Today I present the first full chapter from Wolf, for your reading pleasure of course. Enjoy:
Soup of the day; tomato. Tomato soup was served on Wednesdays; a favourite of the Reimstadts. To make tomato soup in their kitchen’s old, black-iron cauldrons, you’d have to fetch water from the well in the castle’s courtyard five, or maybe six times. As a maid to the esteemed Reimstadts, that was expected of you. Carrying the pails back to the kitchen wasn’t a problem (as long as you remembered the way), at least not for the first two or three journeys. However, my flimsy arms weren’t made to carry such loads over such distances, so on the fourth or fifth attempt I’d end up spilling some of the contents, only a few drops. Yet in these depths of Winter, castle Drachenzahn was cold, colder than the freezing cliffs and frozen tip of the mountain it was set into the side of. Those drops would freeze quick. That was a problem. Not a problem for the other maids, nor for the other members of the Reimstadt’s staff. It wasn’t an issue for Johann, Lord of the castle, nor his son and daughter. It wasn’t a problem for visiting town’s folk, up for the day from Berges. It wasn’t even enough for a mouse to slip on. The only one who ever – ever – took issue with it was the Lady of the Castle, Ursula. Of the three times she passed me in the month I had worked here, three times she’d slapped me for spilling those few drops. For two days after, my cheeks would glow red. I was relieved when Ursula died. Not glad, but happy to never have to suffer a slap from her withered hand again. She had been sick for a long, long time; kept sustained by the continued application of esoteric medicines. Though an unending blizzard had rolled across the mountain’s tip two weeks ago and, with every passing day since, had only gotten worse. Said blizzard brought an end to Ursula’s supply of remedies and her life, no-less. It brought no end to my suffering. Like an ever-present mist, Drachenzahn and, by extension, the Reimstadts have hung over Berges; a watchful God some have said. There was truth in that – a half-truth. With Drachenzahn manned, Berges below was well-guarded, well-protected and powered by the castle’s battery. Regardless, I couldn’t help but feel uneasy about it for nearly all of my twenty years. More-so a constant dread. Not a God, no, but the eyes of a hungry predator. It wasn’t long after Lady Reimstadt’s passing that I would be proven correct.
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“Has there been a date set?” I asked Eula, the head-maid. I don’t think Eula had time for me given that I was so new to her well-established underlings. My Mother worked as the Reimstadts cook for some years. My Grandmother before her as their wet-nurse. Even Grandfather remembered being stationed on its walls as a sentry. Drachenzahn had spent three generations worth of Wolfs by the time it came to me – an honour, by Father’s reckoning. I thought it to be a punishment. “Not today,” she replied sharply, cutting me with a look of disgust. Perhaps I should’ve known, or at least have known not to ask. “Shouldn’t you be fetching pails?” “Not today,” I replied and returned to my small, cracked mirror to finish braiding my hair. “No soup today. Chops.” I was always the last out of bed; not by design. Still, Eula made it her prime directive to wake me every morning, for her own sanity if nothing else. “I have to visit Berges to get them.” She huffed. “Well get a move on – lunchtime isn’t far off.” I flicked the completed braid aside and stood to brush down my dress and petticoat. “Will Johann be taking lunch in his study again?” Her eyes rolled almost by themselves, her thick brows hanging over them like a pair of lead-lined coffins. “Do as you’re told, girl, and don’t worry about things which don’t concern you.” She left immediately afterwards, leaving me to finish wrapping a scarf around my neck and tucking my doubled-up tights into my boots. Castle Reimstadt was a maze to me, its long halls never-ending and its shadowed alcoves confusingly spread out. I’d walk down a corridor full-sure of where I was heading, only to be shaken by where I’d eventually end up. Several times I’d had to ask Hilde, another lowly maid like me, to set me straight – over which we managed to form a friendship of sorts. When I found my way to the courtyard (after two attempts), I saw Hilde at the marble fountain, poking at the thick layer of ice in its basin. “Morning,” she chirped briskly, fighting with her arms to stop them shaking. I huddled close, trying to steal what little warmth I could from her. “Morning, you. Any news?” She shook her shoulders loose and offered me a shrug. “Ursula’s dead, what else is there?” A stray laugh escaped my throat. “A week already.” She turned slowly, an uneasy expression dawning on her soft face. “It’s not... is it?” “A week today,” I replied, poking at the same layer of ice. “As if nothing else of import has occurred since.” She chortled, but was keen to suppress it. “You’re brave, Elke Wolf.” My cheeks burned and not from the cold. “I never wished death-” “But you’re glad to never suffer her wrath again, no? Like the rest of us,” she nodded. “You weren’t the only one. Have you been to a part– no, you’ve only been here a month. At parties, the fancy ones... Well, no point saying it now.” “Hilde,” I pushed her lightly. “Go on, you’ve started now.” She eyed me from the side of her face and sighed. “I knew a maid, a new one like you. She spilled a single, single drop of wine...” “And?” With her hands cupped she brought them to her mouth. Steam then vented from betwixt her closed digits. “That was the last I ever saw of her.” I tsk’d. “Ridiculous, that’s ridiculous.” “Believe me or not, that’s- Shit, go on,” she pushed me away. “Eula’s at the door!” So she was, scanning the courtyard like a hawk looking for a mouse, a mouse in particular. “Talk later.” “Talk later,” I whispered back, now on my way towards the gatehouse. Outside Drachenzahn’s walls was the sheer edge of the cliff. To get to Berges one could travel on foot, granted they had the appropriate clothing to do so. Otherwise you would have to wait thirty minutes for the tram, but that was only if you missed it. As it happened, I had just made the tram as it was leaving. There were two trams, in-fact. One for carrying people up and down, another for carrying daily supplies up and down. For specialty items, one would have to venture to Berges and get them in-person, as I was doing. Though, I never understood fully how the whole system worked. Father told me once that some turbine in a far-off dam was churned by water which created ‘electricity’. A wire was then buried that ran from that dam and turbine to a battery in Drachenzahn – leaving Berges to draw from the castle. A shame that it couldn’t heat those frigid corridors, nor Ursula’s mood, peace be with her. At the terminal below was a gaggle of maids, chatting with hushed tones and darting eyes. I parted them quickly and made for the narrow, choking streets of the town, relieved to have her cobbled veins underfoot once more. A week had passed since my last visit for something I couldn’t recall, yet in my twenty years Berges had never changed, only the people got older, gradually, almost painfully. The same fishmonger peddled his catch at the same rickety cart I would’ve passed as a child, the same smith hammered with the same tool, the same florist used her same shears in the same window, the same Witch... Witch? I... I hadn’t seen her in years, but still I remembered waving at her with my little hand at the time as Father dragged me onwards. Berges’ Witch had the cure for everything; piles, warts, thrush – you name it and she could quash it. She operated out of the back of her oddly decorated caravan that two fine, black horses would pull. It must’ve been at least six, maybe seven years since I last saw that wagon, last saw her in passing, and of all the faces that had grown older, hers had remained the same – youthful, scorned, dark-eyed. “Fine Morning, Elke Wolf,” she called as I tried to hurry by. “Have you a moment?” “For what?” I turned, still walking, and called back. A queasy smile lit up her features beneath her ragged-edged hood. “To discuss your funeral.”
Auf Wiedersehen.
AJ Carney 