New Friends 

The servants’ dining hall lacked style.

Tables cluttered every available space, packing Guardians, Assistants, maids, butlers, fireboys, and other workers right up to each wall. Wooden tables, chandeliers made of rusted wagon wheels, and a hearth big enough for ten people to stand in decorated the landscape. Yet it wasn’t the sheer size of the room that cowed Mildred at first, but the number of witches filling it.

Not a chance, she thought, eyeing the teeming mass of voices and dirty plates. The quiet safety of the library beckoned her back, although it had begun to feel like a trap after she had worked in it without a break for five days.

“It’s overwhelming at first,” a male voice said from behind. “But not if you know where to hide. Would you like me to show you?”

She whirled around to find a Captain of the Guardians surveying the crowded prospect with a similar frown. He had no hair, warm hazel eyes, and lashes so long and dark they might have been tree branches.

“Yes,” Mildred said, eager to get away from the echoing laughter. “I’d appreciate that very much.”

“Excellent. Follow me.”

They wove through the spaces between tables to the other side of the dining hall, and then around a corner on the far edge. The overwhelming noises muted to a manageable level. Smaller tables ran along a wall of windows that overlooked the east grounds of the castle. Only two other witches sat back amongst the fifteen or so tables.

“Lovely.” Mildred set down her plate with a relieved sigh. “Thank you very much. What’s your name?”

He smiled with a charming boyish quality that reminded her of Jorden. If Mildred sought attractive traits in others, which she rarely allowed herself to do, she would have considered him handsome. “My name is Marten. I always hide back here. Do you mind if I join you?”

“No. I owe you that much for showing me this spot.”

“Would you like something to drink?”

Mildred settled in her chair with surprise. “Oh. That would be very kind, thank you. I’ll have water.”

He returned with a foaming mug of pale ipsum for himself and a frosty glass of water. “You’re new, aren’t you?” he asked as he sat down.

“Yes. Do I seem so lost?”

“Not lost, just uncertain,” he said with a wry grin. “What brings you to Chatham?”

“I’m the new librarian. My name is on the waiting list to become an Assistant.”

He didn’t roll his eyes or laugh at her the way Porter did. He accepted it with an easy nod, and she relaxed immediately. “Wonderful,” he said. “The library needs some work.”

“A lot of work. More than I can do myself, I’m afraid. I’ll need to search out grimoires on home improvements. There’s no budget to hire anyone to fix everything that’s broken or peeling or splintered.”

Marten’s eyes narrowed in thought, but he shook away whatever idea captured his attention. Another spell of silence fell between them, to Mildred’s relief. It gave her a second to compose her ruffled nerves. What was she supposed to say next? How did one start a conversation out of nothing with a total stranger? She avoided these awkward situations for a reason.

“You don’t like small talk, do you?” he asked, studying her with twinkling eyes.

“No. I despise it.”

“Then let’s discuss something meaningful. Do you keep up with the Chatterer newsscroll? There are rumors circulating through the castle that the Almorran Book of Spells has been found. Again. A witch in the Southern Network keeps making a big fuss over someone stealing it from him. Something about finding it in an old farmhouse and then losing it—”

Mildred shot him a withering glare.

“That’s your definition of meaningful discussion? Gossip about a book of dark magic that may or may not exist?”

He shrugged, but she saw a flash of amusement in his eyes. “Perhaps, to you, it may be. I don’t know you yet. I have yet to learn what interests you, so I chose one extreme.”

“You chose wrong.”

“Then I’ll have to find something on the other end.” He chewed in thought. “All right, I think I’ve got one. How about the plight of our educational system? The lack of education for the poor has, in my opinion, doomed our Network to the fires of rioting and crime.”

Mildred barely contained her surprise at his adept choice. There was nothing she’d rather talk about than education or the failings of their Network. “I agree,” she said immediately. “The fastest route to disaster is bad education.”

Marten quirked an eyebrow. “You do know about it then.”

“Indeed,” she said. “At least as it concerns Chatham City and her outer villages. Where are you from?”

“The Letum Wood Covens.”

“Is education there as terrible as it is here?”

“Worse,” he said with a shake of his head. “Far worse.”

“Tell me.”

“Gladly.”

Mildred set down her utensils and focused her whole attention on him. By the time he finished, her food was cold.

“What a depressing discussion,” she said, moving aside a pile of congealed gravy, her appetite gone. “We don’t teach our poor, which means they will never advance their station in life. We’ve doomed them to life in the dust. Of course they react with violence! What else do they know? We haven’t taught them any other way.”

“It is depressing,” he said, leaning back from his empty plate. He ate with speed and efficiency, like most Guardians. “But only if you plan on it continuing in that way.”

Mildred stared at him in surprise for the second time.

“How would it change?”

Marten shrugged. “There are still witches in the Network that care, like Council Member Porter. The Head of Guardians, Dolph, is a good man.” Marten motioned to her with a dip of his head. “You clearly care. As long as witches like us don’t give in, we’ll be able to fight back and create change.”

“You’re more optimistic than I. I tend not to think the best of witches in general.”

Marten pushed his plate away and set his napkin on the table. “Sometimes an optimistic outlook is the only thing that stops witches from becoming too lazy to care. At any rate, I must be going. Thank you, Mildred, for the pleasure of this discussion. I look forward to more of them.”

To her disappointment, he stood to leave. It had been a long time since she’d had such a well-founded chat with a witch besides Evelyn. A fresh buzz of life gave her renewed energy.

“I hope to see you again,” she said. Marten smiled, gathered his empty plate, and disappeared around the corner.

Mildred’s room was buried deep in the servants’ quarters of the South Wing. She had a bed, a white dresser, a little stove for the cold winter nights, and a window not much larger than a book. Though close and tight, it sufficed, so Mildred hadn’t given the utilitarian design a second thought.

Her candle floated next to her as she walked down a tight spiral staircase, belly full of warm food after dinner with Evelyn, who seemed distant and snappish. Mildred had been working at the library for two weeks now and had seen no further signs of Marten. She would have forgotten him completely if he hadn’t been so blasted informed and intelligent.

She was so caught up in thinking that she didn’t see a small maid sitting in the stairwell and nearly tripped over her. The thin girl pressed herself against the wall with a little shriek.

“What in the name of the good gods are you doing there?” Mildred snapped. The terrified maid dissolved into tears, her face hidden in a pair of reddened hands.

“I’m sorry!” she wailed. “I didn’t see ya coming!”

“I suppose I should have been paying attention as well.” Mildred’s sharp tone faded. “I’m not sure how I didn’t hear you in the first place, you’re blubbering so loudly. What is wrong with you? Did someone die?”

The poor girl shook her head, unable to answer. She looked so pathetic and scared that Mildred’s heart softened, despite her instinct to flee such an emotional creature.

“Do you have a name?” she asked.

“L-Lavinia.”

“Lavinia,” she said, her lips twisting. What an odd name for such a little thing. “I’m Mildred.”

She stuck out her arm in greeting. Lavinia stared at her with watery, red-rimmed eyes. “What am I supposed ta do with that?” she asked, gesturing to Mildred’s arm.

“You’re supposed to grasp it. It’s a way of introducing yourself.”

Lavinia turned away with a hiccup. “I don’t know social rules like ya do.”

“Clearly, or you wouldn’t be sobbing in a stairwell.”

Lavinia curled into herself a little more, tucking her shoulders down. “Don’t matter. No one cares about me! Just leave me be.”

“Excellent. I’ll be on my way.”

“Wait!” Lavinia called as Mildred stepped down a stair. “Ya were supposed ta ask me ta tell ya again.”

Mildred paused to find the logic in Lavinia’s strange statement, but found none. “That doesn’t make any sense. I already asked you what was wrong. Why didn’t you just answer the first time?”

Lavinia shrugged. “It’s what witches say.”

“Well, witches are idiots. Communicate exactly what you mean next time.”

Lavinia nodded with large, solemn eyes.

“Now,” Mildred drew in a fresh breath and began again. “What is bothering you?”

“M-my family sent me a letter,” Lavinia whispered, holding up a soggy envelope. It looked like she’d used it to blow her nose.

“That is why you’re crying?”

“Well, I can’t read!” Lavinia wailed.

“Can’t read? Don’t they teach the servants anymore?”

Lavinia dragged the back of her arm under her nose. “Teach the servants? When did they do that?”

Mildred pulled out a handkerchief and handed it to her with a grimace.

“Try this,” she said. “It’s not very good manners to wipe your snot on your arm when you have to clean with it later. I certainly wouldn’t want you anywhere near my room right now.”

Lavinia blew her nose, mopped up her face, and extended the crumpled material back to Mildred. She waved it off and gestured to the letter. “Can’t you get someone to read the letter for you?” she asked.

“Only one or two upper maids can read,” she said with another hiccup. “They hate me because I used to steal their desserts, and Mrs. F is just too busy to read it for me. I miss my family so terribly and . . . and . . .”

Mildred reached over and plucked the paper from Lavinia’s chapped hands, hoping to prevent another round of dramatic grief.

“Let me help,” she muttered, unfurling the envelope. The handwriting, while not altogether unreadable, was difficult to make out. She read through it once to get the gist, twice to make sure she understood, then out loud the third time. Lavinia’s tears changed into a wobbly smile.

“They’re all right!” she cried, clapping. “My brother is back ta work after breaking his leg. I worried they wouldn’t eat well with him unable to work. Thank ya for reading it. I needed ta hear from them. I feel loads better.”

Mildred folded the envelope back up. Lavinia took it with a toothy smile and tucked it carefully into her pocket, as if it were a great treasure. Her outfit had erratic red stitching occasionally replaced with mismatched black and gold thread, as if completed by someone who had no idea how to use a needle. Mildred used silent magic to fix the puckered fabric, changing the thread to a uniform red and straightening the lopsided shoulders. Lavinia was too relieved about her family to notice the subtle changes.

“How long have you worked here, Lavinia?”

“Three years.” Lavinia slumped back against the wall. “I started after I got in trouble stealing a pastry when I was ten.”

“You’re thirteen?”

“No, fourteen. I always got inta trouble stealing ‘cause I was so hungry. My parents were going ta send me ta work anyway ta help pay the bills. My sister Leslee works with the High Priestess and got me the job. Sometimes I help her, but for now I just clean.”

“So you never went to school?”

“School? No. I wish. But I can polish silver faster than any other maid!”

“Commendable,” Mildred said in a dry tone, “but hardly progressive. Do you have any goals for your life?”

“Goals?”

“Yes. Don’t you want to achieve something?”

“I want ta be the Head Housekeeper when I’m older,” she said, watching Mildred’s face for any sign of amusement. When none came, she continued. “The Head of Housekeeping knows just about everything that’s going on, and I’d like that. Besides, I already know about secret stairwells and rooms that even she hasn’t seen. I like to spy.”

“You can’t be Head of anything if you aren’t able to read and write.”

Her shoulders drooped. “I know.”

“What would you say if I offered to teach you?” Mildred asked quickly, before Lavinia could cry again.

Lavinia gasped. “I want ta learn how ta read and write! I love stories so much.”

Mildred knew she’d regret this—she didn’t have the energy to deal with a volatile young girl—but she couldn’t help herself. Lavinia needed education, and she could give it. No doubt education of servants had been cut since the Network couldn’t even afford to keep most common schools open. Not to mention the state of the library. Her experience working in the castle so far painted a grim picture.

“Come to the library tomorrow on your lunch break, and I’ll begin teaching you,” Mildred said. “There’s no reason you can’t learn while you’re here.”

“You mean it? You’ll really teach me?”

“Of course I do,” Mildred retorted haughtily. “I always mean what I say.”

“Thank ya!” Lavinia said, breathing rapidly. “I don’t know what ta say. I-I can’t pay ya—”

“It’s fine.” Mildred started down the stairs again. “Be on time or the lesson is canceled.”

“Noon,” Lavinia said, her delighted voice echoing down the hall after Mildred. “I’ll be there at noon!”

Lavinia showed up at noon as promised, and brought ten other maids with her.

They filed around a heavy oak table at the back of the library and waited behind the chairs, fidgeting and nudging each other with their skinny elbows. Mildred stopped mid-step when she noticed them. Seeing the shocked look on her face, Lavinia broke away from the group and rushed forward.

“I only told one of my friends, I promise!” she said, wringing her hands together as if she’d brought a dirty dishrag from the kitchen. “But somehow word got out and . . . well . . . they all came. Aw, please don’t be mad at me! Please? We all want ta learn so badly.”

Lavinia bit her bottom lip, glanced at the girls, then back at Mildred. Mildred opened her mouth but closed it again. Despite the bubble of panic welling up from the bottom of her stomach, she didn’t have the heart to vent her anger. Education didn’t belong to one witch.

“It’s fine.” She hadn’t mentally prepared for a crowd and had to do so rather promptly, something she wasn’t inclined to do.

“So ya will still teach us?” Lavinia asked.

“Yes.”

Lavinia whirled around, her arms spread. “She’ll teach us!”

A mutual cry rose from the girls. Mildred, forgetting her anxiety, stepped forward. “Be quiet!” she snapped. “This is a library.”

The maids fell silent. Lavinia gave a quick curtsy and hustled back to her seat, grinning. Mildred, seeing that she had control of the group, calmed.

“Very well,” she said, her voice severe. “While I don’t like surprises, I’m willing to make an exception. As long as everyone agrees to do what I say and takes learning seriously, I shall teach all of you.”

Several heads bobbed in emphatic, silent enthusiasm. Mildred swallowed. They all seemed friendly enough.

“Let’s begin your education,” she said, warming to the idea of conducting her own small class. “You may be seated.”

While magic hadn’t ever been easy, Mildred had excelled in subjects like reading and writing, so starting the class felt natural. The maids remained silent during the duration of the lesson, responded as appropriate, and eventually left with murmured thanks and a promise to return the next day. Mildred let out a long breath, startled to find that she’d enjoyed the hour.

“Well,” she said to herself, smoothing her dress. “That wasn’t so bad. Far better than shelving books, anyway.”

Moments after they departed, the boom of marching feet drew her attention to the hallway. The double doors of the library burst open and an entire contingent of Guardians trooped in. Their burly bodies took up all the space as they filtered around broken chairs in a half-formation. They bowed their heads, clasped their hands behind their backs, and stood straight as arrows.

“What is this?”

“We’re here to help you restore the library,” a voice said. Marten appeared from behind the wall of muscular bodies. “I apologize for the delay, but I had to take a contingent on a two-week detail. Hopefully we aren’t too late to help.”

“Oh, no. You’re not too late.” She gestured to the still-broken library walls. “Obviously.”

Marten smiled. “Good.”

He said something in the Guardian language, and the group dissolved into four clumps of four.

“These four will restore the ceiling, these four will clean, these four will fix the broken furniture, and I will take these four to fix the bookshelves,” he said. “Between the seventeen of us, I think we should have it covered.”

Mildred laughed in spite of herself. His thoroughness and organization made him quite attractive. “This sounds wonderful. I don’t know how to thank you.”

“Dinner tonight should do it.” Marten winked at her. “I’ll see you there. Fall out, boys! We’ve got work to do for the lady. Do good work, or she won’t grant me another date!”

Before she could utter another syllable, sixteen Guardians and Marten split off to their duties. They cleaned with precision, banged wood against wood, shouted back and forth to each other, moved around like elephants, and, in time, restored the library to a fresh, pristine condition. The water marks on the ceiling faded, leaving vibrant paintings in their wake. Shelves straightened, books collected together, and wall sconces shone with new light.

“My goodness,” Mildred whispered, whirling around only a few hours later. “It looks . . . well, it looks marvelous.”

Marten came up to her, hands clasped behind his back. A twinkle of pride glinted from his soft eyes.

“They’re good workers.”

“I can’t imagine why this hadn’t been done before,” she said, eyeing a statue that had been uncovered from a back room. “It didn’t take too long.”

“Not at all.”

She turned to him. “Thank you, Marten. You’ve given me a great gift. I even feel as if I could stand working here for eight years if I have to.”

His bald brow furrowed. “Eight years?”

She laughed it off. “Don’t worry about it. Just accept my sincere appreciation.”

“I’ll see you tonight at dinner,” he said, bowing. “It was my pleasure to earn the honor of your company, Miss Mildred.”

“Tonight,” she said, returning his smile. “I’ll be there.”

Marten and his contingent filtered out, leaving an impressed Mildred standing in the middle of the library floor. Left to herself, and reeling in the aftermath of Marten’s warm smile, she sank to a chair.

“Maybe it won’t be so bad working in a library,” she concluded, thinking of her fledgling reading class and dinner with Marten. “It’s not what I expected, but I may even enjoy my time here.”

She let out a contented sigh and sank back into the soft cushions to enjoy the clean silence for the first time since her arrival weeks before.