A Lady's Delights

Chapter 9

Cassandra frowned. "I'm awake."

"You don't look it."

Grinding the beans down was simple enough. They simply had to be pulverized into the finest powder she could manage. She finished that much by the time Salima entered the kitchen. "Oh, by God!" the elder woman shouted across the room at Zaiah. "You put her in charge of the coffee?"

Zaiah held up the knife she was using to slice fruit. "Would you rather she risk chopping off her fingers?"

Salima waved a hand dismissively at Zaiah, who resumed chopping as the head servant turned her attention back to Cassandra. "Lady Azhar is very particular about her coffee. You'll want to make a good impression with her... do you even know how to make Turkish coffee, young lady?"

Cassandra had gotten lost in staring at the tools set in front of her. There were small pots, and spoons, and none of it was familiar to her. "You don't have a percolator..."

"Bah! No one drinks that garbage here, not even foreigners." Salima pointed at one of the pots. "Fill it with cold water, heat it without boiling it, and then add the coffee, sugar, and cardamon. Don't look at me like that, it's the stuff in this jar!" She shook the jar in front of Cassandra's face before setting it back on the counter. "Stir it all thoroughly, then heat it good and slow."

"And then serve it?" Cassandra said, pointing to the tray of tiny cups waiting further down the table.

"No," Salima said, swatting her hand at Cassandra's, who was already reaching for the pot. "Then you pull it from the heat, and let it rest a short time. Then heat it back up..."

Cassandra raised an eyebrow, and pointed at the cups. "And then serve it?"

"Don't be so impatient!" Her hand, this time, struck the back of Cassandra's head, hardly more than a tap, but enough to bow her head for a moment. "No; you cool it again, and heat it a third time, right up to the point before it boils, same as the first two times. And then," she said, emphasizing her words by pointing down the counter at the cups, "you serve it."

Cassandra sighed. The whole process seemed extraordinarily complicated, and utterly prone to going awry in unskilled hands like her own. And it was the favorite drink of Estelle's mother, one of the wealthiest women on this side of the Great Central Sea! She forced a smile, though, for Salima's sake. "I'll give it my best."

"I hope you will." She clapped her hands, startling the still-drowsy Cassandra as she turned her attention to the others setting about their work in the kitchen. "All of you, on with it! Get to work!"

~

Breakfast was in the courtyard at the house's center; the riad, Salima had called it. Just as it had been at dinner, a table was set by the fountain, with low, cushioned sets placed for everyone to settle upon. The table was occupied solely by the ladies of the household. Lady Azhar's husband, Myriam told her, had taken their youngest child, and only son, into town for his lessons and would join his spouse for a meal together later that morning.

Cassandra paused for a moment at the doorway, watching the three women seated at the table. Lady Azhar looked as imperial as she had the night before, her hair drawn back in two drapes from behind her ears to the back of her head, where it fell in a tight, ash-colored waterfall behind her. Her hands were folded on the table in front of her, her eyes moving between the two younger woman seated across from her as the three of them conversed.

One of her daughters, naturally, was Estelle. Or Lady Asima, or whatever her name truly was, Cassandra thought to herself. She was all smiles this morning, which only served to remind her of her own exhaustion. Clearly, she was well rested! Cassandra grit her teeth, and watched her mistress nibble politely on a bit of honey-glazed doughnut whenever the conversation shifted away from her.