Part 27 (2/2)

After a few minutes a no-nonsense-looking young man of around nineteen appeared in the doorway, entirely unruffled.

”Ye rang fer me, Cook?” the young man asked, raising an inquiring eyebrow.

”Got ye some new serving boys, Compatriot Garen,” Cook said.

”Thank the chancellor!” the young man said. ”We've been understaffed fer a week!” The young man straightened his waistcoat and glanced toward Henry and Adam. ”I'm Garen,” he said. ”You boys can come with me.”

Henry and Adam numbly followed Garen, who kept up a steady stream of chatter as he led them through the castle. They were expected to report to the kitchens by six every morning, to clean the school between meals, to s.h.i.+ne the boots of the senior-ranked students two nights a week. The list of tasks went on exhaustively.

”Any questions?” Garen asked, pausing at the bottom of a steep and precarious stairwell with stone steps so worn that they appeared to sag.

”Sorry-senior-ranked students?” Henry asked. ”Those with white stripes on the arms of their jackets,” Garen clarified.

Henry bit his lip. He'd meant to ask how students were promoted to different ranks, but Garen had misunderstood. Not quite daring to rephrase his question, Henry followed Garen and Adam up the ancient stairwell. The stairwell led to the castle's attic, a haphazard honeycomb of low-ceilinged rooms.

Garen pointed out the latrine, the serving girls' bedchamber, the cleaning cupboard, and the cupboard with staff uniforms. He stopped at the last, sized up Henry and Adam, and then ducked inside, returning a minute later with a bundle of clothing.

”If they don't fit, ye can swap them yerselves,” Garen said. ”And here we are. Serving lads' bedchamber. Any of the cots here are free.”

Henry frowned. There had to be at least four empty beds. And Garen had said something earlier about being short staffed. Granted, it didn't seem the best of jobs, but something about the way Garen was so eager to have them on staff worried Henry deeply. He dropped his satchel onto one of the cots, and Adam chose the cot next to Henry's.

”Get changed, and then ye can start with an easy enough task fer the afternoon. The spare silverware needs polis.h.i.+n'. Cook can set ye to it. Ye'll keep to his orders in the kitchens and mine otherwise, mind.”

”Yes, sir,” Henry said. ”It's *Aye, Compatriot Garen,' ” Garen corrected firmly, turning on his heel and closing the door behind him. Once Garen had gone, Adam held up the staff uniform s.h.i.+rt and made a face.

”What are we, vicars?”

The s.h.i.+rts were collarless, with tight high b.u.t.tons around the throat. But the worst bit were the suspenders, which fastened inside the waistband of the trousers.

”At least we don't have to bind up our hair,” Henry pointed out as they headed down to the kitchens.

Cook showed them to a storage pantry with a discouragingly small slat window. ”Ye better not scrimp the silver,” Cook warned, showing them where the polish was stored and then slamming the door.

Henry explained to Adam what they were to do, and the boys set to work. ”Did you catch that bit about the school being understaffed?” Henry asked.

Adam looked up from the spoon he'd been attacking with the polis.h.i.+ng cloth. ”What?”

”Why do you think Partisan is understaffed?” Henry pressed.

”Dunno. Maybe it's just a rubbish job.” Adam shrugged.

”Maybe.” Henry was unconvinced.

”All right. Let's hear it,” Adam said. He admired the spoon he'd just polished, then hung it from his nose.

Henry laughed. ”Don't,” he said. ”Someone has to eat off that.”

Adam removed the spoon. ”Smells like polish anyhow,” he muttered. ”All right. I'm ready for your absurd theory.”

”It isn't absurd,” Henry protested. ”And I don't have a theory-yet. I just know that those empty cots are far from the worst beds in the room, and Garen said they've been understaffed for a week, which means that no one on staff claimed the beds.”

”Could be,” Adam said.

”I'm right,” Henry argued. ”Everyone avoided those beds after their occupants left. The school is desperate for staff. And the boys who served the envoy last month wouldn't go a second round.”

”George did,” Adam pointed out.

”Well, not everyone at Partisan quit either. Just some,” Henry returned.

”So now that we're stuck here, you think there's something horrible happening?” Adam whimpered.

”Not necessarily horrible,” Henry said. ”It just seems like people have been spooked by something.”

”Maybe they're just spooked because the students are being trained in combat?” Adam suggested.

”Maybe,” Henry said doubtfully.

They didn't see Frankie again until much later that night, as they were returning to the servants' quarters after mopping the dining hall. She paused a moment at the bottom of the stairs, yawning.

”Frankie,” Henry whispered fiercely.

She turned and gawped at them. ”What are you doing here?” she asked, grabbing Henry and Adam by their sleeves and dragging them farther down the corridor. ”I thought you'd gone.”

”You didn't make it back to the train,” Adam accused.

”I got lost in Romborough,” Frankie said. ”On that dratted errand. I was so certain you'd left. I've been in a panic all afternoon.”

”Sorry,” Henry said. ”We were stuck polis.h.i.+ng silverware.”

Frankie sized up their staff uniforms and nodded. ”Common kitchens,” she said.

Henry's eyes widened with surprise. ”How can you tell?”

”No waistcoat,” she said as though it were obvious.

”Oh,” Henry muttered.

”So here's some bad news,” Adam said brightly. ”We're stuck here for a month.”

Frankie went pale. ”A month?”

”That's when the next envoy is due to arrive,” Henry said, shrugging.

”B-but-,” Frankie spluttered.

”Fear not, fair maiden. We're here to rescue you,” Adam said. ”And by *rescue' I mean *endure a month in the Nordlands at your side.' ”

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