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He looked me up and down before finally nodding. “Baron Dargan, yes.”
“Thanks,” I said and hurried around to the back side of the huge building before he could stop me, my head still reeling.
It was a long way—the house was huge, with a gray slate roof and at least four stories in height. Still, it was more of an old manor house than a traditional castle and had no towers or fortifications on top. It was long though, with many windows that looked out onto the courtyard. I had no idea how many rooms were inside, but I suspected there were a lot of them. The castle looked ancient, and the once white stone siding was now yellowed with age.
The back of the house was almost deserted compared to the front courtyard. I found a broad door, with a couple of men dressed in similar clothing to the villagers I’d seen, engaged in bringing out rubbish from inside and stacking it near a cart to haul it away.
“Is this where I might find Mr. Nolan?” I asked, startling them a little.
One of them, a younger man with red hair, jerked his head toward the door. “He’s inside. But where’d you come from?”
“I’ve come to ask for a job. Do you know if Mr. Nolan might be hiring? I met the Baron outside and he told me to come in and see Mr. Nolan.”
The older man shook his head and looked a little surprised. “The baron did? You’d have to ask Mr. Nolan then ‘bout that. You can go on in there if you want to. He’s eatin’ his breakfast, though, so I’d wait till he’s done. Suit yerself.”
“Thank you,” I replied and went through the door that they’d propped open, but didn’t immediately approach the people I could see sitting at a big table inside the scullery itself. I had come into a small storage area next to it so I could stand there and look my fill without them noticing me. A large man with a florid face and thinning gray hair sat at the head of the big table. He wore a dark suit of clothing and looked as if he considered himself to be pretty important. I decided that was probably Mr. Nolan, but I waited as patiently as I could for him to sit back in his chair and begin to drink another cup of coffee, before I cleared my throat and stepped boldly in.
“Excuse me,” I said, coming out of the little area where I’d been standing. I think I startled a couple of the scullery maids, who jumped and let out little squeals that they quickly stifled. One of the older women at the table—probably the housekeeper from the way she was dressed—gave both the girls a long, disapproving look.
“Shush, you two. You know the baron doesn’t like noise.” She turned to me.
“Who are you and how did you even get in here, boy?”
“My name is Benjamin Tate. I’ve come about a job and actually, the baron let me in through the front gate. The men outside told me I could come in and speak to Mr. Nolan.”
Her mouth literally fell open. “The baron told you to come in here?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She narrowed her eyes at me. But it was the other woman at the table who spoke up. She was perhaps the cook, because she wore a stained apron, looked hot and tired and kept pushing her gray hair off her face. She didn’t look at all like my aunt’s cook, Lucinda, who was about the same age, but much jollier than this lady. Lucinda had rosy cheeks, a cheerful smile and was fat from tasting her own delicious, rich cooking. And she sometimes slipped me treats when she thought my aunt wasn’t looking. Lucinda made amazing chocolate chip cookies that were my favorite, and she never skimped on the chocolate. I would be willing to bet that this woman in front of me would count the chips out precisely, and strictly rationed the chocolate chip to cookie dough ratio.
“Are you sure?” she asked suspiciously, thinning her already skinny lips further. “I could use some help down here with washing up and with the serving, but are you sure you didn’t just sneak in when the guards weren’t looking?”
“Why would you assume any such thing, Mrs. Lumpkin?” came a booming voice from the door on the opposite wall. The baron filled the doorway, ducking his head to peer in at the servants, who almost turned the table over when they scrambled to their feet, bowing and scraping to him. He stepped closer to the cook and leaned over her, giving her a frightening look. Or at least it frightened me—I would have hated to be on the receiving end of such a look.
Mrs. Lumpkin’s skin turned white as the blood drained from her face, and she was as frozen in fear as a rabbit in front of a wolf. When he straightened up, Mrs. Lumpkin fell back against the wall, which seemed to be the only thing holding her up. I feared for a moment that she might have a stroke. What kind of man could instill such fear in a person?
He came toward me then and again, I instinctively bowed deeply in front of him and never looked up into his eyes directly. Up close, I thought I could smell the sorcery on him, like I had with Barbarosa Lagoon. His was a pungent mix of woodsmoke and that odd clover smell. Not exactly unpleasant, but it sent a chill down the middle of my back to lodge at the base of my spine.
He took in a lungful of me too, at the same time. His eyes looked puzzled and wary.
“Your Lordship,” I said. “How good of you to come and help me get acquainted.”
He held out a massive hand to me impatiently. “You mentioned references. Let me see them.”
“Oh yes, indeed, Your Lordship.” I pulled the letter out of my pack and handed it over to him. He scanned it quickly and tucked it inside his coat. “You’re from Sudfarma?”
“Yes, your Lordship.”
“What brings you here to Crillia?”
“The hope of a job, sir. After my previous employer retired, he and his wife, the lady who wrote my reference, moved to smaller lodgings. After no jobs were available in our district, she advised me I might try here in Crillia.”
“Why?”
“Uh…what?”
“I said, why? Why come to Crillia? And to Lameda in particular, which is not exactly on the beaten path. What an interesting suggestion your former employer made to you.”
