Lydia was, in fact, a miracle worker. The all-black uniform featuring a black bodice, dress, and matching shoes was a unique combination. Current fashion prioritized bright and saturated colors, the complete opposite of my ensemble. As I walked back to Darion’s Dish, my strange appearance drew curious eyes to me. The last addition was black powder around my eyes. I thought it made me look like a corpse, but Beth assured me it made my eyes pop. I decided not to argue, since she was paying.
My hair was tied back, save for a fringe to frame my face. On an eight-day, there was very little work, so it was the perfect time to teach me the ropes.
I entered the front door to find the place empty. Save for Hewit and the pretty maid-servant from before, whose name I learned was Yarah.
With a beautiful smile, she walked over, looking me up and down. “Don't you look positively unique.”
“Uhh, thanks, I think,” I said, trying to curtsy.
She giggled at my attempt, “We’ll have to work on that. So you’re the new girl. You're ready to learn?”
I smiled; It didn't matter if she worked me like a slave, I was closer to my goal; that was all that mattered, “Aye, if I don't pass out from exhaustion tonight, I’ll be disappointed.”
“Now that’s the spirit,”
~
I wouldn't say the training was torture, but it was close. Everything had a specific routine. How to greet and seat customers. Taking orders and delivering them to the kitchen. There were 42 tables and I had to remember the number and position of each. Fortunately, the menu wasn’t extensive. There were only eight dishes, which changed seasonally. Apparently, the most popular was the glazed duck on a bed of forest greens with roasted potatoes and a white wine pairing. I nearly passed out when she told me the dish cost a full four silver.
Even worse, some more affluent patrons would order several bottles of wine each, costing more silver; there were even a few bottles that cost gold. Even nobility, who had their own eateries in the upper quarter, frequented the restaurant due to Darion’s impressive skill.
Constantly walking back and forth to the kitchen for orders, checking tables, and smiling at customers, all while maintaining proper etiquette, was not a simple task. Currently, I walked with a tray loaded with tankards of water to simulate carrying food in one hand, navigating through the tables, pretending as if I were serving an order.
“Shoulder straight, head forward, and don't forget to smile. Occasionally, a table will call you over, probably for more wine or an additional order. Now, remember, these people are drinking, so some of the men might get handsy. If it happens, ignore it and smile. If the man is too insistent, signal the doorman. He'll escort them out if it goes too far. Remember, this is a proper eatery, not some back-alley food house. Even nobles have to follow etiquette. Since Darion insists on you using that quill, you'll have to make sure not to spill any ink while taking orders.”
I nodded along, trying to commit everything to memory. It was rather nerve-wracking to think I would be dealing with actual nobility. But I was up to the challenge. My feet hurt, and I had an odd ache in my neck from the strange way of walking, but I would be damned if I was anything less than perfect.
“Let's rest for now and have some caff,” Yarah said.
“Caff?” I asked as she led me over to the bar.
“Aye, you'll like it, trust me. It's one of the few things Darion gives us for free.” Hewit said.
He reached under the bar and pulled out a shiny silver teapot. It looked rather elegant and expensive since it had gold inlay.
The bottom, though, was oddly shaped. It was concave; the edge of the circular base looked like it was dipped in shiny metallic blue paint.
“Fancy pot,” I said, as Hewit reached under the bar and pulled out a metal cylinder, also elegantly decorated with inlay. It had a circular groove the same diameter as the teapot. Again, he went under the bar, pulled out a sock of what looked like dirt, dumped a handful into the pot, and poured water.
“Aren’t you going to heat the water?” I asked.
Both Hewit and Yarah looked at me, confused, before Hewit chuckled with mischievousness.
“You a village girl?” He asked.
“Yes,” I said, unclear as to what he was hinting at.
He smiled at Yarah.
“Watch and be amazed,” He said.
He placed the pot onto the cylinder, the edge of the pot fitting perfectly in the groove.
Then I heard a sound coming from the pot like rain splattering. It was rather subtle; after a few seconds, the sound stopped. My eyes nearly fell out of my head as steam began to rise from the opening, and I could hear the water boiling.
My mind went numb as I was no doubt looking at a magic teapot. After nearly a minute, Yarah and Hewit started laughing.
“That's how everyone reacts the first time,” Hewit said.
“How—how does it work?” I asked.
Hewit shrugged, “Not a clue, my dear.”
My heart raced and I felt lightheaded, “But you just made it work?”
Yarah answered, “Just fit the bottom in the groove and it boils any water inside, no idea how Lady Elis makes it.”
“Lady Elis?” I asked.
“The Baron’s court Magus. You must have only been in the city a short time not to know about her.” Hewit said.
I shrugged, trying to be nonchalant. In truth, I wanted to grab the kettle, sit in the corner, and examine every inch of it to find out how it worked.
‘Magic! There was magic right there. And they didn't seem to care.’
“So how did you end up with a magic teapot? I’ve never seen magic in my life,” I asked.
“Not our’s. Darion and his Lady wife's, this beauty cost three gold. Not to mention the roasters. All designed by Lady Elis. 15 gold all together.”
A single gold was insanity, but fifteen?
“Roasters?” I asked.
“Aye, no need for a normal fire, all magic. Want to see?” Hewit grinned.
I would literally kill to see it.
~
"Go on, pull it," Hewit teased.
The kitchen was much the same as any other. Tables for cutting and prepping meat. Hanging pots and pans, and a large hearth near the rear of the room. The oddities came from the roasters. There were three in total, and an even larger metal table that looked similar in design.
It looked like a roasting jack for a pig. It even had a handle to rotate it. Instead of wood and coals beneath to cook the pig, there was a large metal box around knee-high with a lever attached to the side. There was a duct around the rim of the top to divert grease; in the center were nine tubes sticking up from the metal, each around five inches apart, in a straight line.
Shrugging, I pulled the lever. There was an odd click, and suddenly flames burst out of the holes. It wasn't normal flames. These were almost pure blue.
"Keep going," Hewit said.
I pushed the lever down further. There was a series of clicks after each, and the flames grew until they were almost a foot tall.
“Alright, turn it off; we don't want to waste fuel for the furnace,” Yarah said.
My questions were uncountable. Where did the flame come from? What was the clicking sound? What furnace? My breathing was even heavier as I couldn't even begin to guess how any of it worked.
“Now you know why we make such good food. A normal flame can't make certain food, but the control this offers is unparalleled.” Yarah said.
Then she pointed to the other two roasters, "These are for roasting pigs, ducks, anything." Then she pointed to the large metal table, and I walked over and examined it. There were also holes clustered in groups of four with wrought iron grills covering them. They numbered six in total. Sticking out of the front of the table were also six levers.
"For cooking with pots and pans?" I asked.
Hewit nodded, enjoying my fascination.
“Can I see the furnace?” I asked.
They led me to the backyard, no doubt directing me to the seemingly useless furnace I had noticed a day earlier. It was odd-looking; the base was slightly egg-shaped and a metal tube, around a foot wide, extended from the top. Near the bottom were two holes, each a hand wide on either side, and a door at the front.
“We just open it and throw in wood or coals so long as it's burnin’, everything works,” Hewit explained.
‘This makes no damned sense. How does this make the roasters and kettle work?’
"How?" I asked, unable to comprehend.
Yarah and Hewit said simultaneously, "No Idea."
The lack of answers irritated me, but it wasn't surprising.
‘I’d find no answers. I'll have to investigate myself. There was magic right here, and they seemed to think it was, at best, a mild curiosity.’
~
“You'll get used to it,” Yarah said as I tried to sip the bitter liquid. It tasted like burnt wood,
“I don't see how I would,” I responded.
Yarah laughed, “Just give it a few minutes, it will happen.”
I shrugged and kept forcing the caff down. Then, after I was halfway through my cup, I felt it. My heart was racing, and I couldn't stop shaking my leg.
“What is this?” I asked.
Hewit grinned, “Quite a thing, isn't it. Nothing like caff to perk you up for a long day of work.”
“I feel like my heart is about to burst out of my chest.”
Yarah hummed and looked into her own cup, “Sometimes I forget that I'm used to it. You made it too strong for her, Hewit.”
Hewit chuckled and placed the pot back under the counter, “It'll calm down in a bit. Let's have some lunch. My treat, as an apology,
I smiled at the genuinely pleased. Free food was the best tasting after all. And besides, I needed a distraction for my unending plague of questions.
~
We went to what was called a cafe. A small yet tastefully decorated eatery near the main street, we sat outside on the terrace, each preoccupied with a small tray of sandwiches made from different cuts of cured meat and fresh bread.
“So Myr, how in Anier’s name did you convince the boss to hire you?” Hewit asked.
I laughed without humor, “Pity, probably, Lady Beth saw through my disguise, I suppose, as a former magistrate, she could see through such things. ”
Hewit and Yarah shared a knowing glance, then nodded, somehow communicating telepathically.
“What is it?” I asked.
Yarah looked at Hewit, who shrugged, then she proceeded to speak, “They had a daughter who died some years ago. Would be about your age, I think. So, if you're wondering where the pity comes from, that's it. But don't you dare spread that around.”
‘Does she think I'm an idiot? Either way, I can use that information.’
“Do I look like her?” I asked.
Hewit and Yarah did some more telepathic communication, “No, your looks are different,” she said.
‘By that, she meant that she was prettier than me.’
Hewit took on a serious tone, “Still, though, while the eatery is called Darion’s dish, he defers to Beth in all things, and she handles all the financials. The reason why there's an opening is that one of the last maid-servants was doing whoring on the side. Using the restaurant's patrons as clientele."
‘ It's not like I had any intention to sell myself. Should I ask them about the magus? No, not yet, don't be too eager, Myr.’
“While I have no interest in selling myself. Thank you for the warning.”
I bit my lip and looked at Yarah, trying to evoke a sense of vulnerability, “Can you be honest with me?”
A note of sympathy shadowed her eyes before she nodded.
‘I’m getting better at this.’
“Is there anything I can do to be better? I don't want to just have the job because of pity and become complacent. I can't tell you how much I need this work.”
Yarah held my eyes for long moments before she pushed her plate to me. I raised an eyebrow, “You need to put on some weight. You're too skinny. The eye powder is good, but your lips are dry. A little oil will keep them looking fresh. Too much makeup, or you'll look like a whore. Your hair is ill-maintained, and the ends are split. Proper brushing, cutting, and oiling are necessary for it to be healthy. And most importantly, your dress needs to be immaculate at all times.”
“No need to be so hard on her,” Hewit said.
Yarah shook her head at him, “No, she needs to hear this. Myr can't afford to be adequate or good enough to get by. Looks are as important as manners. Remember, there are no ugly women–”
I finished her statement,“–only lazy ones.”
Yarah smiled, “Exactly, that's the way of things, Myr, unless you become powerful. You have to work your way within the system.”
‘Pretend long enough and the performance becomes reality. I spent so long pretending I didn't care how I looked, only for it to become genuine. But now that has to change. So be it. I will strive to become as perfect as possible and dedicate myself completely to being the ideal maid-servant. I will wait, learn, and listen. As of today, I am fourteen summers old, and time is on my side.’
~
Training continued for long hours, but with my renewed dedication to practicing everything from walking and speech to etiquette, Yarah became even more strict with her expectations. Near sunset, the training ended with both Yarah and Hewit heading home to their own families. Beth and Darion were away somewhere; They lived on the second story of the restaurant; the entire floor was their home. The only ones left in the eatery were me and the guards.
I stood in the backyard holding a candle. Try as I might, I couldn't understand the magic. How does the metal furnace fuel the fires in the kitchen, or, for that matter, how does it power the kettle? How was it built? How did placing the kettle on the base activate the magic?
I’d love to ask, but no one had any real answers. While the magic in front of me plagued my mind. It was a distraction; nothing less than full dedication to my current task would be acceptable. So, with a heavy sigh, I put the magic out of my mind and went to my room for some sleep. Work started early, and I couldn't afford to look tired and bedraggled.