Table of Contents – (spoilers)
Peep’s follower was indeed waiting with her nephew just outside the kitchen door at the back of the church. She fluttered around nervously fussing over the boy when Peep and Mariola joined them.
The lad was perfect: about ten, he was just a little taller than Peep, and the spitting image of a peasant lad. He was wearing a long tunic over breeches, and had on a wool peasant beanie and deerskin moccasins. His clothes were all dark tan in color, and well worn-in.
“Okay, hush!” Peep said, as the boy’s aunt began cycling up into hysterics. “All of ye’s, come with me.”
Mrs Dunn gave Peep a hard look as she led her three followers back through the kitchen. Peep gave her a thumbs up and moved on to the sleeping cells. The other woman was still weeping in Peep’s cell, so Peep took them back into Choke, Knuckle, and Pinch’s.
“Right!” Peep said, clapping her hands after she had shut the door. “All three of ye have been chosen to help me with a special job. But ye can never, ever, talk about it to anyone. D’ye understand?”
“Yes, Otilla,” Mariola said.
“Yes, Miss Otilla of the Holy Fire! Yes! Yes!”
“Uh-huh,” grunted the lad, who seemed to lack his aunt’s devotional fervor.
“Good. So, swear to Stron now that ye’ll never talk about this. May Stron burn ye down to hell if ye break yar word. Swear it. Ye say: I swear to Stron that I won’t talk about this special job to anybody.”
The three did so swear.
“Good. Now, what I need from you two,” Peep gestured to the lad and his aunt, “is yar clothes, boy. I need yar tunic, cap, and shoes. And that’s it. Then ye can go.”
“My clothes?” the lad whined. “But… but… they’re my clothes!”
“Hein! You do just as Miss Otilla of the Holy Fire tells ye to! Hand them over now, boy!” the woman shrieked, giving the lad a hard smack across his ear.
“Ow!” the boy cringed. He gave all three woman a very dirty look as he pulled off his tunic and unlaced his moccasins. He left his tunic and beanie on the floor with the moccasins. “Now what am I supposed to wear?” he said, bordering on tears.
“Mariola, ye wait here,” Peep said, before turning to the lad and his aunt: “Come with me, the both of ye.”
Peep took the pair back to the kitchen, with the lad now just in his britches. Mrs Dunn was hard at preparing dinner and sighed deeply as Peep approached her with the woman and shirtless lad in tow.
“Yes?” Mrs Dunn asked wearily.
“I’m sorry, Mrs Dunn,” Peep said cheerfully, making no attempt to hide how much she was enjoying pestering the church’s caretaker. “The boy here had a mishap with his clothes and needs some new ones. Can you scrounge something up for him? Something nice, if ye can. I’m happy to pay.”
“No need for that! This is about your special thing with Father Morrenthall, right? So it’s fine!” Mrs Dunn snapped, slamming her knife down on the cutting board. “Okay, then, come with me!” she barked at the boy.
“Miss Otilla of the Holy Fire! Is that everything ye need from us? Really?” the aunt quivered.
“Yeah, that’s great. Thanks. Oh! Wait. No. Stop calling me all that. Just Miss Otilla is fine. But, yeah, I’m all done with the both of ye. Good job. Just remember yar oaths, right? Not a word.”
Mrs Dunn led the woman and boy down the hall, heading for the store room. She paused at Peep’s cell to yell at the woman still crying there. Peep left them all to it and went back into the boys’ cell.
Mariola had folded up the tunic neatly and set it on a cot, with the beanie folded up on top of it, and the moccasins together on the floor underneath.
“Ah. Thanks,” Peep said. “Okay, how are ye set up to get busy with it now? D’ye need something to eat? Some stugroot?”
“Ahh… well, Otilla, they have been feeding us out the back of the kitchen. But just breakfast and lunch, and not all that much. Not that I’m complaining, of course. So, if I could get some dinner tonight before bed, after we’re done whatever it is we’re gonna do, of course, then that would be appreciated,” Mariola said.
“Okay, then. Sounds good. Hold up a minute, let’s see if that weepy bitch is done with my room.
Peep went out in the hall and confirmed that Mrs Dunn had evicted the woman from her room. She had Mariola grab the boy’s clothes and bring them into her cell. There, she began stripping down. Mariola had clearly been around fighters before. Without direction, she helped Peep unlimber her quiver and bow case, and then get out of her armor. Peep stripped right down to her breeches and put on the boy’s tunic. It was a bit oversized for her, which was just fine.
“Help me get these boots off,” Peep said, sitting down on the bed.
Once she had the moccasins on, Peep took some time to get her Orcstabber buck knife off her breeches belt. She repositioned it on the belt so that it would lay in the small of her back where its bulge would be less noticeable under the tunic. She talked to Mariola as she did this:
“Right, so in case ye haven’t figured it out already, we’re gonna be heading out into town on a bit of a scout. The play is that yar my mom. Ye’ve come here to Spitzer from wherever to look for yar husband who run off. Ye heard that he was carrying on with some slut here in town. So, yar gonna be staying here in the church, depending on their charity, while ye have a look around for him. Now, that’s the backstory, but ye aint gonna just go and blurt all that out. Right? Ye just lay it out there bit by bit if people start digging after it.”
“I understand. What about our names and that? Where are we coming from?” Mariola asked.
“Well, yar gonna be doing all the talking, so’s ye’d best be the one to come up with all that. So, what’s yar new name?”
“Beth, I suppose. I always liked that name.”
“And what’s my name, and yar bullshit husband’s?”
“Best to keep it simple, right? So, why not Trapper? And yar Trapper Junior,” Mariola said, looking a little sad as she did.
“Trapper, huh? So, who was he?”
“He was my real husband. Before, well… he was killed,” Mariola said, blinking away her sudden tears.
Peep gave her a moment before continuing:
“And where are we coming from? Best to keep it someplace ye know.”
“Yes,” Mariola sighed deeply. “Best to do that. We’re from out in the bush past Burnthistle.”
Peep looked at Mariola sharply at this. Burnthistle was the barony’s last garrison to the north, and where they and Thorn had left their horses before heading out on foot to kill Goldy and Horsecock at their wilderness hideout.
“Burnthistle, huh? And we walked all the way here?”
“Yeah. That’s what I did. And yar a strapping young lad, so it weren’t no problem for ye, now was it?” Mariola said.
“No, I don’t suppose it was. And how long did that take?” Peep asked.
“Just a bit more than a week.”
“Okay. Sounds good. So, I guess we got here last evening and went along with the Holy Fire wailers to watch the burning of Billy. Some men around will probably remember seeing ye there, since yar a bit of a looker. With me in the kid’s tunic and cap, they might recollect me as him being in the church crowd.”
“Won’t they wonder why I’m suddenly his mother?” Mariola asked.
“No. It aint like his aunt was running around yodeling about him, now was it? Most folk pay even less attention to kids than they do anything else. It’ll work fine. Fuck,” Peep muttered as she fussed around with her slender boot knife and her moccasin, realizing it was not going to fit. “Fuck it,” she said, standing up to tuck the blade in its sheath down the front of her breeches, across her belly.
“Okay. So I’m Beth, yar Trapper Junior, and we’re in town from out past Burnthistle looking for Trapper Senior, who run off with a hoor from Spitzer here. What are we gonna be doing?” Mariola asked.
“Just what ye would be doing: wandering around town, mostly the hoorhouses, looking for him. Ye don’t have any money for bribes, or whatever, so yar just gonna be snooping around and asking anybody around the hoors that look friendly enough. But don’t push nobody and don’t talk to any one person too long. Anybody that winds up talking to ye is probably just trying to drag ye into hooring yarself, right? So, ye aint dumb and yar skittish of that. The whole point of this is to get everyone in town used to seeing me wandering around as Trapper. So we’re just gonna be going out and about now and again for the next couple of days looking for me dad. Right?”
“Okay. I can do that,” Mariola said with a determined look.
“And do yar best to avoid soldiers, pimps, bouncers, and men in general. We don’t wanna have to cut someone up over some horny nonsense. Right? Any questions?”
“Not really. Seems easy enough.”
“Should be. Just be yarself. Up to a point,” Peep said, giving Mariola a friendly thump on the arm.
“Speaking of that: are ye gonna wear that?” Mariola asked, pointing out Peep’s bright-steel Wheel ring.
“Oh, shit! Good call! Well, I aint not bringing it, that’s for sure.” Peep pulled the ring off and stuck it into the left pocket of her breeches. “Okay, let’s go!”
Peep and Mariola slipped out through the kitchen door and into the back lane behind Main Street. From there, it was simple enough to wind their way through the smaller lanes and alleys, heading for the short street of taverns and brothels rather generously known as the pleasure quarter.
Peep pulled her woolen cap down low over her brow and kept her face down in a hunched posture like a sullen boy who had recently been beaten into submission. She followed Mariola about a meter or two back. For her part, Mariola had decided to play it proud. She strode purposefully, and squarely met the eye of everyone that looked her way.
Spitzer was by no means a small town, but it was not a very big one, either. The townsfolk might not know everyone’s name in town, but they certainly could recognize an outsider. Even so, the attention Mariola and Peep attracted was nothing more than the idle curiosity of people looking for any relief from the banal.
As they passed some such folk, Peep slowed to check their attitude, risking a subtle peek towards them from under the brim of her cap. Striding along quickly, Mariola soon was well ahead of Peep. She noticed this and turned back:
“Junior! Hurry up, I said! Now!” Mariola yelled.
Peep scampered to catch up, smirking to herself at the improvisation.
About halfway to the pleasure quarter, moving through the main residential neighborhood, they found themselves at a little square with a well at its center. There were a number of women, some with small children, standing around the well with water buckets, taking a bit of a break for a mother’s meeting. They were having a lively time of it, gossiping and cackling about the burning of Billy that morning, and what might have become of Sheriff Waters.
As Mariola and Peep crossed the edge of the square, Mariola paused and looked over at the women to see what their attitude towards her might be.
“Hey! You!” one of the elder women called, gesturing Mariola’s way. “Yar with that church bunch, aren’t ye? What do ye know about it?”
“I’m sorry, ma’am,” Mariola said, turning to walk towards the women at the well. “What do I know about what?”
“About the Sheriff! He got himself drug to the church this morning, after the burning, didn’t he? Yar one of them that’s here kicking up a fuss over Otilla of the Holy Fire, aint ye?”
“Well, I suppose I am,” Mariola said as she reached the women.
Peep did not want to be anywhere near the mothers, grandmothers, and children; precisely the sort of people that pay enough attention to children to notice that she was not one. She carried on across the square and hunkered down into a squat next to a narrow alley, pretending to be interesting in some pebbles there.
“Junior!” Mariola yelled her way. “Don’t ye stray, now! I don’t wanna be looking for you here in town to boot!” She then turned her attention back to the women were all looking at her expectantly. “I’m sorry, ma’am, what was it ye asked?”
“I asked what ye know about the Sheriff getting drug into the church this morning. But whad’ye mean ye suppose yar one of Otilla’s followers? What does that mean?” the elder woman said with a sharp twinkle to her eye.
“Well, ma’am, I didn’t come to town about Otilla or anything like that. I’m here looking for my husband, and I don’t have any folk here. The Church has taken on that lot, so I’ve gone along with them to get food and shelter for us. But I’m not really with them, if ye catch my meaning.”
“Yeah, I suppose I do. So what’s going on with yar man? He’s gone missing?” the woman asked, dropping her voice low with a look Peep’s way.
“Well, I suppose. He came here in the spring to sell our winter pelts. We’re trappers, see. But, he come home with a lot less money than he ought to. And then, about six weeks later, he just up and run off. Disappeared on us. I thought a goblin, or something, musta got him when he was hunting. But his friend’s wife told me that her man told her that my man fell in deep with a hoor here in town. Wouldn’t shut up about her. So, I reckon that he came here to run off with her.”
“And so ye come here looking for him, did ye,” the older women said with a sigh, looking sympathetic. “What’s yar name, lass?” she asked.
“Beth, ma’am. And my husband’s Trapper. He’s just a bit taller than me. Good frame. With a squared beard he trims regular. Fancies himself a dandy with it. Have any of ye seen him about?”
The women all shook their heads.
“Yeah, but I don’t reckon that any of us carry on in the kinda places he’d have gone, though,” the elder woman said. “But if ye don’t mind me saying, why are ye even bothering to look for him? Faithless piece of no-good garbage like that.”
“I know, ma’am. But he’s my husband. And I have the boy. We can’t live out there in the bush without him,” Mariola said, seeming to allow deep worry to break through her determined façade.
“Well, I don’t like yar odds of finding him. And the two of ye can’t live on yar own here in town, neither. Not respectably, at least. Yar gonna get drug into all sorts of trouble. What ye need to be thinking about is getting yarself a new, proper husband!”
“But… but… I can’t do that. I’m already married! He’s not dead!” Mariola stammered.
“Well who says he aint!” the elder woman said with a grin. “Look: yar friend’s man said one thing, but who says that was the truth? Maybe she just made it up to spare yar feelings. Maybe she made it up because he got killed out in the bush and she didn’t want ye around her man without one of yar own. Good looking, strong woman like yarself. Right? Who knows, right? The bottom line is that he aint with ye and his boy. So, what ye do is: go talk to Father M and see what he has to say. He’s good about that kinda thing. Get him to say a dirge for yar late hubby and set ye up with a proper new one. Easy as pie!”
“I don’t know… I have to look for him, at least,” Mariola said, doing her best to hide her own amusement.
“Okay, I get that. And yar loyalty does ye proud. It does. But I’ll have ye know, my own nephew just lost his wife in childbirth not too long ago. And the boy that took her from him died as well. Woulda been his first. I am sure that Father M would be more than happy to wed the two of ye. Lickety split! Yar both proven fertile,” the woman gestured Peep’s way. “And he’s got a good job fixing wheels at the freight yard. I am sure he wouldn’t mind ye being a little long in the tooth, what with ye being the beauty that ye are. Ye think on that!”
“I don’t know, ma’am. I thank ye for yar kindness in suggesting it, though.”
“Yeah, well, when ye’ve worn yarself out looking for yar faithless man, ye think on it. And then ye can ask around for me. I’m Beatriz. And my nephew’s Stan. I’m a regular churchgoer, so Father M knows us well enough. Ye don’t forget that, now.”
“Well, thank ye, ma’am. I won’t.”
“Okay, well, good luck to ye on all that. Now, what is it that ye know about the Sheriff getting drug into church this morning? Did ye hear anything about that?” Beatriz asked.
“No, ma’am. I am sorry! Thems that are in the know around the church don’t talk to the likes of us.”
“Well, I don’t expect they do. But ye have eyes, don’t ye? Did the Sheriff leave the church yet? What did ye see of him there?”
“Well, he went into the side there, with Father and the Pekot Bunch. Then that was it. They came back out, the Pekot Bunch, I mean, and Otilla blessed us. Oh! But then the really big one, with all the horrible scars on his face, he put away the Sheriff’s horse. Took it from out front and put it in the stable, I heard.”
“See?” Beatriz cackled to the other women. “See? I told ye! He’s done for! I told ye that Father M weren’t gonna stand for all them perverted dealings! When he lit Billy up for the same, I just knew Waters was done for!”
“But, really, Beatriz! He aint a pervert like that! Is he? He’s the sheriff, after all!” one of the younger women exclaimed.
“So what if he is! He’s still a man, aint he? And one that’s got every family around by the throat, taking rents off them that can’t afford it. What wouldn’t you do to feed yar babies, if they was starving. Huh? Oh! Sorry. Beth was it? Ye wanna get on, I suppose,” Beatriz said, noticing Mariola, who had started moving away from the women with an apologetic air to her.
“Yes, I am sorry, ma’am. But I really want to get looking for Trapper.”
“Well, suit yarself. Ye just remember what I told ye!”
“I will, thank ye. Stron bless ye all,” Mariola said.
The woman all said their goodbyes with a wide variance of friendliness. Mariola nodded and bobbed as she backed away from them to Peep. Then the two slipped down a side lane, heading once more to the pleasure quarter. When they got far enough away, Peep let her mirth slip in a fit of giggles.
“Man! When I warned ye to watch out for people trying to pimp ye, I didn’t think it would be a church biddy! They do move quick, don’t they?”
“Yes, I guess they do,” Mariola said dryly. “But that went well, right?”
“Oh, fuckin rights it did! That was great! That lot are regular church folk, and they didn’t make me. Now they’re gonna head home and start gossiping up a storm about the two of us. By tomorrow, half the town will have heard about yar sad story. And I’ll just be yar poor lad, Junior, running around town doing whatever the fuck it is that townie brats get up to. It was perfect.”
“Well, thank ye, Otilla. I mean, Junior,” Mariola said, giggling a little herself as the excitement of their deceit bubbled out of her.
“Yeah. Stay in character, Mom,” Peep said, giving her a friendly nudge. “Okay, now let’s go look for Dad around them hoorhouses.”
Muse Vassal 