Free The Faarian Chronicles: Exile by Karen Harris Tully Page B

giant stove and giving directions to half
a dozen men and women who were all busy checking ovens, chopping, stirring,
mashing, and washing in a whirl of activity.
    “Oh, good. There you two are. I’d started to wonder if you
went on the plane to pick up the General,” Ethem said when he saw us. He took a
taste from one of the pots, made a face and reached for a spice jar with one
hand and the phone on his belt with the other. He pressed one button and held
it to his ear.
    “Otrere, would you come down and give our new arrival a
quick tour of the residences before dinner?” He paused to hear the response.
“Yes, now,” he said, irritated, “it’s not like you and your sister set the
tables while I was gone, like I asked, did you?” Another pause, “Good,” he
sounded mollified, “she’s here waiting for you.” He snapped his phone shut and
turned to me and Sensei, shaking his head.
    “You know how it is. You ask people to do something while
you’re gone and what do you get? A houseful of chores left undone and dinner to
finish.”
    I could see that he was annoyed and felt partly responsible.
“Well, do you want some help?” I offered. “I can set the table if you’ll show
me where things are.” I immediately regretted saying anything. They probably
did it completely differently here.
    He looked at me curiously. “That’s nice of you, Sunny,” he
said after a pause. “Why don’t you have your tour first and see where your room
is, then we’ll see if there’s anything left to do.”
    So in other words, thanks but no thanks.
    A few minutes passed while we waited and I observed the
cooks bustling along, preparing vast amounts of food. The kitchen table was
already covered with a tower of bread loaves, desserts cooling on racks, and
dozens of bowls of several kinds of salads. How many people lived here, anyway?
They weren’t having a dinner party or something, were they?
    It was amazing to see everyone working in the kitchen in
unison, quickly and efficiently, as if they did this together every day like a
professional restaurant kitchen on TV. Not that Dad never helped in the kitchen
at home, but mostly Judith kicked him out if he tried. If Dad had to cook,
which Judith made sure almost never happened, he popped in a frozen pizza or
ordered out.
    Like Ethem, the other male cooks had geometric patterns
across their eyes and cheeks in a variety of shades, some subtle and spotted,
some bold and graphic, with coordinating teeth colors. Despite Sensei’s
explanation about traditional markings, I still couldn’t imagine wanting a
tattoo covering half my face.
    They were all thin, so thin I had a hard time believing they
spent their days preparing food. Maybe they weren’t any good at it, I mused.
They mostly wore boring polo shirts and khakis, with the exception of a tall,
skinny young man wearing silver pants that must have belonged to Mick Jagger in
the 80’s.
     "Okay, so where is she?” I turned and saw two
girls about my age and a lot bigger than me take the corner into the kitchen at
full speed, almost knocking over the cook  removing a casserole from the
oven. He did a graceful spin to avoid them and got the hot dish onto a trivet
without incident.
    “Lyta! Otrere! Watch what you’re doing!” Ethem pronounced
their names Lee-Ta and Oh-Trare.
    “Sorry Ethem!” they chorused, grinning devilishly and
skidded to a stop in front of me, obviously anything but sorry.
    “One of you can give Sunny a tour. The other can help set
the tables.” Neither girl gave any indication that she had heard Ethem’s
orders, focusing their attention on me instead.
    “Hey,” one said. I had no idea which was which, and probably
wouldn’t still if they were introduced. They were twins.
    “Hey,” I replied. I wasn’t used to girls being bigger than
me, both in height and muscle. Despite their grins, there was something rough
and intimidating about them. And they were in a hurry.
    “I’m Lyta. This is Otrere.