Total pages in book: 222
Estimated words: 210715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1054(@200wpm)___ 843(@250wpm)___ 702(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 210715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1054(@200wpm)___ 843(@250wpm)___ 702(@300wpm)
“Um, throw it away?”
Shana gave me a hard look.
“It’s a mystery fish. I don’t know where it came from.”
“It came from Virka River.” Shana jabbed her wooden stirring spoon at the wall, in the direction of the river.
“How do you know that?” Although it was probably a safe bet since that river was literally just outside the house.
Shana set the spoon down, grabbed a narrow knife from the knife block, and pried the gills of the fish open. “Look, see how pink they are? The gills darken when the fish is out of the water for a while, and with this kind of fish they go purple very fast. This pike was swimming less than an hour ago.”
“If you say so.”
“It’s a perfectly good fish. I’m taking it,” Shana announced.
“What for?” I asked.
“Soup!”
She took the fish and tossed it into the sink.
Okay then. I picked up the fish paper, threw it into the trash bucket, grabbed a rag from the sink, and started wiping down the table.
Shana stared at me.
“Yes?”
“What are you doing?”
“I scrubbed this table way too hard to let the fish slime stink it up.”
“I’ll take care of it.”
“No need.”
I rinsed the rag under the faucet and hung it back on the sink. “Can I help you with anything?”
“No, my lady.” She’d put a bit of force into that lady.
“I’m not a lady. Can I peel something? I’m fast.”
“If I need something peeled, I will let you know.”
“I can—”
Shana pulled out a teapot and a cup and set both in front of me on the table. “You can sit in this chair right here and have your morning cup of tea. The pastries will be ready soon.”
I opened my mouth.
Shana pointed at the chair. I had seen this exact look on my mom’s face when my fifteen-year-old supergenius self told her that I didn’t need to study for drivers’ ed because I already knew everything there was to know about cars and I was an excellent driver.
I clicked my mouth shut, sat in the chair, and poured some tea.
“I’ll get you some honey,” Shana said.
“Thank you.”
She put a jar of honey in front of me. I spooned some into my cup and tried the tea. Like being kicked in the teeth by a caffeine horse. Wooo!
“Is this firepit tea?”
“Yes. Too strong for you?”
“No, I like it.”
It reminded me of an assam tea blended with some sort of sweet spice or fruit. Mercenaries and soldiers all across Rellas drank this tea by the campfire in the early mornings before long marches and in the evening before the night watch. One famous knight had even declared that there were three essential ingredients to winning a war: a commander who was admired by their troops, weapons of Rellasian gray iron, and firepit tea.
Shana sat in a chair across from me, poured herself a cup, and loaded it with honey with a slight frown on her face.
“Am I confusing?” I asked.
She nodded. “A bit. I’ll figure you out. Gort says you know people’s secrets.”
“Something like that.”
“He’s hiding something from me. He won’t tell me what it is, and the kids don’t know either. Do you know?”
Gort wasn’t half as slick as he thought. “I have a good guess.”
“Is he sick?”
“No. It’s not another woman either, if you’re worried.”
She barked a short laugh. “Oh, I know it’s not another woman.”
“It’s not important now, because both of you are here,” I told her.
“How do I know you’re telling the truth?”
I had to impress her. I would need to ask the Magnars to do some strange things in the near future, and having Shana’s support would go a long way. I had to choose carefully.
“You could’ve picked Kurem of Las. He came to you the night before your wedding and begged you not to marry Gort.”
She paused with her tea halfway to her lips. I gave her a few moments to recover.
“Do you ever regret it?”
“Picking Gort?”
“Yes.”
She sighed. “No. I love him.”
“It must’ve been a hard life with him being gone so much.”
“If Gort was a blacksmith or a farmer, I would still love him. But he is a soldier. That’s what he knows how to do.”
In Rellas, being a mercenary was a job like any other. Most people didn’t choose it because they loved war. They picked it because they were out of options, and it was a way to make a living. The nobles frequently squabbled with each other and their conflicts sometimes flared into small-scale wars, with the official blessing of the Throne complete with papers and royal seals. The nobles hired mercenaries to get the upper hand, and when they didn’t, the Throne often did, to supplement the King’s Army.
“You’re right, it wasn’t an easy life,” Shana said. “It was tough, and yet we made it through. Hreban stole my husband’s Green Purse from him. But you pay well. We’re going to get our justice, and once this job is over, if we live through it, we’ll get a farm of our own. We’ve earned it.”