Passion Play (17 page)

His gaze sharpened into curiosity, the look gone almost before she noticed. “I know the poem,” he said mildly. “And so I accept your gratitude. Does that mean you in turn accept my offer? You are not obligated to,” he added quickly. “You might prefer a position elsewhere. I can help there. I know of several houses in need of servants.”

Choices. She had forgotten about having choices.

“You look surprised,” Lord Kosenmark observed.

Ilse smothered a laugh. “My lord, I am surprised. I thought—” She broke off and pressed her hands together. “What I thought isn’t important. My lord, I would like to work here, if I may.”

His mouth quirked into a smile. “Indeed, you may start your work today. When you leave here, you will go to my secretary, Maester Berthold Hax. He will record your name and other particulars and will teach you about the house’s routines. If you have more questions, you may ask him.”

His tone was cool and businesslike, which she found easier to bear than outright kindness. Perhaps he guessed that, too.

Hax’s office stood on the third floor, directly below Kosenmark’s suite. It was a room very different from Lord Kosenmark’s grand open space—every space stuffed with maps and books and leather-bound scrolls. A magpie’s nest, but with a strange kind of order imposed over the chaos. Hax’s appearance matched the room. He was an ancient man, to her eyes. His hair was white, its wisps escaping from its ribbons, and his skin was creased by folds upon folds. He wore a short indoor robe of fine-combed wool, with the cuffs turned back. He had the look of someone from the western provinces, lean and bony, with skin the color of pale sand and eyes that matched.

Hax waved her toward a bench. “Lord Kosenmark said I would see you today. Please, sit. I have a few questions and then I’ll explain a few things.” He looked and spoke more energetically than she expected for someone of his age. Taking out pen and paper, he said, “Name?”

“Ilse.”

“Family name?”

She didn’t hesitate this time. “None, sir.”

He nodded. “Age?”

Her birthday had passed sometime during her wilderness trek. “Sixteen.”

“Lord Kosenmark said you were young. He suggested you have only light duties at first. Later, once you’re accustomed to the house, those might change according to your ability and our needs.”

Hax went on to explain how much she would earn and what rules the house had. His hands were long and thin; he used them to sketch airy shapes to emphasize his words. Different servants had different hours—for example, there was always someone on duty in the kitchens, but the chief cook and her main staff worked hours centered around the house business. Ilse would be a member of that staff, and so she would be expected to work from late morning until just before midnight. As a start, she would be kept in the kitchen itself under Kathe’s supervision. “Don’t worry,” Hax said. “We shall not overtax you.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

Hax spread his ink-stained hands outward. “You were gravely ill. We should not want any setbacks. Now, as for your training … Mistress Kathe has undertaken to instruct you, but your orders come from her mother, Mistress Greta Raendl. She in turn reports to Mistress Denk, the steward, who reports to me.”

Who reported to Lord Kosenmark. Ilse nodded.

“And you,” Hax said, “do you have questions for me?”

“None, sir.”

“Really?” Hax tilted his head in a way that reminded Ilse of Kosenmark. “You have the look of someone brimming with unanswered questions.”

She did have questions, and all of them began with why. Why did Lord Kosenmark bother himself with a runaway? Why did he run a pleasure house? Why had his expression gone so cold when she admitted to hearing stories about him? But she could ask none of these. She shook her head.

Hax regarded her a moment longer. “I think you will do well in this household, Mistress Ilse. Especially if you continue to mix your curiosity with discretion.”

He sent a runner to fetch Kathe Raendl, who soon appeared, flushed and breathless.

“Mistress Ilse will be staying with us,” Hax said. “Take her to your mother for more instructions. From there, it goes as we discussed.”

Kathe’s face brightened. “You agreed. I’m so glad. You’ll like it here, I know. Come, we should hurry away before Maester Hax scolds us both.”

Hax’s mouth twitched, but he only waved them out the door. Taking Ilse by the hand, Kathe led her down to the first floor and along a complicated route through a dozen rooms, all furnished with cushioned divans and ornate tables. Ilse noted the gold leaf work, the graceful statues set in alcoves, the richly colored paintings and silk hangings. It could be any noble’s house, she thought, except for the many beds and a faint musky scent throughout.

They turned onto a plainer corridor and soon came into the servants’ region. Down the hall, through a chaos of runners and scullions and lackeys and chambermaids, and through a wide set of doors, into the kitchen itself.

The kitchen was enormous, with a high arching ceiling set with vents for the smoke and fumes. Three fireplaces with grates and hooks lined the innermost wall. Another wall contained an oven. The last one had racks of knives and pots and other implements Ilse didn’t recognize. Scullions were swarming in and out with buckets of water. Other doors led into storerooms and a courtyard outside.

Several girls stood at the kitchen’s central tables, shelling peas, gutting fish, and chattering despite the general noise. Kathe and Ilse circled around the counters to where Kathe’s mother stood, supervising the activity as she mixed pastry dough. A younger, round-faced woman looked on, clearly unhappy.

Mistress Raendl nodded at Kathe, and handed the bowl to the woman. “Both of you work on the pastries,” she said to Kathe. “Take that open spot on the counters, the one by the windows.” Then to Ilse, “Lord Kosenmark told me you wished a position here. Do you know kitchen work?”

She had the same thick straight hair and dusky brown face as her daughter, and she spoke with her voice pitched to carry above the kitchen’s din.

“A little,” Ilse said slowly.

“What kind? How long? And speak louder, child. Tell me the truth. I hate surprises.”

The truth. The truth was that Ilse sometimes had watched the cooks at their work when she was a child. “I don’t,” she said, fighting to keep her voice calm. “That is, sometimes the kitchen girls let me chop carrots or stir the sauces.”

“In other words, you know enough not to lick the spoons.” Mistress Raendl sighed and looked doubtful. “You came from money. Why aren’t you still there?”

She had hoped to be done with that question. “You could say I left home because of money, Mistress Raendl. I have none now. And I need work.”

“And we need willing dependable hands. You’ve a quick tongue, I’ll grant you.”

Ilse couldn’t tell if the woman was pleased or resigned. “Then you’ll have me?”

Mistress Raendl laughed, and suddenly she looked more like her daughter. “Didn’t you hear me? Of course you have a place here. Lord Kosenmark promised you one. Though he would listen to my opinions if I disagreed. He listens to all of us, whether we like it or not.” Her mouth tucked into a fleeting smile. “We’ll start you in here with easy chores. More when you prove yourself. Now there are six other girls who work in the kitchens. Kathe will introduce you around and show you your new quarters, but that comes later.”

Mistress Raendl went over the details of Ilse’s new position. Kathe would tell her the rest, she said, and if she had questions, she might ask the other girls. She then gave Ilse her first task of rinsing a huge pan of rice, and came by at intervals to inspect her work. More light tasks followed—washing apples and pears and other, more exotic fruits, picking the stems from plums and cherries, setting out clean wine cups for another girl to fill.

She was given a break, which she took with Kathe in the courtyard outside. Resting on comfortable wooden benches, they drank a pot of tea and ate fresh cheese tarts and biscuits layered with spiced beef. Several of the kitchen cats made a hopeful circle around them. For the most part, Ilse fed and played with the cats, listening while Kathe chatted about Tiralien in spring and summer, when trade ships crowded the harbor and the house took so much business they had to hire extra hands. All too soon the break ended and they returned to the kitchen.

It was easy to tell when visitors began to arrive, for the pace quickened noticeably. Ilse cut and arranged the fruit under another girl’s direction. After that, Kathe set Ilse to washing and drying the heaps of dirtied cups and plates and silverware. Two of the regular serving girls began loading trays with wine carafes and crystal wine cups. A few hours later the fare changed to platters of meat pastries, plates of grilled salmon garnished with peppercorn from Veraene’s tropical south, poached eggs drizzled with spicy red and golden sauces.

The third hour bell that night rang before the pace finally slowed. Mistress Raendl checked over the next course of sugared confections, added another few loaves of bread to the ovens, and sank onto her stool with a sigh. “We’ve passed the flood tide,” she said to no one in particular. “Now they’ll drink wine and coffee until midnight. Kathe, take Ilse to her new rooms. I’ll see to the shift change myself.”

Her new quarters were on the third floor, Kathe explained as they followed yet another route through the first floor. She would share the room with the six other girls who worked in the kitchen. Other dormitories housed the runners, still others the chambermaids, and so on.

“Common room’s mostly empty by this hour,” Kathe said. “We’ve more private rooms on the second floor—dining rooms, pleasure rooms, libraries. Some of the customers like to talk.”

Or entertain one another. Music filtered through the doors of several parlors they passed—a reed-pipe’s breathy notes, the twang of a guitar. A man shouted out bawdy lyrics to the song, both musicians broke off their playing, and the piece ended in laughter. Farther on, she heard muffled conversations and softer moans, a woman’s urgent voice babbling a string of promises, a man’s abrupt groan as he reached climax. Her heart beat faster.

“How can they?” she murmured.

Kathe hesitated a moment, then said, “I asked once. Adelaide—she’s the senior courtesan—said she felt like part of a theater, only with an audience in her arms and not yards away in their velvet-hung alcoves. She was a courtesan in Baerne’s Court, you know. She came east when Lord Kosenmark did.”

Kathe continued her explanations of the various rooms and what they were used for. Servants might enter the public rooms on errands, but they also had their own private corridors that ran beside and behind the public rooms. Some of these had peepholes set at intervals. These were for the servants, to check if a room was occupied before they entered. “You should learn the house,” Kathe told her. “We have two serving girls, but at times we’ll need you or the other girls to carry trays. Just remember, there are three routes to any room. Come. We turn here.”

A stairwell took them directly into the servants’ wing on the third floor. Ilse’s new dormitory was a large room at the end, with eight beds and a large fireplace. No one had lit a fire, but there were stacks of wood and kindling. On the mantelpiece stood three half-consumed candles and one lamp.

Kathe lit the lamp with her candle. “This bed is yours,” she said, indicating a narrow bed near the room’s washstand. It had a plain dark coverlet and more blankets stacked at the foot. Kathe pointed to the trunk at the bed’s foot. “You’ll find enough clothes in there to last until we’ve measured you for new ones.”

“But I don’t need—”

“We all dress properly for our station,” Kathe said firmly. “Lord Kosenmark’s orders.” Then her face relaxed into a smile. “I’m so glad you decided to stay. I was afraid I might frighten you off, or my mother would with her fierce looks. Speaking of my mother, I must go. I’m to supervise the next shift for a few hours. I’ll come by tomorrow morning to show you where we get our breakfast.”

Alone, Ilse made a circuit of the room, taking in more details. A straw broom in one corner, with a dustpan nearby. Small trinkets stood on several of the other chests, and one wall had a series of pencil sketches. Cards were laid out beside one bed, as though a game had been interrupted. Another bed was rumpled, with clothes heaped over the covers. Small clues to her new companions.

I wonder if I’ll like them,
was her first thought. And then,
I wonder if they’ll like me.

She felt a bubble of panic. Once or twice, Ilse had caught the other girls staring at her. None of them had talked to her, but then Mistress Raendl had kept them all busy, and whenever Ilse had a question, Kathe had immediately appeared to answer it. But she knew enough of maids and servants to realize she would have to learn fast and work hard to earn her place among these girls.

The bubble of panic subsided, but did not entirely disappear.

She went back to her bed and opened the trunk. A cotton nightgown was on top. Underneath, a couple of woolen gowns for serving in the common room, and more dark smocks and skirts for kitchen work. Caps, shifts, stockings, and bandeaus. There was also a store of new clean rags for her courses, which were due next week.

Footsteps sounded in the corridor. Ilse closed the lid and stood up, but whoever it was continued past her room.