Knight Esquire ya-2

by P. S. Power

  Stupid.

  All throwing water on a grease fire did was spread it around. No wonder it had gotten this out of hand.

  Tor tried to sound strong instead of sick when he yelled at Richard. He looked at everyone else too, but the King kind of needed to shut up.

  “No! Clear the building. Now! Clear the building! The airs going to not be breathable in a few seconds! Get out of the building and stop throwing water you morons!” Tor had to use both hands to steady the field as he darted in the door. The air stopping effect focused around the first thing the line of sight touched, other than air itself. In this case a blackened work table that had once, probably less than half an hour before, been a nice piece of sturdy oak. It still was. Half of it was just charcoal.

  Once the building was cleared, it only took a few minutes to have the fire under control and about five more minutes to make sure that the hot grease wouldn’t re-ignite. The shield he wore kept most of the smoke away from him, not all of course, because it had to let air through too and some of the smoke was too fine to keep out and still breath.

  This time he wasn’t even soaking wet after.

  Thank goodness, because really this was his best set of clothing. He still had the ones that he was supposed to wear to the birthday party, but they weren’t his, belonging to Rolph. Anyway, if he’d worn those, they’d smell like grease smoke right now, if faintly.

  He backed out of the smoke filled kitchen shaking his head.

  “Well,” he quipped, loud enough for everyone in the yard to hear. “I think we may need to make other plans for dinner. Is there another kitchen?”

  The tall gray haired woman that had given him food one time ran to him, crying, and gave him a hug.

  “Thank you! I thought for a second that the whole thing was going to go.”

  He patted her back awkwardly with his shielded hand and murmured in her ear.

  “It’s all right now. It’s OK.”

  He was released by the cook only to find himself grabbed from behind. The arms couldn’t crush him, since he still had the shield in place; Tor tuned, more than a little awkwardly, to find Connie struggling to hug him, Varley trying to join in and Richard valiantly, and ineffectively, tried to clap him on the shoulder.

  After a few seconds he slowly stepped back from them. He wasn’t trying to give offense, but the whole thing was a little overwhelming, especially since he didn’t know where he stood here. Not really. For all he knew some of these same people might have helped poison him. Or at least ordered it. Hardly time for hugs and cuddles.

  There was crying off to the side, it sounded young, and like more than one person. Tor looked and found the source of the noise, two kids, a boy and a girl, both looking about twelve, and more than a little familiar. He didn’t have names for them, but they were familiar from some of the functions he’d been too, as servers. The two little ones at the back that normally brought the plates and silver.

  The girl had white blisters going up her right wrist and the boy had similar burns on both hands, his left having taken the brunt of it. Crap. Tor left the King and Queen standing without a word and ran to the kids, gasping from even the small effort. He didn’t know what to do. Minor burns just got some cool spring water and a loose wrapping at home, but these were way worse than anything he’d seen before.

  A voice, dark and husky, male it sounded like, but in a kind of way that he couldn’t really be sure, spoke from behind him.

  “Such wounds should be cooled. I have pain medicines in my bags that should help, but no advanced healing gels. They look like second degree burns only, so as long as infection isn’t allowed to set in, they should be fine. I’ll run and get those medicines, if someone here can see to some cool water or ice? Don’t let ice touch the wounds directly, put it in water!”

  Tor turned to see a pink and blue dress or robe hurrying into the palace faster than he could have run being pulled by a horse. The skin was very dark, but he couldn’t see the face. What that person had said made sense though.

  “Ice? And a bucket or large container of water? One for each of the burned people if we can manage it.” Tor spoke the words gently, but a purple and black clad Royal Guard ran off and started organizing the unharmed servants as if the King had ordered it himself. Probably just glad that someone had a useful suggestion.

  Throwing water on a grease fire…

  Ice they had, the cold boxes still working perfectly, they just had to use some little hammers and chisels to break ice off of one of the big blocks and float the chunks in water for each person. Four guards got the water for them and brought the buckets directly to each child, running with them quickly, but not spilling even a drop. It was like they’d practice this, just in case, or something. Tor knelt down trying to explain to the kids as they kept crying.

  “Alright, this shouldn’t hurt at all, but it will feel cold, don’t be afraid, it will make you feel better.” He didn’t really know of it would or not, but the boy put his hands in first to his bucket and stopped making noise almost instantly.

  “Thank you sir. Go ahead Gemma, it helps a lot.” With this recommendation, the young girl put her right hand in the cold water. She kept crying, but much more softly.

  Before anyone’s attention could come back to him, a running figure burst from the palace door and moved towards them fast enough that all of the palace guards had their hands on their belt pouches. No one drew at least, which was good, because it was just the dark skinned person that had gone for medicine.

  Looking at the individual in question closely, Tor still couldn’t decide if they were male or female. Pretty either way though. The colors of the robe were bright, pink and blue, with a few green strips around the edges. If the person wore shoes at all normally, they’d flown off in the run, because bare feet stuck out below the legs now. The skin was really dark, an even tone much closer to true black than anyone he’d ever met. The eyes were a glassy light blue, and the hair was a bright and fiery red that made Tor think of a bird as to the color. Male or female, they were certainly fascinating to look at. Beautiful even. So Tor used the excuse of watching them apply the medicine to the kids to observe.

  They held a small vial, filled with something red, that when used to draw a line on the skin all the way around the arm above the wounds apparently got children with burns to stop crying instantly. It was a miracle really.

  “Hey children, this is the good pain medicine, so you won’t feel much of anything for a while. Don’t worry, your hands are still there.” The smile was straight and bright, almost glowing from the face.

  The Queen went over to the strange looking person, and bowed. It was a low and humble looking thing coming from the Queen, but the colorful person bowed lower and longer, making the move look graceful and planned. If Tor had tried the same thing he would have looked like a backwoods hick trying to put on airs. Of course just standing there he probably managed that anyway, didn’t he? Tor snorted softly to himself.

  “Thank you Ambassador Mutta. Your concern and aid is most appreciated.” The King put in, which got him a tolerant smile and nod of the head without even a glance in his direction.

  “It is only what one does in an emergency.” The ambassador turned to look at Tor, and suddenly smiled, a big toothy thing. “Ah! Finally someone correctly sized! I was beginning to think that everyone here was trying to outgrow the others for some kind of contest.” Mutta must have been a full inch taller than Tor so he smiled back and winked.

  “Not at all, the goal is to be the shortest when you’re fully grown. So far I’m winning. Of course I haven’t told anyone else the rules yet…”

  “Hah! Someone with a sense of humor. Are you the court jester then? The one that tells jokes and stories to amuse us? Do you sing and dance too? It was suggested in my briefing packet that there might be such. Can you caper merrily? I don’t know what that is, but it sounds like fun, doesn’t it?” The ambassador actually seemed excited by the idea, clapping their hands a li
ttle bit.

  The King and Queen both looked horrified, but Varley had to hide a smile behind her hand. Tor just crossed his arms playfully and sighed loudly at Mutta.

  “No… I applied for the position, but wasn’t cute enough. Instead they hired some giant guy named “Alphonse”. Now, I personally don’t think he’s funny at all, but what can I do? He’s got family connections here.” Mugging slightly Tor pointed at the King and Queen then shrugged exaggeratedly. The Ambassador laughed hard.

  “Alphonse! That is the heir right? I met him earlier. He is indeed quit funny. He kept trying to set up a marriage for his younger sister Karina with me. She seems like a very nice girl, but I didn’t get the impression that she was interested in women particularly. Still, it might be interesting, what with her light colored skin and all. That’s rare back home, so you all look very pretty to me. You especially. You have the lightest skin of anyone I’ve ever seen. Even my grandmother is darker, and she is… The Gray Lady.” The last bit was confided with a leaned in body posture and said softly, but easily loud enough for everyone else to hear, so meant for their ears too apparently. The Queen smiled, but Richard had to fight to keep his face calm for some reason. It didn’t look happy at all.

  Did he not like Mutta or was it him? Or… really, maybe he was just worried about the burned kids or what they’d do for dinner. Tor decided not to care for now. The man would tell him or not. He focused on the strange woman and nodded.

  “I can see how that might happen, you look incredible to us as well. Bright like a bird, and your skin looks so smooth and even. Stick around for a while and by this time next year woman at court will be dying their hair to match yours. Failing at it too, probably. But you know, mimicry is the highest form of flattery they say. Though… really, I’ve always been partial to bribes myself. They seem to work better.” He shrugged again and made a funny face.

  “Not that anyone has ever bothered to try and bribe me, not since my little sister Tiera wanted me to do her chores for her for a week once, so gave me an old, almost broken cutter she’d found. That really worked out for me though, since it was what started me on my current path in life.”

  Not that he knew what that really was any more. Tor wasn’t a student any more. He wasn’t a baker, though that was still possible. He wanted to keep making his devices, but could he? Well, he had money to hold him for a while at least. Ten, fifteen years if he didn’t waste it. That should be enough time to figure something out.

  “Oh, what is your current path, if it’s not jesting that is…” Her tone was suspicious for some reason, but in a playful way that made him smile a little.

  “Right now? Itinerant wonderer. A few hours ago I was helping to put out grass fires up in County Ross. We managed to save the Capital there and all the major cities. Unfortunately a few isolated farms got hit hard, before we could get to them. Some people died, but most of that was before we, the people from my old school and I, got there. That’s all done now, mainly, so I’m kind of floating around at loose ends. This is the last official thing that I have to do. I really just came to see if they’d let me in any more and resign my Squireship. They did let me in at least, so things are looking up.” He looked at Richard and Connie and then pointed at where the building still smoked a little. “I take it that the fires why you didn’t meet me like I was told you would, or,” He frowned a little, thinking. “Was I actually in the wrong spot? I thought the gate on the other side was the main one, but what do I know? This is a long way from Two Bends.”

  Connie wrung her hands a little. “No, it was just the fire, we heard the alarm and came to see what had happened, it wasn’t that big to start with, but it kept growing even as we threw more water on it. Apparently the children here dropped a pot of hot oil?”

  Wincing, Tor explained that oil floated, even if it was on fire, so they spread fuel all over the room with each splash of a bucket coming in. Richard, who’d been calling for more and more water, orders that everyone else kind of had to follow, closed his eyes and winced hard himself.

  “I see. Oops.”

  Tor snorted.

  “Yeah, oops indeed. Well, you get it now, so live and learn, right? I’ll leave some devices that can help with things like this in the future.” Why not? It wasn’t like it cost him anything. Even if they hated him, it wouldn’t help if the palace burned down.

  Taking a deep breath the Queen looked at them all a little desperately. “Now we have over a hundred people coming in less than two hours and the kitchen is functionally down. We have a backup kitchen, two of them in fact, but not enough personnel to get everything done in time. I have to go help, I’m afraid; I was going to show the Ambassador around for a while but…”

  Mutta bowed low to the Queen again.

  “Were my skills such, I would aid you in the kitchens, but alas, I am but a physician by trade and never learned the domestic arts well at all.” The woman actually sounded humble about it, as if a little embarrassed by her lack of skills.

  Tor looked around slowly, taking stock of the situation. Half the kitchen staff was sitting down having wounds dressed. None hurt as badly as the children maybe, but bad enough. Burns, even minor ones, hurt when you got near heat at all. Like ovens and stoves, or even hot dishes. Making them go back to cook injured like this would be worse than cruel. Barbaric.

  “I can help with the baking at least and whatever else I’m told to do. Varley… You can follow instructions right? So, um, go get Rolph and Karina as well as any of the house servants that are willing to try and help out and let’s see what we can get done, alright?”

  This got a soft gasp from the Queen for some reason.

  “Tor… We can’t ask you to do that, not after everything…” Connie walked over and gave him a hug or at least tried to. The shield held her away again. Richard seconded that, his tone going a lot warmer suddenly than it had been before. So it was Mutta the King didn’t like?

  “She’s right Tor. Someone tries to kill you with cyanide and then… Well, yes, we need to talk about everything later, but pushing you until you drop isn’t exactly what we had in mind for your visit.”

  Wrinkling his nose and closing his eyes a little he told them that he’d be fine.

  “I’ll only push right up to the brink of death, then take a short break and get some water before starting again.” He marked this out with flat hand gestures, marking each bit of his plan in space.

  At least Mutta thought it was funny. She had a rich and warm laugh. Almost fake sounding, but she knew enough to try, so that counted, right?

  Getting the house staff organized was easy in a way. All Tor had to do was stand back and give baking instructions and make sure everyone got where they needed to be in the kitchen. He also watched the bread. The starter the palace used was mild, an almost sweet form that he’d have loved to steal a culture from if he was going to open his own bakery ever, but he didn’t need it right now, because the dough for the rolls and small loaves had already been made earlier in the day and about sixty percent of the baking was already done, in another building too, so it wouldn’t all taste like smoke. He and his crew definitely had the easy job. Some of the diner dishes had to be restarted and at least two replaced all together, since the food was too damaged to be used and took too long to make to simply redo in time.

  One of them was a dessert, a custard that took about six hours to make, so Tor made hand pies using Debbie’s recipe to replace it. They were all apple raisin, since he had limited time to get the apples peeled and raisins soaked in apple juice, much less do several kinds of filling, but there were about ten people that could be put to the coring and peeling task. For some reason he got all the royals on his team, including the Queen.

  Tor figured it out pretty quick.

  They were there because no one else wanted to try and tell them what to do. They were good enough workers, especially Rolph, who started off with the idea that they had to hustle. Varley caught on pretty quickly, and worked with a
will after being shown what to do. Karina was a lot better with a knife than he’d figured too, quick and efficient, not timid at all.

  The Queen sucked at it, but only because she kept trying to run off and manage the kitchen, which largely meant getting into the cooks way. The woman was biting her tongue so hard Tor worried for a bit she’d sever it. But then, she couldn’t exactly take the Queen to task for getting in the way could she? Someone had too though, or nothing would get done. Tor sighed. Ideally it should be Rolph or one of the girls, since it would be hard to order their deaths, but none of them seemed to see any problem at all, not knowing anything about how a kitchen actually functioned.

  “Connie!” Tor finally mock roared at her. “Sit down and do your own work. Your cook is one of the best in the kingdom, but if you keep ordering her to do different things, nothing’s going to get done in time. She’s the expert, and in this she knows what to do better than you do. This is her kingdom and she rules her. Now help with the apples, like a good kitchen girl or we’ll never get done.” Connie blinked, smiled, and sat down. Then she started peeling carefully. Laura, the cook, didn’t even crack a grin, just took a deep breath, nodded once at Tor and got back to work.

  He focused on the light pastry dough and then making the filling, getting them all in the oven just in time for Burks to show up and stare at him meaningfully. The man stood out, being at least as pale as Tor was. Behind him were three other servants, all looking at their errant royals the same way. It sent a message, even without words.

  Tor tried to claim that he needed to stay, but one of the real bakers for the palace came in and told him to go ahead and get ready, since all the hard work had already been done. Trying not to seem desperate, Tor explained the icing and made up a quick batch for demonstrations purposes which got a perfunctory nod. Tor had an odd feeling that the baker thought he was another of the house servants needed for his real job. Possibly dish washing, given how he was dressed.