Chapter 3.8

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The warmth of the kitchen bathed my face; the smell of baking bread and roasting meats filled my nostrils. A kitchen maid, crouched on the hearth to stir a large pot, turned to face me, and smile. She rose, flour-streaked skirts swirling about her legs, and hurried over. It was nice to be recognized, for once.

“Are ye hungry?” Elise asked.

With her question, I was. I nodded.

She slipped away, and returned just as silently. “Fresh-baked bread, just out of the oven. And some of the best cheese Ay’ve ever aged.”

At Songless, when the Old Lord was still alive, I was lucky if the handouts from the kitchen were no more than a little stale. I nodded my thanks at her generous charity.

“Do ye know, that sweet-voiced boy hasn’t been seen today, and the Lady Victoria was caught dozin’ at her needlework. They must have been all night in the garden!”

I shook my head at her words.

“Ye don’t like my saying that?”

Again I shook my head, this time sternly. The Lady Victoria was a lady of the castle, a beautiful rose among brambles. Kitchen maids were too easily replaceed.

“Aye, well, I’m no Christian to call a Bard a horrible Pagan beneath the sun, then kiss him by moonlight. I stand by my bard no matter the weather.”

Another conquest for Sharp, I thought bitterly. He was the only Bard to be found in this castle. I nodded my thanks for the meal and turned to go.

“Ay’ll see ye tonight,” she said quietly.

Behind me, Charles said loudly, “Gir-rl. Go-od.”

I looked back to see him make exaggerated gestures of the feminine shape with his hands. Then he laughed, and the other workers in the kitchen laughed with him. Face burning, I shouldered him aside and stalked ot the door.

“Why are ye bothering with that mute creature?” another woman asked behind me. “Do ye think he even knows what ye are sayin’?”

You lose your voice and you lose your ears. Soon I would be nothing more than a ghost.