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 Posted: Wed Jul 08, 2009 2:32 pm
To say that Mirelle was in a bad mood would have been an understatement. ‘Bad mood’ was her general state of being. This was something that transcended her normal irritations and left her absolutely seething. She had already snapped twice at the drudges working on the breads for dinner, and had chased a handful of ‘suspect’ Candidates out in a hot fury. She still didn’t know entirely what was going on (and the terrified drudges weren’t likely to tell her), but she was convinced it had something to do with the younger generation, and she was furious. Her kitchens, her kitchens, were getting a bad name, and she’d be staked out for Thread before she allowed it to continue uncontested.
And she knew it had something to do with the Candidates. Muttering an unending stream of curses and complaints under her breath, she turned away from the vat of stew she had been inspecting, throwing in a sprig of rosemary without even looking at it, and scanned the kitchen. Currently, it was staffed with people she knew and trusted. With a rueful smile, she thought of Nandeli and the gossip corner. It was almost a pity the girl had Impressed that lovely little gold; she had been Mirelle’s best vegetable peeler. And Annelie as well…all of Mirelle’s best staff was being snapped up by dragons.
Shards and fardles.
“Oy, you there!” she snapped, turning to one of the girls, one she recognized as more Weyrworker than Candidate, but who Stood nonetheless. If anyone would know what was going on in both worlds, it would be this girl. At least, until Mirelle could pull Nandeli aside and interrogate her.
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Posted: Thu Jul 09, 2009 1:13 pm
The day had been less than stellar. Due to the lengthy period of time she'd spent as a Candidate Firyal was no longer required to attend Candidate lessons, particularly since she could be put to work during the time of day when the usual Weyr workforce was attending Candidate lessons. Weyrlings, subject to their dragons' needs, were not as reliable for labor as Candidates. She spent her non-lesson time doing whatever work she was directed to do. In this case, she was in the kitchen, turning the spit, an assignment she resented because it was usually drudgework.
"Oy, you there!"
Firyal looked up quickly from the spit she was turning, though she didn't leave the spit unattended. Everyone knew that when Mirelle spoke, it was best to react instantaneously and favorably. At least when you knew what favorably was. In this moment Firyal didn't know what was expected of her, and she was wary. She'd yet to meet anyone who was as talented at emotional abuse as her family, but vocal volume and heavy objects near to hand made incensed kitchen workers, particularly Mirelle, people to avoid displeasing.
"Yes, Mirelle?" she said, keeping her voice pitched to sound soft, though due to the ambient noise of kitchenwork she was actually speaking fairly loudly by her standards.
Mentally she checked on her pair of firelizards to make sure they were obeying the rules. They were not welcome in the kitchen. Never had been. But that didn't stop Numenor from attempting to steal scraps of food or Chance from attempting to charm snippets. Firyal kept them out mostly through firm reminders. She didn't want them to put in an appearance now that someone had noticed her existence.
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Posted: Thu Jul 09, 2009 7:04 pm
Humph. Even when they weren’t doing anything wrong, they reacted with fear. While this did impress Mirelle somewhat (the more polite the staff and those eating her food were, the happier Mirelle was), it also brought her to a snap judgment about Firyal that would have to be corrected at a later date, if the girl proved to have spirit or some sort of a bite. She kept those thoughts so deep in her head that not even a glimmer of anything interrupted the flow of her typical slight scowl, but her words after the initial summoning were not particularly harsh. Firyal had done no wrong, after all.
“I assume you know the things that have been befalling the kitchens recently,” she said. “People claim things are burned, dishes I know were sent out properly turn up incorrectly seasoned,” and here her scowl grew fiercer than ever. Some people had worked up the nerve to avoid mealtimes and attempt to cook their own food! Mirelle had very nearly caught the new dragonhealer at it once, but he hadn’t left any compelling evidence. She was waiting for the next time he tried it. “And things are going missing,” she finished. That particular ‘problem’ was a generalized one that Mirelle had picked up from the Candidates’ peeling corner, but she assumed it was Weyrwide. There was certainly some evidence that certain kitchen supplies were not as well-stocked as they ought to have been (though that might be the sharding dragonhealer...).
“I've my own suspicions, but perhaps you know better.” After all, Firyal spent time outside the kitchens for duties other than telling the beastcrafters which wherries to butcher or weeding the herb gardens. And she was in contact with other Candidates, who gossiped like…well, she couldn’t actually think of anything that gossiped more than a Candidate. When she did, she’d come back to that simile.
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Posted: Fri Jul 10, 2009 4:54 am
Firyal was relieved at first to hear that she hadn't done anything wrong. Since no one could blame firyal for things not being cooked to satisfaction, she was even mildly amused at how indignant Mirelle seemed to be by the kitchens' troubles. It had been discovered early in her tenure at the Weyr that she wasn't good for much except basic food preparation when it came to cooking, and so she had not been left in charge of anything more difficult than that in years. Every so often she was directed to add seasonings to things, since nothing was wrong with her sense of taste, but that was a privilege usually reserved for those trained in the culinary arts.
Her amusement dissolved at once when Mirelle continued to list her complaints with recent developments in the kitchens. Specifically the fact that things had been going missing. With the self-centeredness of an adolescent, Firyal assumed that Mirelle was making a not-so-veiled hint that she suspected Firyal had something to do with the objects going missing. After all, she had been accused of theft once before, and despite the fact she'd served her punishment without complaint and exhibited no further criminal behavior, she still felt as though everyone was just waiting for her to make another mistake and was particularly sensitive to remarks about it. In this case, however, she was more hurt than anything else. She had thought she'd proven it was a one-time offense over and over in the past months. This new suspicion was disconcerting.
"If I had to hazard a guess about the unfortunate allegations of improperly prepared foods, it's probably the fault of some under-trained or inattentive Candidate." When she realized that under-trained and inattentive could actually describe her fairly well in kitchen matters Firyal felt obliged to produce an alternative that made her less likely to be held at fault. "Is it possible that whoever's in charge of tasting may be a bit off their game for some reason? I've heard pregnancy can have an effect on a person's ability to discern flavors. Is anyone in the kitchens pregnant?"
She had no idea who was sleeping with whom and who was pregnant and who was fighting in the Weyr. She was not good at joining, even when she wanted to, and had become fairly isolated in the Weyr social order. Those few people who sought her company generally did not come bearing the sort of news which could be of any use to Mirelle in her quandary. Mostly she was absorbed with the business of being a Candidate and staying out of the public eye after the debacle with the stolen wine several Hatchings ago, which meant she was extraordinarily underinformed.
"Some of my own belongings have gone missing, but I thought the fault might lie with my firelizards. I have two, and they occasionally take it into their heads to be cute and hide my things, but I doubt they could be the source of your troubles here. There are only two of them and I do my best to keep them out of the kitchens."
It took an effort for her to answer the perceived accusation calmly and rationally. It would be idiotic to alienate Mirelle needlessly, and it was even possible that Mirelle hadn't been implicating her at all. Still, her heart was beating much too quickly with nerves. Another accusation, baseless or not, would have her thrown out of the Weyr, and even though she was nearly too old to be allowed to Impress she wasn't yet twenty one turns, and she intended to Stand until she was told she couldn't or she Impressed. She was hoping for the latter, but about as resigned to the former as a person could be.
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Posted: Sat Jul 11, 2009 12:18 pm
Mirelle hadn't been trying to accuse the girl of anything; kitchen gossip was kitchen gossip, and the woman had merely been trying to twist it to her own uses. Of course, she wouldn't have been all that surprised that Firyal thought Mirelle was accusing her; teenage girls all had victim complexes. All teenagers did, to some degree. It was part of the universal teenage belief that nobody understood them.
Firyal's theories were...less inspired that Mirelle had hoped. They were all things Mirelle had already considered. Had she come across one of the few teenage girls not entirely devoted to gossip? That was a pity. She shrugged noncommittally at the girl's suggestion of pregnancy. "I've talked to the drudges and other cooks, everyone seems in good working order."
Besides, if they couldn't maintain their sense of taste during that time, shards if Mirelle would be allowing them into the kitchens until the babe was old enough to be left at the creche without guilt. Actually, she generally went easy on pregnant staff. They ought to take the time to get to know themselves and the babe. Mirelle felt strongly about that.
"Experience tells met flitters don't often hide their owners' things," she said with a shrug. "I've seen yours about, I think. Neither seems very inclined to theft." She had met thieving flitts before. Whenever cutlery or meatrolls went missing, she sent off Candidates to find the owners of the likely suspects. But She rarely heard of flitts stealing from their owners.
"I'm more inclined to believe everything is connected," she said with a shrug. Generally, any woman she spoke to had half a dozen conspiracy theories. Ah, well. She'd just have to start digging deeper.
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Posted: Tue Jul 14, 2009 9:38 am
Firyal wondered if Mirelle's shrug meant that the audience was over and she could go back to the less-than-thrilling task of turning the spit until the bells sounded to signal the end of the work period or someone came to relieve her. She got along fairly well with the Headwoman, but she always felt as though her lack of cooking skills set her in an unfortunate light in the Masterbaker's eyes. It wasn't as though she was incapable of learning, but when it was discovered shortly after her arrival that she had never been taught to cook no one had ever bothered to teach her more than the basics which she could have surmised for herself. Nevertheless, it was a failing she felt keenly in Mirelle's presence.
It would seem, however, that Mirelle wished to continue the conversation, and so Firyal forced herself to continue to meet the older woman's gaze as they discussed a topic that made her incredibly uncomfortable. She'd had Numenor for three turns now, and Chance was getting to an age where he was starting to develop a personality and a bit of the grace Numenor had in executing his aerial maneuvers, and she could place more or less when the behavior of hiding things had begun. As Mirelle said, firelizards taking their owners' things wasn't usual, but Firyal had played some part in that learned behavior.
"I'm sorry you've seen them about. They really aren't supposed to come in here. But I'm glad you don't think they're inclined to theft. I think with my pair they hide my things because that was how I trained Numenor to fetch and show me things. I would hide them and try to convince him to show me where they were, and eventually bring them to me. He probably thinks it's a game, and Chance just does what he sees Numenor doing to get praise." She shrugged. She was hardly an expert on firelizard psychology. She just happened to be fairly good with the creatures.
Firyal winced as some fat dripped into the flames and spat, sending pinpricks of fire to speckle her hands. She was vain enough to wear long sleeves when she had kitchen duty, regardless of the temperature, but she couldn't justify destroying articles as difficult to make and repair as gloves just to avoid being splattered or burned. It wasn't as though the first thing most people noticed about her were her hands anyway. She imagined most people tended to notice that she was fat right away, and anything else was secondary.
"You're probably right about everything being connected, but short of an organized band of saboteurs I can't imagine what might be the source of the problems." That wasn't quite true, now that she thought about it. Her unconscious selection of the words organized band reminded her of an underground movement she'd heard whispers of among some of the other Candidates and Weyrlings. Her loyalties didn't feel at all torn, however, as she decided to tell Mirelle what she'd heard. Probably the woman already knew.
"Actually, there is a group of people, Candidates and Weyrlings mostly, who want to form a new Weyr. They say Ista's too crowded, and they want to make a break and move elsewhere. It's not impossible that they might try to...arrange events to support their arugment."
She couldn't bring herself to out and out accuse them of theft, not from any sense of loyalty, because her first loyalty was to the Weyr, but because she knew the consequences would be dire if she was correct, and she pitied anyone who might be subjected to them. The results would fall somewhere between the ostracism she'd dealt with as a result of a few stolen wineskins and what Kyllae must be dealing with for touching still-soft eggs.
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Posted: Tue Jul 14, 2009 9:09 pm
“Eh, I’ve never needed to chase them out, and I’ve only ever seen them in here once, with you, I believe. But I do leave the kitchens sometimes, girl,” Mirelle pointed out, not unkindly. It wasn’t often that others saw her outside of her domain, but she wasn’t on duty all the time. And when she was out and about in the Weyr, she did recognize the faces of those who worked in the kitchens. She had seen Firyal around with her flitts a few times. “Generally, they’re clever enough to stay away when they’re not wanted.”
When something that sounded an awful lot like fat popped, Mirelle glanced back over at Firyal and frowned thoughtfully. “…Are all the Canines missing, then?” she asked. It wasn’t often that Candidates were put on spit duty, unless the spit-canines had been working hard the entire day before. Well, they had had herdbeast last night, so it was a possibility that they were missing for the day. Sharding Canines, treated better than kitchen staff. Probably better than the beastcrafters who tended them, come to think of it. “Well…that explains the quiet, anyways,” she mumbled. And only someone who spent every waking minute of the past twenty turns in the kitchen would have been able to consider it quiet.
“We’ve a few pair wherhide gloves for carrying hot things, you know,” she said gruffly, in what could have been an attempt at kindness or simply insurance against losing a set of capable enough hands. Either way, no reason for the girl to be burning herself. “On hooks near the oven.”
And then Firyal dropped a gem.
“I knew Favan wanted out,” Mirelle replied, sauntering across the kitchen to check the flavour on a sauce and adding another sprig of rosemary while she spoke. “Hadn’t heard of Candidates.” But it all clicked. Mirelle’s eyes widened for a moment, and she bared her teeth in an extremely unpleasant expression. Shards and shells! Perhaps Firyal knew something more.
“Any idea who’s involved?” she asked, her voice as casual as it ever got. Actually, Mirelle had fundamentally one tone of voice. So she didn’t really need to try.
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Posted: Thu Jul 16, 2009 10:06 am
Firyal smiled a little bit, choosing to interpret it as subtle praise that her firelizards had not been often seen in the kitchens. It meant she was doing something right, at least. The reminder that Mirelle didn't permanently inhabit the kitchens was further cause for her small smile. For her part, Firyal tended to be surprised when she saw people outside of the locale she generally associated them with. It was possible she mightn't even have recognized Mirelle away from the kitchens. And, of course, she considered herself beneath most people's notice, so it always surprised her when someone said they'd seen her around.
"I don't know. I suppose so," Firyal answered, glancing back at her task as though surprised to find herself doing it. Then she shrugged. "I was told to turn the spit when I got here, and somebody has to do it."
Firyal had never been particularly fond of Canines. She'd heard too many stories from her Healer grandmother about those who provoked them and found themselves bitten so badly that there was scarring. Not to mention, she detested the way they always seemed to be slobbering and shedding. It struck her as foul and not particularly sanitary, though sanitation was not usually her primary concern. Her grandmother had been stringent about it, but Firyal had resigned herself to the idea that many hands had touched her food and spoken over it, and that she would just have to hope no one was carrying anything too nasty.
"Thank you," she added, moving quickly to retrieve a pair of the gloves and then settle back into her task wearing them. It was a vast improvement. "I wasn't completely sure those weren't reserved for others' hands."
"As for that, there are an awful lot of Candidates at Ista. A number of them probably believe their chances of Impression will be better at a newer Weyr with less competition." The thought had occurred to her, too, when she'd first heard the topic come up in discussion, but she had dismissed it.
Despite the heat of the kitchen, Firyal paled a little. Mirelle's casual voice didn't fool her. The matter was serious, and any suppositions she made would have serious consequences
"I'm not certain," she began. "It's only speculation, really. But sometimes it seems like S'van and his friends are able to anticipate some of the things that happen. It could be nothing, though." Her gut twisted as she spoke. What kind of a despicable person was she?
Firyal didn't know these people personally, she reminded herself. She hadn't been sworn to secrecy. No one had even realized she was there. They should have been more circumspect, she rationalized. It would have been someone else if not her who brought it to the attention of the authorities. Her rationalizations weren't helping her in the least.
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Posted: Thu Jul 23, 2009 9:12 am
"The gloves are for those as need them," Mirelle answered absently, already chewing over the tidbits of information that Firyal had given her. A new Weyr would ease a lot of the problems in this one, and perhaps a new Weyr would give Mirelle the chance to take actual control of the kitchens...and that was a tempting thought. But she was not the sort to agitate for anything; it would come when it did.
When the girl paled, she raised an eyebrow ever-so-slightly, but her expression remained otherwise steady. Firyal needn't worry that Mirelle would get her in trouble; she was merely a spectator in the game of cat-and-mouse Mirelle had gotten up to with the ILA. Candidates could be cruel creatures, and she really had no desire to get the girl in trouble. She would say nothing about her sources (better that those who she would soon be...speaking with thought she had uncanny supernatural powers, anyways) when she finally confronted them.
But...the name S'van was troubling. Mirelle was very fond of the boy; viewed him nearly as an apprentice of hers, and he was quite good in the kitchens. Good enough that he should have been sent for bakercraft study, not onto the Sands, but there was nothing that could be done about that. But...on the other hand...he had been...a bit off recently. Perhaps she would have a talk with him. She wasn't by any means inclined to believe this.
"Thank you," she said with the slightest of smiles, inclining her head to Firyal. "This conversation has been lovely, but I've sauces to finish and dinner to serve." Without it being spoiled.
It was the closest to a polite end to the conversation Mirelle was willing to get.
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Posted: Thu Jul 23, 2009 9:18 am
Firyal had already been a social pariah among the Candidates once and survived it. The possibility of a reoccurrance was not a pleasant one, but it was not the greatest of her concerns. She simply didn't like to be the reason others got in trouble. She'd always felt that she was not meant to have a joyous life, and so it was more fitting that she be the one to shoulder the blame if it was there to be taken and if it could conceivably fall to her. She would not, for instance, have taken credit for Kyllae's idiotic stunt, but in the case of her own idiotic stunt she had made an attempt to clear the others' names by suggesting it had been entirely her fault. Nevertheless, she was able to recognize that Mirelle was trying to convey, in her own fashion, that Firyal would not be held to blame for this.
"I'm glad I could help," she lied miserably. She would not sleep well after this for several days, nor eat well. Pity the latter would have no effect on her weight.
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