"Journals of the Master Baker - Day 1" by Ashley R. Wynn

From Nimnestl’s The Journals of the Master Baker:

Day 1, After the Change

I had been laying low since the big Bifrost bang.  All that choosing good or evil had made me more than nervous.  As luck would have it, my favorite meade hall had a job opening.  I took it.  No one would look for a super-powered Bifrost citizen scrubbing pots in Himinbjorg’s kitchens.

The first day or so after we were all zapped is still fuzzy for me.  I woke up in one of the cheap rooms of a hostelry near the meeting hall.  I caught a bit of the Magic Box news – enough to realize how quickly the lines were being drawn.  Radiated Bifrost members were exerting their powers in unimaginable new ways. 

As stealthily as possible, avoiding all of my normal paths, haunts, and habits I went directly to the one place I figured I could remain unnoticed and out of the stupid good and evil conflict that seemed eminent. 

Rig owned Himinbjorg, but was only in on rare occasions.  He was a known lecher; tales of his exploits reigned from bedding farmwives to noble ladies.  When I walked through the immense front door, I was pleased to see a huge helm with curling ram-horns on the highest shelf on the wall behind the carved bar.  Rig himself was tending the bar – I knew the job was mine, and was pleased I had thought to cinch my corset a little tighter before I went into the hall.

The first thing I had discovered about the changes that had occurred to me since the unauthorized radiation treatment was my body itself.  The extra pounds I had put on in the last few years seemed to have disappeared; it was as if I were nineteen again.  Even my hair showed drastic improvement.  Not to frizzy, not too oily, and no flakes.  All traces of split-ends were gone.  My hair was perfect.  I would have been happy with a simple prehensile tail, but I cannot say the physical changes are bad.  Especially my eyes.  Where once I was terribly nearsighted, I no longer needed my corrective lenses.

I knew I was probably taking a risk by going to Himinbjorg.  More than one other of the Glowing Ones had seen me there.  ‘Halla, I think we had an impromptu after-meeting party there once.  I was not too worried, however, because I had met Rig before and was willing to bet he would take me on as a pot girl if nothing else.  He seemed like a decent guy once you got around his devouring eyes and sneaky hands.  He had been a guest at a banquet I had put together once and had offered me a job then.

The way his gold teeth flashed when he saw me approaching the bar made me think that he remembered me.  I was right.

“Are you here to make pancakes for me tomorrow morning?”  His eyes lingered a good distance beneath my chin.  I got a squirmy feeling that went from the pit of my belly to the base of my spine.

“If the job is still open, certainly.  Though I understand you could have a problem serving any coffee or tea with the fine breakfasts you’ll be serving.”  I babbled as I squirmed, talking too much.

“You’ll be serving.”  He chuckled. 

“As you wish.  Shall I check the pantry to see if there’s all I need there?”  I tried to hold still.

“Aye.”  Rig handed me a small but heavy pouch.  “Go see what you need, woman.  Nan the scrub girl will help you and show you where everything is.  Make a list, and take it and the pouch out to the stables and give it to Pips.  The boy can read and will get everything on the list that he can find.  No need for you to go out into the Market.”

I knew he knew I’d been zapped.  I bet he also knew how sweaty my palms had gotten in the last few minutes.  I could not seem to say anything, so I just nodded my assent.  His grin was wide and gleaming as he gestured to the door to the kitchen. 

Now, he could have warned me that Nan was mute.  She seemed to be the only person cooking; I wondered how she served three meals alone.  It took a while, but I had a look over the place and made my list.  Then I headed to the stable to find Pips.

When I ducked into the stables, I had to wait a moment for my eyes to adjust to the darkness.  It smelled good there, like horses and hay.  Once I could see properly, I didn’t see any boy.

“Hello?”  I called out.  A horse whuffled at me, but otherwise I got no answer.  There looked to be a tack room in the back of the barn, so I knocked and opened the door.  “Pips?”

He was sitting on a bale of hay, trying his best to sound a huge horn from some ancient animal.  His cheeks were puffed out and red, his forehead flushed, and veins at his temples and neck standing out in small cords.  His effort was mighty, but no sound came from the delicately carved horn.  He looked up guiltily when he saw me, trying to hide the huge thing behind his skinny back.  He panted for breath.

“You must be Pips.  Rig said that you’d go to the market for me.”

“Yes, I’m Pips . . .” he gasped.

“Good, take this list and this pouch.  I’ll need these things for breakfast tomorrow.”

“Yes, ma’m.”

I left him sucking air and went to ask Rig about where my room.  I desperately needed a nap.

“Take number nine.  Key’s on the washstand.  Nan and Pips will help you get settled in.  I’ll be gone tomorrow, but Nan knows how to reach me if there’s an emergency.  I doubt it, but as you know strange things are going on around here.”

Room nine was down a poorly lit hallway, the door just beneath a stairway, like a broom closet.  From the outside, I figured the room to be the smallest in that wing of Rig’s massive inn.  There was barely enough room for the scuffed washstand that was shoved into the space beneath the stairs.  There was, however, another door behind the curtains.  An empty pitcher sat on a matching basin next to an unlit oil lamp on the washstand. 

I sighed because I didn’t immediately see the key.  I tried the knob, but the door was locked.  “He wouldn’t make this easy,” I grumbled and picked up the pitcher.  No key.  I set aside the pitcher and checked beneath the basin.  There was a hammer-shaped key on a loop of frayed pink ribbon.  After I’d unlocked the door, I slipped the loop around my wrist where the key rested comfortably.  A dozen steps led down into darkness.  I lit the lamp and headed downstairs.  The real room was not large, but was pleasantly rounded and contained both a feather bed and a fireplace.  More than I had hoped for from my experiences of the rooms I’d woken up in at Rig’s before.  I set the lamp on yet another washstand, and started a fire on the prepared hearth.

I’m not sure how long I napped but I blush even to think about the dreams that visited me.  They started off with Rig’s golden smile and then rapidly changed into something darker and made of shadow stuff.  It left me with a nearly indescribable feeling, as dreams sometimes do. 

A brisk knock woke me from them.  I heard the door swing open up the stairs.  “Housekeeping!” A boy of about twelve summers bustled into the room.  “So you’re the new cook then?  I’ve got your provisions squared away with Nan.  You just doing mornings, or are you taking on Nelly’s other shifts too? I didn’t get a chance to introduce myself properly earlier.  I’m Pips, Nathaniel Pips.”

He extended his palm like a professional.  I dropped a couple of pennies into it, and his grin got impossibly wider.

Before he could open his mouth I asked, “Who is Nelly?”

“Oh, you don’t know then?  Nelly’s Nan’s ma.  They’re from a not-so pleasant part of the city that happens to start at the end of the street . . .”

There was no shutting the kid up.  I let him pull out my chair, but fought him off when he tried to pour me a glass of wine.

“Look, kid, it’s far too early to start on the juice; I’ll just drink the water.”  I waved him away, my stomach gurgling, as I uncovered the plates and bowls he’d set down on the tiny table.

“Anyway, Nelly likes her wine, she does.  She’s never well enough for breakfast.  Sometimes she botches dinner, but tonight’s a good one.  Leave the cover on those apples, miss.  They’re especially good if they’re still warm.”

“I’ll eat them first, then,” I told him, taking up a fork and the small stoneware bowl.

“A woman after my own heart – dessert first.  Would you like me to bring you up some hot bathwater, missus?  There’s a tub under your bed.”

“Just call me Nimnestl, Pips.”  I smiled at him between bites of cinnamon apple goodness.  Nelly knew what was going on with the dessert at least.  “Hot water would be most welcome.  I can only assume your duties don’t normally include being my personal assistant.”

“What’s a personal assistant,” He asked on his way to the door.  “And what sort of name is Nimnestl?  I’ve never heard anything like it before.”

“A valet is a kind of personal assistant, I suppose.  You know, a body servant.”

He laughed.  “No; the stables are being renovated, so the only horse in there is Master Rig’s.  I just thought I’d meet you, and help you get settled like he asked.  A lad neither knows where his next two coppers will come from, nor his next breakfast.”

I got the tub out and was surprised to find a well-worn book in it.  I tossed it onto the bed with my travel pack and placed the tub in front of the fire.  After an honestly good meal and a warm bath, I settled in for the night.

Though I was tired and the bed comfortable, I could not seem to fall asleep.  A warm bath and a full belly usually put me out as well.  My mind wouldn’t let go.  I couldn’t fall asleep.  All I could do was think about the Accident and how everyone was choosing good or evil.  I however, saw no point in choosing either side.  Generic good and evil just don’t make good causes.  I just couldn’t get behind either of them.

I also couldn’t help but think about Nelly.  Surely the woman would hate me for seemingly snatching her job right from under her.  And Nan, her daughter, surely would be upset at well.  What had I gotten myself into?

Eventually, my mind bored itself to seep after going in circles for a few hours.  The shadowed stranger walked in my dreams again, and once more I was awakened by a knock.  This time the knock was soft but firm; surely it was Nan.  My little round room had no window to let in neither darkness, nor the first fingers of dawn, but I knew in my bones the sun was slow in rising.  Good bread got up early.  Bread was part of the realm of the morning baker, which was now my realm.