Ashes

by Lauralana Dunne

  “Rae, will you go help Stef, please? I’m going to show Phoenix around.”

  Rae winked at Phoenix, then grabbed a metal spatula and went to go stand by an older woman cooking eggs.

  “Now then, Rae tells me that you grew up on a farm?” Tessa led Phoenix away from the curious onlookers, stopping at a small closet to pull out an apron and a hide tie. “You’re familiar with the workings of a kitchen, I assume, being a rural girl?”

  “I worked there for th’ cold seasons, when there weren’t nothin’ t’ grow or t’ harvest,” she acknowledged. Phoenix used the hide tie to secure her curls away from her face before donning the apron.

  Tessa stared at her a moment. Surprise tinged her features. “Your mother let you work in the fields?”

  “I worked in th’ fields. Me an’ Muler.” She purposefully skirted the question of her blood.

  Tessa blinked, then nodded her head slightly. “Well then,” she continued, “tell me what experience you have in cooking.”

  Phoenix did so as Tessa led her on a tour around the kitchens. She pointed out a few of the pieces of equipment that she was familiar with, and for the most part Tessa listened, interrupting with a question or two at various points of Phoenix’s explanations. Several times, she positioned her at a station and had her continue the work of the cook who was there.

  “You’re already ahead of some of the workers here,” Tessa told her when she had finished shaping the dough that the woman had left to rise. “Rae was right to bring you.”

  Phoenix felt relief flood through her body. “Y’mean... I can stay on?”

  Tessa patted her arm. “I’m not one to turn away a good worker. I’ll help Master Malcourt keep you occupied, and if it’s a good fit you’ll have a place here regardless of who you’re looking to.”

  Relief washed over her. Work was not a problem for her. Somewhere that would accept her and allow her to earn her keep was better than she had hoped for.

  “Now, you go eat and get ready for the rest of your day. You’re supposed to be in the hall with the other girls, but I expect you here with Rae bright and early tomorrow morning, understand?”

  Phoenix nodded again. A woman by the spit called out for help, and Tessa gave a suffering sigh before giving Phoenix a smile. “Hurry, now, or you’ll be late.” She shooed her in dismissal and joined the woman by the hearth. Rae gave Phoenix a thumb up, and then Phoenix was speeding off to their table in the dining hall.

  “You left early this morning. I didn’t hear you get up.” Elise sat down next to her, offering her a smile. Sophie sat next to Elise, balancing an open book on each knee as she compared the writing on their pages. “I’m guessing Rae dragged you to the kitchens? How did it go?”

  “Tessa wants me t’ report t’ her tomorrow.”

  “Does this mean that you look to her?” Sophie’s expression was one of disbelief.

  “Look t’ her?” Phoenix asked, noting how Tessa herself had used the exact phrase only a few moments ago. “Does tha’ mean somethin’?”

  “Of course,” Sophie sniffed critically, but not condescendingly. “Those who work here look to someone - an established worker or Master who is in charge of them until they are able to work unsupervised. Then they’re given permanent residence.”

  “Rae looks to Tessa, too,” Elise told her. “Sophie looks to Minna, the Masterclothier, and I look to Master Weston - he’s the Masterscripter.”

  “Masterscripter?” Phoenix blinked. She began to wonder how many titles floated around Castle Angor.

  “He teaches language as is ‘proper for a person of stature!’” Elise’s voice took on a grand tone, and Phoenix could only assume that she was mimicking Master Weston. “You’ll meet him after meal,” she continued merrily. “He’s great. Sophie especially thinks so.”

  “I do not!” Sophie protested loudly. “If he would teach the lesson properly the first time…” she trailed off, blushing, as her outburst grabbed the attention of those around her. She shot Elise a furious look. “Not funny!” she hissed, but Elise was grinning good-naturedly from her teasing.

  “Hush now,” Elise told Sophie. She inclined her head meaningfully towards the Masters’ Table to indicate that he was already seated.

  Sophie huffed and said nothing.

  A gong sounded and the meal began.

  Phoenix helped herself to some bread and eggs, pouring herself and the other girls a glass of fresh juice as she did so.

  “Would you look at that!” The boy next to her exclaimed to his tablemates. Phoenix followed his gaze towards the Head Table.

  There was a muted hush of surprise at the front of the room. A man with about thirty years wove between the chairs before seating himself at one that afforded him a view of the entire hall.

  He was striking, with dark hair and bright vibrant eyes, and he moved with a grace that made her stop and stare. Which, admittedly, most of the room was already doing.

  It took Phoenix a moment to realize she was still standing from pouring the juice. She sat back down with an unceremonious plop. “Who’s tha’?” she breathed.

  “Prince Hallan,” Elise replied slowly, as if unsure of what she was seeing.

  Phoenix felt relieved when she realized that the girl was paying as much attention to the Prince as she was.

  “But he hasn’t been to the hall since the King fell ill.” Sophie, who was shorter than those around her, craned her head to try and get a better glimpse of him.

  Prince Hallan’s manner was relaxed. He smiled easily as he conversed with his table mates, the ones nearest to him tipping their head back in laughter when he spoke.

  “Does tha’ mean th’ King is better?” Phoenix watched the Prince with fascination. “Surely his own son wouldn’t be so happy if he were still sick?”

  Elise and Sophie stared at her with wide eyes. “You mean, you don’t know?” Sophie gaped.

  “Know wha’?” Phoenix asked, the question coming out more testily than she meant it to. Phoenix was starting to get tired of all the things that people already assumed she knew.

  The girls exchanged a look.

  “No one tells a farm girl anythin’,” Phoenix added. She used the same excuse that she had used before on Rae, and both girls relented with looks of pity.

  “Right. Of course. Sorry, Phoenix. It must have been awful, being so isolated like that.” Elise extended her hand.

  Phoenix shrugged and tried not to think about her previous life. “Forget it,” she said, accepting the apology.

  “Well, anyway,” Sophie began, “Prince Hallan isn’t King Benedict’s son. He was brother to Queen Helena - the King’s wife. They’re not from Angoria. They’re royalty from the next kingdom over...”

  “Kaltor,” Elise supplied.

  Phoenix didn’t know where that was, but she nodded and Sophie continued. “He was very distraught once the King took sick. He said that with the deaths of the Queen and the Princess, the King was the closest thing he had to family. He never left his side. But that means that King Benedict must be doing better if the Prince is here eating in the hall.”

  “He must be very kind,” Phoenix murmured. She found that she couldn’t stop her eyes from darting back towards the Head Table while she ate. She surprised herself by wishing that she were closer in order to hear what he was saying to his laughing table companions.

  “He’s a gentleman.” Elise’s smile was sly as she finished her morning’s meal. “No one’s been able to turn his head - despite all their best efforts.” Both girls looked pointedly at Brianna and the gaggle of girls that surrounded her at the other end of their table.

  Another round of tea began to circulate, and Elise stretched quickly and stood. “I have to set up the Scripting Room for today’s lessons. See you soon?”

  Phoenix remained silent as Elise looked pointedly at Sophie, but Sophie nodded an affirmative for the both of them, hanging the girl one of the books on her lap. “We’ll be there.” Elise raised her hand in parting a
nd strode quickly from the hall.

  “Scripting Room?” Phoenix asked Sophie over the empty chair between them.

  “Yeah. all the Angor girls have lessons with him first thing in the day.” Her voice took on a stern tone that mimicked that of Mistress Ruby. “It is important for every Lady, no matter of standing or stature, to be able to express themselves with propriety and distinction.” She then shrugged to dispel the impersonation.

  “All th’ girls get taught th’ same time?”

  “It’s done by age, usually. If you’re smart you get bumped up a level.” Sophie scanned the hall, her face unreadable. “C’mon. Let’s get there before the others. I hate getting stuck sitting by the drafty window.”

  Phoenix drained her mug and followed Sophie from the hall.

  It was a long walk to the Scripting Room. It was the deepest that Phoenix had travelled into Castle Angor, and her head was spinning as she tried to remember her way. She wished that they would slow down so she could get her bearings, but Sophie had set the pace and she seemed reluctant to slow down.

  Rae and Elise were already in the room when they reached it. “Apparently he’s even asking for food!” Rae was saying as they entered. “He hasn’t wanted to eat in ages! It always made him sick.”

  Phoenix helped Sophie arrange the chairs next to them. “Who?” Sophie asked.

  “King Benedict!”

  “I was wondering. Prince Hallan was in the hall for breakfast today.”

  “No!” Rae clapped her hand over her mouth.

  Phoenix listened to the girls chat while she looked around the room. No tapestries adorned the walls here. Instead, large parchments of different colors were nailed to the stone, each with different flowing symbols brushed onto them. The squiggles reminded Phoenix of spiders, and she felt that it was a strange choice of decoration in comparison to the rest of the castle.

  There was a bustling in the hall, and Rae and Sophie fell silent as the rest of the girls arrived. Phoenix sat in the empty seat next to the now-subdued Rae, staying as quiet as she was, but she couldn’t help but stare as the rest of the girls entered.

  They were dressed in a kind of finery that she had never seen before. Their clothing was elegant; flimsy and brightly colored. The dresses were modest and revealed nothing, high-necked with skirts down to their ankles, but they were tailored to flatter the shapes of the girls who wore them. Many of them wore headscarves to protect the intricate designs that they had woven into their hair.

  Phoenix became acutely aware of her dirty clothing and simple-bound hair. Unconsciously she smoothed a crease in the lap of her pant leg.

  Brianna, her dark hair shining with the window’s sunlight, led the group across the room to the remaining chairs. Spying Phoenix, she stopped halfway across the floor to evaluate her with a calculating glance.

  The girl was beautiful. Her dark hair hung in perfect ringlets, framing her face under her scarf, the wispy material holding it in place expertly. Her pale skin contrasted her full pink lips that were pursed in thought as she assessed Phoenix.

  Phoenix offered a smile and spread her fingers in greeting. Brianna’s leaf-green eyes flashed and, with a sniff, she led the rest of the girls to their seats.

  The silence was uncomfortable. Elise and Sophie fidgeted nervously while Rae just looked straight ahead of her, lips pressed together tightly.

  To Phoenix’s relief, an older man bustled in as the rest of the girls took their seats. He struggled with an overflowing armful of ledgers, and would have dropped them on the way to his desk had Elise not jumped up to assist him.

  Once they stood in a precarious stack, he turned to assess the room with a scowl. He was a bit more dishevelled than Phoenix had expected. His Master’s robes were clean, but rumpled around his torso from the ledgerwork he had carried. His skin was pale, his back held a slight hunch, presumably from years of sitting at a desk, and his white hair stuck out in unruly tufts over his ears. His appearance would have been comical if not for the permanent frown that was etched on his face.

  “Good morning, ladies,” he greeted the room, and Phoenix was astonished to hear a rolling sound come from his mouth when he pronounced the ‘r’.

  “Good morning, Master Weston,” the girls chorused in reply.

  “Miss Jenny. Would you be so kind as to take attendance while I set up the lesson?”

  “Yes, Master Weston.” A slight blonde girl dressed in pink, rose and dipped into a curtsy to the Master. She plucked a ledger from the pile, standing poised at the front of the room, and began calling names amongst muffled titters from the other girls.

  Jenny checked off each name as it was acknowledged. Then, when she had finished, gave a smirk and returned to her seat next to Brianna.

  Only then did Phoenix realize why they were laughing. Jenny had not said her name.

  “Splendid!” Master Weston’s words were precisely enunciated, but the tone didn’t match the expression on his face. “Now, then, please turn your workbooks to page twenty-eight, and have your dorm work out and ready for inspection.”

  It was then, while everyone turned the pages of the books on their lap, that Phoenix realized that she didn’t have a workbook.

  Clasping his hands behind his back, Master Weston walked around the room, glancing at some while reading others more thoroughly. He stopped when he came to Phoenix.

  “And where is yours, young miss?” he asked, peering down at her from under his bushy white eyebrows.

  Phoenix blinked as he scrutinized her. Surely he must realize he’d never seen her before…

  “I don’t got any,” she replied, starting to feel flustered.

  He clutched at his chest. “What! You don’t got any?” He jerked backwards, as if repulsed.

  “Yes, sir,” she said meekly. “I’m Phoenix. I’m new.”

  He stared at her, as if trying to decide whether she was lying or not. “I see,” he said finally, somewhat stiffly. “And where is it that you grew up in order to learn such an atrocious way of speaking?”

  Giggles came from behind her, and Phoenix felt her face become hot, but Master Weston seemed oblivious to the discomfort that he was causing.

  “Avondale Farm... sir.”

  “Harrumph!” He walked back to his desk and picked up the ledger. “Your full name, please?” His face was polite, but his tone had a hardness in it she couldn’t identify.

  Phoenix straightened in her chair. “Phoenix… of Avondale.”

  There were audible gasps from the girls behind her, and Phoenix felt what little confidence she had left gutter into nothingness.

  “Spell that for me please.”

  Phoenix blinked. “Sir?”

  He sighed. “Is it with a P or an F… ? Nevermind. You can adjust it later. Recite your numbers please,” he instructed in a bored tone, writing her name in the ledger.

  Haltingly, aware that everyone in the room was watching her - with the exception of her friends, who were doing their best to look anywhere else - Phoenix began counting.

  “And your letters,” he interrupted when she started to repeat the higher patterns.

  Embarrassment twisted in her gut. Phoenix kept her back straight as she sat in the chair, staying respectful as she answered his questions. Taking a shaky breath, as if that would somehow calm the fluttering her in stomach, she recited the letters from the song she’d learned as a child.

  “How many years are you, Miss Phoenix?”

  “Fifteen, sir.”

  He gave a disgusted sigh and wrote several lines on a separate piece of parchment. “Very well, Miss Phoenix. Your farm provided you with the most basic of lingual beginnings – which is no small miracle, let me assure you - so I feel that we can continue. See me after class for your assignments. You’ll have to work hard to catch up on your dorm work. Now then, please read the fourth paragraph down on page thirty, but replace the subject with your own name.”

  Phoenix stared at him, entranced by his eloquent way of speech despite h
erself. She wondered if she had to learn to roll her ‘r’s as well.

  She realized that he was looking at her expectantly as if waiting for something. “Sir?” she asked.

  “Open your workbook to page thirty,” he repeated, carefully, “and find the fourth chunk of - yes, thank you Miss Rae. Your generosity is boundless. Miss Phoenix, can you read Miss Rae’s workbook and tell me what the subject is, please?” He looked at her expectantly, but she only stared at him blankly.

  “Never mind,” he said in a disgusted tone. Master Weston pinched the bridge of his nose with a long-suffering sigh. “I see we have more to catch up on than I previously thought. Just read the paragraph.”

  Phoenix looked down at the workbook in front of her. Small squiggles, much like those on the walls around them, swooped across the page. She looked at them desperately, trying to decipher them, but try as she might she couldn’t understand what he was asking of her.

  Master Weston cleared his throat and she looked up at him. He was staring at her in disbelief. “Am I correct in assuming that you are unable to read?”

  The scorn in his voice brought tears to her eyes. Immediately, Brianna and the others fell to whispering among themselves. She was aware of Rae giving her hand a squeeze.

  “I can do nothing for you. You obviously need a more... remedial setting.” Poorly-stifled giggles erupted from the back of the room. Phoenix felt a hot tear run down her cheek and she watched it land on Rae’s workbook before her.

  Master Weston glared at the girls until they fell silent. “Please excuse yourself,” he said to Phoenix, his voice scathing. “You’ve wasted enough of our time for one day.”

  Rae squeezed her hand again, but she barely felt it. Locking her spine, she rose without looking at anyone and quickly slipped from the room.

  “Now then, ladies. Please direct your attention to page thirty...”

  Master Weston’s voice drifted away as Phoenix all but ran down the hall. She looked straight ahead as she walked, willing herself invisible so that no one would stop her to demand where she was going.