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Lucy didn’t normally begrudge the customers of Baker and Company Café a chance to linger, but the pair sitting at a table near the fire weren’t normal. Ever since she’d seated them, they’d reeked of sour lemon like a sauce for baked fish. Now they were using enough power between them that Lucy’s nose stung with it. She couldn’t focus on anything else.
When she finished cleaning the last empty table near the fire, she paused to dry her hands on her burgundy apron and adjust the bandana corralling her inky corkscrew curls. Then she stood at the hearth to warm her hands, unwilling to walk away and leave the pair be. She kept telling herself it didn’t matter if these people were using mental energy with one another. And yet, why did they have to do it in her family’s cafe?
Three days ago, her father had called in two Knights off the street when their buddies started a fight in the café. One of the fighters must have had power over air because every bit of ash had gathered itself up from the hearth and flung itself at his opponent, who in turn caused the aggressor’s body to slam itself against the wall. Several customers had gotten blinded by ash and knocked to the ground in the process. Lucy had already not wanted to serve these members of the religious orders who came to Baker and Company. Her bias against them only intensified with each hour she’d spent cleaning up after the fight.
Lucy straightened, twisting her back a little to stretch the muscles and shoot a quick glance at the pair with power. They still weren’t talking. The man and woman, both wearing nondescript work coats, only sat there nursing their warm cider. Lucy had approached periodically, asking if she could get them anything else. The man wouldn’t even look up at her. He’d only grunt. The woman, a blonde with her hair knotted at the base of her neck, would make eye contact. She’d give a firm, “No, thank you.”
Lucy was considering asking again when a bell from the front door clanged behind her. She turned. Minister Daniel Andreasen entered, his longish dark hair curling about his coat collar.
The minister smelled of pine tar and lemon oil. It was the smell of intense power, power over almost every element and energy there was. The minister served on the country’s ruling council and had his fingers in most of the religious orders, too. He’d obviously been a member of one of them at some time because he’d more than trained his powers. Lucy only knew this because of a mutual friend and because the minister came to the café often. And yet, she still didn’t know what to make of the man.
“Minister!” she called out, approaching the front. “Hello.”
The man’s grey eyes left her and moved to the fire. Or did his gaze go to the troubling pair of customers?
“Is everything alright?” he asked.
Lucy took a breath to say “fine,” but she hesitated. The minister’s presence might trouble her, but not as much as the pair by the fire did. She stepped closer to him, lowering her voice so no one else would hear. “I have a bad feeling about those two.” She nodded in their direction. “These types from the orders worry me.”
The Minister’s gaze returned to Lucy. He narrowed his grey eyes at her. After a moment, he sat on a stool at the counter and flicked his eyes to the chalkboard menu above. “I’ll have the savory carraway pastry and ginger tea.”
The two other customers sitting at the counter glanced over. Seeming to recognize the minister, they slid off of their stools and left, carrying their plates and drinks to a table on the far side of the room.
Lucy couldn’t blame them. She felt that way about the minister, too. But she couldn’t follow them.
She turned back to the minister. “Of course.” She moved to pour steaming water from the kettle into a mug and set his tea steeping.
“Leave them be,” the minister whispered.
Lucy glanced up.
“I’m listening,” he added.
“Thank you,” she whispered. She did feel a little better knowing that someone else was paying attention. Lucy served the minister his pastry plate and then went back out to the seating to refill water glasses and check on customers.
The lemon miasma in the room persisted. Lucy tried to take comfort in the hint of pine tar that meant the nearness of someone else with power—with quite a few powers, in fact, if rumors were true.
Well over an hour passed as Lucy tended to Baker and Company customers. She kept the minister’s tea fresh though he hadn’t asked for anything more. She also offered him an extra chicken pie the cook had made by mistake. Not until the rush of orders passed and a third of the customers trickled out the door did the man and woman by the fire stand and push in their seats. They stopped at the counter and silently handed over their coins. Then they strode out the front door. The bell jingled behind them.
Lucy heaved out a breath she hadn’t know she was holding. Then she turned to the minister. He still sat all alone at the counter staring into his mug of tea. She stepped closer. “What were they doing?” she whispered.
His grey eyes flicked up to hers. “Nothing of harm to your café.”
It barely answered her question, but Lucy had plenty of other questions. “Can you read minds?”
The minister sat up straighter. “Why do you ask?”
“You said you were listening to them. Is that what you meant?”
He relaxed ever so slightly. “No, and most people will tell you that’s impossible.”
Lucy frowned. “Most people?” Frustrated when he gave no further response, Lucy made herself unclench her jaw. “Then how were you listening?” She knew it was unwise to speak of power, especially to a member of the Ministry’s ruling council. Then again, someone needed to talk about it. It had become a problem.
The minister’s eyes studied her for a moment. “I have power with mental energy,” he said finally, “and I can overhear when others are using mental energy to communicate.”
She nodded though she didn’t necessarily understand.
“They spoke of nothing to do with your café,” he assured her again. “You needn’t worry.”
“But I do worry. People using power in this café usually means trouble. I pay attention.”
“Is that why you were watching them earlier?” he asked casually. “Because they were using power?”
“Yes. It started as soon as they sat down. I—”
“How could you tell?”
Lucy’s breath caught. She’d opened herself up to that question. She closed her mouth and then began again. “People don’t come here to stare at their drinks together in silence. I could tell they were up to something.”
The minister didn’t react to her explanation. He only studied her. She held his gaze defiantly, only breaking eye contact when the front door jingled again and a figure in an undyed wool cloak approached them.
“Hello!” Liam flung back his hood and hopped onto a stool beside the minister. The monk’s high cheekbones had tinged with pink from the cold, as had the tip of his nose. He grinned at the minister.
The minister, however, only faced the monk with his usual deadpan expression. Then he stood and buttoned his long black coat. “You need to be more careful,” he said to Liam.
Liam tilted his head, holding the minister’s eyes. “More careful of what?”
“Of your search.” The minister pulled black leather gloves from his coat pockets. “Two Guardians were in here earlier discussing it.” Gloves on, the minister tossed coins onto the counter and walked out into the cold.
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CAKE AND PEWTER: A NOVELETTE. Copyright © 2026 by Callie J. Smith
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. For information, visit www.calliejsmith.net.
Cake and Pewter first appeared in Forever Yours: A Dragon Soul Press Anthology
(Dragon Soul Press, 2026)