The Diabolical Revenge of Victoria Morrows
The Bonded Maid Arc Final - A Banquet of Death
Victoria was back working in the kitchens again that night. But, oh, what a difference a single night could make. His Lordship had doled out his usual portions of Source from his Flow. As always, it was abundant for the entertainment, but miserly for the kitchen staff.
Yet, no one on the kitchen staff had problems with Source that night, not with Victoria in their midst. She was a font all her own, and her Flow raged through the kitchen as a fierce torrent. Dishwater never cooled, flames eagerly licked wood, and knives kept keen edges despite whatever gruelling tasks the girls set them to. The maid themselves even felt a little faster, a little stronger tonight, thanks to the tiny streams Victoria managed to work through them as she worked. She had to, though. It was far, FAR too much to hold back.
When Lucy Travers had to spend a bit of Flow to light the cooking stove again, Victoria redirected the torrent again, sending her what she needed. Every new person was a relief, as it allowed her to get rid of this terrible weight of abundance. Victoria filled her to the brim, letting her become another conduit down which it could run. Lucy took advantage though, laying her hands on the dry wood and setting it aflame in moments. She leapt back with a shriek of surprise, looking up at Victoria with a mix of appreciation and awe.
“Cor, ‘is Lordship gave you a lot, today! Made you warm ‘is bed last night, did ‘e?”
“Not him, but I did have to a do a bit of . . .work.”
Lucy snorted.
“A right bastard ‘e is, lording it over our heads for favours the way ‘e does. Still, I thank ye fer sharin’. It’s a right mad house out there tonight. And without Eileen. . .”
Victoria held up a hand. She needed no reminders.
“Right. . . sorry missus. I knows you and her was close. Still. . .”
“Don’t trouble yourself over Eileen,” said Victoria. “We know the kind of men Lord Mornay associates with. It could have happened to any of us.”
“Taint right, is all I’m sayin’. Sometimes, I think we’re using knives on the wrong pigs. Anyway, I’ve got to get back in the hall. Begging yer pardon, Mistress, but would ye keep an eye on the pot for me? Just to let me know when it’s boilin’.”
“Gladly,” said Victoria. Lucy walked away with a nod and a smile.
“Lucy, before you go, I’ll thank you to tell tonight’s staff one thing.”
“Aye, Mistress?”
Victoria peered into the stew pot. The maid had done the best she could with ingredients, but there simply wasn’t that much tonight. Enough for the men, surely. Perhaps one or two of the more gluttonous ladies. No more.”
“The stew pot and the wine are in short supply tonight. The girls are not to sample any. And neither is that damned drunk, Jerrick. But make sure Lady Withership gets her glass and bowl. The woman is unbearable when she’s peckish.”
“Jerrick’s not gonna like that, Missus,” Lucy said, shaking her head. “Says it’s harder to deal with all those harpies pawing over ‘im when ‘e’s sober.”
“Nevertheless, he shall have to, tonight. No arguments. I’ll not have another Eileen because one of ours was too inebriated to see the signs. Everyone steps lightly around the food. And the wine. Mind me, you hear?”
Lucy stiffened.
“Aye, Mistress,” she said and left the room. She hated speaking to Lucy so firmly, but she couldn’t take any chances. As soon as the woman was gone, she picked up the ladle and began to stir the stew. The Flow still ran through her, quieter now that she had shared it with most of the staff, yet still potent enough for what she had in mind. She let it seep into the stew, and redirected a bit into the bottles of wine on the counter. When she clearly felt the flow in both the stew, and the wine, she held it fast. The connection solidified.
“Best make sure none of your little lambs sample it, dearest,” the Crone whispering voice echoed behind her.
“Wouldn’t want to stain that pretty little heart of yours with guilt, would we?”
“This is all for tonight’s party. Naught but the very best for our Little Lordling tonight and his friends. All they want. All they deserve.”
“Oh dear, you’re not talking about comeuppances, are you?” the Crone said. “That’s what got you into this pickle in the first place.”
“If you’re going to just speak in riddles, just be silent and let me work.”
“Of course, little Magitrix. It’s one of the things I have ALWAYS enjoyed watching.”
#
The wine had run out. Victoria could tell from the steadily rising voicing in the hall. When she ordered all of the girls into the kitchen for the night, they knew something was terribly wrong. Still, any that might have raised a word of protest quickly thought better of it after a glance from her second, Lucy. Victoria may have been a terrifying head maid, but Lucy was their canary in the coal mine. If Lucy wasn’t going to speak up, none of them were going to put their heads on the chopping block. They huddled together in a corner of the kitchen as Victoria stood by the entrance of the banquet hall, watching the inebriated guest flounder for more wine.
“How could we run out of wine?” said one. “The mistress ain’t never made a mistake like that before.”
“Taint no mistake,” said Lucy. Victoria could feel the woman’s eyes on her.
“Just look at ‘er. She’s furious with his Lordship. Might be fixing to make known ‘er displeasure ‘bout young Eileen. ‘E even invited the beast back tonight, can ye believe it?!”
“Is she mad? If Lord Mornay finds out she ruined one of his banquets on purpose, ‘e’ll have ‘er flogged. Hell, the man is so petty he may spend the night taking chunks out of ‘er hisself.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time, the bastard,” a plump, squat made chimed. As Victoria looked back, she watched the maid pull up her skirt, revealing an ugly cris cross of healed scars underneath. “Got my licks from ‘im for spillin’ water on the lordly trousers. Who hasn’t? Put up yer hand if ye haven’t.”
Not a single woman raised her hand. Of course, the abuses extended to the kitchen staff. Why would she think anything different? Any hesitation she had about the next few minutes evaporated under the weight of those unraised hands. And any recourse she might have given him went out the window at his angry bellow from across the hall.
“VICTORIA! Come out this instant, girl!”
Victoria hurried out of the kitchens. It wouldn’t do to be slow. She did still need to keep up appearances, after all. The fine hairs on her arms bristled as she felt the eyes of the noble assembly on her. Looking for a show, no doubt. She walked past them until she stood in front of Lord Mornay in his high-backed chair at the head of the table, curtsying low.
“What seems to be the trouble, milord?” she asked.
“You know damned well what the trouble is. The guests are out of wine, and I expect that keeping an eye on the stock is well within the abilities of my head maid, is it not?”
“Indeed, it is my Lord, but single handing directed the wine stocks of the entire city to feed his Lordship’s, nightly banquets is not. If my Lord wou-”
Victoria felt the sting of his thin wood oak can as he rapped her on the hand. She kept absolutely still, despite the pain.
“That sounded dangerously like cheek, girl. I’ll forgive you that, should you be able to find a suitable solution to this. . .dilemma.”
“Perhaps if milord just ended his part for tonight? The guests seem well-sated after all.”
The resounded jeers and taunts from the assembly in response told her that this was anything but the case. Her eyes went to Eileen’s brute from the night before, who looked her up and down appraisingly. She suppressed a shudder of disgust at the bald-headed ogre of a man, all filthy clothes and missing teeth.
“End the party?!” he grated around a mouthful of meat. “So soon! I should have known never to lend my aid to this backwater. Not even the foodstuffs for a three-day feast. Is this the thanks I get for quelling the rabble?”
“Forgive my servant’s indiscretion,” he said, rapping Victoria again, this time across the legs. With most of her Flow dispersed through the keep, each blow hurt a lot more. Her connection to it wobbled as she grit her teeth through the pain. “She is ignorant of the service you perform for our city.”
Victoria was ignorant of any service the lout could perform for the city, but she kept that though to herself.
“Perhaps she can make it up to me. She certainly seems a bit hardier than the last one you let me have.”
Victoria felt her eye twitch.
“Did you see that?” he chortled. “She flinched! Was the little maid last night a friend of yours? Had feelings for her, did you?”
The only thing Victoria felt was the churn and froth of her flow. At the mention of Eileen, it started roiling violently within her. Her, and everyone else in the room she was connected too. She could hear low moans from some of the guests at the table. She struggled to calm to flow, noting with disappointment how thin the stream connected to the little lordling was. He never did eat much, the bastard. He would live, but it would still hurt like hell. Maybe that would be better. She watched as he shot the bald man an irritated glance.
“Captain Brevon, need I remind you that she was one of my best? Though Victoria here is on the other side of thirty summers, barring tonight’s debacle, she is my most capable in the kitchens.”
“What’s your point? I don’t want her for kitchen work.”
“My point is that while your services are appreciated, your restraint is as well. I do not with another repeat of last night’s. . .mishap.”
Mishap? Mishap?!
A bubble of rage popped within her flow. One guest let out a particularly loud groan.
“Oh, now THIS is getting exciting!” The Crone’s voice, giddy with excitement, resounded in her ear.
“Little trollop wouldn’t give me what I wanted,” he grunted, beckoning Victoria over. “I know you’ll be different, love. The older ones always know.”
“Truly, I’m flattered, Lord,” she said, bowing low. A bitter smile crossed her lips. “I’m sure you’re well versed in what a woman like me would want from a man like you.”
“They all want the same thing, in the end.” said Brevon, taking a handful of her hair and pulling.
She looked up deep into the man’s eyes.
“Yes. . .we do.”
She pushed outward on all the connections in her Flow, letting the full weight of the what she had been holding back rush through. It ran straight through her body, into the connections with the wine and stew she had so carefully made earlier in the day. . .
And burst.
The man howled in agony as wine, stew, fluids and viscera burst from his stomach. Blood spattered across Victoria’s face as she stood up. The hand in Victoria’s hair fell away in a vain attempt to clutch as his guts as they toppled out onto the stone floor. He dropped to knees in front of her. Extending a hand, she gave him a soft push backwards, and he tumbled back onto the floor with a squelch. Lord Mornay watched in horror as the same scene played out more than a dozen times around the whole table. Whole founts burst from those who had overindulged, while light eaters had only pinpricks as drops forced their way out. The little Lordling was among the latter but she he worked the flow through him more intensely anyway. Even if he survived tonight, he was ruined.
He slipped out of his chair onto to rough stones, curling up into a ball as he held his stomach. Victoria knelt down next to him, stroking his hair before she grabbed a handful of it and pulled, forcing him to meet her eyes.
“Sh, sh, sh, no more whining, little lordling. You’re a quick digester, so there’s a lot more of my special little brew sitting a bit further down, so to speak. In a place you absolutely do not want it bursting out of, if you take my meaning.”
“Witch! Did the harridan last night put you up to this?”
“Oh, that’s adorable! He thinks it was me!”
“I’m afraid this is all me, little lordling. And unless you want to find out how much more of me I’ve been holding back, you’ll answer my questions.”
“Drown in the Flow, you harlot! I know you and that witch planned this. And if you think I’ll tell you anything after you’ve done for half the influentials in the city, I, I, aaahh!”
Flecks of blood appeared on the posterior of his tunic.
“Oh dear, I’m afraid that I am having a bit of difficulty controlling this flow. I might just send some the wrong way.”
She looked meaningfully at his crotch.
“All right, all right! Ask, damn you!”
“How did you come by me?”
“It is as I said. I found you wandering the beach. . .a survivor of a shipwreck! I told no lies!”
“Whose vessel?”
“The Middle lands Head Regent, Janus! He’s sent word that one of his vessels had wrecked and we could keep whatever we found. So, I just thought. . .”
“You thought it would be better to treat me like salvage than an actual survivor?!”
More pinpricks of blood appeared on his rear.
“AHHHH! He never asked for any! He said whatever we find!”
Victoria stared at him intently. The man looked too frightened to lie.
She heard a snicker behind her as wisps of smoke from the firsts in the room coalesced into a grinning rictus.
“Fine work indeed, Magitrix. And most entertaining to watch.”
“The Witch of the Source! I knew you had a hand in this. But. . .why?”
The grin grew even wider as the face turned to regard him.
“Sometimes people need fixing. Sometimes they need breaking. Wonder which one you are?”
“Enough, Crone!” Victoria said firmly. “He lives.”
“Truly? Not the Magitrix I know after all.” There was an odd tone in her voice. Every word up to now had been working. To hear it absent was. . .jarring.
“It’s not a kindness to allow him to keep his life,” she said, standing up. Lord Mornay forced himself into a sitting position, glowering at her. She planted a firm boot on his chest, putting the weight of her source behind it to force him down. “He’ll soon find out.”
“You will allow me to keep my life?! A scullery maid? You have no power!”
“From here, it looks like I have all of it,” she said. “I’ve pulled you down to the bottom with me, you see. What do you think will happen to your reputation after word of our little mishap gets out?”
The man’s eyes widened. The Crone’s gaseous head bounced up and down, tittering laughter reverberating off the walls of the keep.
“Oh, I’m so glad I decided to stick around. So good to see it finally click for the little lord with big dreams. Well, they’re all ash now. No fewer than twelve nobles died in your keep. You’ll have a time just proving that they didn’t die by YOUR hand, let alone that of a murderous hussy.”
“Murderous?! Victoria raised an eyebrow.
“Damn you, both,” he said, raising his head. His eyes blazed with pain and fury. “You will pay for this, I swear it.
“A bit late for that little lording. Both for the payment and for the damnation. Our little Magitrix has been on that path long before she met you.”
Victoria turned back to regard the shade. In doing so, she had to look on the carnage she wrought. Dead or dying nobles lined the tables. Jerrick had dropped his lute on the floor, trying to soothe the women around him that had suffered from the outburst of Flow. Most of them would live. Lady Withership though, was a bloody mess. Jerrick wouldn’t go near her. Who could blame him, after what she did to the man? But for the rest, she could feel the healing Flow springing from his dark-skinned fingers as he mended their flesh. Bless the man.
The Crone was right. Victoria had no such mercy to spare. And even less patience.
“Enough with your riddles, shade!”
She looked down at Lord Mornay, now regarding her with undisguised hatred.
“Today, I leave your service. Do not follow me. It won’t go well.”
The man spit in her face. He then collapsed on the floor in agony as she sent another stream of flow through him. He rolled around the ground, no longer able to offer a word of resistance. Others were not so lucky. She could feel them sliding away, down the flow to the end of the source, perhaps to come back better someday. She hoped so.
It had been so easy.
That was what scared her. How naturally the plan came to her, how quickly she went through all the steps. Worse was how utterly rattled she was to see dead and dying people around her, wrought by her own hand. By all rights, the carnage should have made her sick to her stomach. But it didn’t. She turned to the Crone.
“I’ve. . .I’ve done this before, haven’t I...”
The Crone’s grin turned so wide the top of her head threatened to fall off.
“I daresay you’ve gotten more artful . . .” she chuckled as the wisps forming her face unravelled. “Off you trot dearest. We have a long way to go.”
A moment later, and Victoria was staring at empty air again. Behind her, Lucy crept into the room, the other maids spread out in a fan formation. Each woman held a broom, a mop, a pot, of whatever they could lay their hands on. Lucy led with a massive cast iron frying pan. The entire scene would have been comical if it wasn’t so grisly.
“Mistress, what happened? The guests. . .”
“Shall have to be seen to. And his Lordship and those that haven’t yet gone to the Source will be needed a cleric.” she nodded to a maid behind Lucy, who sped off.
“But Mistress, what have you done?”
“Only what I had to for dear Eileen. Now listen to me very carefully, Lucy. For obvious reasons, I shall have to be away for a while. Look after things in my absence, especially his Lordship! No matter what happens to me, I want him to live a good long life so he can remember tonight.”
“Of course, Mistress, but. . . “
“Now, Lucy.”