Thronegarden by Andrew Dickerson (top rated books of all time .txt) 📕

“Wouldn’t be a birthday party without juggling,” Pan crowed.

“Yes, we must all prepare,” Pilgrim conceded.

Rat slipped off his chair before heading for the exit. A friendly hand on his shoulder stopped him.

“If I may be so bold.” Pilgrim produced a letter from his white robes and offered it hopefully.

“Of course, sir, I will do my best.” Rat accepted the correspondence.

“Thank you.” Pilgrim smiled dryly. “Now I must prepare like the others.”

Rat did not need to look at the letter to know it was for Pilgrim’s wife; she was the wet nurse who looked after the princess and in her duties had to be separated from her husband. Rat often took letters for the couple, meeting the nursemaid outside the royal apartments when no one was around. Slipping the note inside his pocket, Rat continued his journey downwards into a darker and damper atmosphere.

Rat’s favourite place in the castle was the kitchens; all the residents food including the royal family’s, was made here. It had the highest number of workers, causing a constant hive of activity. It was always warm, and a sweet aroma arrested Rat whenever he made it down here. As a lowly orphan, Rat never had enough to eat; he largely bartered, stole or traded for what little scraps he could find and had to be satisfied with that. Rat had a wealth of scars on his young body from Kale the baker’s spatula, or Swelter the butcher’s boot, and by far the worst of all was head cook Skowl. It was critical that the kitchen was made aware of the planned celebration; however, Rat decided it could wait until after he had eaten. Gripping the bronze coin tightly, he wandered down the line of tables which were full of seeded bread, still warm from the stone ovens, eggs stood in regimented rows beside freshly cut sides of meat. Smoked ham, cured pork, stuffed chicken, all waited to be prepared as Rat found himself salivating with anticipation. As Rat continued his exploration, he discovered dried biscuits, nuts, aged cheese from the castle cellars and delicious sponge cake. Though the lack of time had damaged their recent crop yields, a scattering of hardier fruit and vegetables was still available. Potatoes, carrots, leeks, raisins, figs and an assortment of berries were carefully guarded along with the essential spices by each individual cook.

“I don’t allow vermin in my kitchen.” Skowl snuck up behind the ravenous boy, holding a rolling pin with unconcealed malice.

Rat was so struck with angst that his only response was to hold up the bronze coin as a kind of sacrificial offering. Luckily, there were some old, hard biscuits that Skowl had been about to send down for animal feed; she swiped the coin before handing the boy three small biscuits. Rat immediately stuffed two of the biscuits into his mouth with relish. They were too hard for his teeth at the beginning though they soon softened in his mouth, and he enjoyed their sweet taste. It was the first time for a while that Rat could assuage his hunger. Risking Skowl’s wrath a second time, he went to pass on his important message. Now, one thing about the kitchen, which everyone knew without question, was Skowl was in charge; no one did or said anything without the wise old cook finding out and then there would be trouble.

“I have an important message from above,” Rat squeaked nervously.

“Queen Etherelle has declared that there be a great feast for her daughter the Princess Damselfly’s birthday.”

Skowl turned to look at the boy with watery grey eyes, holding the rolling pin casually at her side, although Rat could not take his eyes from the weapon, which he had felt many times before.

“When?” was the cook’s only response.

“As soon as the princess wakes up,” Rat replied.

The whole kitchen had gone eerily quiet as neighbours passed on the message until every worker had heard the news and now all of them waited for instructions.

“Well, what are you all standing about for? We have a birthday party to cater for,” Skowl roared.

With Kale the head baker and Swelter the head butcher adding their own threats to the cacophony, Rat sought to escape the kitchens and head to the lowest levels of the castle where the animals were housed.

Unlike before, Rat found the staircase heavy with traffic going up and down with couriers hauling barrels of cheese, flasks of ale and whole joints of meat to the kitchens. Once news spread, it would become like an ’ants’ nest buzzing with activity, something that Rat was keen to avoid. From a young age he had a fondness for animals and that feeling was reciprocated. Rat was able to calm a horse when no one else could; he was able to handle the fiercest hounds without fear and train a bird of prey without being taught. Rat’s closest friend in the castle was a black crow he had named Midknight. He had nursed the injured animal from a young age after it was attacked by a falcon and this created an unbreakable bond. Rat wanted to visit Midknight, intending to share some of his hard-earned fare. Unfortunately, he had to pass through the farming enclosures where animals were bred and kept for food. Rat’s unique gift with animals meant he was in constant demand to help with guarding the new lambs, delousing the cattle or feeding the constantly hungry pigs. Although Rat would sometimes be rewarded with a saucer of milk or discarded pieces of meat, it was always a chore for him unlike his time spent with the animals kept for sport or leisure. Dodging the aggressive geese who even Rat could not pacify, he drifted past the distracted laborers and thought that he had escaped attention for once when the dogs started barking. They all recognised his scent and competed for his affection with a cacophony