The Third Witch by Reisert Rebecca

Author:Reisert, Rebecca [Reisert, Rebecca]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Simon & Schuster, Inc.
Published: 2002-03-02T05:00:00+00:00

TO MY CHAGRIN, because I am in such disgrace, I am not allowed to help with serving the great feast—not even with running the platters of food to the entrance of the Great Hall. Instead I am condemned to the inferno of the scullery shed, washing and scouring through the night.

JUDGING FROM THE SOUNDSI HEAR, the feast is a merry one. And the workers in the kitchen seem jubilant about their results. After a long while, the sounds start to die down. Lisette and Pod appear in the doorway.

“I saved you some food!” Pod announces, a broad smile on his face. He holds out a napkin filled with bits of roasted meat. “I could not bring you any of the sauces. Lisette said she did not think the napkin would take kindly to them, but the meat is very good evenon its own.” He lays the napkin down on the table on which the clean dishware is stacked. I am touched by his thoughtfulness.

Lisette whisks two speckled buns and a handful of broken wafers out of her pocket and places this bounty next to the napkin.

“Not even Master Aswald would forbid you from eating.”

I doubt her, but later that evening, when Master Cook peeks in on me, it is clear that he is giddy with success and wine.

“They praised my cooking! Even the king himself—the king, Gilly! He said that none of his cooks can touch my way with a savory sauce! Finish the washing, lad, and tomorrow you shall begin to write down my recipes. Perhaps when I complete this, I will present a copy to the king himself!”

It is rising midnight when I finish the last dish. All is hushed in the castle. From the door of the scullery shed, I do not see any candles alight. The only light in the courtyard is my small grease lamp. I have saved Lisette’s wafers and one of the buns to eat when I finish, so I perch on a tabletop and start to nibble. I am so tired I almost fall asleep in mid-bite. I wonder where I am to sleep for the fragment of night that remains. But I console myself with the thought that anyplace will serve since the night is warm although mist has been pouring into the courtyard like smoke from a green chip fire.

Then I hear a noise outside the shed.

I slide to my feet and pull out my dagger. The wafers slip to the ground, and I regret their departure. I place an upside down bowl over my lamp to cut the light and wait, my body tense. No one should be creeping around the courtyard this late at night.

A small shape appears in the door to the shed.

Fleance.

“Gilly,” he whispers. “Are you indeed here?”

“I am,” I whisper back and then wonder why we need to whisper.

He hobbles in. Even in the darkness I can see that one foot is bandaged with a leg splint on its shin. I lift the bowl off the lamp, and in the flickers of light I see his face and arm are bruised on the same side.

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