The house seems even smaller on the inside, but what it lacks in size, it makes up for in coziness. It’s amazingly warm and dry, with colorful paintings of flowers on the walls and quilts laid out everywhere. There’s a bed set in the far corner of the room and a table and chairs in the other. On the other end, sits a fireplace so large it takes up the entire wall. More importantly, it has a pot of something that smells delicious bubbling above the fire.
“You can sit down,” Peg says, pointing to a wingback chair covered in a quilt that’s set in front of the fire.
You don’t have to tell me twice. I sink into the soft seat and rest my head against the back. I’m so exhausted, I could fall back asleep again, though if it means I’ll get another nightmare, I’d rather stay awake. The heat kisses my skin and for the first time since the rain started yesterday, my muscles begin to relax.
A loud thump startles me, and I glance over the back of the chair to find Peg riffling through a massive trunk tucked against the end of her bed. I really hope that isn’t where she keeps her hatchet or ax or whatever tools murderesses use to kill their victims.
“Here we go,” she says. Straightening, she plucks a pretty blue dress from the trunk and holds it out. “This should fit you. Let’s get you cleaned up and out of those damp clothes.”
“Oh, really, that’s not—”
“Don’t give me that,it’ll be finebusiness,” she says, cutting me off. “I send you back out in that soaked dress, and you’ll freeze to death. I’ll not have that on my conscience. Now, get that filthy ragoff and put this on. I never wear dresses anyway so it’s of little use to me.”
I'm not going to win this argument, so I reluctantly get out of the chair and cross to where Peg’s standing. She throws the dress into my arms, followed by a chemise, drawers and even a little bonnet, all without looking to see if I caught them—which I do, barely.
“You can put them on back there.” She points to a privacy screen in the corner. “Just watch out for the piss bucket. I haven’t had a chance to change it out yet this morning.”
“Uh… sure. Thanks,” I say, and duck behind the screen. Sure enough, there is a bucket filled with urine, emitting a not-so-pleasant odor, back here. I maneuver around the bucket and am just beginning to tackle the damp mess of fabric clinging to my body when she asks, “So you going to tell me what happened that has you off by yourself with hardly any supplies?”
I’ve been expecting the question and I’m prepared to answer, though I feel a little guilty lying to her, when she’s being so helpful. “I was ambushed on the road. They got my pack horse, but I managed to escape,” I say, raising my voice to be heard through the screen.
“If you don’t want to tell me, that’s fine, but you don’t need to lie,” she replies.
Shoot. How’d she know? I peek around the screen to find her setting utensils out on the table.
“I’m not lying,” I lie.
She just arches a bushy brow and gives me a look that says, “Do you think I’m stupid?”
I don’t argue further. If she’s not going to push, then I’m happy to let it go. I slip back behind the screen and continue peeling off my wet clothes.
By the time I get the dress on and step back into the room, Peg’s already got the table set with a couple of bowls full of what looks to be some sort of clear broth soup with chunks of carrots and potatoes and a meat I can’t identify
“It’s about time. I was about to start without you.” Peg takes my damp clothes and drapes them over the chair in front of the fire before returning to the table.
“Sorry,” I say, settling into the chair across from her. Steam scented with what I’m guessing is rosemary and thyme wafts from the bowl, making my mouth water. “This looks delicious. I guess I’m lucky you made so much.”
She shrugs. “Got a couple farm hands that come around for lunch and dinner, so I’ve always got something cooking. It’s cheaper than paying them a full wage, and I like the company most of the time.”
“So, that's it? Nobody else lives here?” I do a terrible job of hiding the surprise in my voice, and Peg gives me a withering look. “I’m sorry,” I say. “You’re just so young, I’d have thought you might have a husband or family or…” I should probably stop before my foot gets permanently wedged in my mouth.
Peg just chuckles and blows on a spoonful of soup. “Girl, I’m so old, I’ve lost count. And as for a husband, I did have one once.” Her eyes take on a faraway look. “Gods, I loved that boy.” She stuffs the spoon into her mouth, not bothering to swallow a chunk of mystery meat before starting to speak again. “He could do thingsto my body that would make my toes curl and my hair stand on end.”
Probably more information than I needed, but alright. I scoop up a spoonful of broth and take a sip. I don’t know if it’s because I’m so hungry or if Peg’s cooking really is that good, but I swear it’s the best damn soup I’ve ever eaten. I immediately set about stuffing my face while Peg keeps up a one-ended conversation.
“He was pretty as a picture, but dumber than dirt. The worst kind of dumb, really.”
I cock my head in question because there’s way too much food in my mouth to speak. Peg leans forward conspiratorially. “He was the kind of dumb that thinks they’re smart,” she says, then sags back into her chair. “Just before declaring war, the crown started spreading a bunch of nonsense about how Ajir soldiers were attacking our cities and stealing from our outposts. The damned fool believed every word of it. I told him it was lies, but he was also stubborn in addition to being stupid, so when the king asked for volunteers, guess who steps up.”
Oh gods.
She pauses her story to gulp down half a glass of watered-down wine. Setting the glass back down on the table with a thump, she goes right back to her story without missing a beat. “Fool got himself killed the first time he walked onto a battlefield.” She shakes her head. “I took our savings and the little bit of pay he’d earned, bought myself this plot of land and the rest is, as they say, history.”
“I’m so sorry.”
She waves a hand dismissively. “That was a long time ago. You finished?” She gestures to my now empty bowl.
I rub my overfull belly. “It was delicious, and I was really hungry. Thank you.”
