‘Excuse me, Master smith,’ I said politely, shifting Garion in my
arms, ‘have you any idea of where I might find farmer Faldor?’
Then he turned to look at me. I rather liked his open, honest face.
‘He’s probably in his counting-room at this time of day, Mistress,’
he replied politely in a pleasant voice.
. ‘Thank you,’ I said, inclining my head. ‘Now we come to the more
technical questions. Exactly where is farmer Faldor’s
counting-room?’
He laughed, and I noticed that he had very even, white teeth. His
laugh was open and honest. I was taking to this man right away. I
knew instinctively that he could be a very good friend. ‘Why don’t
I just show you the way, Mistress?’ he offered, laying down his
hammer. ‘My name’s Durnik, by the way.’
‘And mine’s Pol.’ I curtsied slightly. ‘I’m happy to make your
acquaintance, Goodman Durnik.’
‘And I yours, Mistress Pol,’ he replied, ducking his head slightly
in a sort of bow. ‘I’ll take you up to meet Faldor. We can hope that
his column of figures all added up today.’
‘Does he have trouble making them come out?’
‘All the time, Mistress Pol. All the time. Faldor’s a very good
farmer and the best master in this part of Sendaria, but arithmetic’s
not his strong point. He gets grouchy when his numbers don’t add
up.’ Durnik pointed at the main house. ‘His quarters are upstairs
over the kitchen and dining-room. I don’t envy him that. The smells
coming out of the kitchen lately haven’t been too appetizing.’
‘That’s sort of what I’m here to talk with him about, Goodman
Durnik.’
‘Are you a cook, perhaps?’ His brown eyes grew hopeful.
‘I can boil water without burning the bottom of it, if that’s what
you mean.’
‘Praise the Gods,’ he said fervently. ‘Poor Nala can’t even manage
that any more. Can you imagine what burning water smells like?’
We both laughed as we crossed the compound to the large kitchen door.
‘Wait here,’ I told my goat. I knew that it was probably a waste
of breath. She’d go exploring as soon as I was out of sight,
but I was sure that I could find her again.
The kitchen was well-designed, I saw, with work-tables and
cutboards in the center, stoves and ovens lining the walls, and the
storage bins and pantries at the back. It was very cluttered, however,
,with knives and pans littering the work-tables rather than being
hung back up where they belonged. There was definitely a problem
here
and its source was snoring in a chair by the stove. It was fairly
“late in the afternoon, but supper hadn’t even been started yet. The
kitchen was disorganized, and the kitchen helpers were wandering
around aimlessly while the head cook snored. It was clear that
Mistress Nala wasn’t taking her job seriously any more.
Farmer Faldor was a tall, lean, horse-faced man with a long nose
and an even longer chin. As I was to discover, he was a devoutly
religious man who felt it to be his duty to look after the well-being
of his employees, physical as well as spiritual. When I first saw him,
he was struggling with a column of figures. One glance told me
where he was making his mistake, but I didn’t think I should point
it out to him until I got to know him better.
‘This is Mistress Pol, Faldor,’ Durnik introduced me. ‘She wanted
to speak with you about the possibility of employment in the
kitchen.’
‘Mistress Pol,’ Faldor greeted me, politely rising to his feet.
‘Farmer Faldor,’ I replied with a little curtsey.
‘Have you had much experience working in kitchens?’
‘Oh, yes,’ I replied, ‘a great deal of experience.’
‘Our kitchen certainly needs help right now,’ he said mournfully.
‘Nala used to be very good, but she’s older now and putting on a
lot of weight. It’s slowing her down. She just can’t seem to get
started any more.’
‘It’s an occupational hazard, Master Faldor. It has to do with
tasting.’
‘I didn’t exactly follow that, Mistress Pol.’
‘A good cook has to check the quality of what she’s preparing.
The only way I know of to do that is to taste it. If a cook isn’t careful
about that, every sip or nibble goes straight to her hips. How many
are you feeding currently?’
‘Fifty-three right now,’ he replied. ‘There’ll be more when we get
into the planting. Do you think you could handle that big a kitchen?’
‘Easily, Master Faldor, but why don’t we wait until after supper
before we make any permanent decisions? You might not like my
cooking, and it’s good business to examine the product before you
buy it.’
‘That makes sense, Mistress Pol,’ he agreed.
Just then Garion started to fuss a bit. I put him over my shoulder
and patted his back to make him burp.
‘Your baby, Mistress Pol?’ Faldor asked.
‘My nephew,’ I replied sadly. ‘His parents died.’
Faldor sighed. ‘Tragic,’ he murmured.
‘Yes. I’ll step around Mistress Nala rather carefully, Master
Faldor,’ I promised. ‘From what I gather, she’s served well and
faithfully here, and it wouldn’t be proper to just push her aside.’
‘I’m glad you understand that, Mistress Pol,’ he said gravely.
‘That’s assuming that my cooking doesn’t make everyone sick,’ I
amended with a slight smile. ‘How many kitchen helpers are there?’
,,.’Six – counting Nala herself. Would that be enough?’
‘More than enough, Master Faldor. Is there someplace where
I could put my belongings? It’s a little late, and I’d better get to fixing
supper if we want to eat before midnight.’
‘Why don’t you show her to that vacant room up on the west
side, Durnik?’ Faldor suggested. Then he sighed with some
resignation.
‘And I guess I’d better get back to my addition here. This
thing refuses to come out even.’
‘Would it help at all if I told you that twelve and nine make
twenty-one and not twenty-two?’ I asked him mildly.
He stared down at his figures and then carefully counted it out
on his fingers. ‘Why, I do believe you’re right, Mistress Pol,’ he said
‘It does, doesn’t it?’
‘It always has before.’ Then Durnik and I left.
‘Is he usually that pliable?’ I asked Durnik as we went on down
stairs.
‘I didn’t quite follow that, Mistress Pol.’
‘He didn’t ask where I’d worked before, he didn’t really ask if I
knew anything at all about cooking, and he didn’t even ask where
I’d come from.’
‘Mistress Pol,’ Durnik said, ‘the kitchen here is sort of a continuing
disaster – like a fire in the barn or an epidemic of cow-pox. Faldor’s
not pliable so much as he’s desperate. If Torak himself showed up
claiming to be a cook, Faldor’d hire him without a second thought.’
‘I see. Well, I guess I’ll have to fix that.’
I dropped off my bundle in the small room Durnik showed me,
asked him to round up my goat and put her in the stables, and then
I went back to the kitchen. Nala was still sleeping, and the other
kitchen helpers were sort of aimlessly going through the motions
of getting ready to start on the evening meal. ‘I’m the new
kitchen helper, ladies,’ I told them. ‘My name’s Pol, and I think we’d better
get started on supper, don’t you?’
‘We can’t really do that until Nala wakes up, Mistress Pol,’ a
thin, pale girl with a runny nose told me, sniffing. ‘She might get
offended.’
‘We won’t actually be doing anything but just getting things
ready,’ I lied, ‘- you know, peeling carrots, cutting up vegetables,
putting water to boil – that sort of thing.’
‘Oh,’ she said, wiping her nose on her sleeve. ‘That might be all
right, I guess.’ I saw immediately that I had a long way to go here.
Nala’s semi-comatose state had encouraged a great deal of laxity in
the kitchen.
I decided that stew would probably have to do for this evening.
There wasn’t really enough time for anything else. I took an oblique
approach to the other kitchen helpers. After I’d stowed Garion in
an out-of-the way vegetable bin, I started making ‘suggestions’,
usually prefaced with ‘would you like to -‘ or ‘Don’t you think
that -‘or ‘shouldn’t we perhaps -‘. Then, when I’d managed to put
them all to work, I went into the spice pantry to inventory the
condiments. I was muttering darkly even before I was finished. The
spice jars were all there, of course, but half of them were empty. I
threw a furtive look back over my shoulder to make sure I wasn’t
being observed, and then I cheated.
Nala awoke when we started braising the stew meat. ‘What’s
going on here?’ she demanded.
‘We were just getting things ready to start fixing supper Nala,’
the girl with the runny nose reported. ‘Mistress Pol here thought it
might be a good idea. You know how Faldor is when supper’s late.’