He put both hands to his face, squishing it together. Then he put both arms in the air.
"All right. All right. I've got an idea. Get me another crock, and just keep your mouth shut. Maybe we can keep our heads. Get me some other ingredients."
"What ingredients!" the short one yelled, red-faced.
The tall cook leaned over him. "Brown ingredients!"
Rachel watched while they ran around snatching up things, pouring in bottles of liquid, adding ingredients, stirring, tasting. At last they both smiled.
"All right, all right, it'll work. I think. Just let me do the talking," the tall one said.
Rachel stepped tiptoed across the wet floor and tugged on his sleeve again.
"You! You still here? What do you want?" he snapped.
"Princess Violet said not to make her roast dry again, or she would have the Queen make those men beat you." She looked down at the ground. "She made me say that."
He looked down at her a minute, then turned to the short cook, shaking his finger. "I told you! I told you! This time, slice hers from the center, and don't mix up the plates or we'll both end up losing our heads!" He looked back down at her. "And you didn't see any of this," he said, stirring his finger in the air over the crock.
"Cooking? You don't want me to tell anyone I saw you cooking? All right," she said, a little confused, and started tiptoeing across the wet floor again. "I won't tell anyone, I promise. I don't like to see people getting hurt by those men with the whips. I won't tell."
"Wait a minute," he called after her. "Rachel, isn't it?"
She turned and nodded.
"Come back here."
She didn't want to, but she tiptoed back anyway. He took out a big knife that scared her at first, then turned to a platter on the table behind him and cut off a big, juicy piece of meat. She had never seen such a piece of meat, without fat and gristle all over it, at least not up close. It was a piece of meat like the Queen and the Princess ate. He handed it down to her, put it right into her hand.
"Sorry I yelled at you, Rachel. You sit on that stool over there and eat this, and then let us be sure you're cleaned up, so no one will be the wiser. All right?"
She nodded and ran off to the stool with her prize, forgetting to tiptoe. It was the best, most delicious thing she had ever eaten. She tried to eat it slowly while she watched all the people running around, clanging pots and carrying things, but she couldn't. Juice ran down her arms and dripped off her elbows.
When she was finished, the short cook came and wiped her hands and arms and face with a towel, then he gave her a slice of lemon pie, placing it right in her hands the way the tall cook had done with the meat. He said he baked it himself and he wanted to know if it was good. She told him, quite truthfully, that it was just about the bestest thing she had ever had. He grinned.
This had been just about the best day she could ever remember. Two good things in the same day: the trouble doll, and now the food. She felt like a queen herself.
Later, as she sat in the big dining room on her little chair behind the Princess, it was the first time, ever, that she hadn't been so hungry that her stomach made noises while the important people ate. The head table, where they sat, was three steps higher than all the other tables, so if she sat up straight she could see the whole room even from her little chair. Servers were dashing all about, bringing in food, taking out dishes with food still left on them, pouring wine, and exchanging half-full trays on the tables with full ones from the kitchen.
She watched all the fine ladies and gentlemen dressed in pretty dresses and colorful braided coats, sitting at the long tables, eating from the fancy plates, and for the first time she knew how the food tasted. She still didn't understand, though, why they heeded so many forks and spoons to eat with. One time when she had asked the Princess why there were so many forks and spoons and things, the Princess had said it was something a nobody like her would never need to know.
Mostly Rachel was ignored at the banquets. The Princess only turned to look at her once in a while; she was just there because she was Princess Violet's playmate, for looks, she guessed. The Queen had people standing or sitting behind her when she ate, too. The Queen said Rachel was for the Princess to practice on, to practice leadership.
She leaned forward and whispered, "Is your roast juicy enough, Princess Violet'? I told the cooks it was mean to give you bad meat, and you said not to do it again."
Princess Violet looked back over her shoulder, gravy dripping from her chin. "It's good enough to keep them from getting whipped. And you're right, they shouldn't be so mean to me. It's about time they learned."
Queen Milena sat at the table, as she always did, with her tiny little dog held in one arm. It kept pushing its skinny little stick legs against her fat arm as it shook, making little dents with its feet. The Queen fed it scraps of meat that were better than any Rachel had ever been fed. Before today, that is, she thought with a smile.
Rachel didn't like the little dog. It barked a lot, and sometimes when the Queen set it on the floor, it would run over to her and bite her legs with its tiny sharp teeth, and she didn't dare to say anything. When the dog bit her, the Queen always told it to be careful, not to hurt itself. She always used a funny, high, sweet voice when she talked to the dog.
While the Queen and her ministers talked about some kind of alliance, Rachel — sat jiggling her legs, knocking her knees together, thinking about her trouble doll. The wizard stood behind and to the right of the Queen, offering his advice when asked. He looked grand in his silver robes. She had never paid much attention to Giller before; he had just been another one of the Queen's important people, always there with her, like her little dog. People were afraid of him, too, the way she was afraid of the dog. Now, as she watched him, he seemed like just about the nicest man she had ever seen.
He ignored her through the whole dinner, never once looking her way. Rachel figured he didn't want to draw attention to her, and make the Princess mad. That was a good idea. Princess Violet would be cross if she knew Giller had said he thought Rachel's name was pretty. The Queen's long hair hung down behind her fancy carved chair, shaking in waves when her important people talked to her and she nodded her head.
When the meal was finished, servers rolled out a cart with the crock she had seen the cooks mixing. Goblets were filled from a ladle and carried to all the guests. Everyone seemed to think it was pretty important.
The Queen stood, holding her goblet in the air, and the little dog in her other arm. "Lords and ladies, I present you with the drink of enlightenment, that we may see the truth. This is a very precious commodity; few are offered the opportunity of enlightenment. I have availed myself of it many times, of course, that I might see the truth, the way of Father Rahl, in order to lead my people to the common good. Drink up."
Some people looked like they didn't want to, but only for a minute. Then they all drank. The Queen drank, after she saw that everyone else had, then sat back down with a funny look on her face. She leaned to a server, whispering. Rachel started to get worried; the Queen was frowning. When the Queen frowned, people got their heads chopped off.
The tall cook came out, smiling. The Queen motioned to him with her finger hooked, to lean closer. There was sweat on his forehead. Rachel guessed it was because the kitchen was so hot. She was sitting behind the Princess, who sat at the left arm of the Queen, so she could hear them talking.
"This does not taste the same," she said in her mean voice. She didn't always talk in her mean voice, but when she did, people got scared.
"Ali, well, Your Majesty, you see, in truth, uh, well, it's not, you see. Not the same, that is." Her eyebrows lifted and he talked faster. "You see, uh, in truth, well, I knew this was a very important dinner. Yes, I knew, you see, that you wouldn't want anything to go wrong. You see. Wouldn't want anyone to fail to be enlightened, to fail to see your brilliance, about all this, uh, business, so, you see, well," he leaned a little closer and lowered his voice to speak confidentially, "so I took the liberty of making the drink of enlightenment stronger. Much stronger, actually, you see. So no one would fail to see the rightness of what you say. I assure you, Your Majesty, it is so strong, no one will fail to be enlightened." He leaned even closer, lowered his voice even more. "In fact, Your Majesty, it is so strong that anyone who fails to be enlightened, and opposes you after drinking it, well, they could only be a traitor."