* * *
"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.
They liked it. All of them did. Cheedas was staring at me after he'd taken his first bite. I recognized one of the High Demons—he was the King. Wouldn't do to piss the King off, I guess. And since the other one was his brother, well, same thing, almost. I was cleaning the kitchen again after the mess I'd made fixing them a late dinner. They ate and talked while I worked. I'd gotten flour on my freshly mopped floor, so I had to mop that spot again while I waited for their dishes.
* * *
"He understands names if you tell him and point to yourself," Cheedas informed the two High Demons, handing his empty plate and glass to Niff. "His name is Niff, by the way. At least that's what they're calling him, as he doesn't remember who he is and can't speak."
"Niff," Jayd said. He recognized the little common as the one who'd interrupted his dinner in the arboretum. Niff looked up as his name was spoken, a question in his eyes. "Jaydevik," Jayd tapped his chest with a finger. Niff nodded his understanding. "Gardevik," Jayd poked his brother on the arm. The little common's eyebrows rose as he stared at Garde.
"I don't think he likes you," Jayd teased his brother. Niff nodded respectfully to Garde and went back to mopping the floor.
* * *
The two High Demons sat in the kitchen, sipping additional glasses of wine while I washed their plates and utensils, putting all of it away. Cheedas had left again, leaving the two High Demons to finish eating. They were discussing something, I could tell. It didn't concern me that much, until Jayd said Niff again. I looked up, thinking he wanted something. Jayd looked at me and went off on some tangent. I had no idea what he wanted, but he kept going, gesturing now and then.
Chapter 4
"Since Glinda wants you to go to the Southern Continent, brother, to check the area, you could take little Niff, here, to do your cooking. That way we won't upset Cheedas so much and the kitchen won't suffer as a result," Jayd grinned at his brother. They'd brought their proposition to Glinda earlier, telling her she could make the decision on who led the task force to the Southern Continent. Garde had blown smoke for ticks afterward when she'd named him right off.
"We'll finish with the questioning and the sentencing first," Garde huffed. "But Niff can go. I like his cooking," he nibbled on a bit of leftover steak. "And he won't be bothering me over every little thing since he can't speak."
"We only have a hundred Drith and Croth left, brother. You ought to select the guards you wish to take with you now—both High Demon and commons—before you go. If you choose a captain, he can make arrangements for transportation and supplies."
"Fine," Garde muttered. He hated taking trips that used ground transportation. He preferred the normal method all High Demons used—that of skipping from one place to another. The drawback to skipping was that High Demons could only skip themselves from one place to another. If commons went, horses and wagons would be employed instead.
"Larevik is a good choice for captain," Jayd grinned.
"If my brother weren't King, I might thrash him," Garde grumbled, pushing his wineglass toward Niff, who accepted it and took it to wash. Jayd laughed and slapped his brother on the back.
* * *
It was quite late when I made my way to bed that night, and I almost fell asleep in the shower. My eyes were closing as I cleaned up and I was afraid to lean against the tiled wall in case I did nod off. Orliff was already asleep and snoring softly when I crawled into bed. He was shaking me awake before the sun came up the following morning, just as he always did.
My life as a kitchen drudge went in a different direction, though, after I cooked for the King and his brother. Cheedas would stay after the late meals were served and the kitchen cleaned, asking me through words and mime to cook something else. He watched me closely as I made sugar cookies. I hadn't seen anything close to chocolate anywhere and wished for it on more than one occasion. I wanted brownies—had a taste for them, suddenly. They did have oats, so oatmeal cookies came into being and I knew how to make fresh pasta so Cheedas and I tried our hand at lasagna. It turned out very well, even if the noodles were thicker than usual. I resolved to make them thinner the next time. Jaydevik and Gardevik both showed up for the lasagna tasting and Jayd was more than happy with what he got.
I showed Cheedas the meat grinder at one point, silently asking him, as best I could if we could get another plate with smaller holes so we could make spaghetti. He finally understood when I drew a rough picture in some flour scattered across the prep table. He had a new plate for me in a couple of days and when I made spaghetti for him the first time, he was in raptures.
Cheeses on the High Demon planet were also very good; the goat cheeses were some of the best, I discovered. We made Alfredo sauce and covered more noodles, sliced half an inch in width. I was getting the High Demons hooked on Italian without really meaning to.
* * *
"How do we tell him he has a day off?" Orliff consulted Darvul and Noff. Niff, thinking he was supposed to go to the kitchens, was dressed and ready to walk out the door.
"I don't know," Noff shrugged. "What were you planning to do today? Do you think we should take him along and let him spend time with us?"