Table of Contents – (spoilers)
After sending their recruit Bev on his way, Peep went to the main church to get Mariola’s belongings. Of her followers, the single women and their children were sleeping together in the church pews. They roused themselves excitedly when Peep approached them with her candleholder.
“Hush up now,” Peep said quietly before they could cycle up. “Now, ye must have noticed that there’s been some funny goings on around here today, what with the burning this morning, and all the comings and the goings, and me pulling some of ye aside for this or that.”
Her followers heads all bobbed in unison. As Peep had spoken, the full family units and few single men had approached to a respectful distance from their sleeping places.
“Now, ye all heard me this afternoon, right? If yar coming along with me, then ye gotta do as yar told and keep things calm and quiet. Right?”
“Yes, Miss Otilla,” her followers murmured in near unison.
“Good. Now, about that quiet part. That means I don’t want any of ye talking about what we get up to. Whatever ye see or notice that’s going on, ye keep it to yarself. Don’t be talking about it with each other, and ye sure as hell don’t talk about anything with outsiders. Ye got that?”
“Yes, Miss Otilla.” This time her people achieved perfect unanimity.
Peep had to take a moment to gather herself after this, feeling quite disturbed.
“Right… soo… yeah. Right. So keep yar mouths shut. But, keep yar eyes open. Anybody ye don’t know starts sniffing around, asking questions or just lurking around, let me or one of the army boys know. Right? Ye can help all of us stay safe by watching out.”
“Yes, Miss Otilla!” her people said with quivering energy, obviously delighted to be given such an important mission.
“Good. Now, about the woman, Mariola. She’s gone for now. She wasn’t what she seemed, and that’s all we’re gonna say about that. If anyone asks ye anything about her, ye got nothing to say. I don’t care who they are, ye don’t talk to no one without me or Father Morrenthall with ye. Ye tell them I said it. Right?”
“Yes, Miss Otilla.”
“Good. And I need her stuff. A rucksack and a burlap sack. Ye know where that is?”
Several woman immediately fell over themselves and each other to get these set down at Peep’s feet.
“Good. Thank you. That’s all for tonight. Stron bless you all,” Peep said, waving her hand above her followers in the Stronian Wheel. Their excitement at this was somewhat more muted than before.
“Good. Calm and quiet, right? Okay, good night,” Peep said as she bent down to grab the rucksack and sack.
“Oh! Miss Otilla! I’ll carry it for you!” the nearest man exclaimed as he hopped towards her.
“No! I got it!” Peep snapped.
The man flinched as though she had slapped him.
“Thanks anyway. Just chill, I said. Goodnight.”
Peep took the bags to her cell, where Mariola was sitting patiently in the dark in her bloody dress. Peep set the candleholder on the table.
“Almost there. I’ll be right back with some washing up water,” she told Mariola.
In the kitchen, Mrs Dunn had anticipated this need. She had set up a tin wash basin with a tin scoop, a horsehair brush, a hunk of soap, and some neatly folded rags inside. On the stove, a big, tin bucket was steaming. Mrs Dunn herself was busy scrubbing the floor on her hands and knees.
“Beauty! Thank you,” Peep said.
Mrs Dunn ignored her.
Peep took the wash basin to her cell and then went back for the bucket of hot water.
“Okay. Get outta yar dress and anything with blood on it. That has to be burned. Then wash yarself up and unpack what ye need. Yar gonna be in this room for a while,” Peep ordered.
Mariola was only in her dress and a thin, linen under shift. Both were bloody, so she pulled them off to stand naked.
“Okay. Wash up,” Peep said as she took a look at her.
Peep gathered up Mariola’s dress and shift, along with the boy’s tunic, cap, and moccassins. She took these to the kitchen and stuffed them into the back of the stove with the fire poker. The stove was drawing well, filled with coals and very hot, so there was barely a smell in the kitchen as the clothes burned up. Peep crouched low, peering into the bright orange, fiery hell of the stove until the clothes and moccassins were nothing more than flaking leaves of carbon. Then she stirred what was left into the coals with the fire poker and shut the stove door.
Back in her cell, Mariola had finished washing up and was sitting on the stool again, brushing her hair. She was now in a simple hemp peasant dress, much less fetching than the last. On the table next to her, there was a damp spot where her bloody buck knife had previously lain.
Peep took the wash basin outside through the kitchen and threw its rose-colored, soapy water out. Then set it up again back in the room to have a good wash herself. She dried herself, and then the floor under her with the rags and put everything back into the basin. She returned these to the kitchen. Mrs Dunn was still scrubbing away.
Ignoring her now, Peep went into the cold cellar and filled a big jug with ale. She took the jug, along with a half loaf of bread and a hunk of runny goat cheese back to her cell. She poured Mariola and herself ales into their camp cups and they broke bread together, each now lounging on their beds.
“So…” Peep finally said, when they had finished eating and were into their second ales, “ye feeling any better about things now?”
“I suppose,” Mariola said, meeting Peep’s eye squarely.
Peep held her gaze before draining her cup of ale. Then Peep crawled to the end of her bed and reached out to set her cup on the table. She grabbed her saddlebags and pulled them up onto her bed with her.
“Yeah, having a wash helps. It cleans up, the blood,” Peep said.
“I’m not so sure about that, Otilla. I feel like it’s never… well… I suppose I just feel different now. It’s all different now,” Mariola said, her voice quiet.
Peep met her eye again. Then she shrugged and looked away to dig around in a saddlebag. She extracted her weed box and set about packing a pipe of Thad Swallowtail’s finest.
“Yeah, well, I guess that’s how it goes, right? Ye grow up, experience different things, and it changes ye. It aint a bad thing,” Peep said, frowning as she poked into the pipe bowl with an old nail to loosen up the weed.
“Isn’t it?”
“Isn’t it, what? Bad? No. Those were righteous kills tonight. Them two were bad boys. They had to go.”
“If you say so, Otilla.”
“Yeah, I do. And Father M said so, too. But, something else he said was that we gotta put this shit to bed. This job was on the shady side. We don’t talk about that kinda work once it’s done. So, say what ye gotta say about it tonight to me. That’s fine. Ye earned it. But, come tomorrow morning, that’s that. Right?”
“I understand, Otilla.”
“Right. And since we’ve spilled blood together, and all, when it’s just you and me, ye can call me Peep.”
“Oh. Okay. Thank ye, Peep.”
“Don’t worry about it. That’s my real name, after all. Here, hand me that candle, would ye?” Peep said, pointing to the candleholder on the table with the stem of her pipe.
Mariola did so, and Peep got the pipe lit. She puffed away on it for a little before offering it to Mariola, who declined. Peep shrugged and took another big hoot before she snuffed the pipe and put it and the weed box away. Mariola refilled their ales and the two lounged comfortably on their beds looking at each other in the candlelight. Eventually, it was Mariola that broke the silence:
“So, Peep, since tonight is the only time we’re gonna be able to talk about tonight. Ye used me as bait out there, didn’t ye?”
“Sorta. I mean, it wasn’t like that was the plan tonight, right? I was just supposed to follow him and get myself set to go when I was told to jump, right? And I wanted a look inside that joint, and didn’t wanna do that without a distraction. Wes had a good look at me up close before, right? But, I aint gonna lie: it was on my mind to maybe use ye to draw him out at some later time. Bait the hook. But, if he’d a just walked us to the church without trying to have a close look at me like the creep he was, then I’d a let it pass.”
“I see. So, then, you’d probably use me to string him along through his helpful offer to find my husband and get me working as one of his whores, and all. To kill him later, when you were told.”
“Sure. Maybe. Or, maybe, he’d a been easier to get to another way. It doesn’t matter now, does it?” Peep asked rhetorically.
“Well, it does to me, yes,” Mariola said, just a little sharply. “You’ve said that there’s never going to be an end to the killing for you. And you’ve asked me to come along with you. So, I don’t imagine this will be the last time you’ll have me doing something like this. Right?”
“Probably not. Is that a problem?” Peep asked levelly.
“I don’t know,” Mariola said earnestly, meeting Peep’s eye squarely.
“Look. Ye know the deal. And ye’ve heard what Father M’s been preaching. There’s a big evil coming, and it’s gonna get real bad. I can feel it coming too. It’s building up out there, the pressure of it, like a fuckin boil that’s set to burst. So ye can fuck off once Father M says it’s okay for ye to leave. Go be a hoor someplace. Or marry one man to be his cleaning lady hoor. But I don’t know how far away from here yar gonna be able to get. Probably not far enough. And then ye’ll get swept up in the evil and chewed up by something.”
Peep let this sit with Mariola for a while before she continued:
“Or, ye can come along with us. Be front and center with the worst of it. And do yar part. Either way, yar probably gonna die. But with us ye got a good chance of making a mark in this world before ye do.”
“Well, it’s not the dying that’s the problem for me. With what I’ve been through, I’m not afraid to die. It’s the killing, Peep. I’m not sure I can do that again.”
Peep made a flatulent noise of dismissal. “Oh, fuck off! Of course ye can! I watched ye stab that fucker up. Ye didn’t hesitate a second. And ye were vicious. Slashed his face and then stabbed him to death when ye had him down. Ye’ll be just fine the next time around.”
Peep leaned back and smirked at Mariola.
“Nah. Yar just scared of doing it again because yar scared of yar own power. Yar scared that ye liked it too much. And that doesn’t sit well with all yar ideas of who ye used to be. But that person is long gone, aint she? She’s dead. It’s time to embrace who ye can be.”
“And who can I be, Peep?”
“That aint for me to say. But, why don’t ye tell me about who ye were? Ye said ye came from out past Burnthistle way. I don’t guess that’s a coincidence, since ye wound up coming here to find me. What happened?”
Mariola sighed. Then she nodded resolutely and sat up in bed, facing Peep, her legs folded in front of her with her shoulders square and back straight.
“I told ye that my husband was named Trapper, right? Yeah, well, that’s what he was, too. We lived out in the bush together. Hunting, trapping, living free as best we could with some others like us. It was alright.”
“Alright. That’s good,” Peep said, nodding to herself. “So, ye know the bush. How are ye on a bow?”
Mariola scowled at Peep. “I’m trying to tell ye about what happened, Peep! Could ye maybe just listen without sizing up my skills as one of yar soldiers?”
Peep chuckled. “Yeah, okay. Sorry. My bad. Carry on.”
“Thank ye. So, like I said, it was okay. Not an easy life, that’s for sure. But okay. And then Goldy and his crew found us. They killed the men. Killed Trapper. They used the other women for a few days before killing them, too. They left me be on account of being better looking than the others. Goldy said I’d bring a better price if I was still fresh and feisty. Ye know… not damaged goods. Yet.”
“Yeah. I know,” Peep said, very quietly. “And what about Trapper Junior? They killed him too?”
“There never was a Trapper Junior. I can’t have kids. Or, maybe it was Trapper that couldn’t. Never was too sure. Praying to the moon never made no difference in trying to get one into me. Oh!” Mariola gasped and raised her hands over her mouth as she realized she had just admitted heresy and demon worship to Otilla of the Holy Fire.
“That’s okay, Mariola. I don’t give a shit about all that. Just don’t get caught doing it again. So, then what happened?”
“Well, then Goldy and his bunch took me and all our metal and pelts. Took us to Splitrock. To Trader Bob’s. Sold me and the pelts to Bob. And then Bob got a good price on putting me to work. Goldy was right about that.”
“Yeah, he did know his business,” Peep said quietly.
“Yeah, he did. Was it you that killed him?”
Peep shook her head. “Nah. I stabbed Orcstabber in the balls and cut his throat. Right here in town, out back of The Busted Unicorn. Then I killed Horsecock at their hideout there, up over Splitrock. It was Pinch and Choke that did Goldy. Pinch shot him and Choke chopped off his leg and then his head. Just before that, it was Goldy that gave Knuckle that big slash on his face, by the way.”
“Okay. Well, I thank all of ye for it. I heard about what ye done at Trader Bob’s. They were real wound up about it. Bob was so angry! Goldy was his main supplier, right?”
“Oh, shit!” Peep said, snapping her fingers. “Yar the third hoor!”
“Excuse me?” Mariola flared up in anger.
“Sorry. I know ye aint a hoor. But, when I got brought to Goldy’s by Orcstabber, they were talking about how Trader Bob’s was really coming up in the word, what with it now being a three-whore joint, and all. You were the third one they were talking about.”
“Yes, I suppose I was.”
“Well, ye aint no more. What happened?” Peep asked.
“Well, with Goldy and the rest killed, Trader Bob’s was set to dry up. I mean, all the honest trappers out in them parts knew that Bob was crooked and will set ye up for a bushwacking whenever he can. So Bob took it real bad, what ye done to Goldy.”
“Poor Bob,” Peep said with chuckle.
“Yes. Poor Bob. Anyways, he was getting drunk a lot, and getting reckless with the dice. One night, he lost all his coin to a trader that had just bought all his pelts. Then he went double or nothing. With me as his bet. Lost that bet, too. So, then, I belonged to the pelt trader,” Mariola said, matter-of-factly.
“Was the pelt trader cheating?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know a thing about gambling. I think Bob wanted to accuse him of it, but the trader was a tough man, and had a bodyguard, so Bob let it be. Then the trader took me south.”
“When was this?” Peep asked.
“A couple of weeks ago, I guess? Maybe three? Anyways, the pelt trader, Hlif, his name was, he started having his way with me. But that wasn’t anything I wasn’t used to at that point, and he wasn’t too bad about it. Made something of an effort to be a bit nice. And he kept his guard off me.”
“Nice guy,” Peep said darkly.
“Oh yeah. A real gentleman. And I suppose that if he’d just kept it as that, I probably woulda let him take me on as a wife, or whatever. But he didn’t leave it at that. On our way south, he starts getting it in his head to try his hand at pimping. Starts talking to me and his guy about it. Was gonna take me around the lumber camps. See if he couldn’t get enough money to get another woman, or two, and set himself up in something new.”
Mariola was quiet for a while then, as she sat with this recollection. Peep let her. Eventually, Mariola continued:
“Well, I wasn’t gonna have that. By that point, Hlif was in the habit to take me in the morning. We’d set up a bush camp in the evening, and I’d cook dinner. Then we’d sleep in a tent together, with his man under the wagon. He’d leave me be until morning. He’d send his man off hunting or fishing at first light. Hlif liked his privacy, ye see. So, one morning when we were in pretty thick bush, I let Hlif do his thing as usual. Then I caved in his skull with a shovel when he was sitting with his morning cup a stug. Packed up what I could carry and ran off into the bush.”
“And what about his man?” Peep asked.
Mariola shrugged. “Never saw hide nor hair of him. So if he cared to try and catch me, I guess I was better than him in the bush. Probably, though, he didn’t care. I mean, the wagon and all them pelts were his now, right? Why risk that to run after me into the bush?”
“True enough. So then ye came here to find me. Why?”
Mariola thought this over for a while. “I suppose I’d heard yar story and it didn’t seem all that different than mine. At the start at least, I mean. I aint been blessed by Stron’s Holy Fire, of course. But I guess I thought that I’d like to meet ye and maybe that would mean something to me.”
“Huh. Well, we’ve met. And then some, I suppose,” Peep chuckled.
“Yeah. We have,” Mariola said, her voice level.
“And what do ye reckon about that? Has it meant something to ye?”
“Oh yeah. Not sure what, yet.”
“Well, that’s okay,” Peep said. She pulled off her boots and got into bed. “Ye can snuff that candle whenever ye want.”
Mariola got out of bed and did so. Then she got out of her dress and into her bed. They lay in the dark for a while before Mariola spoke up:
“Peep?”
“Yeah?”
“Were ye serious when ye said ye want me to come along with ye?” Mariola asked.
“Fuckin rights. We can use ye. No doubt.”
“Use me for what? I’m a nobody. What use could I be? Besides, ye know, what I’ve been used for lately.”
“Well that’s a fuckin stupid thing to say,” Peep said, pushing herself up on an elbow to look over at Mariola’s shape in the dark. “Ye were plenty useful today, weren’t ye?”
“Well, I suppose I was. But that was, just, I don’t know. I think we got really lucky out there. Next time…” Mariola’s voice drifted off into worry.
“Next time yar gonna do even better,” Peep said confidently. “Look, bitch: yar somebody. No doubt. Ye got bush skills. Ye’ve killed goblins before, right? Ye suffered the worst of this world and didn’t give up. Ye did what ye had to do to survive, and killed a man to get free. Then ye killed another man tonight, with me, for Stron. Yar somebody. No doubt. And yar somebody that’s gonna be heavy. I’m sure of it.”
“How can you be?”
“I’ve got that itchy palm feeling about ye, is how,” Peep said, laying back down in bed.
“What does that mean?”
“It means I know.”
“Okay, then. So long as yar sure. But I’m not a fighter. I don’t know how to fight. Not properly. I can’t do what you do,” Mariola said, worry entering her voice again.
“Yeah, I know that. I saw ye move out there. And, yeah, it was sloppy. But that don’t matter. We’ll teach ye. And ye’ll learn. Yar gonna be a quick study.”
“If you say so.”
“I do. Have ye slaughtered many animals? Done much butchering?”
“Yes, but—” Mariola began.
“Well, killing men aint much different,” Peep interrupted. “Ye just gotta calm yarself down, so’s ye can stick the knife in the right place. Then it’s all about movement and space and picking yar moment. We’ll get ye sorted. Besides which, fighting aint gonna be what yar all about. Straight up, now: to start with, what I need from ye is wrangling them wailing spastics that are gonna be following us around. Ye can do that, can’t ye?”
Mariola sighed deeply.
Peep laughed. “Yeah. I feel that. Cutting throats is easier, I reckon.”
Mariola laughed. “Okay. I’ll come along with ye, Peep.”
“Good. Glad to hear it. But you aint just saying that so’s I relax so’s ye can cut my throat during the night, are ye?” Peep giggled.
“Don’t suppose I am. You aint gonna try to climb into bed with me tonight, are ye?” Mariola asked, her voice serious.
“Nah. I aint that sort.”
“Well, then, I reckon I’ll keep my knife to myself.”
“Good. Keep it handy, though. Ye never know,” Peep said. Then she rolled over on her side, putting her back to Mariola. “Good night.”
“You too, Peep. Sleep tight.”
“I always do. Except when I don’t.”
Muse Vassal 