Мерседес Лэки - Passages

“Mold.” Lady Cera of Sandbriar stared at the contents of the pan with dismay. The cold fat with flower blooms pressed into it was dotted with specks of black.

“Mold,” confirmed Bella, who’d worked with her on this project.

“Moisture,” Master Jebren said firmly.

“Any idiot knows that.” Xenos sniffed.

Everyone stared at Healer Xenos, standing in Cera’s root cellar in his Green robes, looking down his nose at them. While Cera held him in high regard for his Gift of Healing, his personality left much to be desired.

“Xenos,” Jebren said even more firmly. “Perhaps you can aid someone else, somewhere else?”

Xenos huffed and exited dramatically.

Cera and Bella exchanged glances of relief.

“The problem is moisture,” Jebren continued. The corners of his eyes crinkled as he gave them an apologetic smile. Master Apothecary Jebren had come to Sandbriar with Healer Xenos and was everything the Healer was not: warm, friendly and willing to share his knowledge.

“But the flowers need to be fresh,” Cera protested.

“Fresh, yes, but as dry as they can be,” Jebren said. “You need to cloth-dry them and then hang them from the rafters for a day before you press them into the fat. Also, you need a thinner layer of fat in the pan. This is just a bit too thick.”

Cera puffed out her exasperation.

Jebren shook his head at her. “None of that now, you have done well, considering you were relying on your memories of your mother’s methods.” He placed the pan back on the table near her. Cera caught a whiff of spice and flowers, another memory of her mother’s stillroom. Jebren continued. “We’ll clean this up and start again.”

Cera and Bella started to scrape the pans clean. “Once we get the technique down, we can train some others to do this, Bella,” Cera said. “I don’t want to take you from the kitchens.”

Bella rolled her eyes. “I might just stay down here all day if that man keeps getting underfoot. I shoo him away, but how is a body to get any work done when he follows me around like a half-starved cat?”

Jebren choked, coughing. “Sorry. Swallowed wrong.”

Cera looked at Bella seriously. “Has he been rude to you?”

“No, milady, not to me, but that tongue of his stings something fierce.” Bella frowned. “All in everyone’s business and never a kind word.”

“He did save Herald Helgara,” Cera pointed out.

“Aye, and didn’t that poor Herald get her brains all shook.” Bella nodded. “Very well. I’ll put up with him.”

“No,” Cera said firmly. “If he is going to hang about the kitchens, put him to work.”

Bella and Jebren both stared at her. Cera calmly continued to scrape out a pan. “What about those puffs you make with all the butter and sweets. The ones that take the better part of a day. Weren’t you going to make those as a treat?”

“Well, yes, b-but-” Bella sputtered.

“Put him to work with the kneading and folding the dough.” Cera looked up with a smile.

“But, milady, he’s a Healer and noble born.” Bella protested, even as a smile broke out on her face.

“Idle hands make only mischief,” Cera shrugged. “If he protests, tell him I said either work or leave the kitchen.”

Bella set her shoulders and laughed. “Well, just see if I don’t. I’ll go get some more of the pure fat for the pans.” They could hear her chortle as she climbed the stairs.

Jebren raised an eyebrow at Cera. “I doubt anyone has ever made Xenos work, other than to hone his Gift.”

“Maybe they should,” Cera said. “If he doesn’t like kitchens, maybe I can put him to work in the barns.”

“Shearing sheep?” Jebren asked.

“Mucking stalls,” Cera said.

Jebren laughed.

Cera smiled at the man. Master Apothecary Jebren was a delight to work with. He’d been hard at work the last few weeks since the Festival, seeing to the shipment of wild kandace for the Healer’s Collegium. Between his skill and her people’s work, they’d turned a profit for Sandbriar, and perhaps they had turned a corner on funds for the future.

“I just wanted to thank you—” Cera blurted out at the same time Jebren spoke.

“I can’t thank you enough—” he said

They each stuttered to a halt, laughing.

“You first,” he said.

“Thank you for teaching this to me.” Cera gestured to the pans. “For teaching all of us.”

“It’s the least I could do for you.” Jebren flushed. “For Sandbriar and Valdemar. And let me offer you my thanks for the use of the stillroom and the drying shed and the garden. During the Tedrel War I was kept in Haven, creating medicines. It’s good to be back in the garden, amidst growing things.”

They both looked at each other for the longest awkward moment. Jebren looked as though he wished to say more, so Cera waited, hesitating, feeling an odd flutter in her chest. She opened her mouth, trying to find words—

Bella clattered down the stairs with a bucket of clean lard. “Here we be—” She drew herself up, looking at both of them with a quizzical expression. “Have I interrupted?”

“No, no,” they both exclaimed, busying themselves with the pans.

“Well, then we’d best get this done,” Bella said. “The hot’s starting to rise outside.”

“I wanted to check on the chirras ,” Cera said, starting to press the fat into the clean pans. “But I’ll be quick.”

“I was going to work in the stillroom this afternoon,” Jebren said and then defended himself from Bella’s scowl with a shoulder shrug. “It’s cool in there.”

“Northerners.” Bella shook her wooden scraper at him. “You’re not used to our heat and our ways. The hot will get worse as the weeks go on, and the afternoon rest is the best way to deal with it. But you’d not be the first out of Haven to work himself sick.”

“She’s right,” Cera said. “Our heat can catch you off guard.”

“Then I’ll take your advice,” Jebren conceded. Another nice thing about him, Cera thought.

“See that you do,” Bella said. “And I will warn Sir-High-and-Mighty. Now, is this the right thickness for the fat?”

Cera stepped out of the manor house and sucked in a breath as the heat hit her face.

The sun was almost at its zenith, and the morning cool was rapidly fading.

There was a large merchant caravan unloading at the gates, and one of her guards called her over. “Someone to speak to you, Lady.”

One of the merchants whipped off his hat. “Lady Cera, I wish you well this day. I’ve news of the road for you.”

“Merchant Hurlbert, my thanks for the well-wishes. The same to you and yours.” Cera smiled. “You need to get out of the hot soon.”

“Aye, we’ve a place down by the river that’s just right. Perfect with shade and cool water. We’ll be there as soon as we unload, Lady. But that’s not the news.” He swept his hat back up into place. “You’ve a lordling headed for you, out of Rethwellan. All starched collars and black clothing and a stick far up his . . . attitude, beggin’ your pardon.”

“Did he give you a name?” Cera asked, putting her own hat on her head.

“Nay, Lady.” Hurlbert chortled. “That kind ne’er shared his name with any. We even tried to offer cold water and to sell him lighter clothes, but he’d not deign to hear us. I suspect he stopped at the last town before this and will ignore them as well. Fair sure he’s headed your way.”

“My thanks, Hurlbert.” Cera gave him a nod and a smile. “Safe travels to you.”

Hurlbert bowed low and then called to his people to move the wagons out.