“Hello, you,” Darina says.
She peels back the cloth, picks out a piece of meat, and holds it out. Nim looks at the meat, then at Darina’s face, and doesn’t move. Darina sets the piece down halfway between them and steps back. Nothing happens.
“She’s not hungry,” I say.
“Or she doesn’t take bribes.”
“Then why is she staring at us?”
Darina straightens up slowly, the grain sack forgotten.
“Because she’s not here to eat. She’s on duty.”
“On duty.”
“Think about it. He leaves without a word, and his creature posts herself in the kitchen to watch us. He left her instructions. Watch the humans. Report everything.”
“She does look like she’s taking notes.”
Darina lifts the wooden spoon and holds it up in front of Nim.
“Write this down. The blonde one has touched the pots.”
“The blonde one?” I laugh.
“Yes. And the redheaded one is plotting against the master’s sauce.”
“Somebody has to,” I huff. “If she reports anything, it should be how bad I think the sauce is.”
We’re both laughing, bent over the counter, so hard that Darina presses the spoon to her belly. I can’t remember the last time I laughed like this.
That’s how Osric finds us. I turn to reach for the water jug, and he’s there, standing in the kitchen doorway. I go quiet mid-laugh, and behind me, Darina goes quiet too.
He’s dusty from the road, and he looks tired. He holds himself carefully, tail low behind him. He doesn’t come in.
I did this. I forced him to be careful in his own house, and now he stands outside his own kitchen while two strangers handle his supplies. I look for something to count, and there’s nothing but jars.
“Be decent,”I told myself. This was a good place to start.
“Darina and I are taking over the meals,” I say. “If you have no objection.”
“None,” he says.
“Good.” I fold my hands in front of me, the way I was taught to stand when announcing something that will surely be refused. “And there’s another thing you should know. I’ve decided to leave. But I need a plan first – where to go, how to make a living – so I’ll stay a few days. Maybe a week.”
He doesn’t argue, and he doesn’t ask a single question.
“As you wish,” he says.
Then he turns on his heel and is gone before I can read his face.
I feel relieved. I was braced for an argument, for conditions, for the hurt look I saw at dinner. He gave me none of that. I goteverything I asked for without saying one word more than I had to.
Then I feel sad, and I have no reason for it. What did I want? For him to argue? For him to fight to keep me? That makes no sense. He’s a stranger who bought me at an auction, and I’m leaving. His agreement is the best thing he could have given me.
I brush the thought away.
Nim jumps down from the counter and pads after him. The piece of meat stays where Darina placed it, untouched.
