Chương 10: One Pairs of Hand

The first customer arrived before sunrise. I knew because he knocked on the window while I was still turning the sign to OPEN. Tomas stood beneath the awning in his wall-guard uniform. Two other guards waited behind him, both carrying wooden tokens from the order cabinet. I opened the door.

"The sunrise bell has not rung." Tomas looked toward the wall.

"It will."

"That is not the same as it having rung."

"We were already here."

"That does not change the time." The younger guard held up his token.

"Our food is ready."

"That is why the cabinet exists."

"The door is warmer."

"The cabinet is outside."

"Exactly." I stepped aside. They entered. I had reopened the restaurant for less than a minute. The schedule had already failed. The dining room looked different with people inside it. The wall lamps gave off a low amber glow. Music moved quietly beneath the scrape of chairs. The narrower tables left enough room for the guards to walk without turning sideways, and no one struck a chair while removing a sword belt. The changes worked. That was satisfying. Tomas stopped beside the nearest table.

"You moved this."

"Yes."

"I used to sit there."

"You can still sit there."

"It is closer to the window."

"By half a step." He considered the distance.

"I liked the old position."

"You complained about the draft."

"That was in winter."

"It has not been winter since the restaurant opened."

"I was preparing." One of the other guards took the chair before he could continue. Tomas sat across from him. I returned to the kitchen. Breakfast had been prepared with the new hours in mind. Potatoes waited beside the high-heat section of the cooking plate. Eggs had been cracked into covered bowls. Tea water remained hot without boiling. Mara's bread had arrived while I was upstairs dressing. She had used her key, placed the baskets beside the counter, and left a note. Eight loaves. Three bundles of rolls.

Four honey buns. Do not let Amon claim all four. I had moved the honey buns into the upper cupboard. Amon knew where the cupboard was. I would need a better location. The sunrise bell rang. The front door opened before the final note faded. Six more guards entered. Behind them came two workshop laborers, the woman who sold flowers near the corner, and a man I had never seen before who looked inside, saw the occupied tables, and decided that meant the food was worth trying. It was a reasonable conclusion.

It created a problem. I could cook. I could not stand in the kitchen, take orders, pour tea, carry plates, collect money, answer questions about the menu, and prevent customers from ringing the emergency bell because they wanted more bread. I had written the new system clearly. Each menu had a table number. Customers were supposed to mark their order on a small slip and bring it to the counter. Tomas carried three order slips into the kitchen.

"These are ours."

"You are not supposed to enter the kitchen."

"The counter was occupied." The counter was not occupied. A man was standing beside it while reading the menu.

"That does not make the counter occupied."

"He looked uncertain."

"He is choosing breakfast."

"He was taking a long time." I accepted the slips.

"Leave."

"Can I take the tea?"

"No."

"I'm already here."

"That does not make you staff." Tomas looked at the tray of cups.

"It would save you a trip." He was correct. That made the situation worse. I handed him the tray.

"Table three."

"I know where I sit."

"The other cups are for table three." He looked down.

"I knew that." He carried the tray out. I placed potatoes onto the hotter section of the plate, eggs on the cooler side, and bread along the edge. The improved array allowed me to manage each temperature without moving pans. The food moved smoothly. The room did not. Someone wanted more tea. Someone else had written fried rice on a breakfast slip even though the menu placed it under lunch. A workshop laborer attempted to pay before eating. Another assumed he should pay after.

The man I did not recognize stood at the counter with his empty order slip and asked what I recommended.

"Everything on the menu is suitable."

"That does not help."

"What do you usually eat?"

"Breakfast." I looked at him. He waited.

"Eggs, potatoes, and toast."

"That sounds good."

"It is the first item." He looked down at the menu.

"So it is." He returned to his table. The front door opened again. Lysa entered with Perry behind her. Perry had combed his hair. The attempt had lasted longer on one side than the other. Lysa held the door until he passed, then looked around the dining room.

"You're busy."

"Yes." Perry moved toward the service counter.

"Do you need help?"

"No." He stopped.

"You said we could come."

"You can."

"But you don't need help?"

"I need help. You are not the help I need." His ears lowered. Mrs. Vale's words returned to me. Children like these learned quickly that adults valued usefulness.

"You are here for breakfast," I said. Perry looked up.

"Only breakfast?"

"And the menus." Lysa glanced toward the menu board nearest the window.

"What about them?"

"I need to know whether they are readable."

"They have words on them."

"That is the first requirement." Perry picked up one of the menus.

"I can read some."

"Then sit at table one and identify which parts you cannot read."

"What do we get?"

"Breakfast." His ears lifted.

"That is testing."

"It is reading."

"While eating."

"Yes." He appeared satisfied with the arrangement. Lysa continued watching me.

"Even if the menus are fine?"

"Yes." She guided Perry toward the window table. They sat. Neither tried to carry anything. That was progress. By the end of breakfast service, every table had been occupied at least once. The new arrangement worked. The order system worked when customers followed it. Approximately half of them did. The automatic broom activated while three guards were still eating. It followed its route beneath table four and caught the loose end of a cloak. The guard stood quickly. The broom continued moving.

His cloak tightened around his neck. I shut off the cleaning array before either suffered permanent damage. The broom fell over. The guard looked down at it.

"Did it attack me?"

"No."

"It tried to drag me under the table."

"It followed a marked route."

"I was on the route."

"That was the problem." Tomas pointed his spoon at the broom.

"I told you the cleaning tools should have warning marks."

"You did not."

"I considered it."

"That is not the same as telling me."

"It felt similar." I carried the broom into the kitchen and placed it beside the mop. The cleaning array would remain inactive during service. Another useful discovery. Mara arrived shortly before breakfast ended. She carried one bread basket and a box that probably contained the honey buns I had hidden from Amon. Her gaze moved across the full dining room, the stack of dirty plates, and the three customers waiting to pay.

"You reopened." Love what you're reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.

"The sign indicates that."

"You look surprised."

"I expected customers."

"How many?"

"An appropriate number." Tomas raised his hand from the rear table.

"He ran out of potatoes."

"I did not run out. The next batch is cooking." Mara looked at me.

"You need help."

"I wrote that down."

"Writing it did not produce a person."

"I know." She placed the basket behind the counter and began collecting payments.

"You have a bakery."

"I know."

"You should be there."

"My assistant has the morning counter."

"That does not make you my employee."

"No. It makes me someone who would like to finish this conversation without seven people asking where to leave their money." The flower seller placed four kamera on the counter. Mara gave her one back.

"Tea is included with breakfast."

"I added honey."

"That costs one?"

"Yes." Mara returned the coin to the counter.

"She was correct." The flower seller took the coin again.

"Thank you." Mara looked at me.

"You need a clearer price board."

"It is written beside the tea."

"In smaller letters."

"The board has limited space."

"Use another board."

"That would require another holder." Mara closed her eyes briefly.

"Hire someone before you build a machine that collects payment."

"I was not planning a machine." I had considered one. That was different. The final breakfast customers left shortly before eleven. Lysa and Perry remained at the window table. Three menus lay between them. Lysa had marked two words with a piece of charcoal. Perry had drawn a monster beside the fried rice. I examined the first mark.

"Fermented?" Lysa nodded.

"I know what it means. Perry doesn't." Perry pointed to the drawing.

"That is the boar."

"It has six legs."

"It moves quickly."

"Monster boars have four legs."

"This one is magical." I looked at the second marked word.

"Carbonated."

"Neither of us knows that one," Lysa said.

"Bubbles," Perry replied.

"That is what it means," I said.

"Then write bubbles."

"Carbonated is more precise."

"Bubbles is shorter." Mara leaned over my shoulder.

"He has a point." I looked at the available space on the menu. Bubbles would fit better. I changed the description. Perry smiled.

"Did we finish testing?"

"Yes."

"Do we get lunch?"

"You just ate breakfast."

"Lunch is later."

"That is true." Lysa collected the menus.

"We should go."

"You may come back for lunch." Perry was already standing.

"We will." Lysa gave me a small wave before following him outside. Mara waited until the door closed.

"You did that properly."

"Changed the menu?"

"No." I looked toward the window.

"I told them they could visit."

"I heard."

"They were already aware."

"Lysa wasn't." I began stacking the dirty plates. Mara took half.

"You have a bakery," I reminded her.

"You said that."

"It remains true."

"So does your pile of dishes." A wagon stopped outside. The sound of wooden wheels filled the street, followed by the heavy step of a draft horse. Amon opened the front door. He looked better than he had the previous day. His coat had been changed, his armor was clean, and his right arm moved without stiffness. He looked at the plates in Mara's hands.

"You work here now?"

"No," we both said. Amon stepped aside. Jacob Clovefield entered behind him carrying a ledger beneath one arm. His attention passed over the new tables, the lamps, the menu boards, and the service counter.

"You've made changes," he said.

"Several."

"I counted nine from the doorway."

"Amon counts furniture now?" I asked. Jacob looked at his son.

"He spent most of the morning explaining the restaurant." Amon frowned.

"I explained the delivery."

"You explained the broom."

"It moves by itself."

"Not during service," I said. Amon looked disappointed. Jacob placed the ledger on the counter.

"The first delivery is outside. Rice, oil, salt, eggs, onions, cabbage, root vegetables, tea, and two cuts of monster boar."

"I did not confirm an order."

"You left a list."

"I requested prices."

"You also reopen today."

"That does not establish permission to purchase on my behalf." Jacob opened the ledger and turned it toward me. Every item had been listed with its quantity, price, source, and delivery fee. The total was lower than I had paid at the market. I checked it again.

"The boar meat is cheaper."

"It came through the guild processors," Jacob said.

"The expedition brought it in yesterday."

"How long since the kill?"

"Two days." That was useful.

"Which part?"

"Shoulder and belly."

"Condition?"

"Properly drained. Chilled within three hours."

"Who processed it?"

"Rook's Guild Butchery." I knew the name. They supplied several expedition companies and two healer kitchens. I turned the page.

"The vegetables come from three merchants."

"One merchant cannot meet the quantity at a reliable price."

"And the weekly fee?"

"Eight kamera per delivery if the order remains under one wagon. Twelve if it requires two collection routes."

"That is reasonable." Amon leaned toward Mara.

"He means cheap."

"I know what reasonable means," she said.

"He uses it differently." I ignored them.

"What about irregular goods?" I asked.

"Magical herbs, fresh monster organs, mana-grain, alchemical produce rejected for appearance rather than quality." Jacob's expression changed slightly.

"That is a more complicated list."

"Why?"

"Alchemists pay well for anything useful."

"I do not need the highest grade."

"You need food-safe material. That is not always the same as alchemical waste."

"I know." Jacob studied me for a moment.

"I can have the processors mark anything edible that retains unusual mana. You would need to inspect it quickly."

"How quickly?"

"Same day. Some materials decline within hours."

"I can do that."

"You own a restaurant."

"That has been mentioned several times."

"Restaurants have customers."

"So far." Jacob looked at the dirty plates.

"I would say more than so far." Mara set down the stack she carried.

"He also wants to join an expedition." Jacob turned his head slowly. Amon examined the ceiling.

"I did not tell her."

"You told me," Mara said.

"I told Joe."

"You spoke in a room."

"That is how conversation works." Jacob looked at me.

"Why?"

"Ingredients. Fresh monster meat, herbs, and mana-grain."

"You are F-rank."

"I know."

"You cannot take a hunting contract."

"I know."

"You could join a supervised gathering mission."

"Amon explained." Jacob's gaze moved toward the kitchen, the full payment box, and the dishes waiting beside the basin.

"Who runs this while you are outside the wall?"

"I am hiring someone."

"Who?"

"I have not hired them yet."

"Then you are not joining an expedition yet."

"That conclusion is premature."

"It is accurate." I disliked that he was correct. Jacob closed the ledger.

"Establish your deliveries. Hire someone. See whether the restaurant can operate for one day without you."

"One day?"

"If it fails after one day, it will fail after three."

"That is sensible."

"That is why I said it." A knock came from the open door. A woman stood outside. She appeared a few years younger than Mara, with dark hair cut near her jaw and a plain gray coat folded over one arm. She wore sturdy shoes and carried no bag. Her eyes moved across the room. The dirty plates. The open ledger. Mara behind the counter. Amon beside the bread basket. Jacob near the door. Then me.

"Which one of you is Joe?"

"I am." She stepped inside.

"Mrs. Vale said you needed one worker." The room became quiet. Jacob looked at me. Mara smiled. Amon reached toward the bread basket. Mara struck his hand without turning. The woman noticed all of it.

"I can come back," she said.

"No," I replied.

"Now is efficient." She looked toward the dishes.

"For you, perhaps."

"What is your name?"

"Nessa Rook."

"Related to Rook's Guild Butchery?"

"My uncle owns it." Jacob nodded once in recognition.

"That explains why I know the name," Nessa said.

"You worked there?" I asked.

"For six years. Front counter, accounts, deliveries, and processing records. Before that, I worked at my mother's inn on the northern road."

"Cooking?"

"Basic preparation. Soups, vegetables, bread, cold plates. I can follow instructions."

"Serving?"

"Yes."

"Reading and writing?" She looked at the ledger.

"No. I identified it through instinct." Amon covered a laugh with a cough. Nessa looked at him.

"Does he work here?"

"No," I said.

"Good." Mara laughed. Amon looked offended.

"I help."

"You eat," Mara said.

"I do both." Nessa's gaze returned to me.

"Mrs. Vale said you pay properly."

"I intend to."

"She also said you make simple work complicated."

"That assessment lacks examples." Nessa looked toward the broom leaning beside the kitchen doorway.

"Does that clean by itself?"

"Yes."

"During service?"

"Not anymore."

"That is one example." I considered her.

"When can you begin?"

"I have not agreed to work here."

"You came to apply."

"I came to see whether the work and owner were tolerable."

"And?"

"I have been here for less than two minutes."

"That should be enough for the owner," Mara said. I ignored her.

"We open for lunch at noon." Nessa looked toward the wall clock.

"That gives you less than an hour."

"Yes."

"You still need to clean the dining room, wash those dishes, put away the delivery, prepare lunch, and rewrite the price board."

"The price board is accurate." Mara looked at her.

"The tea prices are too small." Nessa examined the board.

"They are." I was losing control of the discussion. Nessa removed her coat and folded it over the back of a chair.

"I'll work through lunch. You can decide whether I am capable. I can decide whether I want to return."

"That is acceptable."

"Trial work is paid."

"Of course." She looked at me for a moment.

"Good." Jacob tapped the ledger.

"We will unload the wagon."

"I can carry the meat," Amon said.

"You can carry the rice," Jacob replied.

"The meat is heavier."

"That is why I am carrying it." Amon followed him outside. Mara picked up her bread basket.

"I should return to the bakery."

"You said that an hour ago," I replied.

"I know." She looked toward Nessa.

"Do not let him redesign the payment system while you are using it."

"I heard that," I said.

"That was the intention." Mara left. Nessa rolled up her sleeves.

"Where do the clean plates go?" I pointed.

"Dirty?"

"Beside the basin."

"Payment?"

"Counter box."

"Open orders?" I showed her the board. She read it. Then she erased half of what I had written.

"What are you doing?"

"Making room."

"The table numbers were organized by arrival."

"They should be organized by status." She drew three columns. WAITING. SERVED. PAID.

"That is overly simple," I said.

"That is the idea." Lunch began at noon. For the first time since opening The Second Spark, I remained in the kitchen through an entire rush. Order slips arrived in a neat stack. Each carried a table number. Nessa marked the board, carried the food, collected empty dishes, and answered questions without entering the kitchen unless necessary. When someone asked whether the fried rice healed injuries, she said, "It is lunch. Serious injuries still require a healer." That was more efficient than my explanation.

When Tomas attempted to enter the kitchen, she blocked the doorway with one arm.

"I'm helping," he said.

"You're in the way."

"Joe lets me carry tea."

"Joe was desperate." Tomas looked toward me. I continued cooking. Nessa pointed toward his table. He returned to it. I decided she was capable. The fresh monster-boar meat carried a stronger current than the market cuts. The difference became obvious as soon as it touched the hot fat. Dense mana spread through the pan, steady and responsive. I reduced the amount of my own energy and allowed the ingredients to settle through heat and motion. The pulse that followed was stronger than usual. Not dangerous. Distinct.

I served the first portion to a pair of wall workers. Both had spent the morning removing scaffolding from the repaired section. Halfway through the meal, one lowered his shoulders and took a deeper breath.

"This batch is stronger." I looked at him.

"The flavor?"

"My back." Nessa placed a cup of water beside him.

"Then eat slowly." He obeyed. That was new. By the end of lunch, every portion of fried rice had sold. The stew pot was nearly empty. Half the bread was gone. The payment box contained no unexplained coins, and every order on Nessa's board had been marked PAID. The dining room still required cleaning. It no longer looked as though a small army had retreated through it. Nessa carried the final stack of bowls into the kitchen.

"Well?" she asked.

"You changed my board."

"It worked."

"Yes."

"You dislike that."

"No."

"You stared at it during the entire service."

"I was evaluating the structure."

"It has three columns."

"The arrangement remains a structure." She placed the bowls beside the basin.

"What are the hours?"

"Breakfast from sunrise until shortly before eleven. Lunch from noon until three. Evening service from six until the late bell."

"That is three shifts."

"Yes."

"For one worker?"

"For two people, including me."

"You cook all three?"

"Yes."

"You will stop sleeping."

"I have an improved bed." Nessa stared at me.

"It is a recovery array," I explained.

"That did not improve the statement." I had heard that before.

"I need the most help during lunch and evening," I said.

"Then hire me for lunch and evening."

"There is a three-hour gap."

"I live two streets north. I can go home."

"Five days each week?"

"Six to begin. I need the seventh."

"That is reasonable." We discussed wages. My original calculation was lower than her request. Her request accounted for evening work and handling money. She was correct. We settled on eighteen kamera per day, one meal during each shift, and a review after the first week. Extra hours would be recorded separately. Nessa held out her hand. I looked at it.

"Agreement," she said.

"I understood." I shook it. Her grip was firm.

"I begin tomorrow," she said.

"You already began today."

"Today was the trial."

"You are being paid."

"I know."

"Then today counts." She considered that.

"Fine. My first day is nearly finished."

"Evening service begins at six." Nessa looked at me.

"You hired me for lunch and evening."

"Yes."

"So my first day is not nearly finished."

"That is accurate." She picked up a cleaning cloth.

"I may reconsider the arrangement."

"You agreed."

"I said may." The front door opened. Lysa and Perry entered. Perry looked at Nessa, then at the clean tables, then toward the kitchen.

"Is lunch finished?"

"Yes." His ears lowered. I took two covered bowls from the warm section of the counter.

"I saved portions." His ears rose again. Lysa looked at Nessa.

"Do you work here?" Nessa glanced toward me.

"Apparently." Perry placed both hands on the counter.

"Does that mean Joe doesn't need help?"

"He still needs a great deal of help," Nessa said.

"That was not the correct answer," I replied.

"It was accurate." Lysa smiled. They carried their bowls to the window table. Neither asked what task they needed to perform first. They simply sat down and ate. I opened the staffing notebook. The top line read: Hire one worker. I drew a line through it. Beneath the list, I wrote: Nessa Rook. Lunch and evening service. Orders, payment, tables, basic preparation. Do not allow Amon into the kitchen. Nessa read over my shoulder.

"Why is that last line part of my job?" The rear door opened. Amon entered carrying a sack of onions.

"I found the rest of the delivery." Nessa looked at him. Then at the notebook.

"I understand." Amon placed the sack inside the kitchen.

"No one stopped me."

"Leave," Nessa said. He stared at her. I closed the notebook. The Second Spark had one worker. The supplier problem was settled. The fresh ingredients produced stronger food. Three problems had become one. I looked at Amon, who was still standing inside the kitchen.

"Leave." He picked up an onion.

"Can I take this?"

"No." Nessa held out her hand. Amon returned the onion to the sack and stepped into the dining room. One problem remained. It appeared manageable.