While Korin was busying himself making friends in the garden, Sarya had entered the kitchens through the servant's door and was immediately hit by the sounds and smells of a chaotic machine. Cooks and servants hustled every which way around the room, fires burned below large iron cauldrons and smaller pots and pans. Someone barked orders from across the room, but there were far too many people bustling about to make sense of it all. For a moment, Sarya was frozen in place, shocked at the intensity. But she noticed that servants entered from one side with trays of empty glasses and piled dishes and left from another with trays full of drinks and hors d'oeuvre. It was something to start with, so she removed her silk coat and worked her way over to where the servants were gathering to pick up the next tray laden with food and drink.
"You're late!" a man dressed in all white shouted at her. He was a portly man, with bushy eyebrows that furrowed down on his head like two woolly caterpillars. His face was covered with a fine sheen of sweat from the heat of the kitchens, but Sarya noticed that he had no stains on his long kitchen jacket.
"My apologies, sir," she replied.
"Don't bother with excuses, pick up a tray and get out there! You'll be working the salons."
"Yes, sir," Sarya said, stepping into the line to wait her turn.
A pretty young thing with blond hair stood in front of her, and turned when she queued, looking her up and down.
"That's Nicodemus. I'd stay on his good side if I were you."
Sarya looked at the girl and allowed her face to be overcome with embarrassment.
"I'm Nila," the girl said, and held out her delicate hand.
"Sarya." She took the girl's hand in hers and gave it a firm shake.
"Don't worry, he yells at everyone. I think that's his primary job. Lords know he doesn't cook, clean, or carry."
The line moved forward and Sarya could see a row of servants piling each tray with fine crystal glasses filled with assorted beverages and silver plates full of skewered meats. Each of the servants quickly picked up the full trays and left through double doors.
"Just follow what you see the rest of us doing and you'll be fine," Nila said. "But don't talk to anyone at the party. That's a big no-no."
"Thank you, Nila," Sarya said.
"And no matter what, don't stare."
"Stare?"
"At the guests," Nila said. "No matter what."
"Alright," she said, wondering what the silly girl was talking about. Sarya was far from a star-struck peasant girl, mystified by nobility and their accoutrements.
"Keep it moving people!" Nicodemus shouted. "I want to see smiles on all the faces! Smiles!"
"And if you're goosed," Nila continued, "just keep the tray from spilling and stand your ground."
"I'm sorry?" Sarya asked.
"Look, this may be your first time here, so this'll all be new to you. But the Baron's galas are quite popular with the nobility, and for more reasons than the overly salted vittles and strong wines. If you're lucky enough to gain an invitation you know that anything goes. So some of these creeps think that means we're available for their little fantasies. A pinch here, a grope there, maybe they take their little tallywacker out and show it to you, hoping you'll drop in amazement and gobble it right up. Maybe one of their wives cops a feel while their husband snags a skewer, these noble types aren't particular about who they like. Whatever it is, you'd best not call attention to yourself by scuttling a full tray."
"I see."
"It ain't all that bad, really. Nothing worse than what you'd expect working your way through a crowded inn on Seventh Bell. And some of them ain't that bad on the eyes. But I've seen new girls get shaken up by all of it and end up out on the street without a second chance in the estates. Nicodemus may not know your name, but he never forgets a dropped tray."
"I'll be careful," Sarya said.
"See that you are."
Nila turned forward as the line advanced, and picked up a tray full of champagne flutes and finger sausages. "The salons are up the main stairs, rooms on your left and right. Good luck," she called over her shoulder.
Sarya was next up, and quickly lifted her own tray onto her shoulder. It held several glasses of a dark red wine, and a silver platter of sliced cheeses and fruits. It wasn't very heavy, thankfully, and she was able to hold it steady as she followed the other servants leaving the kitchen.
"Quickly now, people, quickly!" Nicodemus' barking faded as Sarya pushed through the swinging double doors and entered the mansion proper.
The kitchens lay next to a long hallway that led to the main ballroom. Sarya could hear the muddled sounds of the guests and their conversations as she moved down the hall toward a door at the end where the noise and light was coming from. The sounds of a string quartet floated down the hall. She followed the other servers as they strode towards the door, and each time one opened the portal the sounds of the gala rose in volume. Laughter, conversation, and the clinking of dinnerware and glass. The sort of din you'd hear in any inn on a busy night, but Sarya knew the patrons of this particular room would be of an entirely different caliber.
Entering the main ballroom, Sarya was immediately surprised by the immensity of the space. From the exterior, the mansion was large, for sure. But inside, the building appeared twice as tall. The room was open to both of the mansion's stories; the second story was showcased past a long balcony that circled the room. The walls were painted a warm green, with gold and silver accents along the crown molding. Three immense chandeliers hung from the ceiling by long, thin silver chains. Each chandelier was adorned with a multitude of sparkling diamonds, glittering from the candlelight hidden within. They resembled fireworks in a constant state of eruption and their light bathed the guests far below.
The room was filled with guests dressed in their best. Men wore colorful suits of the finest tailoring, ornate capes and hats, and the women wore dresses of silk and lace, many leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. Many guests wore a mask. Animals, traditional masquerade, harlequins, all jeweled and of exquisite craftsmanship. And each kept the wearer in complete anonymity. Sarya scanned the room as she entered to look for Darren and Jakx. Korin hadn't provided a mask for either, and she was sure they'd stand out easily among this menagerie.
There, on the wide stairs that led to the encircling balcony, stood Jakx in his ill-fitting clothes, and two steps below, speaking to three men whose attention was absolutely focused on her, Darren Gilmithrie in her low-cut gown. Darren had the men enraptured, her eyes sparkling with flirtation. If the men knew anything about the amulet, they'd be spilling it in no time, along with their seed.
Sarya walked toward the grand staircase, her tray steady. She felt eyes pass over her, some lingered or ran up and across her body. The servant's uniform was short enough to show off her long legs, and leave just enough to the imagination. If she had to bend to pick something up, she'd show everyone everything. She couldn't help but feel a thrill along the hairs of her neck to hold the attention of such powerful men and women. But she knew she had to focus on the task, find the amulet, and get it into Korin's hands in the gardens.
As she climbed the stair, careful to keep the tray steady, a man in a fox's half-mask took a step into her path. She stopped. The man took a glass of wine from her tray with a hand bejeweled with expensive rings on each finger.
"A moment, beauty," he said.
Sarya nodded and performed the slight curtsy she'd practiced in the Barrel. It was awkward with one leg on the next step up, but the stairs were wide and designed for such social use.
"I know the Baron likes his girls to serve rather than speak," he said, "but I'm not the Baron and you don't have to worry about him. Last I saw he was with the twins of Tebrook. I doubt he'll be down for at least, say, another forty-five minutes."
The fox's mouth curled into a smirk before the wine glass met his lips.
