Blood Queen

With much poking and prodding, I was sent to the kitchens the following morning. I was considered an imbecile, I discovered. Everything was mimed out for me. I nodded slightly when I understood what they wanted. I was commanded to peel potatoes and I had to ask, as best I could, how they wanted them cut up afterward. I diced one potato and sliced another into rounds before tugging on the sleeve of a nearby comesula. He pointed to the diced pile.



I diced up peeled potatoes after washing them. I sliced carrots. Tore lettuce. Stirred soup, kneaded dough and turned meats. I watched and listened, but High Demon is a difficult language to learn. Kifirin had let me understand it temporarily, before taking it away. The Larentii had given me other languages on Refizan; why hadn't this one been included? At least I wouldn't be adrift on a shifting ocean with no paddle and a leaking boat. Thank goodness, I could eat normal food or I would have been in real trouble. Who knows what the High Demons would do if they found a modified vampire feeding off the population?



I washed dishes, too, and cleaned the kitchen with help from two young comesuli. Orliff came for me after that. At least they'd let me eat before I had to clean the kitchen, even if it wasn't the best portion of what they served. I was a kitchen drudge, now. I promised to remind myself of that the next time they needed saving. Oh, I didn't blame the comesuli. The High Demons? I knew from dreams that one of the kings before this one had fucked up and not sent his High Demons out to control the Ra'Ak. That decision had almost cost them everything. Of course, dear old Dad had hauled me off to this Godforsaken planet so I could take care of their little problem. And then I'd been left here, like a tool that wasn't needed again. Just dropped where it was used last. That was the story of my life. Conceived purposely, to save the vampire and werewolf races on Earth, kill Xenides and his minions, and finally to save the High Demons. Well done, Lissa. Fuck off, now. You're no longer needed.



I took my bath when I returned to our suite and did more listening. Mostly what I understood was names. Darvul, Orliff and Noff. At least I had pajamas of a sort, though the cloth wasn't the best and felt rough against my skin. Beggars can't be choosers, my mother always said. I snorted at the memory. I was pissed at her, too. And I certainly was a beggar, now, dependent upon the charity of the comesuli around me, as well as the generosity of the High Demons. Had I been on Earth, I would have told them what they could do with all their generosity. I wasn't on Earth though, and it was unlikely I'd ever get back now.



* * *



"Niff is upset," Orliff muttered to Noff while Niff took his bath.



"Did they not treat him well in the kitchens?" Noff asked.



"I do not know, but he is holding himself stiffly. I know not whether I should mention this to Darvul," Orliff said. "I do not know how to deal with this."



"Perhaps it will pass; let us keep watch over this and decide later," Noff suggested. Orliff nodded; Niff was coming out of the bath now, struggling to get loosely fitting pajamas situated on his thin body.



"Niff, you should eat more; you need to gain weight," Orliff sighed, knowing his words would not be understood. Niff studied him for a moment before walking past to climb into bed.



* * *



"Should we hold a memorial for Rorevik, brother?" Gardevik asked. They'd been served a midday meal at the stockade, between handing convicted prisoners to the palace guards for execution.



"I'm not sure the commons would appreciate it," Jayd muttered. "They suffered under our brother's rule because he was too weak to protect them properly."



"Perhaps a small service, then?" Garde suggested.



"A small service. We should ask Glindarok how she feels about this. She should have a part in this decision."



"I believe she will agree."



"I hope you are right, brother. I do miss him," Jayd sighed. "And we have a request from Griffin, the retired Saa Thalarr, asking permission to put up a memorial to his daughter."



"We had no idea what was behind the killing of the Ra'Ak—I thought it was Glindarok's associates in the Saa Thalarr. Now we learn that even they were not capable of what a Vampire Queen could do."



"Had she lived, the commons would flock to her. We would be forced to let them go, Gardevik. She would take them to Le-Ath Veronis, and we would have to do for ourselves again."



"Perhaps it is just as well then, brother."



"You rejoice in her death?"



"I did not say that."



"We will have to allow the memorial; I just do not know how the knowledge will affect the commons."



"Then we should put it off for a while."



"I will see what I can do. It sounds ungrateful of us, brother, to do it, though." Jayd regarded his brother, who was finishing a cup of wine.



"The Saa Thalarr are not left with the running of a planet, brother," Gardevik observed.



"No, but they made sure we still had a planet to run afterward. Or at least the little Queen Vampire did. The Croth and Drith she killed convinced the others to surrender."



"Lendevik should have done things differently. This could have been avoided." Gardevik snorted and smoke poured from his nostrils.



"Do not speak ill of Glinda's father in front of her, I beg you," Jayd said. "She still loves him. The little Queen Vampire is past all that. We never knew her and cannot pay our proper respects, I'm afraid."



"Then perhaps in a year, when these other things are behind us, we will allow them to erect a memorial. The commons should be calmed down by then," Gardevik observed. "There were only fifty High Demon deaths, not counting the rogue Croth and Drith. The common demon deaths are nearing twenty thousand, I hear."



"Yes, I hear that too," Jayd sighed. "I haven't informed Glindarok; it will upset her greatly if she learns of it. We are even short-staffed at the palace, now; many servants are away, helping families rebuild homes and businesses."



"Supplies are short as well, and we cannot count on any fruit or vegetable shipments from the Southern Continent; the eruptions of the volcano have destroyed all the crops. I have considered sending a handful of troops down to make assessments on the damage there." Garde watched his brother's face closely.



"Do you think there is any truth to the rumors that Kifirin did indeed wake?" Jayd had never seen the god; not during his long life, but there were records in Lendevik's old library that chronicled sightings of Kifirin, and they spoke of meetings between him and the Raoni of old. Garde may have seen him—he was older than Jayd, but he never spoke of it.



"The rumors among the commons coming in from the villages there are full of sightings," Garde replied. "Are you ready to go back to work, brother?"



"Yes," Jayd rose. "Perhaps we should send troops down with a few commons. They won't be able to skip with the commons, but by the time they arrive using coaches or wagons, the eruptions may have subsided."



"Good. We'll discuss this over dinner tonight. Glinda can decide who will go; that should make her feel useful." Garde grinned at his brother, who'd described Glinda's tantrum the previous evening.



"Garde, if she thinks you're patronizing her, I wouldn't want to be in your shoes after those babies are born."



"Perhaps she'll forget it by then," Garde laughed. Jayd blew out a breath and shook his head at his brother.



* * *



I now understood the words for potatoes, carrots, snap beans and sugar. Too bad there wasn't any way to write it all down. I hadn't seen any comesuli in the kitchens with paper or writing utensils. There was no coffee on Kifirin—yeah, the planet was actually named after the asshole. Is that enormous ego or what? I was wishing for coffee, especially in the mornings. I was still adjusting to staying awake during the day and sleeping at night. It was getting better, but my eyes were still glued shut whenever Orliff tried to wake me every morning. Cheedas, chief cook in the palace kitchen, was bringing me all the produce to peel, chop or cut up now, because he liked the way I did it. The word for cutting potatoes into cubes was dorthi. Go figure. Yeah, The Wizard of Oz came to my mind, too. Every time.



I ate my bowl of stew later, after everyone else was served. I then set about cleaning the kitchen before going back to my little corner of Darvul's suite. He, Noff and Orliff still kept an eye on me, but didn't worry so much when I was working in the kitchen. I guess the High Demons didn't pay anybody anything, either; I hadn't seen any money and wouldn't know what the word for paycheck would be anyway. Two High Demons came in just as I was finishing my evening duties. They started babbling to me right away, and none of their words were the words I knew. I blinked at them; they were both six-four and were brothers; I could tell by the scent.



I had to shake my head at them, trying to tell them I didn't understand what they were saying. One of them—the older of the two—became angry and smoke curled from his nostrils. I made a cutting off motion with my hands and then pointed to one of my ears and shook my head again.



* * *



"He's trying to tell you he doesn't understand," Jayd slapped Garde on the shoulder.



"What is going on?" Cheedas walked in. "Raoni, Prime Minister," he bowed slightly to both High Demons.



"We can't seem to make him understand that we're hungry," Garde huffed.



"This one suffered a head injury in the attack and doesn't understand speech now, although if you mimic what you want, he understands that very well," Cheedas replied. "You'll have to forgive him—he is good at what he does, otherwise."



"If you act like a steer, maybe he'll broil a steak," Jayd informed his brother, chuckling.



"Just mimic eating," Cheedas suggested. "I'll be interested to see what he cooks as a result."



* * *



Thanks to Cheedas, the two High Demons were now making eating motions. I sighed and went to the box that held the cold items. It wasn't a fridge, although it served as one. There were round steaks inside, so I pulled those out and started pounding them with a meat hammer. Those two High Demons, and Cheedas who stayed to watch, were fascinated as I put chicken-fried steak together for them. Leftover baked potatoes were heated and mashed with cream and butter, and then I made gravy to go with all of it, setting two plates of food before the High Demons first. Cheedas accepted a plate of food and a glass of the wine I'd opened for the other two.