The pale mass in the cauldron reached the consistency of soupy mashed potatoes. The technical term was “come to trace.” I tried to draw a little heart with the tracings dripping from the mixing spoon. It didn’t hold. No, not quite there.
“Also, please stop cleaning.”
I stopped stirring for a second. “What?”
“Please stop cleaning. Especially the toilets. It makes me uneasy. I am more than capable of handling basic household maintenance. You don’t need to insult my skills.”
“I cleaned because it had to be done. We have a giant house. We all pitched in.”
Clover sighed. “I know. But that’s over now. There are things that only you can do. Please do those things and leave other things to me.”
I resumed stirring. “It really bothers you that I scrubbed the toilets?”
“What kind of maid lets her lady clean the bathrooms?”
The light finally dawned. Clover had left her home and studied for years to become a lady’s maid. When she was thrown out of the earl’s household, her entire identity had been ripped away from her. She desperately wanted to get back to the place where she was competent, efficient, and admired for her skills. She required a lady, especially now, because she had something to prove, and for better or worse, I was it.
“Very well. I will leave the cleaning to you.”
“Thank you, Maggie. I swear I won’t go to the market again without you.”
The contents of the cauldron turned into thick banana pudding. I drew a heart on the surface. It stayed. No yellow streaks, and the shine was just right.
“It’s ready.” I took a ladle and scooped the mass into the first small pan.
“But what is it?”
“Soap.”
The soap in Kair Toren was both expensive and not that great. It was hot-processed using rendered animal fat, which was pricey. Even the soap in the Garden, which served only the best to its customers, had no scent and had felt kind of rough. When I was looking for a place to stay, one of the prospective landlords took his time moaning about the price of soap and then patting himself on the back for including a grape-sized chunk of it with the weekly rent.
“But you didn’t use tallow,” she murmured. “Can you make soap with bulko oil?”
“We’re about to find out.” The basic principle was the same: Add lye to fat and let it saponify. I had no doubt that this soap would lather. But nailing down the details would take a lot longer.
“If this works . . .” Clover’s face took on a faraway look, and then her eyes shone. “Half a den.”
“I’m sorry?”
“That’s how much it cost us to make a small pan. If we make a large pan, we can cut it into finger-thick bars, ten bars per mold. If we charge five dens per bar, we can make half a noma per batch. We bought two short barrels . . .”
“We won’t know if it worked until it cools enough to handle. Help me keep track. This is test batch number one at five drems, even. Now we need to make batch number two.”
We had a long day ahead of us.
Kair Toren didn’t just have beautiful sunrises. Its sunsets rocked, too.
The western half of the sky shone with gold and amber, as if someone had built a hot fire and scattered the still-glowing coal over the soft azure expanse. Plump clouds floated in it, soaking in the color and turning yellow and lavender.
At the laundry table, Shana dipped her hands into a bucket of water, lathered them with the latest bar of soap, and contemplated the bubbles. Sample bars filled the table, each carefully labeled with a number, twenty-four in total. On the bench, Clover made the latest annotations on our list of ingredients.
I stretched my chest and shoulders, trying to work the kinks out. We’d been at this for over twelve hours.
The first batch worked but had too much lye. It wouldn’t go to waste, since we could use it for laundry. The second batch didn’t have enough lye and came out slimy. It took me four more tries to nail down the precise ratio of the three ingredients. Then we added yogurt to create a creamier lather and a softer, more fluid soap. That took several batches, and then we added the maidenflower extract. The challenge wasn’t to just make cheap soap, but to produce a superior soap bar at a low cost.
I was so tired.
At some point Reynald parked himself near us, working on sharpening some arrowheads. He and Gort had discussed our arsenal and decided it was sorely lacking. They had bought some bows and crossbows and a heap of arrows and bolts, which now needed tending to.
