I knocked and entered Secretary Walsh’s apartment. He wasn’t there. It was too early. The secretary would be in the treasury going over accounts with the spriggans that handled the diocese’s financials. In Europe, spriggans were considered trusted financial advisors instead of the thieving scum they were in the States.
I filled the secretary’s water pitcher and moved on to the rest of the apartments. I stepped out of the fifth secretary’s door to find a glowering master secretary in the hall with his thick dwarf arms crossed.
“Just what do you think you’re doing? Is this the order of precedence?” he growled, causing a shiver in my spine. I felt the master secretary’s growls rather than heard them and they felt as bad as he looked with his short pointy beard, bulbous nose, and his barely there eyes.
The master secretary stepped forward and we were nose-to-ugly nose. I wanted to push back. My hands prickled. The fire I had to contain longed to jump out and set his nose hairs on fire. But they couldn’t and I forced myself to fake something like cowering.
“Did you hear me, Mattie?” His distaste for me radiated off him and I was reminded how lucky I was that the day I applied for my job, the master secretary had been tending to his sick mother. I felt sorry for the woman for having such a son at her bedside, but because he was gone the cardinal interviewed me and I was hired. The master secretary wasn’t happy about me at all, but what I’d ever done to him was a mystery.
“Yes, sir. I was filling the pitchers as ordered,” I said.
“You filled the secretary’s pitchers before mine?” His nose wrinkled.
What difference does it make, you petty ogre? Water’s water.
“Yes, sir,” I said.
“You fill my pitcher first,” he said. “Do you understand?”
I tipped my chin down to conceal the expression that was bound to be in my eyes. “I should fill your pitcher before the cardinal’s?”
His chest swelled and I couldn’t resist looking up at him through my thick lashes. He glared at me and then stepped back. “Of course not. His Grace is always first in both our hearts and our duty. Tell me you understand that.”
I did understand it, more than he would ever know. The cardinal had hired me and given us our chance to survive the Viennese winter. I wouldn’t forget it.
“I do, sir.”
He turned away and I called after him. “Has the archduke gone?” Lonica would want to know.
The master secretary spun around. “What is your interest in His Highness?”
I drew back at the intense anger in his eyes. That was definitely the wrong question to ask. “None, sir. I was just wondering.”
“Well, don’t. His Highness is no concern of yours.” He stomped away toward the formal entrance under St. Augustine’s hands.
I watched him go. That was particularly unfriendly, even for the master secretary. Could there be a little jealousy going on? Not that I blamed him. The archduke was beautiful, rich, and powerful. Heck, I was jealous. I bet the archduke never scrubbed a chamber pot or had to figure out how to pay for a never-ending supply of medicines. Still, I would’ve thought the master secretary to be above such things. I guess I was wrong.
Once I was sure he was gone I filled his pitcher and then headed to the cardinal’s private apartment. I turned the corner and stopped short when I saw a tall figure in the hall that I’d expected to be empty. He turned around and I froze. The archduke in all his splendor and there I was, smelling like troll remover.
“Guten abend,” he said with a graceful bow.
I couldn’t move and I was vaguely aware that my mouth was hanging open, but it didn’t seem important.
“Hallo?”
“Um…guten abend, Your Majesty.” I did an awkward curtsy with my stupid buckets.
“It’s ‘Your Highness’ and then sir.” He smiled like no one has ever smiled in the history of smiling. “I will never rule. I’m the second son. You speak English, not German?”
“I’m learning German, Your Highness.”
His smile became wider and the feeling of goodness that radiated off him was almost overpowering. All wood fairies could sense intentions, but I’d never been particularly sensitive. You didn’t have to be sensitive to feel what the archduke was about. No wonder the papers were filled with his photos and daily life.
“I’m glad to hear it. You’re a maid for His Grace?” the archduke asked.
“Yes, sir.”
“A feeling of competence comes right off of you, so you must be good at your work.”
Competent? Why couldn’t it be extraordinary or beautiful? Competent stinks.
“Thank you.”
He glanced at the cardinal’s door. “Delivering water for His Grace?”
“Yes, sir.”
He nodded and said, “Have you seen the master secretary? I need to speak with him.”
“I just passed him. He was heading for the exit, but he isn’t fast. You can probably catch him,” I said.
“I’ll do that. Please excuse me.” The archduke brushed by me and the scent of edelweiss filled my nose for a second. I’d never smell edelweiss again without thinking of him.
“Sir?” I called after him.
He turned back. “Yes?”
“May I ask how the empress is?” This was my chance to put to bed all that fear.
“Her Majesty is very well. Thank you for asking.” He smiled, but this time it was different. I could see the tiniest of cracks in his beautiful facade. The empress wasn’t well at all. This wasn’t good news. The French Revolution was gaining momentum and the most radical of the revolutionaries had turned their eyes to peaceful Austria. It wasn’t my country, but they needed the empress fit to fight if the feared invasion came.
“Thank you, sir.” I watched him disappear around the corner and then went back to reality. I was a maid with buckets. Time to deliver.
I didn’t bother to knock on the cardinal’s door because I knew he would be at work in his office inside the baptismal font until late. I hadn’t actually seen the cardinal in weeks. He was often out touring the diocese, visiting the sick, and whatever else he did.
I closed the door behind me and took a deep breath. If I could’ve stayed in there an hour, I would’ve. It wasn’t because the apartment was fancy or beautiful. It was because it wasn’t. Actually, the cardinal’s apartment was the smallest of all the apartments in the pulpit. He was supposed to be in the master secretary’s apartment. It was twice as big with gilding on every surface. But the cardinal chose the littlest when he became cardinal and wouldn’t hear of moving. I walked across the woven cotton rug that had seen better days and filled the pitcher on the nightstand next to the cardinal’s bed. The head housekeeper was always going on about that rug. She wanted to replace it with something silk, but the cardinal wouldn’t let her. His mother wove the rug and he was keeping it. Maybe that’s why his apartment was my favorite. It felt like a home more than any other place in the cathedral. I missed our mantel so much it had become an ache. Wood fairies were supposed to be loyal to their trees, but I’d been away so long I’d almost forgotten how it felt to be where I was supposed to be. The cardinal’s apartment was the only place that made me remember in a good way. The furniture was well-made, but simple. The cardinal had made the U-shaped desk in the corner when he was a teenager. I set down my buckets and went to look at the mess that covered it, tins of tea and chocolate, letters and pictures from children made up most of it. The cardinal loved children. Maybe that’s why he hired me. I’d lied and said I was eighteen, the minimum age he needed, but I’d told him the cover story about getting separated from my parents and having my brothers and sister to care for. He’d lit up when I told him about Iris, Gerald, and Horc and he didn’t question the fact that Horc was a spriggan or that my so-called aunts were also dependent. I suspect it had something to do with faith. In what, I couldn’t say, but I’d like to think he saw something special in me, even though I was concealing everything that was.
I so wanted to stay in that apartment with its warmth and hominess. I didn’t want to go to the servants’ quarters and see what had happened with the commander’s egg. I couldn’t change it and there was only a new problem to contend with. The cardinal had agreed to take me on without hesitation, but the master secretary had made it equally clear that he wasn’t going to tolerate another problem with me. The dragons irritated him to no end and what would he say if he found out I had a baby phalanx in addition to everyone else? The cardinal wasn’t always around. I had no doubt that if the master secretary found out I’d added to my brood I’d be in big trouble or worse, we’d be out in the December cold.
Chapter Three
I FLEW OVER the heads of awestruck humans, occasionally catching a word or two. That was one of the best things about humans. Their voices were as big as they were. A particularly tall man’s head swiveled as he said, “Unfreakingbelieveable,” and ruffled my skirt with his hot bratwurst-scented breath. I could imagine what he would’ve said if he could’ve seen me. There was a time when I would’ve stopped and given it a shot, bursting a display worthy of New Year’s Eve in front of his nose, but now I didn’t bother. Being seen in Austria was rarer than handsome archdukes. The cardinal was rumored to have been seen, but nobody knew by who. Instead, I zipped across the nave toward the tomb. The servants’ quarters were in the base of the Emperor Friedrich III tomb. Living under dead royalty was supposed to teach us humility, but it wasn’t working with me. I just called it creepy.
Sometimes creepy didn’t cover it. At the entrance between two stone figures was a pile of purple balls. The klitzeklein trolls that I’d spent most of my day trying to get off St. Catherine’s altar had moved, not outside where I was supposed to get them, but to the doorway. They liked to sleep in pyramids and it didn’t matter where as long as it was obnoxious and inconvenient to me.
I landed on the threshold and set down my buckets. “Alright you freaks, get off.”
One eyeball opened and then closed. They weren’t worried about me and who could blame them? I didn’t even have Frau Snigglebit’s Troll Remover. What was I going to do? I was supposed to be wood fairy will no particular talents. Those trolls stayed right there. It’d been a long day. I had six freshly popped blisters and a new rash from all the troll remover. I’d show those tiny trolls my talent and we’d see if they had any sense then.
I picked up one of my buckets and pointed the open end at them. “If you don’t scurry off, it’s going to be a purple blob barbecue.” I lit a flame in the bucket, not a big one, just enough to get their attention and it certainly did. A hundred eyes popped open in that pyramid. They didn’t move. Bulbous idiots.
“Testing me? How about this?” My flame grew. I just had to picture it and it happened. My fire was coating the inside of the bucket, but not burning the wood. That wouldn’t do.
One of the trolls popped off the pyramid and waddled away. Its eyes migrated to the back of its head. It was so freaky how they could put their eyes anywhere. I’d seen them on their butts before. That ability made it pretty hard to sneak up on them, which I guess was the point.
Soon the pyramid was walking away in the direction of St. Catherine’s altar, naturally. Oh well, I’d deal with them tomorrow. At least they couldn’t tell anyone about my fire. The klitzeklein trolls had no known language, one of the first irritating things I learned about them. That and they had tremendous gas.
I doused my flames when I caught sight of a pair of wings beating in my direction. They were my least favorite wings in the cathedral. Rickard, the cardinal’s valet, was coming in for another bout of nasty. Nasty was his one true gift. I hadn’t known what a valet was before I got my job, but it hadn’t taken me long to figure out that a valet was basically a combo of servant and snob. Rickard was nasty to everyone, except the cardinal and the master secretary, but he had a special scorn for me. When I’d first been hired, he’d been nice. Too nice. He brought me treats from the kitchen and kept showing up on my doorstep late at night. He kept saying I had to hook up with the right people if I wanted to get anywhere in Vienna. I didn’t care about getting anywhere in Vienna. Whatever that meant. Even if I did, Rickard wouldn’t be the fairy I’d choose to get there with. He talked to everyone like they had infectious wing mange, even Iris. I’d rarely met anyone as repulsive as Rickard and that was saying something, since I’d spent a good amount of time with spriggans. I eventually had to clip his wings and he’d been out to get me fired ever since. I guess I shouldn’t have threatened to dump a chamber pot on his head.
In a flurry of exaggerated wingbeats, Rickard landed next to me like he was landing on the imperial throne, which of course ought to belong to him. “Where are you going?”
I groaned. Why hadn’t I been faster? “To my quarters. I’m going…” I couldn’t mention anything about the egg, since nobody knew about it, “to see how Della’s coming along with the cardinal’s new cloak.”
“Is she better?” he asked with a sneer.
“She’s very well. Thank you,” I lied.
Della aka Delphine Marfisi was not at all well, but she did manage to contribute by taking in sewing work. That is, she did sewing when she wasn’t sobbing her eyes out, which was most of the time.
“Really?” Rickard raised a thin eyebrow at me and I pictured burning it off. A tiny wisp of smoke came off of one hair and I quickly got control of myself. Rickard was bound to notice if I burnt his brows off.
“Really. What can I do for you?” I asked like a good servant was supposed to. “The new cloak is gorgeous. The stitching, you won’t believe how fine it is.”
Rickard’s expression softened just a tad. He did love the finer things.
“Very good, but first you must go for the evening papers. His Grace will expect them to be available at his earliest convenience when he returns from the font.”
“Of course,” I said. “I’ll go immediately.” I said it, but I didn’t move. Neither did he. I needed to get down to Iris and the egg.
“Well, flutter to it,” he said.
“Um…”
Timo, one of the footman, flew up and splashed us with water from his translucent wings. Timo was an ashray and they were always dripping wet. The cathedral was a balmy fifty degrees. I didn’t know how he didn’t freeze.
Rickard brushed at the droplets on the lapel of his elegant suit and said, “Yes?”
“His Grace has returned,” said Timo to Rickard, but looking at me. “Guten tag, Mattie.”
I only nodded while edging backwards.
“Is that all?” asked Rickard.
Timo said slowly. “He’s very tired, but he said he’s not hungry. Should I bring him a tray anyway?”
“Do as he commands.” Rickard turned back to me with a look of cold frustration. “Well…”
I rubbed my cold shoulders. “I have to get my cloak.”
He hesitated, but then nodded. “Be quick about it.”
I turned and ran down the stairs into the depths under the red marble tomb. I squinted in the dark. My fire would’ve been helpful in the gloom. Unlike the servants’ halls in the pulpit, our halls only had a few fungus and I could barely see an inch in front of my face. I took a left and was now under the emperor’s amputated leg. Someone had carved that fact in the ceiling. That’s how I learned to navigate the labyrinth of passages under the tomb. All the halls were labeled with body parts. Our set of rooms were under the spleen down a flight of roughly carved stairs. I knew from Iris’s detailed descriptions how the stone steps sounded with feet pounding down them. There would be echoing down the narrow hall, which Iris said was creepy until you got used to it, and a sort of gritty grinding under the soles of my shoes, even though she swept the stairs twice a day. If I’d been able to hear I’d have had something else surrounding my descent, the sound of weeping. In this I was lucky as Iris told me daily. I couldn’t hear the pain that erupted from Delphine Marfisi on a regular basis. Her husband, Roberto, had been left
behind, along with my parents, during our frantic escape. Delphine had been shattered by those events like no one else. It was not as if the rest of us were okay, but we could still walk and talk. Delphine found blinking a challenge and I have to admit I’d run out of patience.
The room Delphine and Miss Penrose shared was first on my right. Out of habit, I peeked in and immediately regretted it. Delphine sat on the marble floor with no cushion or blanket to shield her thin, bare legs from the cold. She was sobbing, big shoulder-heaving sobs, but she saw me from between her damp fingers.
“Ma…til…da…” she said between sobs.
“Don’t call me that,” I hissed.
“Sor…ry.”
I tried to turn and leave, but I couldn’t. My mom wouldn’t like it. I hadn’t seen her in months, but she would definitely disapprove of leaving Delphine there without lifting a wing to help her. I stepped out, looking left and right to make sure the hall was clear and there were no witnesses. There weren’t, so I said, “Did you drink your tea?”
Delphine glanced at the little side table next to her bed. “I don’t remember.”
That meant no. She hunched over again and began weeping over the cardinal’s new cloak that lay crumpled next to her feet. I looked at the ceiling. I don’t know what for. An angel to help me pull her out of this maybe. I couldn’t do it by myself. My cures were only temporary, but since no angel appeared, I was all we had.
I stepped in and closed the door. The teacup was full and next to it sat two pieces of stale toast and a little pot of apricot jam. Delphine had eaten nothing, as usual, and it showed in her back. I could see each vertebrae and rib clearly through her dress. Her wing joints were extremely narrowed and the tiny feathers that coated her wings had fallen out in patches. Delphine was starving to death in front of me and she didn’t even care. Part of me wanted to say, “Fine. Starve if you want to. Go ahead. I’ve got plenty of others to feed.” But the other part, the better part, reminded me that I understood her grief and longing. I just didn’t let it consume me. Plus, Delphine dying wasn’t an option. Iris and the others couldn’t handle losing anyone else. I was expected to save her. I was the healer after all and this was my watch.
Wicked Chill (Away From Whipplethorn Book Four) Page 2
