Chapter 10

The following morning, Finneas Keltin rapped on each of their doors. He turned up the lights in the corridor as they stepped out.

“Madam Phoebe is waiting for you,” he said. “She needs help polishing.” He led them through the corridors to a grand room with an arched entrance. The woman who greeted them was reed slim with a face that was smooth and flawless, to the point she had almost no features at all. Her hair was long and golden and constantly shifted. Similarly, her long yellow dress was made of a material that shimmered with her.

“Good morning, Finneas.” Her voice was slow, and as she finished speaking her appearance dwindled, so much so that she almost faded from sight. Only her one sinth hand remained solidly visible.

Grim squinted, studying the faded parts of her.

“Cool,” he muttered.

Then the woman faded back in again.

“Come along,” said Madam Phoebe as she floated through the room. “Please put your goggles on. I find it quite challenging to remain visible to the human eye.”

Grim put them on, but her appearance didn’t really change from what he could already see.

They followed clumsily after her to a giant, wooden wardrobe that she unlocked with a skeleton key.

“Please take a conductor to clean, but be careful with them.”

They each took a different item — Grim a rod, Rudy a cane, and Treena a tall staff. He wasn’t particularly impressed. They all looked fairly old and had scratches on the surface.

Grim blew the dust off it. He sneezed.

“Conductors come in different classes. For instance, this one here,” said Madam Phoebe as she took Grim’s rod, “is marked with the symbol for earth. It is used for the following.” She pulled one of the switches on it. “Speaking with animals,” she said as she pointed it at a mouse that scampered across the ground. It stopped to look at her. “Be gone,” she said, and it slipped out the door. “Growing plants,” she said as she pointed at another switch, “and ground shakes.” Thankfully she didn’t demonstrate the latter. “There is a locking mechanism on each.” She flipped a lever near the bottom that caused the other switches to disappear. “Please ensure the conductors are locked before you begin cleaning. We can’t have you summoning winds, or casting ice pellets at each other.”

Grim slid his fingers along the device. “How are these made?”

“They’re made in the south...” She paused. “Aren’t you from the Southlands?”

Rudy butted in. “Well, they don’t really teach us things like that.”

The woman had that condescending look that adults get when they think they know better. “Perhaps they think it’s too complex for children.”

Grim pursed his lips and said nothing, but the first chance he had he’d take one of these apart to study it.

Too complex for some children maybe.

“And who carries the most powerful one?” Treena asked.

“I suppose Professor Pearl or Hyperia DeLay, the Baroness of Everstay. She invented sinth.”

With that it was time to get to work. They had to clean the various conductors — pocket watches, goggles, lights, rods, staves, and canes. Madam Phoebe would ask them to hold each one aloft to examine the shine. They would hold it while the woman examined their grip, the angle of the light, the position of the arm, posture, everything. Grim wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to do any more polishing. Madam Phoebe was very particular.

“Now, I will see you again tomorrow. I believe that you all have other chores to be seen to.”

They departed, Grim rubbing his stiff shoulders.

When he reached the kitchens, plumes of smoke poured from the chimneys. He walked in to find seven man-sized metal stove tops at the far end, all hot and blazing. Cast-iron pots hung over a couple of fires. Across from them were three large ovens baking bread. The near wall was lined with another seven tall cookers, each with chickens barbecuing. Sitting out on large tables were row upon row of candied apples, as well as chocolate drops and other sweets.

The kitchen was robust with activity. Ten other children ran about the place peeling potatoes, plucking chickens, removing slabs of bread from the hot ovens, and stirring vats of slop. They were all sweating ― profusely.

“Chores?” asked a rotund woman in a white apron. Her grin was nearly toothless.

“Yes,” said Grim, fanning himself.

“A’right, in wit ya den,” she said, and guided Grim to another room filled with pots, tables, wash basins and rags. “Dat dere’s da cleanin’ room. You get da pots an’ pans today; dishes tamarraw. Da brush is dere and you can use da washin’ tub in da corner. Da water in dat one is still warm. Dat dere,” she said pointing to a leaning pile of pots, “is yers. Clean ‘em up good so I can see me face in ‘em, orphan.” She walked away laughing to herself.

Grim eyed the huge stack of dishes. He’d be here for hours. He tried to think of some way to make the dishes clean themselves; some contraption that had arms and could polish the dishes. And while he let his mind churn, he dipped his hands into the suds and began to scrub.

Grim got only a brief respite from the pots when he joined the others for dinner. He struggled to eat the boiled pig’s snout and a sour dessert that tasted like flour and lemons with no trace of sugar to be found. He said little to the others, focusing solely on swallowing his food without gagging.

He then slipped back into the kitchens to resume his chores, and dreaded to see the mountain of pots. As he walked in, he was surprised to find the Madam of the Kitchens was not there waiting for him.

Instead he found a gaunt-looking woman kneeling over the tubs. Her tattered sleeves were rolled up her arms and she was elbow-deep in suds. Her matted hair covered half of her face. She flashed a hideous grin of crooked teeth and gaping spaces. Grim had never seen anyone in more need of braces.

“Hello, dear, you here for kitchen duty?” asked the woman in a low pleasant voice.

“Yes,” he replied, still standing in the doorway.

“Well, that’s lovely. I’m Veerasin. Come in, come in. Don’t wait in the doorway. I don’t bite, at least not at this hour. Would you like some tea?”

“Tea?”

“Yes, dear, tea. You do know what tea is, don’t you?”

“But I’m here for chores.”

“Oh, don’t you worry about that for now. We can get to those later. Pull up a chair and I’ll make you a nice tea. Maybe some biscuits too?”

“Thank you,” Grim said, and sat down at the table. He removed his cap. He decided it would be best to be polite. Besides, the tea and biscuits might help get rid of the taste that still lingered in his mouth: Orlanda Kennelworth’s Very Special Lemon Tart. And when it was served to the orphans, Grim had noticed the Madam of the Kitchens peering into the room, chuckling to herself.

“Don’t worry about the dishes and pots for now,” commented Veerasin. “That lovely Madam Kennelworth will be here shortly and there is another shift after you. They usually get off without much work, so it won’t hurt to let them do extra today. I like to get to know the newbies that come in. Here you go,” she said and handed Grim some stale biscuits and a cup with a dark liquid that he assumed to be tea. It was surprisingly good, with a hint of some kind of berry.

“Thank you. I’m Grim. Grim Doyle,” he said. He shook her hand. It was warm and strong.

“Well, that’s a lovely name. It sounds Southern. Where are you from, sweetness?”

Grim wasn’t sure how to answer. “Very far away,” he said. “You probably wouldn’t know it.”

“Well, I know little of anything south of here, but why don’t you give me a try.”

Grim answered with the easiest thing he could think of.

“Earth.” He almost grimaced after it fell from his lips.

“Never heard of it. Is it far?”

“Very.”

“Did you come here alone, sugar plum?” Veerasin sipped her tea and it dribbled off her pointed chin onto her dirty apron.

“No.”

“Oh, you must be with all those brothers and sisters that just started.”

“Just Ellen is my sister.”

“And what about your parents, who are they, dear?”

“Well, they are, or rather, they were a Duke and Duchess,” he said, wondering if the story was coming out sounding false.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” she said, and patted Grim on the hand. “I’m sure you have no part in what’s going on up here, then. Resistance, suspicion, treason, deception, and calls for war and revenge. It’s a terrible time.”

“I don’t really know much about it,” Grim said, sipping his tea.

“Well, best I not tell you. The ignorant are the happiest, I always say.”

Grim drained the tea cup, leaving just the leaves in the bottom.

“Tell me, young Grim, what do you most want to be?”

“Like my dadss-s-s-so I suppose…”

Gah! This was harder than he thought.

Veerasin’s eyes smiled. She hadn’t seemed to notice. “Hand me your cup, honey sweets.”

Grim passed it to her and the odd woman stared at the leaves at the bottom. Veerasin turned it around in her hands, looking at it in different ways.

“Is something wrong?” Grim asked.

“Well, it would seem I can see almost nothing from your leaves. You see, I read some people’s lives in their leaves, but I read little in yours. Your past is all over the place and your future is clouded, but if I had to guess, filled with … well that can’t be right.”

“Filled with what?” Grim asked, leaning over to look at the bottom of the cup.

The woman furrowed her eyebrows.

“Well…” The cup seemed to draw her in until her eyes were right up against its rim. “I see you surrounded by flames. And I see a Gargoyle. He is hooded and there is hatred in his eyes. He is expanding his wings. And there is fire, terrible burning fire. And there is a Jinn! You are in great peril! Run, Grim, run!”

The woman blinked and dropped the cup. It smashed on the floor into tiny shards. She shook her head and then grinned at Grim with crooked teeth, as if everything was smiles and sunshine.

“Never you mind, sweetums,” she said. “That can’t be right. Your future is quite blurred and I must be reading that wrong.”

Grim stammered, unsure of what to say.

Flames? And a Jinn? Great peril?

Veerasin looked out the window. One of the moons was just rising above the city, full and bright. It illuminated the stone gargoyles of the buildings across the street. Their eyes were black sockets ― vacant and soulless.

“Well, I think that’s enough talk and I wouldn’t mind if you want to leave early. My shift is done now.”

“Um, shouldn’t I be helping?” Grim asked.

“Well, you can wait here and stay with Madam Kennelworth if you like.”

She threw her towel and apron on the wooden chair. They slid to the ground.

Then Veerasin slipped out the door and her voice trailed behind her. “…good night, cupcake.”

Grim picked up the items from the floor and hung them over the back of the chair. He contemplated remaining and then thought of the charming Madam of the Kitchens.

He quickly swept up the shattered remains of the tea cup and snuck out the door as a howl sounded in the distance.

The following morning, Quinn waited for Grim after breakfast. Grim hoped the young Lord might hustle off ahead of him, but he was not bound to find any such luck.

“Good morning, Quinn,” Treena greeted.

“Still living with us orphans, I see,” Rudy said, studying Quinn from over the rims of her goggles.

“Good morning,” Quinn returned, ignoring the comment. He coughed until he gagged.

“Still got that cough as well, huh?”

The boy took a swig of his elixir. “I’m sure it will pass shortly.”

The others said nothing in response and made their way outside through a thick fog that had settled upon the city. It came from the east. They could barely see and almost stumbled into Master Galan.

“Good morning,” he said, waving the mist away from his eyes.

“Master Galan?” Quinn asked. He blinked a couple of times in surprise.

The old man appeared just as speechless.

“Lord Quinn,” he said, practically choking on his words. “I-I-I wondered if I might see you here. I’m …pleased to see that you are well, and I’m truly sorry for your loss. Your father was…well, he was a good man.”

Quinn looked nervously about and cleared his throat. “Yes, well, thank you. We should be off now.”

“Well, I won’t hold you then. Good day,” he said.

When he was out of earshot, Treena turned to Quinn.

“How do you know Master Galan?”

“He was our family’s Alchemist.”

“He was?” Rudy asked. “That means he’s not anymore.”

Quinn nodded. “The day before I left for Madam Malkim’s he was summoned elsewhere.”

Grim thought of the old man’s arrival at their home.

Good timing.

“Why was he not surprised to see you here?” Rudy asked.

Quinn held his head high and put on a brave face. “I suppose you’re going to hear it eventually,” he said. “My father was killed by a rogue Changeling, and my mother was taken away for her own safety. Our lands are under the protection of the Lord of Harland Manor. I fled here for safety.” He flipped a switch on his platinum walking stick and it whizzed before morphing into a rather large blaster. “This is all I have left of my father. It was his.”

Grim struggled with what to say. “Wow, sorry. But at least your mother is still alive.”

Quinn shrugged. “I guess.” He marched forward into the fog and all they heard of him was the whizzing sound once more, and then the rapid tap-tapping of his walking stick on the cobblestone ground.