Paladins of the Pickle Goddess

“Finest raw eel on crackers, brought in from the bay this morning,” declared a servant. “Garnished with fresh dill.”

The eel quivered on the shell of the cracker. The dill had been thrown haphazardly on. I could see a garnish of some sauce, pooling on the dimples of the cracker. Some of them had been underbaked.

I reached forward and took one of the crunchier looking ones, handing it to Apis. “Poisoners often hide their work in strongly flavored food, such as seafood,” I told my mother.

Apis ate it in one crunch.

We had both cleaned up some, my mother forcing us to scrub and finding fine clothes for everyone in some forgotten closet. It itched. I hadn’t worn lace like this in years. I had put my foot down when she’d tried to get rid of my cloak. I let my hand trace over the new repair as I stared at the glimmering eel in front of me. They’d cut it and arranged it into rose shapes.

My mother, across the table, was steaming with rage. I could tell because she hadn’t stopped smiling since we’d sat down for breakfast. “Why don’t you serve yourself some, darling?”

I took two and paired them together, creating a kind of sandwich. She trembled in horror.

Usually, it would be a complete faux pax to sit across the table from my own mother at a society event- even a casual event declaring I hadn’t died of the pox, and I hadn’t died last night, either. As it was, my mother was completely ignoring societal norms in order to supervise me. If she had owned a manacle, I was sure she would have clamped one around my ankle. As it was, she simply stared. Her grin kept consistently beaming my way.

To our right and left, long lines of seats showed- well, not the highest cream of Capital society. Maybe the two-percent milk.

I counted a few lords, several hopeful councilmen. If I had paid any attention to politics, I might have known if they were important. As it was, I just knew they were eating and not speaking to my mother.

I swallowed the eel. It was surprisingly nice. “What did you put into this sauce?”

The sourness was bright, but there was another element in there. Not quite spicy, but it left my mouth tingling. I quite liked it. Next to me, Apis reached over and took another eel cracker as the servants walked through the door with the next course.

I peered down the line and tried to spot Duran. He’d filtered into the crowd to try and get a seat. Surely my mother hadn’t lost him already?

“You are here as my daughter,” said my mother. “Not as a cook!”

“Oh, my apologies.” I sat back and flattened the napkin on my lap, then gestured for someone to refill my wine cup. Only after confirming with my mother did they move to help me.

There was one benefit of nobility. It wasn’t alcoholism to start drinking in the morning. It was just participating in the culture.

I drained half the cup- it was a nice vintage red, the type I hadn’t had in years and should probably appreciate- before I put it down and gave her another smile. “I would like to request you send the recipe to my cook. As my own cook, what did you put in the sauce?”

“My own mother once told me,” my mother muttered, gesturing for a servant to approach with a massive roast pig, “that we are only tested with challenges that fit our suitability to match them. What did I do to the gods, to show I was capable of this?”

“Nan once told me that if you’ve got enough pickling liquid, it doesn’t matter what anyone says to you. All you need to do is find the right jar.”

“I’m attempting to impart a lesson!”

“So am I.”

Apis put a slice of roast pig on my plate and cleared his throat. I straightened and gave my mother a false smile.

“Right!” Said my mother. “I allowed myself to be distracted, while there was something else entirely more important going on. Elysia, look pleasant.”

I tried to smile.

“No, not that. Oh, do the other thing again. Just… stay like that. No. No, don’t change anything. Don’t drink more wine!”

I froze stiffly as she rose, tapping a knife to a cup. The lord next to me, who had previously been engaged in a long conversation about whale hunting to my left, turned to me.

“Oh, gods,” he said. “Not this again.”

“Save me.”

“Can’t do that. She’s funding half the city.” He reached for his own cup of wine. I grabbed for mine, only to find it empty. When had that happened?

Next to me, Apis was halfway through another slice of roast pig. It looked perfectly roasted, juicy and glazed with honey. I felt my stomach growl as my mother began to speak.

“Friends! Thank you so much for coming to this little casual get-together!”

I looked around. The dining room had been outfitted with so many candles I suspected a fire might occur at any moment. She’d taken out the good silver. She had even paid for the chandelier to be polished, and I knew the lamplighter’s guild had submitted four different requests for the entire thing to be removed due to the difficulty.

“When my daughter was delivered back to me by the goddess Teuthida,” continued my mother, “I thought it couldn’t possibly be true. She had died so long ago, leaving our dear-”

There was a hacking cough at the end of the table. “Sorry,” came a voice, eventually. “Must have been the eel.”

My mother rallied. “She has been returned to us so that the Baron can find his true love again,” she said. “With all of your help, we can convince the Spire to open. She will find her husband, and they can be re-united. Is this not the sign of divine intervention?”

The man next to me snorted and dabbed his chin with a napkin.

Apis served me a slice of roast pig. I took a bite.

Why did it have to be so delicious? I nearly cried. They had done everything perfectly. It was tender, a faint taste of honey and a tangy sauce, rosemary added as a fresh herb. I chewed and could barely focus on the speech.

Could I replicate this? I’d have to find the right hog, first. Not to mention start an herb garden. The one I’d had back in the north had kept dying, due to patrons thinking it was an outdoor… well. Suffice to say, it wasn’t suitable for human consumption.

Then, halfway through my bite, I paused. I half-swallowed as a man spoke up again.

“The Spire? Be realistic, woman. We couldn’t get in there with an army.”

Why is my mother trying to get me into the spire?

I hadn’t told her I wanted to get in there. She didn’t know anything about my plans. Had I told her?

No, I hadn’t. Had I?

Apis offered me a piece of bread. I paused, then took it. She was still speaking. I couldn’t ask her now. Even as the guests were questioning her, my mother didn’t sit down. She stared down at him, her glare legendary. “We will have an army, if you can just manage to be resourceful for once. Is it too much to ask for one favor, after all of these years?”

“One favor this, one favor that.” A woman ripped a flatbread in half, swirling it through olive oil down the table. I thought I saw Duran peering past her elbow. He was too still. It was deeply suspicious. “You’ve been asking for our help too long. When are you going to give back to us? We can’t rely on your promises anymore. I want guarantees.”

“What can I possibly guarantee you? This is it! We’re almost there! If this goes through, you won’t have to rely on that slimy girl anymore. It will be me, your reliable friend, a steady older hand, that could guide the nobility through this uncertain time-”

“We want the Laundresses out,” said another man. I squinted over. Was that a guild ring on his hand?

My mother froze. “You know I can’t do that.”

“They’re breaching guild rules, helping out a god. No one’s brave enough to get rid of them. Once she’s in, we want you to do something about it.” He leaned forward, speared a boiled egg on a fork. “Unless you’re a coward.”

“A coward? The Laundresses make up half of the city. You know they recruit anyone who looks like they throw a half-decent punch. It would be suicide!”

“That kind of lawlessness is exactly what helped that girl take charge,” replied the man. “Get rid of them, or I’m out. I’m tired of living in this mess.”

My mother’s lips pressed together. “When Elysia has secured her marriage,” she said, “Who is to say what she might manage?”

Secured my marriage. My marriage was in the spire? Had he become a… priest or something, after I’d left?

That was a new low, even for me. A marriage so bad I sent a man to the temple. I ate a bun resentfully.

As my mother argued, I saw the first failure out of the corner of my eye. A chair scraped on the floor, a man standing and leaving.

“Wait,” called my mother. “We still have four courses!”

“I have another appointment,” he said.

It was like he’d uncorked a bottle. One by one, they trailed out, making empty excuses. When the seaweed soup finally came out, steaming, it was only us left to hold out our bowls. Duran, at the end of the table, was kicking at a table leg and slurping loudly.

My mother was so demoralized she didn’t even correct him.

“My husband’s in the Spire?”

“It doesn’t matter,” she said, and put her spoon down. “I’ll find another solution.”

“If you’ll let me borrow the coach,” I said, “I think we can work together on this. I want to break into the Spire, too.”

This was actually a historical moment. Never in our lives had I offered to work together with my mother. Not without an ulterior motive. She actually stopped moving for a moment, before staring over at me.

“Elysia,” she said. “Why did you come back to the Capital?”

She didn’t believe the Voice story either, then. I shrugged loosely. “Would you believe me?”

“You’re right, I wouldn’t,” she said. She gestured for more wine. “You can take the coach. Don’t break it. I want you back by nightfall.”