Soul of the Fire (36 page)

While the Sovereign’s own servants catered to his table, squires in estate livery eddied around the Minister’s head table, bearing silver platters arrayed with the colorfully prepared fish course. The Minister selected crab legs, salmon belly, fried minnows, bream, and eels in saffron sauce, the squire placing each item between the Minister and his wife for them to transfer as they would to their shared trencher.

Minister Chanboor swirled a long piece of eel in the saffron sauce and offered it, draped over a finger, to his wife. She smiled affectionately and with the tips of long nails plucked it from his finger, but before putting it to her lips, she instead set it down and turned to Stein to ask, as if suddenly taken with curiosity, about the food of his homeland. In the short time he had been at the estate, Dalton had learned that Lady Chanboor disliked eel above all else.

When one of the squires held out a platter of crayfish, Teresa told Dalton, by the hopeful lift of her eyebrows, that she would like one. The squire deftly split the shell, removed the vein, fluffed the meat, and stuffed the shell beneath with crackers and butter, as Dalton requested. He used his knife to lift a slice of porpoise from a platter held out by a squire genuflected with his head bowed low between his outstretched arms. The squire, as did they all, before moving on with a dancelike step.

Teresa’s wrinkled nose told him she didn’t want any eel. He took one for himself, only because the Minister’s nodding and grinning told him he should. After he did, the Minister leaned close and whispered, “Eel is good for the eel, if you follow my meaning.”

Dalton simply smiled, feigning appreciation for the pointer. His mind was on his job and the task at hand, and besides, he wasn’t preoccupied with concern about his “eel.”

As Teresa sampled the gingered carp, Dalton idly tasted the baked herring with sugar as he watched the Haken squires, like an invading army, sweep down on the tables of guests. They brought platters of fried pike, bass, millet, and trout; baked lamprey herring, haddock, and hake; roast perch, salmon, seal, and sturgeon; crabs, shrimp, and whelk on beds of glazed roe, along with tureens of spiced scallop bisque and almond fish stew, in addition to colorful sauces of every kind. Other dishes were served in inventive presentations of sauces and florid concoctions of combined ingredients, from porpoise and peas in onion wine sauce, to sturgeon roe and gurnard flanks, to great plaice and codling pie in sauce vert.

The abundance of food presented in such elaborate profusion was intended not only to be political spectacle wherein the Minister of Culture manifested his power and wealth, but also to convey to protect the Minister from accusations of ostentatious excess—a profound religious connotation. The plenty was ultimately an exhibition of the Creator’s splendor and, despite the seeming opulence, but an infinitesimal sampling of His endless bounty.

The feast was not convened to oblige a gathering of people, but a gathering of people had been called to attend the feast—a subtle but significant difference. That the feast wasn’t held for a social reason—say, a wedding, or to celebrate an anniversary of a military victory—underlined its religious substance. The Sovereign’s attendance, his being the Creator’s deputy in the world of life, only consecrated the sacred aspects of the feast.

If guests were impressed with the wealth, power, and nobility of the Minister and his wife, that was incidental and unavoidable. Dalton incidentally noticed a great many people being unavoidably impressed.

The room droned with conversation sprinkled with the chime of laughter as the guests sipped wine, nibbled food of every sort, and sampled with different fingers the variety of sauces. The harpist had started in again to entertain the guests while they dined. The Minister ate eel as he spoke with his wife, Stein, and the two wealthy backers at the far end of the table.

Dalton wiped his lips, deciding to make use of the opening offered by the relaxed mood. He took a last sip of wine before leaning toward his wife. “Did you find out anything from your talk earlier?”

Teresa used her knife to part a piece of fried pike, then picked up her half with her fingers and dipped it in red sauce. She knew he meant Claudine. “Nothing specific. But I suspect the lamb is not locked in her pen.”

Teresa didn’t know what the whole matter was about, or that Dalton had enlisted the two Haken boys to deliver a warning to Claudine, but she knew enough to understand that Claudine was probably making trouble over her tryst with the Minister. While they never discussed specifics, Teresa knew she wasn’t sitting at the head table simply because Dalton knew the law forward and backward.

Teresa lowered her voice. “While I talked with her, she paid a lot of attention to Director Linscott—you know, watching him while trying to act as if she wasn’t; watching, too, to see if anyone saw her looking.”

Her word was always trustworthy, never embellished with supposition without being tagged as such.

“
Why do you think she was so brazen before about telling the other women that the Minister forced himself on her?”

“
I think she told others about the Minister as protection. I believe she reasoned that if people already knew about it, then she was safe from being silenced before anyone could find out.

“
For some reason, though, she has suddenly become closemouthed. But, like I said, she was watching the Director a lot and pretending as if she wasn’t.”

Teresa left it to him to draw his own conclusions. Dalton leaned toward her as he rose. “Thank you, darling. If you will excuse me briefly, I must see to some business.”

She caught his hand. “Don’t forget you promised to introduce me to the Sovereign.”

Dalton lightly kissed her cheek before meeting the Minister’s eye. What Teresa had said only confirmed his belief in the prudence of his plan. Much was at stake. Director Linscott could be inquisitorial. Dalton was reasonably sure the message delivered by the two boys had silenced Claudine, but if it didn’t, this would end her ability to sow her seeds. He gave Bertrand a slight nod.

As he moved around the room, Dalton stopped at a number of tables, leaning over, greeting people he knew, hearing a joke here, a rumor there, a proposal or two, and promised to get together with some. Everyone thought him a representative of the Minister, come from the head table to make the rounds of the tables, seeing to everyone’s pleasure.

Arriving at last at his true destination, Dalton presented a warm smile. “Claudine, I pray you are feeling better. Teresa suggested I inquire—see if you need anything—seeing as how Edwin is not able to be here.”

She flashed him a reasonably good imitation of a sincere smile. “Your wife is a dear, Master Campbell. I’m fine, thank you. The food and company has put me right. Please tell her I’m feeling much better.”

“
I am glad to hear it.” Dalton leaned close to her ear. “I was going to relay an offer for Edwin—and you—but I’m reluctant to ask this of you not only with Edwin out of the city, but with your unfortunate tumble. I don’t wish to force work on you when you aren’t up to it, so please come to see me when you are fit.”

She turned to frown at him. “Thank you for your concern, but I’m fine. If you have business that involves Edwin, he wishes me to hear it. We work closely and have no secrets where business is concerned. You know that, Master Campbell.”

Dalton not only knew it, but was counting on it. He squatted down on the balls of his feet as she scooted her chair back to be out of the table’s circle of conversation.

“
Please forgive my presumption? Well, you see,” he began, “the Minister feels profound sympathy for men unable to feed their families any other way but to beg food. Even if they can beg food, their families still go for want of clothes, proper shelter, and other necessities. Despite the charity of good Anderith people, many children go to bed with the ache of hunger in their bellies. Hakens as well as Anders suffer this fate, and the Minister feels compassion for both, for they are all his responsibility.

“
The Minister has labored feverishly, and has at last worked out the final details of a new law to at last put a number of people to work who otherwise would have no hope.”

“
That’s, that’s very good of him,” she stammered. “Bertrand Chanboor is a good man. We are lucky to have him as our Minister of Culture.”

Dalton wiped a hand across his mouth as she looked away from his eyes. “Well, the thing of it is, the Minister often mentions his respect for Edwin—for all the unsung work Edwin has done—so I suggested to the Minister that it would be appropriate to somehow show our respect for Edwin’s hard work and dedication.

“
The Minister fervently agreed and instantly sprang to the idea of having the new law headed as proposed and sponsored by Burgess Edwin Winthrop. The Minister even wishes it to be called the Winthrop Fair Employment Law in honor of your husband—and you, too, of course, for all your work. Everyone knows the input you have in the laws Edwin drafts.”

Claudine’s gaze had already returned to meet his. She put a hand to her breast.

“
Why, Master Campbell, that is very generous of you and the Minister. I am completely taken by surprise, as I’m sure Edwin will be. We will certainly review the law as soon as possible, so as to allow its most expeditious implementation.”

Dalton grimaced. “Well, the thing is, the Minister just now informed me he is impatient to announce it tonight. I had originally planned to bring you a draft of the law, for you and Edwin to review before it was announced, but with all the Directors here the Minister decided that in good conscience he must act—that he couldn’t bear to have those men out of work another day. They need to feed their families.”

She licked her lips. “Well, yes, I understand … I guess, but I really—”

“
Good. Oh, good. That is so very kind of you.”

“
But I really should have a look at it. I really must see it. Edwin would want—”

“
Yes, of course. I understand completely, and I assure you that you will get a copy straightaway—first thing tomorrow.”

“
But I meant before—”

“
With everyone here, now, the Minister was set on announcing it this evening. The Minister really doesn’t want to have to delay the implementation, nor does he want to abandon his desire to have the Winthrop name on such a landmark law. And the Minister was so hoping that the Sovereign, since he is here tonight—and we all know how rare his visits are—would hear of the Winthrop Fair Employment Law designed to help people who otherwise have no hope. The Sovereign knows Edwin, and would be so pleased.”

Claudine stole a glance at the Sovereign. She wet her lips. “But—”

“
Do you wish me to ask the Minister to postpone the law? More than the Sovereign missing it, the Minister would be very disappointed to let the opportunity pass, and to let down those starving children who depend on him to better their lives. You can understand, can’t you, that it’s really for sake of the children?”

“
Yes, but in order to—”

“
Claudine,” Dalton said as he took up one of her hands in both of his, “you don’t have any children, so I realize it must be particularly difficult for you to empathize with parents desperate to feed their young ones, desperate to find work when there is none, but try to understand how frightened they must be.”

She opened her mouth, but no words came. He went on, not allowing her the time to form those words.

“
Try to understand what it would be like to be a mother and father waiting day after day, waiting for a reason to hope, waiting for something to happen so that you could find work and be able to feed your children. Can’t you help? Can you try to understand what it must be like for a young mother?”

Her face had gone ashen.

“
Of course,” she finally whispered. “I understand. I really do. I want to help. I’m sure Edwin will be pleased when he learns he was named as the law’s sponsor—”

Before she could say anything else, Dalton stood. “Thank you, Claudine.” He took up her hand again and gave it a kiss. “The Minister will be very pleased to hear of your support—and so will those men who will now find work. You have done a good thing for the children. The good spirits must be smiling on you right now.”

By the time Dalton had returned to the head table, the squires were making the rounds again, quickly placing a turtle pie in the center of each table. Guests puzzled at the pies, their crusts quartered but not cut all the way through. Frowning, Teresa was leaning in staring at the pie placed before the Minister and his wife at the center of the head table.

“
Dalton,” she whispered, “that pie moved of its own accord.”

Dalton kept the smile from his face. “You must be mistaken, Tess. A pie can’t move.”

“
But I’m sure—”

With that, the crust broke, and a section of it lifted. A turtle poked its head up to peer at the Minister. A claw grasped the edge, and the turtle hauled itself out, to be followed by another. All around the room surprised guests laughed, applauded, and murmured in astonishment as turtles began climbing out of the pies.

The turtles, of course, had not been baked alive in the pies; the pies had been baked with dried beans inside. After the crust was baked, a hole was cut in the bottom to allow the beans to be drained out and the turtles put in. The crusts had been cut partly through so it would break easily and allow the animals to make good their escape.