Sun and Moon, Ice and Snow - Jessica Day George [30]
Curiosity filled her. What could they be? Isbjørner? Dragons? More creatures, like the faun, that she had never known existed?
But Erasmus was adamant that the servants’ quarters were no place for a lady. The lass had argued that, as the daughter of a poor woodcutter, she was certainly not a lady, but he shook his horned head.
“You are a lady. You may not have been born in a fine palace, but you live in one now. The kitchens are no place for you.”
“I know how to make lefse,” she cajoled him. “And fruit tarts. I’ve been in lots of kitchens.” Which wasn’t quite true: other than her own, the only kitchen she had ever set foot in was her sister Jorunn’s.
“I’m sorry, my lady,” the faun had said, firmly but gently. “The kitchen is no place for you.”
So the lass had no choice but to follow him. Rollo refused to come, saying that it was rude to sneak up on a creature you did not intend to eat. He stayed in his favorite spot by the sitting room fire instead.
Meanwhile, the lass waited until Erasmus removed her breakfast tray, counted to ten, and then slipped down the passageway after him. It was very easy to follow someone through the halls of the palace, since there were niches containing hammers or crochet hooks every few paces. If Erasmus stopped or started to turn around, the lass ducked into a niche, counted to five, and then slipped out again.
In this fashion she followed the faun down six flights of stairs into the bowels of the ice mountain. It was colder here, but only the cold of any cellar. The halls were lit by torches held in ice formations shaped like human fists. Erasmus had to travel quite a ways to reach her when she rang, she realized.
Resolving to call the faun less often and spare him the journey, the lass came around a corner and stopped dead. Before her was a great arch that led into a kitchen the size of the entrance hall three floors above them, but that was not what froze her in her tracks.
It seemed that there were other servants to help Erasmus in his work. But the reason why she had never seen them before was clear as soon as her eyes adjusted to what she was seeing: the little goat-legged man was by far the most human looking. The lass couldn’t help it; she screamed.
The kitchen exploded into chaos as the servants squawked and roared and hissed and shouted. A half-dozen bizarre creatures rushed to the door of the kitchen and then stopped there, not certain what to do next. It was Erasmus who came forward and calmed them all.
Shaking his head at the lass, he turned to the other servants. “This is our new lady,” he told them solemnly. Then he turned to the lass. “My lady, please allow me to present the staff.” He clapped his hands and they arranged themselves into a row.
Erasmus went to the end where three orange lizards stood on their tails, tongues flickering and all four feet gently paddling the air. “The cooks: Zah, Szsz, and Sssth,” he said, pointing to each in turn. Seeing the question on the lass’s face, he added, “They are fire-dwelling salamanders.”
“Oh, of course,” she said. She smiled at them, trying to look as though she had not just been screaming at the sight of them cavorting in the hearth minutes before. “Your meals are wonderful,” she said with perfect sincerity. The three salamanders blushed deep red. All over.
“The scullions: Garth, Kapp, and Nillip. Garth is a minotaurus, Kapp is a brownie, and Nillip is a pixie.”
Garth and Kapp both bowed, and Nillip, who seemed to be female, made a curtsy in the air where she hovered. It was Garth who had really made the lass scream. He was easily seven feet tall, with a body like a brick wall and covered in fur that may have been clothing and may have been his own . . . pelt. He had the head of a massive bull, with great black horns and a brass ring in his nose. Kapp and Nillip were not as frightening. The former was about three feet high and looked like