Slightly sooner this time!!!

Disclaimer: It's all Tamora Pierce's. Apart from the soi-disant plot...

Thank you, Forget-me-not! Did I need to say Weiryn and the Green Lady...



Chapter Sixteen



Kel stood nervously by the door from the kitchens into the grand state banqueting hall. This would be the first time she had ever served the guests at a state banquet and she was horribly afraid that she'd make such a hash of it that it would be her last! She had been assigned to wait on a group of wealthy merchants and their wives from the city. Not a job to be envied! The nouveau riche were reported to be fussy, sharp-tongued, not only conservative but reactionary and nervously vindictive.

She bit her lip, for the King had begun to say grace. His wonderful voice filled the hall in an articulate and well-expressed prayer, giving thanks for the mild winter and the spring that it would bring, for the old year that was ending and the new year that was to come, but - quite aside from her personal dislike of King Jonathan - she couldn't concentrate on anything. As soon as he finished, she would have to start serving...

Somebody shoved a tray of soup bowls into her hands, soup slopping over the side of the bowls from the rough handling. With skill perfected with long practise - Joren and his people had given her that! - she managed to keep everything almost upright as she laid the tray down to mop up the spills and cast around for the other things she needed to take. She found the finger-bowls - three merchants, three wives, six is right, thank Mithros, there are only six left - a handful of neatly-folded finger towels, six small plates and knives, three dishes of butter and a basket of bread. Was that all?

"So mote it be," echoed all the guests. Kel's stomach lurched - she was meant to be serving people now! Forgetting to check everything again, she snatched the tray from the work table, left the safety of the kitchens and walked the short way to the near-the-back table where the guests assigned to her sat. She began to serve them, placing a bowl of finest tomato-and-basil soup, a plate and a knife before each guest. When she had done that, she put out the finger-bowls and towels. She laid down the butter dishes and began to offer around the bread. Done. What was she meant to do now? There was something, she knew, but her mind was totally blank. She panicked...

"Napkins!" whispered Esmond as he passed her on his way back to the kitchens. Kel grinned her thanks.

"Does anyone need a napkin?" she asked, praying that nobody would answer. That was what she'd forgotten - spare napkins!

"I do," said a sharp-faced merchant's wife.

"M- and I." said a younger, harsher voice.

"Is that all?" asked Kel, partly politeness, partly putting off the evil hour when she would have to go and get some. A smartly-turned-out man asked for one and everyone else looked at her expectantly, as if I'm going to pull a string of them out of somebody's ear, she thought bitterly. Blushing, she excused herself and turned to go... then she saw Neal walking past, back towards the kitchens, a tray held high... a tray... with about twenty clean white napkins on it! Without saying anything she grabbed a handful of them, turned back to the table and gave them out. Then, sighing with relief, she returned to the kitchens. She tried to care nothing for what the city people thought of her.

She explained what she had had to do to an indignant Neal who had had to pick up the other fifteen from the floor and he rocked with laughter. They talked for a while, but all too soon it was time for her to serve the next course. This was the fish, salmon steaks that had been soaked in some sort of sweet marinade and then quickly pan-seared, but Kel had little or no interest in the food beyond how very, very easy it would be to spill. She made it to the table without mishap and started to clear away the empty soup plates and to serve the salmon. As she worked, one hard-looking woman leaned over the table and spoke to her.

"You're a bit slow at this, aren't you! What's your name?"

"Keladry of Mindelan." said Kel tightly, bracing herself for the squalls that she knew were coming.

"Keladry... you're the girl!"

"Yes, madam." Kel blessed the Yamanis again as she looked the nosy lady straight in the eyes.

"We cannot condone such indecency! We require another page to serve us."

"Yes, madam." Kel finished serving the merchants and walked with dignity back to the kitchens. Master Oakbridge took the news badly.

"Another page! What are they thinking of? What does it matter to them whether you're a girl or a boy or a... a dragon? Page Quinden of Marti's Hill," he called over the first boy that he saw, "whom are you serving?"

"Mages. Master Salmalín and his wife, the Dean of the royal university and so on. They're on the first table on the right."

"Fine. Please take Mindelan's place with the merchants at the sixth table on the left. She will take over yours. Is there a problem, Page Quinden?"

"Oh no, sir. Everything is fine!"

Kel crossed to the first table - it was too far up the room! - with the next course. It was beef slowly roasted with herbs and spices, with potatoes and vegetables. It smelt delicious and Kel was starving! Despite herself, she wished she could eat it...

She came to herself with a jolt, to realise that she was nearly at the other end of the table from the one at which she was meant to be! Cursing inwardly, she decided that she'd just have to start at that end.

She served the beef and cleared away the used dishes then returned to the kitchens, oblivious to the conversation behind her.

"Poor girl," Daine was saying, looking at the page. "I wonder who was making trouble, that she had to be moved."

"I expect she'll be all right. It's her second year, so she should be through the worst of the teasing."

"I won-der. Some people will never accept anything with which they don't agree," Daine's eyes were sad as she remembered her village, the tragedy in her past... She set her lips and shook herself out of the mood. "You took her class once for history, didn't you? Did you notice anything?"

Her husband shook his head with a sad, mocking smile. "Magelet, if the barrier between the Realms had disappeared again at that moment, I doubt if I would have taken a blind bit of notice."

Daine looked up at him, aghast. "Oh, Numair! I'm so sorry! How could I remind you of that?"

Numair looked at her, a wicked smile on his lips. "Eat up, Daine! You must be hungry... after all, you are eating for two!"



As one would expect, there was a stunned silence. Numair's voice carried, and it just so happened that there had been a slight lull in the conversations around them at that particular moment. Daine blushed a fiery red and looked angrily up at him... then shook her head and laughed.

"You had to be dramatic about it, didn't you!" she hissed.

That broke the spell. People carried on talking... and if it was with rather more raised eyebrows and shifty glances at the pair than usual, well, that was only to be expected. Harailt of Aili, Dean of the Royal University and possessor of a very dirty common-born sense of humour, looked away from the young woman sitting on his right and leaned towards Daine and Numair.

"Well, well, well!" he said gleefully. "You sly old dog!"

Numair reddened and opened his mouth to say something, but Daine - who knew his tendency to dig himself into a hole - silenced him with a hand on his thigh and leapt into the breach.

"Not so old, Harailt!" she told the Dean archly. He sniggered, but Numair pushed Daine's hand away.

"Forgive my wife, Harailt," he said clearly, loudly and coldly. His eyes were blazing, his lips white, his cold voice tightly controlled. "She forgets her new dignity as a married lady."

At that, Daine exploded.