Lord of Souls: An Elder Scrolls Novel by Greg Keyes

protections. Some are in the walls, living things that see and smell the uninvited. Others, as I understand it, are sorcerous in nature. All I know is, they say at least twenty people from other kitchens have tried to invade past Phmer’s pantry; all were caught or killed. Almost as many have tried to get into Toel’s kitchen since you came to work there.”
    “I haven’t heard anything about that.”
    “That’s because they all went into the sump,” he said.
    “Huh. But you think I can get into the pantry.”
    “At night, if you’re very careful.”
    “Suppose I was invisible, had no scent, made no sound?” she asked.
    “You might make it another fifteen paces, as some of the others did.”
    “Well, then,” she said. “Thanks, Glim, that’s very helpful.”
    “You’re going to get yourself killed,” he said. “You rememberthe last time you tried to make someone invisible? For a week all my organs were on display for everyone to see.”
    “I’ve learned a lot since then,” she assured him.
    “I hope so. When are you going?”
    “Tonight.”

    Annaïg was wakened by a gentle pressure on her arm. She opened her eyes and found Dulg standing there, his little froglike form perched on the stool by her bed.
    “What is it?” she asked.
    “Chef Toel requires your presence,” he said.
    She stirred, rubbing her eyes. “What’s going on?”
    “That’s not for you to ask,” Dulg replied.
    She looked around. “Where is Slyr?” she asked.
    “Summoned earlier,” Dulg supplied.
    “Did she wear my gold-and-black gown?”
    Dulg looked a bit puzzled. “You said I could offer it to her.”
    “Right. I did, didn’t I? Well, just fetch me the black one.”
    Dulg nodded and bounded off.
    An hour later, properly dressed and coiffed, she met Toel on his balcony. He wasn’t alone this time. His underchefs Intovar and Yeum stood on either side of him. Intovar was a spindly fellow with dirty yellow hair and an air of the rodent about him. Yeum was a thick woman with an appealing, heart-shaped face and dusky skin. Neither had ever spoken to her except to give her orders.
    Slyr was also there, of course.
    On the other side of the balcony—as if relegated there by an invisible line—stood another party. The obvious leader was an impressively tall, narrow woman with close-cropped hair and large emerald eyes. She was accompanied by two men, one brick red with horns and the other a merish-looking person who looked perpetually surprised.
    “Chef Toel,” Annaïg said, bowing her head slightly.
    He smiled oddly and gestured at the green-eyed woman. “I should like to present you to Chef Phmer, and also her assistants Jolha and Egren.”
    “An honor, Chefs,” Annaïg replied.
    Phmer smiled, but it reminded Annaïg of the toothy grin of the piranhas that lived in the dunkwaters.
    “I’m told you are to thank—or blame—for many of the fads passing through some kitchens,” she said. Her voice was silk, coiled thick and made into a noose.
    “I suppose I might be,” Annaïg replied.
    “And yet your inventiveness would appear to have its limits.”
    “Everything has limits,” Annaïg said cautiously.
    “And yet fetching up against these limits has tempted you to do something rather costly,” Phmer went on.
    Annaïg looked at Toel, whose expression was blank.
    “I don’t understand,” she said.
    Phmer’s expression changed, going from one of apparent good humor to barely checked rage.
    “Do you deny you broke into my kitchen last night in an attempt to steal the secret of the ninth savor?”
    “Chef,” Annaïg said, “I do. I certainly do.”
    “And yet we have testimony that you did. And other evidence.”
    “Testimony?”
    But she couldn’t miss the suppressed look of triumph on Slyr’s face.
    “If you did this thing,” Toel said, “you know I must give you over to her. It is the law.”
    “It’s permissible to invade another kitchen wholesale and slaughter everyone there, but not to sneak