Large brick things that took up the back wall of the space completely. Tor started the fire without being asked; using a single match from the small stone box she had next to the fire tools, which got a nod from the proprietress. While he did that she started lighting oil lamps so they’d be able to see what they did.
Once she had the four lamps they were going to be using going, she turned and stared at him for a bit. “Oh! You’re a bit older than I thought, what, about fourteen or so?”
Tor fought not to sigh at her with a hangdog look. Instead he grinned a bit wryly.
“Seventeen. My name’s Tor. Torrance Baker actually.” He looked around for the starter and flour, which were kept away from the stove here, since it was already warm enough for dough to rise. It would die if it got too active overnight, most likely, given the heat.
“Tor? Like the magic river? Well, easy to remember at least. Call me Debbie.”
“Isn’t the river called the Falcon’s?” He asked her innocently. He kind of wanted that name to catch hold, but feared it might be too late already.
The brunette shook her head a little. “Not that I’ve ever heard. “The River Tor” after the great wizard that built it. Why would it be named after a bird?”
Tor explained about the three bronze statues that held it aloft while they started for the day, really trying to sell the majesty of it, how it looked like their wings were lofting the clear stream of water into the air. That wasn’t exactly something he knew first hand, but it sounded good.
They moved quickly, the woman seemed pleased enough with his work at first, and even more pleased when he got everything out of the ovens in time. That, of course, was the real secret to baking. Paying attention to what was going on. By the time light began to show through the clear and decently large windows in the front of the shop, they had racks filled with breads, rolls and sweet confections already cooling for the day.
“Those small hand-pies you’re working on are the big favorite during the festival, kind of local tradition. Fruit, meat, even the vegetable ones will sell out. If you feel hungry yet, try one of the beef pies when you take them out of the oven. Let it cool a bit first, of course.” He face held a smile for him as she said the words.
Now that he had enough light to see her by, she looked a lot younger than he’d thought, maybe early twenties. Her hair was brown and held up under a kerchief, and she looked well fed. Not fat by any means, but healthy and clear skinned. She reminded him a lot of Terlee, only taller, about six foot, and more outgoing. She told him stories about her life as she worked.
“How about you Tor? What do you do when you’re not busy being a festival baker?”
“Other than being ditched in a strange city by my friends? I’m a student, as the brown outfit suggests. I go to school up in Lairdgren near the top of the County. I’m there on a King’s scholarship and came down for the week with friends. Well that… and I make magic rivers and other bits of magic of course in my spare time. I guess I should have stuck with baking though, huh? That or just stayed at school for King’s week. They didn’t let me in the palace at all, and her I thought the King and Queen kind of liked me.” His voice had gone playful enough that he didn’t sound bitter about the whole thing, he thought. Debbie just smiled and kept working, nodding her head as if he’d told a bad joke. Tor darted to one of the ovens and pulled out a tray of full wheat loaves then freed them from the sheet they were on and set aside on the stout wire racks to cool.
Debbie stood stirring a bowl of icing, which would coat the sweet hand pies she’d told him earlier. It sounded good to him. The meat pie he’d had earlier was good enough that he could see why they were a traditional favorite at least. The apple and peach they were making right now scented the whole room wonderfully.
“Well Tor, it sounds like you need to make some new friends if that’s how they treat you. Why would anyone do that? Abandoning their friend that far from home. Anyway, their loss, my gain. You have the job by the way.” She kept working as she spoke.
“Thanks!” That she thought he was good enough to work with her filled him with a quiet sense of pride. It could be hard to impress strangers after all, and this woman was obviously good at her job. You probably didn’t keep a shop in the Capital if you weren’t.
At least now he wouldn’t have to rush back to the school or worry about starving. Plus, Debbie was nice. He’d hate to see her struggling with increased traffic and losing sales because she couldn’t make things fast enough.
After about nine in the morning, people started coming in a steady stream, brightly colored in festival clothes even this early and mainly smiling. It was fun and uplifting. Finally Debbie had to just go to the cash box and help customers the whole time, leaving Tor to make more pies as fast as he could. It went on like that for hours without a break, but he kept up with the demand, almost.
At about three in the afternoon he heard Debbie talking to someone in the front.
“I don’t know… let me ask my assistant.” The voice that called from the front was crisp and business like, but friendly all the same. “Tor, do we have any of the peach hand pies ready for sale? We’re out up front.”
They did, sitting on the cooling rack, the hard clear glaze just dry enough, if they packaged them carefully. He pulled the whole tray and moved with it carefully towards the front.
“Yes! Still warm from the oven…” He nearly stumbled when he saw who was asking for them. A tall blond woman wearing a nice dress made of a light colored fabric that would almost pass for white, but was really a soft lavender. It took Tor a second to remember her name though, since they’d only met the one time.
“Ah! Collette, isn’t it? Baronetta Coltress? We met at that party, you were there with Tovey?” He reminded her, in case she’d forgotten him already. It could happen; he’d been far from the most impressive person in the room that night after all.
“Tor?” Her hands came up in front of her slightly, clutching each other. She didn’t look worried or anything, just a bit surprised.
“What are you doing here?”
He explained the whole being ditched thing and how he’d gotten a job baking for the duration of King’s week. She blinked as if he was telling a bad joke.
“But… you could stay with any number of people, couldn’t you? Why I’m sure Tovey would love to have you and of course I’d gladly open my own home…”
It was really sweet of her to offer, but he’d already promised Debbie that he’d help her out, hadn’t he? He made a point of explaining carefully and winked at her as she left with a full sack of various kinds of pies.
“I have to keep my word after all, or what point is there to speaking?” She blinked at him for several seconds and then gave him an odd smile and a tiny bow.
“Words to live by.” She said, very softly, and then left, smiling just a little and looking at him over her shoulder, even as she walked away.
Tor went back to work. They left the ovens to burn down starting at six, but kept the doors open late. Debbie had Tor do most of the cleanup work, which wasn’t hard or anything, and not even boring, because it was a new place, to him at least. At nine she showed him to a little cubby in the back. It had a small cot in it, and a thin blanket and pillow ready to sleep on. The room was tiny and he felt glad he wasn’t one of the tall royals, because then he’d never be able to fit in it. It was decently clean though, looking like it got swept out pretty often and everything. No bugs even, but that was important in a bakery. Want to lose customers? Let them find insects in their bread.
“It isn’t much but…”
It would do. Tor just wished he had his luggage, so that he could use his toothbrush before bed. When he mentioned it, Debbie held up a finger.
“I have an old one here… I know it’s a little gross, using someone’s old toothbrush. It hasn’t been used for years though, so anything on it should have died by now.”
She could have used it in front of him first and he still would have gone ahead and brushed with it. After the last day he needed it too badly to quibble over a few germs. She locked the front door as she left, giving him a smile over her shoulder. He could get out from the inside, but no one could just walk in by mistake. He was tired enough that even being in a strange place didn’t keep him from sleeping soundly, hardly even tossing on the hard cot. He woke up with a start when he heard the door open in the morning.
“Rise and shine sleepy head!” The woman sounded far too cheery for this time of day, but he made himself get up anyway. She’d probably gotten less sleep than he had after all, having to walk home and back. Saint that she was, she let him have fifteen minutes to get ready, wash and brush his teeth again before they started. It wasn’t a full bath of course, but he used a bucket of water to scrub up as well as he could behind the shop. He’d have to figure out what to do about his clothing soon, or he’d end up with yeast growing all over them. Then he’d smell like
