God Loves Angels

Chapter 12. Dinner for the elite

It turns out that the castle was dim. This was partly because all the windows were covered with curtains. Partly because few lights were on. The lessons are long over.

I followed Mrs. Doyle down an empty, dark corridor, wondering which door was behind the kitchen?

Pretty soon we found ourselves in the large hall of the castle. Everything here was familiar to me. It was lighter, and a fully lit chandelier created a festive mood. The ticking of a huge clock in the silence gave the feeling of late night. Although I noticed behind the loosely closed curtains in the window that the sun was just setting over the forest. We went on.

Mrs. Doyle opened a low, inconspicuous door in a dark corner of the hall, hidden behind a wide pillar, and the warm stench of the oven and boiled potatoes smelled in my face. I walked a few steps down, and a rectangle of light appeared in front of me, revealing a bright room. And in it there is a long table, filled with dishes: pots, plates, behind it kitchen cabinets up to the ceiling.

– Good evening! Ah, Saimo-on! – Mrs. Doyle dodged a large vat flying through the air and disappeared into the mist of steam.

A chaos of sounds reigned in the room: the murmur of water, the clinking of dishes, some hiss and murmur were heard. The air in the room was dense and humid, but in it I caught the spicy notes of spices and meat broth.

On the right side, along the wall, were two sinks, water flowed from the taps. The dishes jumped by themselves first into one, then into the second sink. Swirling in the foam of the detergent and jumping out from under the stream of water already clean. Then the plates gave a ringing «dzin» and were stacked on the edge of the table near the shelves already filled with shiny dishes. A short young man in a long apron appeared in the kitchen. When he saw me, he froze and opened his mouth.

He had a pleasant face. Cheekbones, emphasizing masculinity and confidence, a slightly slanting cut of live brown eyes. The young man was wearing a white cap worn by cooks. Several strands of golden hair were streaking from under the hood. He was too young for a cook. His sweaty and tired face lit up with a kind smile at the sight of Mrs. Doyle and me. It seemed to me that at that moment even pots and plates clinked louder. However, maybe it was not a game of my imagination. The magic in the kitchen, of course, was his. I marveled at such a vast and powerful force. For me, at least for now, this was an unattainable limit. And I envied the young wizard. He was three or four years older than me, and he looked such a confident magician.

«This is Miss Burling,» Mrs. Doyle appeared behind the young man. – She needs to be fed.

– Of course, I’ll just deal with all this! – The young man waved his hands, pointing in the direction of unwashed dishes, and rushed past me to the sinks.

I pressed myself against the table, letting him pass. The whistling stopped and the steam cloud melted.

«What’s your name, Miss Burling?

– Roselyn… Just Rose. – I hastened to answer.

Simon just managed to grab a high stack of tilting plates and put them in the closet.

– So Rose. He smiled at me. And Mrs. Doyle nodded. «Your new assistant?

I shook my head and said modestly:

– Not. I’m a new student. I arrived today…

Simon waved his hand. The water from the taps stopped pouring, plates no longer flew around the kitchen. It has become much quieter. In the far corner, something else was happening incomprehensibly: a saucepan or dough mixer rumbled and quivered softly when another white bag flew up to it, reminiscent of flour packages.

– Not? Simon turned his gaze to Mrs. Doyle. «When will a witch be sent to help you, huh?»

Mrs. Doyle sat down in a chair and spread her hands.

– It won’t happen soon. Definitely not this year. I spoke to Madame Escalotte. And she said that we cannot afford it.

Simon thrust his elbows into the sink and grunted.

– Well, of course! – He answered with glee. – What else will the director say?!

– I can handle it myself. Of course, extra magic spells would not hurt.

A mournful howl and a sharp sob came from the sink. Simon squinted over the sink, then turned back to Mrs. Doyle.

– No normal nurse will come here! – And immediately hastened to add: – This is not about you, Sally. That is, I wanted to say that you are a proven worker and a strong sorceress, capable of standing up for yourself and your students!

Simon winked at me and headed for the pots on the stove.

– And you, Simon, what’s new? Mrs. Doyle asked.

– AND? Nothing. Everything is the same as before. Here our guard noticed something in the forest yesterday. I was worried.

– Mr. Noel? Have you noticed?

«That’s what he said.

Mrs. Doyle frowned.

Simon waved the large lid over the pots a couple of times and returned with plates in hand. Mashed potatoes with meat. My eyes lit up. Simon, smiling at me, put down the plate and pulled a chair towards me.

– Have a seat, miss.

I was very pleased to be looked after. I smiled back at Simon:

– Thank.

I immediately, without hesitation, began to eat. I really liked Simon. He offered the second plate to Mrs. Doyle. She politely declined.

– I have done my supper. I’ll stay with Miss Burling. After she eats, I’ll take her to the women’s tower.

– Oh. Got it. Hmm, why weren’t you, Rose, at dinner with everyone?

Simon took a chair against the wall and sat down next to me. I didn’t want to mention my «faint». And it was not possible to speak with a mouth full. So I looked up at him and chewed in silence. And he smiled.

Then there was a knock. As if someone were knocking on glass. Simon reluctantly got up from his seat and hurried away.

«Our guard has arrived. Who else?! – he muttered, taking off his apron on the go.

I wondered who else could have come to the kitchen at this hour. Guardian? Simon disappeared behind a tall cabinet. There must have been a passage or a door. I heard voices. But there were no people to be seen. Simon’s tired but perky tone and heavy leisurely bass. I looked up from the food when the figure of a tall man in black floated out from behind the closet.

– I will hunt this beast. And I say, this is not a predator, but a werewolf!

– Well, werewolf, then, werewolf. Simon appeared. – And dinner is on schedule!

A man dressed in a black cloak walked towards me. He turned his face and his stern eyes immediately glared at me.

I looked down at the table. A small square tablecloth, a salt shaker a little away from Mrs. Doyle, who never touched the food. I guessed that I was sitting not at the usual kitchen table, but at the refectory. And my meal coincided with the supper of this formidable man in black clothes.

He came over and sat down next to me, but keeping his distance. I heard the creak of leather boots, the clatter of heavy metal, it seems, under the cloak. On the tablecloth lay a pair of large gloves of thick, rough leather. The yellow and scarred hands reached across the table to Mrs. Doyle’s plate.

«Do you mind, Sally? The bass croaked.