porridge again?
“Now, this,” Tonio said, dipping his hand into yet another jar, “is called a tupelatelo.” He opened his hand to show a nut about the size of a Queen’s coin, and almost as flat. Though its plain brown husk did not look at all inviting, he offered it to Brindl like a holy piece of salt, blessed by the Diosa herself.
“Go on,” he said, placing it into her palm. Brindl took a tentative bite, surprised when a variety of tastes danced inside her mouth, sweet, sour and spicy all at once. It was chewy, too, and took several bites before it finally disintegrated.
“Whatever do you use them for?” she asked.
“Tupelatelos are so rare that we use them only for the most special of delicacies, made once a year on the Queen’s birthday.”
“And you wasted one on me?”
Tonio laughed. “Your face made it worth it! Like a child on festival day.”
Brindl suddenly felt a lump in her throat. Tonio’s easy nature reminded her of her brother, Tamind. It caught her off guard, these thoughts of home.
“What is it?” Tonio asked.
“I, well…” Brindl hesitated, not wanting to change the mood. “You remind me of my older brother is all, but I don’t talk about home.”
Tonio gave her a long look. “Not even to your important friends, at least?”
“Never,” Brindl answered. “It’s easier to pretend I have nothing to miss than to dwell on all that I do.”
Tonio nodded. “I understand. Sometimes it’s hard to be an only child, but easier than being a second-born, I imagine.”
Brindl shrugged. “At least there’s one less mouth to feed at home. Tamind could eat his weight in food at each meal.”
“I might be able to match him there,” Tonio said, gesturing for Brindl to follow him. “I’m sure he’d rather have your
company than your portion.”
Brindl nodded. “Probably, yes. Our parents are older than most, not all that lively.”
“Is that so?” Tonio asked, handing Brindl a small square of bread infused with cinnamon.
“For years and years, no children. Then, two in a row.…”
They turned a corner and nearly ran into a woman who could only be Tonio’s mother.
“Brindl, meet Mama Rossi,” Tonio said, as the two women placed their palms together.
“I’m honored to meet you,” Brindl said, dipping her head.
“We’re glad you came down from the roof!” Mama Rossi answered, then enveloped Brindl in a warm hug, wrapping her generous arms around Brindl’s tiny frame. The unexpectedness of her embrace was a shock, but the larger woman’s body felt comforting, too. Mama Rossi pulled back from the hug but did not release her hands, studying Brindl.
Brindl, embarrassed, had no choice but to do the same.
Mama Rossi was, in a word, round. Her hair was piled in a stout bun, her face a full moon. Her body, too, was generous and plump but seemed to suit her just right. Though some of Tonio’s good looks peeked through her features, they’d been softened by time and age, and perhaps one too many treats in her welcoming bakery.
“My mother thinks she was born in Fiorenze like my father,” Tonio joked. “It is custom there to crush someone you’ve just met.”
“Let me look at you,” Mama Rossi said, holding Brindl out farther. “You’re all bones, like one of your little birds. You must eat!”
Tonio raised his eyebrows at Brindl. “My mother’s answer for everything.”
“Hush now, boy. Go get the sweet rolls from the oven. We’ll feed her twice before I let her leave!”
Mama Rossi pulled Brindl into a back room, obviously the small quarters she shared with her son. A pretty green cloth, embroidered with flowers, covered a round table. Though none of the four adjoining chairs matched in structure, they were painted the same bright cheerful blue of the shelving in the main kitchen. Paned windows overlooked a large kitchen garden where a few Earth Guilders already bent over the plants in the early morning light.
Mama Rossi shuffled Brindl into a chair and immediately began serving her hot cocoa and twisted rolls fresh from the oven. Inside each warm bite was a taste of honey, sweetberries, and a glazed icing that demanded to be licked from the tips of her fingers rather than go to waste. Tonio returned and sat down beside her. Mama Rossi would sit down in fits and starts before she’d jump up again to fetch something she wanted Brindl to try.
“So Tonio tells me you are from Zipa!”
“Yes, Mistress Rossi.”
“Oh, don’t call me that formal name, dear. I am Mama Rossi to everyone in the village.”
“Have you always lived here in Fugaza, Mama Rossi?” Brindl asked, breaking apart a piece of an enormous flat cake that seemed to be made of a thousand layers. Mama Rossi herself reached over and tore off a generous piece, then dipped it into a honey pot with a warming candle beneath it. Brindl did the same and was surprised when the texture of the cake changed to fluffy instead of flat.
“Oh, yes. A palace kitchen girl my life whole. But my husband, Angelo—Machué protect him—he came from afar,” Mama Rossi said, nodding toward the window, as if the sea was just beyond the vegetable patch outside. “Fiorenze.”
“He was an artist and scholar there,” Tonio added, reaching for his cup of cocoa.
“How then did you two meet?” Brindl asked, turning to Mama Rossi, who handed her another piece of flat cake. Brindl felt like she might burst, but still she took the cake and dipped it in honey.
“Oh, Angelo wanted to see the wide world so he traveled all over. He’d join a ship and work his way across the seas, painting portraits and landscapes for the captains and their rich travelers. We still have his journals and sketches.” Mama Rossi paused, crossing her arms over her ample form, and looked dreamily out the window.
She still loves him, Brindl thought.
“Mama, you did not answer Brindl’s question yet,” Tonio said, placing a hand on her arm.
“Oh, yes, well…on one of the voyages he met a wealthy merchant who was on his way here to the Nigh World. The merchant admired Angelo’s artwork and suggested Angelo accompany him to Tequende, where art was much in demand. Angelo did so and was soon commissioned to paint a portrait of Queen Twenty. I was a kitchen maid then, and I served him cocoa each day,” she said, her voice taking on a wistful quality. “He was so handsome, and I loved his Far World accent.”
Tonio added the ending. “He fell for Mama and petitioned to be an Earth Guilder so they could marry.”
Brindl heard a certain bitterness underneath Tonio’s words and tried to read his face, but it had set like stone. How could such a lovely story make Tonio sound this way? He is somewhat of a puzzle.
“Did he not continue to paint portraits?” Brindl asked.
“Not as an Earth Guilder, no. The art professions belong to those in the Moon Guild. But, he taught me how to make cakes,” Mama Rossi said, “and he poured all of his artistry into making them as beautiful as any sculpture or painting.”
“We look through his journals still for inspiration,” Tonio added, and there it was again, the sharp edge to his voice, like an unexpected cut on a finger.
Mama Rossi glanced at her son and put her hand over his. “We lost Angelo to river fever when Tonio was just eight.”
“I’ve been baking cakes with Mama ever since,” Tonio said, squeezing his mother’s hand in return.
Brindl watched the two of them as the truth settled upon her. Angelo Rossi had given up much to marry an Earth Guilder and start a new life in Tequende. His homeland. His art. His life. How much he must have loved Mama Rossi to make such a sacrifice.
True to her word, Mama Rossi kept Brindl captive until she fed her twice that morning. Once with the sweetbreads, and then an early luncheon, too, a Fiorenzan dish of shell-shaped noodles stuffed with herbs and cheese and spicy meat sauce.
“You must return whenever you like,” Mama Rossi said. “It’s not right for a girl your age to be alone so much on that roof.” She pulled Brindl back into a warm embrace, and Brindl found herself hugging Mama Rossi as if she were her own mother.
How long it’s been since I’ve been fussed over like this.
Tonio walked Brindl to the door of the bakery.
“I’ll soon be twice my size if I visit the bakery much,” Brindl said, “but I thank you for the best morning I’ve had since my arrival.”
“You’re welcome here anytime you tire of talking to birds!”
Never speak to a Royal unless specifically addressed, and then keep your reply deferential and dutiful. When in doubt, “Yes, Your Majesty,” or “Yes, Your Highness,” will usually suffice.
—CH. N. TASCA, Palace Etiquette
Brindl replayed the whole morning as she swept the aviary. Surely it was the nicest day she’d had since coming to Fugaza. Perhaps others would have loved the Queen’s dinner more, but Brindl knew where she belonged, where she felt most comfortable—with people who did the real work of the earth. Her people. The bakery had been so warm, so cheerful.
How wonderful it must be to work in such companionship with others.
Just as she finished her task, a loud cough at the aviary door surprised her. She turned to find a man who looked too old to be a messenger frowning at her in irritation. Brindl could see flecks of gray at his temples, and his stout frame had undoubtedly made his trip to the roof difficult.
No matter what I do here I seem to annoy people.
“Brindl of the Zipa Salt Miners?” he asked, his breath heavy from the climb.
“I am she,” Brindl answered, keeping her head high. It wasn’t her fault the man was winded.
“This is the third time I’ve tried to deliver a message to you this morning.”
Oops. Brindl bit her lip. Perhaps it is my fault.
“Princess Xiomara and Commander Jaden
await your arrival in the princess’s quarters immediately.”
Brindl looked down at her uniform, dusty from her work. “I need to wash up first.”
“You’re late already,” the messenger scolded, impatience plainly etched on his face.
“Then five more minutes won’t hurt,” Brindl answered. No doubt the messenger would apprise the chamberlain of her ill manners.
“Clean yourself, but quickly,” he snapped, as if it was his idea in the first place, his eyes lingering on her dirty clothes.
Brindl raced to her quarters and pulled out a spare apron. She brushed the remnants of birdseed and straw from her uniform and slippers, then quickly, with deft fingers, combed her hair and pinned it in place. What could Xiomara and Jaden want with me? Did I err at dinner last night? Has the chamberlain complained of my service as pigeonkeep?
The walk down from the roof had never felt longer. Brindl’s legs twitched as the scowling messenger led the way. Enough! Brindl scolded herself. Hold yourself up and be more than they expect. You are Brindl Tacora from the Zipa Mines, daughter of Machué.
When they finally reached the doors to Xiomara’s waiting room, Brindl turned to the messenger and curtsied, a playful smile on her lips. “Many thanks for your fine and gracious company, sir.”
The messenger, whose face was already flushed from the journey, turned a deeper shade of red. He opened the doors and for a second Brindl thought he might shove her through them. Instead, he cleared his throat and announced her.
“Brindl Tacora, Your Highness.”
The princess and Jaden sat at the far end of the room opposite the chandelier that had fallen not a week ago. Brindl noticed that a new desk now sat closer to the windows, as did several chairs where the two awaited.
“She appears at last,” Princess Xiomara said, rising and gesturing toward a large blue chair with a round back.
“I’m sorry for any delay you suffered, Your Highness,” Brindl said, bowing and taking her seat. “And you as well, Commander. Please forgive me.”