The Shape of Things to Come

[Rallentando]

Rallentando didn't mind helping out in the kitchen, even if the technical name for her job was "slave". It was a nice little vacation from cleaning up after her siblings and helping her mother set the table. Mr. Graves didn't shout quite as much and was more inclined to engage cookies in conversation when you put the raisins in the shape of a happy face instead of telling you off for putting more than six on a single one. The whippings had gone down, too.

Sometimes she couldn't blame her father for not wanting to come home.

She was busy moving dirty dishes from the serving cart to a washing basin when Radish appeared on the other side and began scrubbing them down.

"That's not your job," said Rallentando.

"Needs doing, though," the mouse said. "I was just at the high table with Captain Blacktip. Wolves are low on scones. Butter, specifically."

"I'll tell Mr. Graves when I'm done here. Have you heard anything from... from Mr. Wulgar?"

"Gildy's been down to see him an hour ago. They're waiting for the other slaves to be allowed to eat. Supposed to be everybeast at once, but there's not enough room."

"Or they just don't want us all together in case we try something. They could stand to put the tables closer together."

Radish smirked. "And accidentally smell a woodlander while they eat?"

"Perish the thought." Rallentando giggled. They both turned as the door opened and the squirrelmaid Gildy crept in.

"Oh, are you done washing already? Thank you, Radish."

"You're welcome. Just needs drying now. Ah. I have to go." He hung the last plate to dry on the rack. "Captain Blacktip needs me."

"How do you know?" Rallentando asked. "If he is still at the feast, surely someone else can serve him. That is not fair to you." But he was already gone.

"He is weird," said Gildy. Rallentando secretly agreed.

"Gildy, did you get my notebook to Mr. Wulgar?"

"Aye! He said he'd get someone to deliver it to your family."

"Just in case," Rallentando whispered. She stared at the bubbles in the washing bin, trying to distract herself with figuring out the reflections. To see without looking, that was a good skill, but the hardest. "Best get back to work. Good luck tonight."

Gildy tucked a serrated knife behind her apron and smiled. "Luck, Ralle."

Rallentando hurried to the next room, where the baking and cooking was happening. In the distance she heard somebeast shouting about radish. It was hard to tell if they were calling for the mouse or if they were upset about their salad.

"Mr. Graves, is the next batch of butter scones ready? I did not know wolves liked butter so. They are dangerously low at their table."

The roly-poly fox was busy with a pie shell, all the black of his arms greyed with flour.

"Butter scones should be ready in a minute, third oven. Help with the raspberry ones first, over here."

"Yes sir, Mr. Graves."

"Ugh, call me Luka, you fool," he muttered. "Call me Luka. 'Mister' makes me feel old."

"Yes sir, Mr. Graves." Rallentando did not point out that he did seem to be getting on in life, from her point of view.

She took the oven mitts from their hook while she opened the stove with her footpaw. "Hothothothot..."

"You sound like Captain Blacktip saying hello to a lovely lady mink."

"Mr. Graves, that is very inappropriate."

"And also very true."

Rallentando slid the baking trays onto the counter, nearly tripping over a bag of sugar as she tried to avoid Gildy suddenly crashing out of the washing room as if she were being chased by wasps.

"Oh, bother. That oughtn't to be right there. Fie on you, Gildy," she grumbled. "Have some presence of mind."

"Sorry, Ralle!" the squirrel called as she zoomed off to the feast to deliver fresh dishes.

Slipping the mitts off again, Rallentando wiped her sweaty paws on her ears, although she knew she shouldn't, and scooped the scones onto a serving tray with a spatula.

"I'm going to take these back to the feast," she said. "May I have my break afterwards, Mr. Graves?"

"I suppose," the fox grumbled. She curtsied her thanks and scuttled to the doorway. Her step slowed. She turned around.

"Mr. Graves?"

"You still here? What?"

"I think you're a fine beast. I'm sure it doesn't mean much, coming from a slave like me... Or maybe it means more. I didn't ever think much of vermin, until I met you. I'm glad to know you, Mr. Graves, sir."

The cook didn't seem to have anything immediate to say to this. He shrugged and stirred something that was beginning to bubble. Still Rallentando hesitated to leave. It didn't feel like a proper goodbye just yet.

"Rabbit..."

"Yes, Mr. Graves?"

"You're doing a good job. Thought I... thought I should say sorry, for earlier. I shouldn't have hit you so hard."

Rallentando smiled. It felt weird, but she hoped she would miss him.

"I shouldn't have stepped out of line, Mr. Graves. No hard feelings anymore. Thank you kindly."

"Yeah... now git!"

Rallentando hurried off to the feast hall.

The wolves always made her nervous. It wasn't that they gave her odd stares, not like some of the other vermin. It was more that they stared right through her, as if she wasn't even there. It gave her chills, but also excited her. If she could get that kind of look from everybeast, she could be the perfect spy! She longed to stick her tongue out to see if they would notice.

But she didn't do anything that might upset them, even when she was bumped into by an unfamiliar rat in a dress. Rallentando did a double-take, not recognizing Captain Rousseau at first. She kept her lip buttoned and scurried away to the slave's table. Those were nice pearls, though.

She found her father seated beside the loathsome Violet Feverfew. Mr. Mirdop wore his regular shabby work clothes, but Violet was all trussed up in white and pink ruffles and sporting a specially woven straw hat with a daisy tucked into the band. She was sipping a cup of tea with only two fingers touching the handle.

"Poppa, Mr. Wulgar..." She lowered her voice as a ferret guard slithered past behind them. "Mr. Wulgar is ready. We have to go now!"

"Rallentando, do sit," Mr. Mirdop said. "We will be patient and finish our meal first."

Rallentando sat, but only so she wouldn't attract attention. She grabbed a pasty and bit into it, but didn't bother to get a plate.

"Poppa, you are being stubborn-silly!"

"Rallentando, ritardando." Violet leered. "Do use a napkin. I see you have been raised by the best Mossflower has to offer my dearest Keith. I see why he chooses to stay!"

Rallentando's ears were pink with embarrassment and she let her teeth grind together audibly before choosing what to say next.

"Violet, marm, no offense, but your head is full of lavatory air and your ears are stuffed with sponges! Look around, if you please!"

Rallentando gestured at the room and everypony shuffling around. It was so calm, so insidiously slow, that she almost couldn't see it herself. The woodlander servants still bustling about to process the feasting were either excusing themselves one after the other, or maneuvering to stand near sharp cutlery. She spotted one ottermum serving cake with what was obviously a fish cleaver. None of the vermin seemed to notice.

"At what, pray tell?" Violet scoffed. "Rude child."

"It's happening, marm. Poppa, it IS happening. Mr. Wulgar doesn't... he doesn't betray beasts. He said it would be now and it is now! Or it is going to be now. We need to get going! Please!"

"Rallentando..."

"Poppa. You can stay here if you like, at Kotir. You can go run off with Ms. Feverfew and leave Momma and the rest of us for good. Whatever makes you happy. But PLEASE don't be in this room right now..."

You could tell a lot about someone watching them eat. Which foods they preferred, which utensils they favored. Did they cut slow and steady with their knives, or angry and inaccurate? Did they jab with their fork, or pierce and scoop? Elbows on or off the table? Did they chew with their mouth shut? It all added up. Pop-pop had told her that though the quietest times in Salamandastron were during meals, when the hares were too busy eating to say anything, that was when they said the most.

Poppa was leaving crumbs on his plate and neckcloth. He was worried, distracted. Good. She almost had him convinced.

Violet, not so much.

"Goodness, such imaginations the young have. Why don't you run along and play little spy somewhere else, Rallentando. 'Rallentando'. Dear Mr. Mirdop, is that really the best you could do? It is not a very proper name for a young doe. Not that this particular doe is proper enough for a proper name."

"It was my wife's decision..." Mr. Mirdop sunk into his seat as if trying to hide behind his cucumber sandwich.

"What, pray tell, is a proper name in your eyes, marm?" Rallentando queried. "'Cotton'?"

"My brother's name is Cotton!" Violet near shrieked loud as an eagle. "Keith, are you just going to sit there and let her speak like that at the table?"

Mr. Mirdop chose that moment to pitch over sideways in his chair, eyes wide and face sagging in startled misery. His chin caught a plate and sent a trio of muffins arcing into a bowl of October Ale. A rat picked one out and bit into it happily.

"He's fainted!" Rallentando squeaked, hiding her horror behind her paws. "Perfect! I mean, marm, help me get him to the infirmary?"

"Wretched child!" said Violet. "You did this to him, worrying him so! Ruinous youth." She bit her lip and fanned Mr. Mirdop with her fine straw hat. "I'll take his legs."

"Just a moment, marm."

Rallentando frisked her father's jacket for his secret flask. It felt light, no good. She uncorked the cap and splashed the remnants onto the floor. It wouldn't do to mix that stuff with anything else.

Violet stared at the flask with terror, bemusement and indignation all at once. Rallentando had to hide her grin. So the prissy trollop didn't know ALL her father's secrets! More interestingly, this was more of a reaction from Violet than when Rallentando had initially shown up in Kotir. It was nice to know she had at least SOME morals.

"Medicinal," lied Rallentando, to cover for him. She stood up and filled it with the nearest bottle on the table, then took a quick swig herself to see what it was. Ew, wine! Well, it would get him awake later. She tucked the flask back into his pocket and grabbed Mr. Mirdop's limp arms.

"What in 'gates is going on here?"

Captain Blacktip stood over them, frowning down at the two does. He wobbled a little.

"He's had a little too much to eat, sir," Rallentando explained quickly. Violet had her ears back and a wild look in her eye. Rallentando almost felt sorry for her. For all her faults, Violet had never been in trouble with Kotir's soldiers before, and had been looking forward to this feast for almost a season. But then she remembered that she hadn't felt sorry for Violet even after she'd learned the older doe scrubbed out the bathrooms and wash pots, and decided she wasn't about to start now.

"We can take him to the infirmary," she assured the mink captain. "There is no problem."

"There better not be.  And if you're headed to the infirmary, see to it you don't go into the safe room.  Or I'll use your tail for a garnish." Captain Blacktip grinned and winked. Rallentando swallowed back something vile in her throat and held her breath. "Now run away, little bunny."

"Yes, sir," Rallentando murmured, coughing slightly. She lifted and dragged, walking backwards, thankful for once for Violet's presence. Together they were able to move Mr. Mirdop with good time.

"What's in the safe room?" she asked, once they were alone in a corridor. She did not think her tail bob would make a very good garnish for any kind of meal. That's what carrot tops were for.

Violet just glared. It was a quiet trip to the infirmary. Rallentando didn't mind a bit.