The Baker's Wife (part one: Parlay)(Volume One: Trial of the Ornic)

scene one

Krysilla didn’t want to open her eyes. Beside her, her husband, Lejer, slept peacefully, and would until long after the sun had risen. She hated him. Too tired to let it be anything more than a simmering resentment, she rolled out of bed and padded to her clothes, piled on top of a stool Lejer had once told her would be hers for sitting on and making herself pretty.

No time for that. Time to work. She yanked on her clothes and tied the blue sash that marked her as a married woman around her waist with a practiced hand. Her bare feet made no noise as she descended to the first floor of the two-story house. The cold crept through her feet and wrapped around her ankles under her plain, heavy, wool skirt. Grabbing some wood, she stuffed it into the oven and drew in the air the spell that would light the fire. Closing her eyes, she tried to concentrate on the spell that would regulate the flames once the temperature was right for baking bread. Her arms felt heavy, and it took several tries of drawing the spell before she could feel it wrapping around the wood and flame together.

It’s the little things, Lejer had told her once, that divide the good from the great. She almost closed her eyes as a wave of exhaustion swept over her.

Putting on her clogs and an apron, she took care of the chickens and lit the ovens in the back as she had with the first. She was almost back at the house when she saw their first customer of the day with a bowl of fresh dough.

Great, she thought, and tried to smile. “How are you today, Lily?”

“Oh, I just thought I’d come by early and get this out of the way.”

Of course you can, Krysilla’s resentment whispered. Your husband does all the work so that the only magic you need to worry about is the kind you use on your house. Maybe you’d be late on your family’s bread too if you had something else to worry about.

It was a cold thought. She stuffed it away in her heart and forced her smile to grow. “That’s fine. Let’s go to the scales and see how much you owe me.”

“Your husband,” Lily corrected a little too quickly. As if realizing her gaffe, she said, “I’m sorry. You do the work, so of course I would pay you.”

“No need to apologize. The business belongs to him.” Smile fixed in place now, she switched aprons and washed her hands. She weighed the dough on the shining scales, a square of paper underneath it.

“You’re such a wonderful wife.”

Lily’s words caught Krysilla off-guard. Her smile didn’t waver. “Why do you say that?”

“You do so much. I’m sure I could never manage work and a home as well as you do.”

Krysilla paused. Was this an insult? The hall had dust at least a half inch thick, dishes often waited until just before the next meal and laundry was...no. If she thought about laundry, what little energy she had would leave her. “I try my best.”

“You fulfill your promise very well.”

Krysilla said nothing in response. Focusing on the scales, she closed her eyes and focused on the numbers the king had declared every baker must follow in order to be deemed trustworthy. With her finger, she drew them over the loaf. The spell curled into the dough, waiting to appear in full after the baking was done. Krysilla took note of the result in the spell and took out a piece of paper to write Lily’s receipt.

Lejer should be doing this, she thought, remembering how it had been when they were first married. She trained in the oven room while he dealt with the customers. When she’d learned that, they’d switched and she’d learned how to take care of that aspect until the day he woke her up and said, “I’m too tired today, Krysilla. Be a comfort to me and work the oven today as well, please.”