Read Online Dawn on a Distant Shore by Sara Donati - Free Book Online Page B

her
appetite for the unusual. In addition to platters of fancy meat pastries,
tureens of soup and ragout, a suckling pig, roast mutton, a haunch of venison,
three kinds of fish, every manner of pickled or potted vegetable, and breads
and rolls stacked in elaborate patterns, there had been a roast swan shouldered
by not two but four serving men. Dressed again in its own white feathers after
being stuffed, the long neck held up by hidden skewers, the bird went up the
stairs, surrounded by doves baked in nests of puff pastry.
    Now Fink was laboring
over a huge meringue, decorating it with candied fruit. It reminded Nathaniel
of the powdered wigs that had gone out of fashion not so long ago. The cook
circled the platter with one eye squeezed shut and a finger pressed to his
mouth. Finally he stood back, looked over at the men in the corner, winked conspiratorially,
and burst into noisy song. Dish by dish, his mood improved and his songs became
louder.
    "Aye, sing awa',
ye daft bugger," muttered Robbie. "The man canna wait tae take the
rest o' the silver frae ye, laddie." He might rarely play cards, but Robbie
was having a hard time purposely losing to a half-drunk Alsatian cook with the
habit of singing publicly, and off-key. In a burst of winner's generosity, Fink
had offered them the finest his kitchen had to offer, but Robbie had accepted only
bread and some cold venison. Now he tore off great chunks, never taking his
eyes from the cook.
    Nathaniel swallowed
down a yawn. There would be at least another hour of this: the servants were fussing
over blue-veined cheeses, fruit compotes, liquors and coffees and drinking chocolate.
Things he had never heard of before he came to Montréal, or thought of much
since leaving it. Suddenly the wish to be home was strong enough to make him
get to his feet. He pulled on his mantle and picked up his rifle by its sling
and slipped it over his shoulder. "I think I'll have a look around
upstairs until Fink's ready to deal the next hand."
    Robbie gaped up at
him. "And how d'ye plan tae do that, wi' a hoose fu' o' redcoats? I
suppose Giselle has a secret stair hidden awa'?"
    "Not so
secret," said Nathaniel. "I wouldn't want to guess how many men know
about it, but it's likely that a few of them are at the dinner table right
now."
    "Gin that's the
case," said Robbie, tucking the remainder of his bread and cheese into his
sack and lumbering to his feet, "I micht as weel come wi' ye. Yon glaikit
lump"--he pointed at Fink with his chin--"will ha' nae use for us
afore the eatin's done. Tell him we're goin' tae empty our bladders."
     
    It was good to be out
of the kitchens, away from the accumulated smells of a thousand meals. Nathaniel
drew in cold air and paused in the courtyard, listening. There was no sign of
the guard; they were probably warming themselves inside, sloppy with Somerville
away.
    With Robbie close
behind, Nathaniel made his way to a stand of evergreen bushes, and pushing them
apart, revealed a small wooden door without a handle. He pressed on two spots simultaneously
and it swung silently inward to disclose a narrow stone stair. It smelled of damp
and tobacco smoke and of Giselle, too--slightly musky, the scent of her hair when
it was uncoiled and free. It was strange and still immediately familiar, and it
made his own hair rise on the back of his neck, as if he were being stalked by
an enemy just out of sight.
    Nathaniel made his way
up the short flight with Robbie following silently. They paused on a landing,
although the stairs went on into the dark. By touch he found the two stools he
remembered, and directed Robbie to one of them in a low voice.
    On the other side of
the wall were the muffled sounds of laughter and tinkling glassware. Nathaniel
felt for the panel, andwitha moment's hesitation, slid it back to reveal two
sets of peepholes. Candlelight came to them in four perfectly round streams,
and the interwoven voices separated themselves into five or six distinct