I figured he told the truth. But I glared at him anyway, watched him lead the stud into shadow. I changed my mind and decided I wanted the stud to be meek. Otherwise he was going to cost me more.
With the sun nearly gone, the mud under my feet was growing cold. I walked hastily, wanting to reach the inn before I had to stop and put my filthy sandals back on. Keeping the smith’s comments in mind, I’d hung the saddle pouches over my shoulder, hiding the hilt poking up beneath my coat. I found the inn Del had described and went in.
I made it two strides inside, whereupon a woman shouted at me. “Stop!”
Startled, I stopped.
She wore an apron over black homespun tunic and full skirts; a woman no longer young, with bony shoulders, thin frame. Hair, gathered into a thin coil fastened with pins, was gray-to-white, and her skin was heavily creased. Her fingers, I noticed, were beginning the characteristic twist of joint-ill.
“I run a tidy inn,” she declared. “I’ll not have you tromping in here bringing street mud with you. Go outside, shake off that filthy coat, and wash your feet.”
I was taken aback. “Wash my feet?”
“There’s a pot out front on the bench and cloth. Shake off that coat, I said; wash and dry your feet, and then we’ll talk about a room while I decide whether I want your custom or not. And wipe those sandals.”
“Whether you want my custom—?” But I let it go. I turned around, walked the same two steps outside, saw the bench she meant. Pot of water, folded cloths.
“Shake that coat!” she called from inside.
Shake the coat, shake the coat. I yanked it off my body, sleeves now inside out.
Another command was issued from inside. “And shake it in the street, not on my porch!”
Hoolies. Why had Del decided we should stay here? I had to wash my feet and there were no spirits.
I shook the coat in the street. I beat the coat with my hand. I brushed off the coat as best I could. Then I planted my butt on the bench, grabbed a cloth, dunked it in the bowl, and began washing my feet.
When I was done, I turned to step into the inn and found her waiting on the doorstep. “Show me,” she ordered.
Dutifully I held out my raincoat. As dutifully I displayed my feet one at a time. I let the sandals dangle from one hand.
“Very well,” she said. “Now, you’ll be wanting a room. How many nights?”
“I’m not sure. But I’m here for the horse fair, if that helps.”
She nodded once. “Extra if you can’t say how long. It affects my business, you see, not knowing who’s staying and who’s not.”
Extra. More extra? “Are you related to the blacksmith?”
She knitted gray-white eyebrows over brown eyes and her mouth went flat. “An odious man.”
I wasn’t quite sure what ‘odious’ meant, but I assumed from her demeanor and the tone in her voice that it was not a good thing. I was just on the verge of saying I’d share the room with Del, but it crossed my mind that doing so might make me an odious man.
“I’ve one room left,” she said. “It’s small but will do.” She examined me from head to toe. “Your feet may hang off the end of the bed. Just double up your knees. The mattress is clean, as is the pillow. There’s a ewer and pitcher on the stand with a towel and a nightcrock underneath. Wash up before you get into bed.”
I nodded, sighing in resignation. “Where am I?”
Brows lowered. “Standing right here in front of me.”
“No—I mean, where is my room?”
“End of the hall. Blue curtain. And don’t bother that lovely young woman in the room next to you. Green curtain. She needs her rest, she told me. Mind, I don’t approve of those swords, but a young woman will be wanting to protect herself.” She squinted at me. “If you bother her, she’s likely to skewer you. Leave her be.”
We stared each other down. “And the other men here?” I asked. “Did you give them that speech, too?”
“No other men but you have come in since the young woman did. But I’ll tell them when they come back from their carousing.”
“Then you don’t mind your lodgers—carousing?”
“Of course I mind it. I won’t tolerate it in my inn. But I don’t make any coin if I turn away every man who arrives on my doorstep. A widow’s got to live. So they may go elsewhere for their spirits, then come back here after.” She squinted her eyes at me. “Well?”
“I won’t bother her,” I offered meekly.
“Very well.” She gestured. “End of the hall, on your left. Blue curtain.”
I tried to sound harmless and grateful. “Thank you.” I took a step, but she remained planted. I paused, backed up a step.
“Do you snore?” she asked. “I can’t abide a man who snores.”
I stared back at her. “I do not snore.” Which, of course, I did; at least, Del told me I did. I’d never personally heard it.
“Extra if you snore,” the old woman said crisply. “You’ll wake me and any number of other lodgers.”
Gods above and below. Again, extra. But I did not call her a thief, as I had the blacksmith. She was likely to charge extra for name-calling. “I don’t snore.”
“And wash your face. You’ve mud all over it.”
I waited for additional orders. This time, she stepped aside. With great care, I scooted my way past her and escaped down the indicated hall on the left. Even as I walked to the end, I braced myself for yet another order.
And it came. “Don’t put those filthy saddle pouches on my clean bed!”
Blue curtain, pulled aside in the doorway. I ducked in as quickly as I could, yanked fabric across the opening, then dropped my pouches and sandals—on the floor—with a sigh of great relief. Hoolies, what a termagant!
I divested myself of coat. Of burnous. Of harness and sword. Fell down flat on my back on the bed in dhoti, a string of claws, doubled silver earrings, and nothing more. I lay there for a long moment contemplating things. And remembered that I was paying for a room I did not intend to sleep in. Del was, after all, right next door.
Hoolies. I’d have to sneak!
Chapter 29
I WAS HOPEFUL, but Del did not appear. I badly wanted to go to her room, but the landlady had me worried about even glancing in that direction. I sat on my bed and thought about why I was reluctant to cross a small, mean-minded, old landlady, but nothing came to me. I was annoyed, frustrated, and irritated all at once with myself—and a little trepidatious. She might decide at any moment that my eye color would cost extra.
I checked the wall between our rooms in hopes of finding a knothole, or a crack between the planks. And it was as I was squatting, examining the wall, that Del slipped into my room. She put a hand on my shoulder and startled me so much that I tried to stand up too fast, bashed a knee as I ricocheted off the bedframe, and landed on the floor in a most inelegant sprawl of arms and legs.
Del slapped both hands over her mouth to stifle laughter, staggered away two steps. I thought she might collapse onto the bed, she was working so hard not to laugh. I climbed to my feet, brushed myself off, and gave her my best green-eyed Sandtiger’s glare. Del had mastered herself, but nearly went off again.
I kept my voice very low. “Why in hoolies did you choose this place?”
“Because of Tamar,” she answered as quietly. When I looked blank, she added, “The landlady.”
“Why? She looks like she hasn’t cracked a smile in, oh, two hundred years.”