Dead Letter (6 page)

CHAPTER FOUR

Cog and
Wheel

Elrin
dashed into the Cog and Wheel, near knocking a serving girl into
the lap of a patron. Not that the old man would have minded; she
was pretty enough to light a fire with her smile. “Sorry,
Chelle!”

Old
Rimple wasn’t behind the bar, which gave Elrin a chance to slip
into the kitchen before the innkeep noticed he was late. The young
man ran around the bar and ducked into the kitchen where Cook gave
him a knowing grin. “Get scrubbing, little dish pig, afore Rimple
throws you out and hires a cow instead.”

That was
no less than Elrin intended to do and he began clearing and sorting
the filthy pots and pans beside a wide half barrel. Speed was
important, but there’d be no pay if the job was done poorly. He
began by scraping the dripping off for later use then he tipped the
food scraps into a refuse bucket at the side. The hens loved to
pick through the waste.

“
Water’s a boiling, and where is the washer?” hollered Innkeep
Rimple, blasting Elrin with a shock of guilt, soaked with surprise.
“Why’s this tub not set for scrubbing?”

“
Calm down, Rimp. I had him peeling tatties,” said Cook,
covering for Elrin’s tardiness. “Leave my little piggy
be.”

“
I’m not paying him for peel. Get to it before the evenfall
meals pile you both under.”

Elrin
donned a pair of heavy mitts and emptied a steaming kettle into the
tub. He then refilled it with fresh water, returned it to the
hearth and began dropping cutlery into the wash water. Rimple
huffed his approval and turned to leave.

“
Before you head out,” called Elrin. “I thought you should
know I directed a couple of mages to see you.”

The
rotund innkeep scratched the back of his neck, eyebrows raised like
jaws of an opening bear trap. “Mages, eh? And you sent them
here?”

“
They were asking after Master Mertin. I said you might know
something.”

“
Did you give a good impression?”

Elrin
shrugged. What could he say? “I didn’t try and give a bad
one.”

“
This is pleasant news. You’ve done well, Elrin. The hour is
ripe for a warm bed and a hot meal. Get ready to earn your shine,
Cook. The Order of Calim deserves the finest we have to offer. We
are in good standing, so let’s not tarnish our reputation.” Rimple
rubbed his palms together and combed down the thin crown of hair
clinging to his shiny head. “How do I look?”

“
Desperate,” said Cook. “Now, bugger off and let us get to
work.”

Rimple
tucked in his shirt and hitched up his trousers. “Confidence is
what you see. Assured hospitality. Good thing I work the front and
you work back here. You could learn a thing or two from my
charisma. I’ll charm the shine from their tight purses.” With a
puff of his chest, the innkeep left the kitchen and returned to the
front of house to catch his quarry.

“
Who are they then, Piggy?” asked Cook, revealing his nerves
now Rimple was gone. “Can’t be anyone too important, can it? Are we
talking elders or grimy prentices, scarpered for a night of
ale?”

“
I don’t think they could be all that important. One wore
green, which is for a novice and the other was in blue so I guess
she’s an adept. I think that’s how the Order’s colours
go.”

“
As long as it weren’t the bloody Archmagus, we should
manage.” Cook took to his spice rack then turned on Elrin. “You
sure it wasn’t the Archmagus?”

“
They both had their cowls on, so I couldn’t tell what they
looked like. What does the Archmagus look like anyway?”

“
I don’t know. Female; ‘zap your gems to embers if you cross
her’ kind of beautiful.”

“
One looked a bit like that,” said Elrin.

“
Best we keep our gems to ourselves then, eh? We should be
safe back here. Get washing, Piggy.”

Elrin
had barely begun to clean the cutlery when he was clapped across
his back. Innkeep Rimple’s surprise congratulations stung him to
attention. “Why didn’t you say there were four? They are booking a
room each! Can you believe it? Honey on bread, this is good. This
is good!”

“
Keep your head out of your arse and ask what they’ve a mind
for eating so I can get on with it,” demanded Cook.

Rimple
ran back to dote on his wealthy guests, leaving Elrin to face
Cook’s displeased glare alone. “I swear, there were only two,” he
said. “The others must have been around the corner. What’s it
matter? Four isn’t forty. They’re just mages. I doubt they’d eat
more than anyone else.”

“
More isn’t the problem, Piggy. Fine taste is the
problem.”

Elrin
was through wasting time on the fluster. He’d dearly love to talk
with the mages about their library and pick their brains on a few
things, but that wasn’t going to happen. While he dreamed about a
better life, the dishes loomed. They wouldn’t clean themselves. He
selected the cleanest of the dishes and bundled them into the tub.
With soap and determination, he washed each item and dropped it
into a tub of clear water beside the frothing washing tub. It
wasn’t long before Rimple returned with the food order from the
mages. Elrin kept working while Rimple addressed Cook. “The
guildermen have ordered chicken and the ladies have called for
fish. What can you do?”

“
Well, the chicken’s not a problem. I’ve got plenty of pies
this evening.”

“
No, that won’t do,” complained Rimple. “You can’t feed them a
bloody pie!”

Cook
snorted in disgust. “Well, if a pie is below their sensibilities, I
can do up a nice plate of steam greens, mash and gravy and pop
joint on for each. What are they drinking?”

“
Ciders all round. That should be fine. And the
fish?”

“
I suppose the stew won’t be sufficient?”

“
Certainly not.”

“
A soup?”

“
Never.”

Cook
racked his brains and mumbled. “I’ve no fresh fish. What’s left
from this morning’s catch is in the stew or in the
smoker.”

“
Then smoked fish it is.”

“
Half smoked.”

“
Then fry it as well! Come on, Cook!”

Cook was
not pleased with where this was going. “I suppose if I made a
mustard sauce, peas and bud cabbage would suit.”

“
Excellent! Put that order to the top of your
list.”

Elrin
continued on, scouring through the filth until he filled the
rinsing tub. He extracted the clean plates and hung them in the
drying racks closer to the fire pit, ready for Cook to dirty again.
The batches became progressively filthier and the washing water
correspondingly more and more like a pool of cess and bilge. Down
the stone drain it went, sloshing out the hole in the wall and into
the gutters on the backstreet. For each batch that Elrin managed to
clean, more appeared.

Chelle
dumped a tray full of tankards into the wash water, grinning at
Elrin’s obvious disgust. “So how’s the running going? Any juicy
gossip?”

“
Why do you always do that? You know it irks me. Now you’ve
mixed ale dregs into the new washing water. Next time, leave them
on the bench, please.”

“
Oh, come now, Elrin, does it really matter?”

“
Of course it matters. Every change of water slows me
down.”

“
Leave my piggy be,” scolded Cook. “Take the mages’ meals and
get back to wenching, before I call Rimple.”

Chelle
gave Cook a ladylike gesture and returned to the common room, her
arms full of dinner plates.

“
Thanks, Cook,” said Elrin.

“
She does it because she likes you. Why not take her for a
turn one night?”

Elrin
scoffed. “Chelle only wants one thing.”

“
And how is that cause for concern? What’s wrong with you,
lad?”

“
No, Cook. That is not what I meant.” Chelle was a beauty,
though Elrin was quite sure she’d eat him alive. “She just wants to
sell gossip at the tables.”

“
Then let her. Make a few coppers on the side. Don’t be so
picky where your shine comes from.”

Cook was
right. Any extra money would be a help. But it felt wrong to trade
gossip with the wenches. Running messages barely put bread on the
table. Dish-pigging at night paid for oil and leftovers kept him in
a meal everyday. Maybe selling idle tales was a way to lighten his
load without any extra hours. If only there was something he had
heard that was interesting. Unless knowing the awkward habits and
mannerisms of Guilders was of any value. Perhaps to the right
person it was. What did he care? That was Chelle’s problem. If
she’d pay for useless information, he needed to take it. There was
no guild looking out for him. He needed to take care of his own
business. “I’ll keep an eye out.”

“
And your ears. I bet those guild leaders natter on like
you’re not even in the room. Pompous bastards.”

“
They’re not all that bad.”

“
Not all! No, but most, aren’t I right?”

“
Perhaps, some—“

“
I know for a fact that the Guild of Culinary Artisans has
stuffed bloody great pokers up the arses of every chef they’ve put
a hat on. That’s why they’re so tall, see. To cover the pointy end
poking out their heads.”

Elrin
laughed like a good piggy should. Even though he’d heard Cook tell
the joke every other night he worked. He liked Cook as well as he
would like a carriage ride cramped with well meaning uncles
offering their wisdom on a journey across the western plains to
Tashiska.

They
worked on in the humid kitchen, sweating and chatting. The mages’
dinner went out looking as fine as any chef could have put
together. Cook was magic at rustling up delicious meals using
improvised ingredients.

Not long
after the meals were served, Innkeep Rimple bustled in to the
kitchen and clapped Cook on the back.

“
Ash it, Rimple! That smarts like a convention of
gnomes.”

“
Sorry, Cook,” came Rimple. “Just thought I’d pass on the
compliments from our special guests.”

Cook
took a darker shade of red than usual and leaned on his bench. “Is
that so? Well, I’ll be. What did they say?”

“
The guildermen mages didn’t say a great deal, though the
empty plates spoke volumes. The beauty in blue said she’d never
tasted finer fare and the dark haired mistress in green bade me
give you this.” The innkeep handed Cook a whole silver
tab.

“
Just for me?”

“
That one is, yes.”

Elrin
yearned for shine like that to drop into his hands more often. He’d
see that kind of pay once a broken moon.

Cook
took the tab and pointed it at Rimple. “If I got this then I expect
you took a share yourself.”

“
Come on, Cook. Don’t be like that. Gracious are
the—”

“
Bollocks to that,” interrupted Cook, not wanting to hear
Rimple’s false piety. “What’s the score?”

Rimple
pulled another silver out and gave it to Cook. “They paid in gold
and had no change. The lady in green was kind enough to suggest I
give a bonus to all of the staff for their hospitality.”

“
Then what about my piggy? Where’s his share?”

“
Don’t be ridiculous! Tips don’t get shared with unguilded
labour. She didn’t mean him.” Rimple gave Elrin an awkward
look.

Cook
kept his voice low, but Elrin heard the words nonetheless. “Think
of his poor mother, then.”

“
He’s already here as a favour to her. I don’t make the damn
rules, Cook. If I give him a share, the wenches will be up in arms
and in the ears of the Brewers Guild and next thing you know my
credit will be tapped. I’ll be on the street and that means no pay
for you and none for your piggy either.”

Cook
just looked at Rimple like a hound refused from the
table.

“
Bah! Nathis take you next,” said Rimple, huffing out of the
kitchen. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“
Good man!” said Cook, raising a mug of mead to toast the
innkeep’s generosity.

Elrin
kept on washing, not wanting to get involved in the dispute. He
didn’t want the shine if it would cause trouble for everyone else.
No silver was worth a moon of crooked glances.

The
evening meal rush waned and Elrin managed to control of the pile,
reducing it down to size with tight-lipped efficiency. The less
cook spoke, the more he got done. Elrin was starting on the
skillets and stew pots when Rimple returned with victory in his
eyes.

He
grabbed Elrin’s shoulders and smiled like a chicken who had passed
a golden egg. “Our green mistress has requested your specific
person to assist her.”

“
Is she after a message delivered?”

“
I don’t know. I think there may be a twinkle of a tab or two
if you do right.”