Chapter Nine
Genies in the Kitchen
“Mind you don’t touch the white part. It gets hot.”
Beatrice opened a doorway right across the hall from Jamilah and Sabirah’s room and pointed Trinka inside. Uncertainly, Trinka stepped forward and found herself standing in a shadowy room not much bigger than she was. Was she going to be locked in here?
“Parisium,” Beatrice said crisply as she closed the door behind her. At once the talisman in Trinka’s hand began to heat up and give off a pale light.
“Blow on the end,” Beatrice instructed.
Bewildered, Trinka held the end of the dangling white part close to her lips and gave a small puff. A little bubble of light floated off from it and quickly popped with a flash that made Trinka blink.
“That was a bit small. We’ll need a bigger one than that.”
Trinka pursed her lips and blew steadily. This time a large, wobbly bubble emerged and began to expand until it enveloped both of them in its spherical glow.
“It’s lovely,” Trinka breathed. She could see clearly all around them. Not that there was much to see.
“You may keep it. Always useful to have a lantern when you’re traveling by the chutes.”
“The what?” Trinka asked, then realized that these dark little rooms must be transporters, like the traveling tents on Ampersand.
“Chutes. Servants use them to travel through the palace more efficiently. You simply pull this cord and state which chute you wish to go to.”
Trinka nodded. “Do they go outside the palace too?”
“No servant ever goes outside the palace,” Beatrice sniffed. “Now, head straight, shoulders back, no slouching. Feet together, toes forward.” Trinka complied as best she could, though she didn’t think she could ever stand as straight and stiff as Beatrice.
“Kitchen!” the matron commanded. With a pull of the cord, the tiny chamber filled with a choking, pink smoke that came right through the light bubble. Trinka coughed, and she felt her body being squeezed and contorted, as the smoke seemed to push on her from all sides. Her free hand looked wavy, far-off, and wispy, and she couldn’t feel the handle of the lantern anymore, although she was sure she was holding it tight.
“Breathe out,” she could hear Beatrice’s voice tell her. It still sounded firm but very far away. Trinka carefully exhaled, and she felt herself float upward, toward a tiny hole in the ceiling.
Surely I can’t fit through that.
Pop!
Abruptly, Trinka fell to the floor with a thump, and the lantern rattled in her hand as she gasped and wheezed.
“That was a rough trip for you,” Beatrice commented mildly. “My fault. I should have told you to hold your breath first.”
Trinka’s vision still swirled as Beatrice reached out to help her to her feet.
“Well, you’ll know for next time. Esaya,” she added, and the lantern went dark. Trinka blinked in the natural light and saw that they stood in a plain, almost tunnel-like hall with a low rounded ceiling. This must be where the servants work, all right, thought Trinka, eyeing the narrow, black doors at the end of the hallway.
“The genies will show you what to do,” Beatrice instructed then disappeared into the chute behind them.
Trinka expected those dark doors to lead to a room full of Beatrices, all giving orders. She took a deep breath and raised her free hand to the weighty handle.
Before she could touch it, both doors swung open, and the kitchen erupted with dozens of young women moving about in a blur of kaleidoscope colors. Billows of fabric in pinks and blues, yellows and greens, oranges and purples went flying by, and Trinka felt dizzy just trying to focus in on them.
“Oh, look! It’s the new watering girl!” a genie in yellow exclaimed as she came to a stop. Trinka’s mouth fell open at the sight. The genie’s skirt was shaped like two large flower petals hanging from her hips, leaving everything else uncovered. Her middle and shoulders were completely bare, and a long yellow scarf wrapped around her chest and trailed down her back.
“Hello,” Trinka finally managed to say.
Two more genies, dressed in green and purple, stopped to return her greetings. They all had almost the same face―round, with distinctly circular, red mouths; vivacious, sparkling eyes of impossibly bright colors; and long hair that seemed to float gently around their heads. The purple genie wore two long scarves draped over elbows that floated out to her sides, and although her skirt reached almost to the floor, her long, shapely legs showed right through the filmy fabric. The green genie’s bare legs flew out of the long slits in her skirt with every step. And Aunt Vashti deemed Trinka’s skirt too short?
“Oh, how sweet! You must belong to the lady who belongs to the palace!” the purple genie exclaimed. “My name’s Galilahi.”
“And I’m Alsoome,” the yellow genie added.
“Oh, come on. Let’s get dinner ready!” the green genie exclaimed gleefully.
“And she’s Nahimana,” Galilahi pointed to the green genie, then the three of them rushed Trinka into the kitchen. Trinka could see why the huge, hexagonal room’s doors had literally burst open with activity. Genies breezed everywhere between the rows of serpentine tables, dancing as they went about their chores.
“Oh, you can help me get the cakes ready,” Galilahi urged. “This is Lahishana,” she added, indicating a fair-haired genie dressed in clouds of light blue fabric that sparkled all over. Trinka huddled close to the oddly shaped table, trying not to get run over by the joyful genies all around her. Galilahi smiled merrily, and with the touch of her finger, a spectacular, white cake appeared on an empty pedestal.
“Oh, I can’t wait to frost it!” Lahishana laughed. With the twirl of her finger, a foamy light cream spread itself around and over the edges, coming to a perfect little dollop at the top.
“Oh, it’s lovely!” a nearby orange genie sang out, clapping her hands in delight. Lahishana beamed and immediately frosted another one, this one with loops of bright red dots that looked just like strings of flowers.
“Lahishana frosts the best cakes,” Galilahi confided.
“What do you want me to do?” Trinka asked uncertainly. She could never make anything as amazing as that, and certainly not just by using her little finger!
“Oh, just enjoy yourself,” Lahishana laughed merrily.
“Oh, have you heard what the genies at Amalalek’s palace are wearing?” Nahimana gossiped as she spread sauce onto a tray full of vegetables with a wave of her little finger. “Pants!”
A chorus of shrieks and giggles swept through the kitchen, like the sound of butterfly wings on Ellipsis, only much, much louder.
“Oh, can you imagine if we wore pants to Vashti’s banquet?” Alsoome asked, and the laughter sang through the kitchen anew.
Trinka didn’t see why wearing pants could be more shocking than what the genies did wear, but she didn’t dare to say so.
“It must be a very big banquet,” Trinka observed as she stared at row after row of plates and pots, platters and pedestals, all rapidly filling with food.
Nahimana laughed. “Oh, it’s not tonight. This is just for dinner.”
Trinka swallowed hard. “There must be a lot of people here.”
“Oh, just a few,” Alsoome replied merrily, sprinkling another table full of cakes with a soft pink powder.
“What about you?” Trinka asked.
“Oh, we don’t eat. We just make the food and serve,” Lahishana responded. “Come on. Let’s go set the table!”
“Can I set this down here?” Trinka asked, holding up the heavy lantern.
“Oh, you know what you need? A purse!” Alsoome declared.
All the genies murmured in agreement.
“Oh yes, I want to make one!” Lahishana exclaimed.
“No, me!” Galilahi bubbled over.
“Oh, everyone together!” Nahimana sang out. For a moment, all the genies in the kitchen turned toward Trinka, their little fingers upraised as their bri
ght eyes focused right on her. Trinka’s heart beat a little faster.
“One, two, three!” A great cheer erupted, and Trinka saw, on the table, a tiny pouch not even a quarter the size of the lantern.
“Oh, it’s beautiful!” Lahishana exclaimed, and indeed it was a sparkling little pouch trimmed with thousands of tiny jewels that glinted in a blur of patterns and colors much like the genies themselves.
“Oh, put your lantern in it,” Alsoome urged.
Uncertainly, Trinka picked up the purse, undid the little clasp, and held the clunky crystal over it. She lowered it onto the purse; to her surprise, the entire lantern slid in easily. The purse didn’t even seem to weigh any more than when it was empty.
Trinka looked up into the wide sparkling eyes all around her. “Thank you,” she said simply. She tried to think of something more to add, but the genies’ minds had already turned to their next task.
“Oh, come on!” Galilahi chirped. “To the table!”
Trinka got swept up in the wake of genies streaming toward the opposite kitchen door, and she found herself hurrying to the dining hall with only the purse in her hands.
All the dishes from the kitchen flew in above them, and Trinka had to duck several times to avoid being pummeled by a low-altitude cake. As they reached the long, straight dining hall table, the genies danced around with light-footed steps as the dishes came in for a smooth landing. Trinka found herself caught up in between Lahishana and Galilahi, but she couldn’t quite keep pace with the genies’ frolicking. The last dish settled into place at the head of the table just as the dining hall doors flew open and Jamilah and Sabirah strutted inside. The genies disappeared into the kitchen, and Trinka came breathlessly to a stop.
“What’s that in your hand?” Jamilah demanded.
Trinka quickly slipped the genie purse into her pocket. “Nothing.”
“I hope it’s not more monsters,” Sabirah sneered.
“Ah, children. You’re all here. Excellent.” Beatrice swept noiselessly into the room. “Please wait quietly until Madam Vashti arrives.”
“Why does she get to eat with us? I thought she was just a servant!” Sabirah complained.
“She is here to help, but she is your cousin,” Beatrice said stiffly.
Sabirah’s words grumbled no more, but her stomach did, and for once Trinka could empathize with her. Trinka’s insides growled like a caged animal, and she clasped her hands in front of her, trying not to let it grumble as she stared at the tantalizing banquet set before her. Bowls piled high with layer upon layer of sweet-looking fruits were arranged like fountains across the expanse of dining tables. Baskets brimming with steaming hot breads and cakes stood around them, and even the platters of thinly sliced vegetables carefully arranged around pools of brightly colored sauces looked cool and inviting. There seemed to be food in every available color, from vivid orange, gold, red, and even deep purple, to shades ranging from fern to forest green.
There had never been a rainbow of feasts like this on Ellipsis, where hunger was a necessity that was tended to silently through the air around them, with no thought to senses or socializing. It was all Trinka could do to keep from reaching out and cramming one of the golden-brown puff pastries into her mouth, but even Jamilah and Sabirah had to wait patiently behind their high-backed chairs.
Well, Sabirah didn’t exactly wait patiently. She shuffled her feet and made faces, as if her complaints were flying silently about inside her head.
At last, the heavy doors swung open, and Aunt Vashti paraded herself to the head of the table. Her dress stood out stiffly in layers and layers of thick fabric, and long, colorful feathers stuck up in an enormous collar around the back of her neck. Trinka wanted to giggle, but she was too intent on watching Aunt Vashti sit down. With a squeal that brought a “tsk-tsk” from Vashti, Jamilah and Sabirah yanked their chairs back and plopped down simultaneously. Trinka’s eyes darted from platter to platter, trying to decide what she should possibly try first. She reached for a tempting-looking breadstick when she felt something soft and sticky touch her arm. Sabirah’s taunting laugh rang through the dining room, and Trinka flushed as she realized she had just stuck her elbow in her dinner plate, which was already loaded with bread. And fruits. And vegetables.
“Sabirah,” Aunt Vashti reproved. “Young ladies do not make such ridiculous noises at the table.” Sabirah went back to eating without a sound, but she made faces at Trinka between enormous bites.
“And, Trinka,” her aunt continued. “I don’t know how the barbarians from your world eat, but I assure you that in my house, no one eats with their elbows.”
Sabirah had to reach for her drink to hide her laughter, and Jamilah was clearly stifling a giggle by stuffing her mouth. Trinka’s cheeks grew warm, and she stared at her plate to keep from seeing Aunt Vashti’s glare bear down on her. Carefully, she picked up the short, metal spike at the side of her plate. Unlike the short knives in Bedrosian and the plain wooden stick utensils on Parthalan, it was ornately twisted together and bore several large jewels in the handles. Trinka eyed her cousins cautiously as they used the two short, sharp hooks to effortlessly scoop bite after bite into their mouths. Their plates were almost empty already. Awkwardly, Trinka put the hook in her hand the same way they did and tried to spear a sliver of fruit. It slipped off her plate and oozed juice onto the clean, white tablecloth. Sabirah received no reprimand for her laughter this time since Aunt Vashti was too busy scolding Trinka and ordering the genies to clean it up.
Cheerfully, Nahimana―or was she another genie who just happened to be dressed in green?―bounced over, and with a touch of her finger, the spill was gone. She winked and skipped back to the kitchen. Relieved, Trinka tried to spear a piece of bread, thinking that it might be less slippery, and caught it easily. She popped it into her mouth, careful not to stab herself with the hook. Instantly, the warmest, most wonderful sensation came over her. It was like no food she had ever tasted before. It seemed to melt in her mouth without even chewing.
“It’s good!” she exclaimed before she realized that she had spoken aloud.
“I’m relieved to hear it meets your standards,” Aunt Vashti said acidly. “As you will be staying with us until Pimlico can make other arrangements.”
“Not in our room!” Sabirah paused in her eating long enough to protest. Her cousins’ plates were already full again, with their second helping of everything.
“Certainly not,” Aunt Vashti soothed. “But the first rule in this house,” she continued loudly, “is that children are to be seen not heard, especially during dinner.”
Trinka quietly savored the sweet juices, tender flavors, and fluffy breads. The platters and pedestals slowly emptied, as their plates continually refilled themselves. Trinka couldn’t believe that she had eaten half of what she had. She was full enough to burst―or was she? More food had just appeared on her plate for the third time, and her cousins had eaten at least twice as much. Maybe three times. And yet, she didn’t really feel any more full than when she started. Trinka kept eating, and so did her aunt and her cousins until the last morsel had disappeared into Sabirah’s mouth. Trinka carefully set her hooked utensil down and looked at the hundreds of empty dishes thoughtfully. She wasn’t particularly hungry anymore, but at the same time, she felt like she could sit down and eat that much again. What was going on?
“Quite satisfactory,” Vashti murmured, daintily dabbing at her lips. “Of course, we’ll need much more when Amir is here.”
Beatrice stepped forward and offered a little, red jewel dish to Aunt Vashti. She took one of the poofy, white candies inside and popped it into her mouth. Jamilah did the same, and Beatrice handed one to Sabirah to prevent her from taking two.
“After-dinner mint for you,” she said when the dish came to Trinka.
Trinka hesitated. “I’m sure they’re lovely, but I’ve already eaten so much,” she explained.
“You’d better take one,” Beatrice said quietly. “You won
’t want to be hungry all night.”
Sabirah snickered, and Trinka’s cheeks flushed as she accepted the candy. It was creamy and made her mouth tingle slightly as it rapidly dissolved. As soon as Trinka swallowed, she felt the weight of a full meal hit her stomach.
“You may go back to your room, ladies,” Aunt Vashti proclaimed as she rose to her feet. The three girls slowly stood up. “And you,” she snarled at Trinka, “may help the genies clear the dishes.” Sabirah shot her a vicious smirk before trailing off after her mother and sister, but Trinka thought washing the dishes with the genies would be a delightful experience―if only she weren’t so full and tired.
Nahimana reemerged from the kitchen with a trail of other genies following lightly behind her. Trinka began stacking a few of the plates on top of each other, but Nahimana just yawned gracefully.
“Oh, that’s all right, we’ll do it,” she murmured sleepily, and with one wave of the genie’s little finger, all the dishes disappeared.
“Oh, as long as you’re here, would you mind shutting the door for us?” Alsoome asked. Trinka noticed that all the genies had transformed their clothes into sleek, shimmering robes the colors of their dresses.
“Sure,” Trinka agreed, although she wasn’t exactly sure what they meant.
“Oh, thank you!” Galilahi exclaimed. One by one, and then in groups, the genies turned into wisps of colored smoke, like the kind that filled the chutes, and disappeared into a hutch filled with shelves of glittering, jewel-encrusted bottles.
“Oh, I can’t wait to make cakes again!” Lahishana called out, and, in a final curl of blue smoke, settled down into a small, silvery blue bottle on the lower left shelf. Trinka carefully slid the door of the hutch shut, and she could hear the faint murmur of the genies giggling themselves to sleep.
“I imagine you’d like to get to sleep too,” Beatrice remarked. “Right this way.”
Trinka whirled, startled. She had forgotten the matron was still there. Trinka’s mind wanted to stay up all night, exploring the palace, but her body seemed to be saying otherwise. Trinka yawned softly as she slowly followed Beatrice from the dining hall, through a chute, and down another corridor.
“This is where you’ll stay,” Beatrice announced crisply.
Trinka looked around the small, soft gray room set with white marble furniture. There was something about it that didn’t quite match the rest of the palace.
“Beatrice,” Trinka began slowly. “Who lives here?”
“No one, so mind you keep things tidy,” she replied shortly. “I have enough to do already, and I’m without the extra help I was supposed to get today,” she added, eyeing Trinka sharply over the side of her long nose.
Trinka looked back at Beatrice, and the matron’s stern look softened. “Well, off to bed then. You’ve had a tiring day indeed.” She clapped her hands twice, and the creamy pink covers folded themselves back invitingly.
Trinka hesitated. “I’m supposed to sleep on it, right?” She felt silly to ask, but after all the different worlds she’d visited, nothing would surprise her.
Beatrice looked at her rather oddly. “Yes. And you may want to wash up a bit before you do.” She pointed at a low, wide dish balanced on a stand in the corner. “I’ve brought water up for you today, but it’ll be your job to bring it from the cistern in the morning.” With one last reproving look, Beatrice was gone.
Trinka hesitated for a moment and wrinkled her nose. Now that she was alone in the clean new room, she noticed for the first time how strong her goat-hair garments smelled after a day of wearing them in the heat. She sat on the edge of the bed and pulled off her boots, then took off her coat and skirt, leaving them as neatly as she could on the floor, while she stood barefoot in the robes she had worn on Ellipsis. They weren’t quite as fresh and airy as they had been in the City of Mirrors, but still it felt good to have only one layer of fabric next to her skin.
She stepped over to the dish on the pedestal and dipped her fingers into the shallow pool. As she wiped her hand across her forehead, the clear liquid instantly turned to silt as it mixed with the sand and dirt she had collected during her journey. The basin’s oasis quickly became a murky puddle, and soon there was no point in washing anymore, as she’d just be rearranging the dirt.
Trinka sank wearily onto the end of the bed, and her eyes traced the arch of the window opposite the door. It was small, with stone lattice work criss-crossing it in flowery patterns so that just a breath of the air outside and bits of starlight could work their way through it.
Across from the bed, the room curved into a small alcove with a white marble vanity table and a large, gleaming mirror. It seemed out of place compared to the rest of the furnishings in the room and yet so definitely a part of it. Trinka slowly got up and walked toward it, her finger-tips lightly touching the face of the glass. She dropped onto the dusty rose chair in front of the vanity, staring at the plain reflection in the mirror.
Suddenly, she felt her hand touch her face and saw herself shaking loose the sides of her blondish-brown hair, smoothing it soft with a carved, white brush she had unexpectedly found in her hand. It was almost involuntary, as if the room itself had decided what its occupant should do there. It seemed so automatic and yet so unnatural. Trinka rarely looked at herself in the mirror. She wasn’t pretty like Annelise, and mirrors reminded her too much of school on Ellipsis. Still, her hands kept brushing, and when they finished, she felt herself getting up and moving toward the bed.
As Trinka slipped into the crisp, cool covers, she also noticed for the first time how horribly her legs ached. But there was another feeling too―even more persistent than the pain―one that she couldn’t quite identify. She tossed, then turned, churning all the bedding into a disarray that surely would have sent Beatrice scowling. She got out of bed and walked back to the vanity, then back to the bed again, but this time, instead of lying down, she bent over and grabbed hold of something smooth and cold near the floor. She pulled, and a drawer hidden underneath the bed opened with a soft scrape. She felt herself reaching inside then settling back against the pillows with its contents on her lap.
It was a book, she supposed, with a faded scarlet cover and gilded with bits of gold leaf along its velvet edges. Trinka opened it, and the scent of a long-forgotten fragrance drifted out to meet her. All at once, a chill whispered its way through Trinka’s spine, and as she exhaled, she suddenly knew. This had been her mother’s room. And in that case, this―she looked again toward the well-worn book in her hand―must be her mother’s diary?
With trembling fingers, Trinka flipped back the cover and began leafing through it. Its pages were filled with a strange, loopy script that seemed to crawl across the page in all directions. She sat completely still for a moment, staring at the pages, wishing for them to make sense. Apparently, whatever force the room had over its occupant wasn’t strong enough to reveal this mystery. Quietly, she laid it down by her pillows and sank beneath the sheets. Even though the diary had told her nothing, she suddenly felt that she missed someone very much.
The plush bedding should have felt good after the long journey with the talaria and a day of wandering in the marketplace, but she could not get comfortable. What if her mother really was still alive, living somewhere in Apostrophe? Even if she was, how could she know that Trinka was there? Would her mother even want to see her again?
And would I want to see her?
Trinka closed her eyes and tried to concentrate on sleep, but the idea that her mother might be only footsteps away kept her awake through the night.