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theonecalledwander“Are you sure?” I ask her. “Only, I wouldn’t want to put you out.”
“It would be no bother,” she says. “My rooms are above the shop, there’s a place for you if you don’t mind being below.” When I don’t say anything, she adds, “You’re kidding yourself if you think you’ll find a better offer.”
“You’d be surprised how many doors open themselves to me,” I say, not really badly wounded but feeling the need to make some kind of account for myself.
“I didn’t say you wouldn’t find other offers,” she says. “I said they won’t be better.”
“Well, then, Bel the Baker’s Daughter… since I’m going to be coming back this way anyway, why don’t you look after my pack for a bit?” I say, handing her my oversized leather satchel. “I have some looking around to do.”
I don’t make her promise not to open it. A decent person might respect another’s privacy without being asked, but ordinary decency can’t often stand up to the promise of a dire secret.
“Sure,” she says, swinging the pack down below the counter. “And best give me your stick, too.”
“My stick?” I repeat.
“Your walking stick. The Select won’t be happy about a stranger poking around, but they won’t detain you without good cause,” she says. “You’re too well-dressed to be nobody, and it would hurt our reputation as a free town if somebody gets unfairly pinched. But somebody or not, let them catch a commoner with a concealed sword…”
“Gotcha,” I say, and I surrender my cane to her. There isn’t usually a sword inside, but with my luck there would be just when I need it to not be. And either way, I’d rather not draw attention to it. “Keep it safe for me, will you?”
“Of course,” she says, and it disappears behind the counter. “Come back here for lunch when you’re hungry.”
“It would be no bother,” she says. “My rooms are above the shop, there’s a place for you if you don’t mind being below.” When I don’t say anything, she adds, “You’re kidding yourself if you think you’ll find a better offer.”
“You’d be surprised how many doors open themselves to me,” I say, not really badly wounded but feeling the need to make some kind of account for myself.
“I didn’t say you wouldn’t find other offers,” she says. “I said they won’t be better.”
“Well, then, Bel the Baker’s Daughter… since I’m going to be coming back this way anyway, why don’t you look after my pack for a bit?” I say, handing her my oversized leather satchel. “I have some looking around to do.”
I don’t make her promise not to open it. A decent person might respect another’s privacy without being asked, but ordinary decency can’t often stand up to the promise of a dire secret.
“Sure,” she says, swinging the pack down below the counter. “And best give me your stick, too.”
“My stick?” I repeat.
“Your walking stick. The Select won’t be happy about a stranger poking around, but they won’t detain you without good cause,” she says. “You’re too well-dressed to be nobody, and it would hurt our reputation as a free town if somebody gets unfairly pinched. But somebody or not, let them catch a commoner with a concealed sword…”
“Gotcha,” I say, and I surrender my cane to her. There isn’t usually a sword inside, but with my luck there would be just when I need it to not be. And either way, I’d rather not draw attention to it. “Keep it safe for me, will you?”
“Of course,” she says, and it disappears behind the counter. “Come back here for lunch when you’re hungry.”