She gave Cleanup a consoling slap on the shoulder and went inside. The hall stood vacant because everyone was working. She went to her door and hesitated. A single pull of the door revealed what her life would become. The same room, few personal belongings, and the daily drudgery of serving others.
No, that wouldn’t be her life. She stamped her foot in the hallway and kicked the door. There existed an entire world out there beyond the palace gates, a world her mother had told her about. One day she would walk through them and leave the palace. Doing so would cost her the position of cook, and any other work in the palace, but she could find something to do. For a girl with a quick wit and strong back there must be a hundred things she could learn to earn a living.
But not tonight, or tomorrow. Girls, eleven-years-old, almost twelve, didn’t run off. They waited until they spent a few more years aging, gathering information, and hoarding supplies. They planned and schemed, and they made their escape when they were prepared. Instead of simply lighting the fires in the ovens each day she needed to begin listening to conversations of people who had been beyond the gates, those who knew how to exist out there and how to get to each place. When her time came, she would be ready.
She fell asleep with those thoughts ringing in her mind. The night watchman tapped on her door, as always, waking her before dawn. She shuffled to the door and opened it with her eyes still closed, mumbling her thanks.
She still wore the serving uniform and quickly changed into her normal servant’s smock and hurried to the cold, dark kitchen. The tinder and kindling were beside the first oven where she stored it. She grabbed a handful of tinder and several sticks of kindling and placed it in the first oven, before realizing she’d forgotten the flint and iron in her room.
Nobody was around to notice her start it with magic, but Hannah refused. No matter how careful she might be, watching eyes attached to wagging tongues filled the castle. There were few secrets within the walls. She ran back to her room and grabbed the flint and iron, then returned and quickly sparked a fire to life.
The trick with lighting the tinder with her magic finger needed to be forgotten. It would take the notice of just one gossip, and the tale would spread throughout the palace. Hannah couldn’t even imagine what would happen, but she’d heard tales of the dungeon deep underground, and that was where she’d end up; that or dead. Unsanctioned magic had been forbidden for hundreds of years.
“Wasn’t sure if you’d be here to make the fire this morning, so I came down early.” The old cook who fried the hard-bread snorted as she stalked into the cold room. “I heard you had a rough time last night, girl.”
“I was silly, and I got sick. It’s over now.”
For the first time, the woman placed a gentle hand on Hannah’s shoulder and spoke as a friend, “Now, child. It’s probably best that you set aside the fanciful childhood thinking about the Old Mage taking you off in a magical chariot to live in the clouds, and face the real world. Even if he is your father, why would he want to claim you?”
“What do you mean?” Hannah asked, puzzled at both the friendly tone and odd statement.
“Why? Because, if he recognized you in front of all those people last night, especially the Earl, he’d have to support you and live with the disgrace you’d bring him. The Mage counsels three powerful Kings from what I hear, and a dozen Earls and countless other wealthy Royals. His services are only for the best of us—and that’s not you and me, but we all know the truth about him . . . and you. Too many people noticed how much you favor him. You even have the same mannerisms, the way you curl your lip for instance.”
Her explanation gave Hannah pause. The Old Mage had recognized her, or the magic in her, or something else. His contorted face had told her that. It was how he acted after he noticed her that offended. “I see.”
“Better light the other two ovens before we both get into trouble for talking instead of working.”
“Thank you.” It had been the first real conversation between them as friends. All other times they’d talked the woman had acted scornful, mean, or sarcastic. Yet, this morning, the cook had come down early to make sure Hannah didn’t get into trouble. That surprised her because the norm was for nobody to do anything nice for her. She leaped to build the fires in the other ovens while telling herself to stop badgering the cook in the future.
“People like you and me, we got to stick together, Hannah. I mean, what else we got?”
Hannah couldn’t agree more. What else we got? The question of the ages. The answer was, it seemed, to take what little you have and make the best of it. She owed Ella another apology for failing to serve properly, and a thanks for relieving her of the serving duties last night. She also had to return the uniform.
Two other cooks arrived to find warm stoves and ovens, extra wood piled at the sides, and Hannah stood ready to perform whatever tasks they needed. Hannah would live with, and ignore, their crude comments and poor attempts at humor at her expense. However, neither of the two cooks mentioned those things today. They treated her kindly and gently, a rare occurrence. Both expressed their sorrow that the Old Mage had shunned her.
It seemed everyone knew. The helpers, the servers, the boys who brought more logs to split. They knew and treated Hannah with pity until she was ready to leap up on a table and shout insults at them until they returned to their normal crude selves. She didn’t need or want pity. The more they tried to be nice, the angrier she became.
She realized they secretly had wished for her to succeed in claiming to be the Mage’s daughter. They wanted to see one of their own swept away to a life better than theirs. After they had served the morning meal, she avoided them all, even Cleanup, and went to her room. She scooped the uniform from the floor, and then found the slippers where she’d tossed them into a corner. Folding the uniform as best she could, Hannah walked the back way to reach the third floor and in order to make sure the Young Mage was not watching her again. She found the old seamstress and held out the uniform.
“I heard last night was not your best, but that you did well serving until getting ill.”
“Thank you for the uniform.”
The old woman leaned closer and whispered, “It was him, we heard.”
The statement took Hannah aback. Did everyone in the castle know her business? Then, she relented. Yes, they probably did. The castle was that of an Earl, and at a guess, there were fewer than a couple hundred servants. Most were related to others. The seamstress might well be related to a gardener, cook, and perhaps a maid. She might be related to ten other servants. Twenty. “Yes, I think so.”
“Makes me think less of him when he can’t see it. Everyone else did.” She refolded the uniform and inspected it for tears or stains as she did. Then she raised her eyes and said, “Well, that’s over, so you can forget him and concentrate on your job. You’ll be asked to serve at the next party, I’m sure.”
“I guess so.”
“Honey, I was going to have a white horse of my own to ride all day long when I was your age. I was sure a handsome prince was in my future, and we’d attend parties that went on all night. Take it from me, a year from now you won’t remember last night.”
Hannah hesitated. She needed to tell someone. “No, that’s not true, what I said. I saw the Mage, and he recognized me, and then he looked away and wouldn’t look at me again.”
“Men are often asses. That’s another thing you learned last night. Now, I have to put some stitches into a new dress for the Countess or she’ll be taking it out on me.”
Hannah left feeling slightly relieved. Not from the kindly words of the old woman, but from getting away from her. Is everyone in the palace going to treat me like this?”