room was more like a closet, with straw mattresses wedged five across. “The young lady, of course, will sleep in a different room,” Anton said, indicating a larger room across the hall. “With the orphan girls, I’m afraid. There is only room for so many here, you understand.”
“Never mind,” Parvel said graciously. “I’m sure Rae would love to spend time with the young children.”
Rae looked at him doubtfully.
“Yes,” Anton said, his sagging face brightening. “It would do them good to have a motherly figure around, even if it is just for a short time.”
Jesse nearly laughed. Yes, a mother figure who can kill a man in one stroke, fight off wild beasts, and climb up sheer mountain cliffs.
They set down their packs. Jesse rubbed his stiff shoulders. It was good to be free of the burden for once, although he hoped none of the orphans would dig through his possessions.
As they descended the weathered staircase, Jesse tried to decide what was creaking most, the steps or Anton’s old joints.
“Are you followers of the Order?” Anton asked, breaking the silence.
Jesse glanced at Parvel. Could they really say they followed the priests’ watered-down religion? “We are seekers of the one true God,” Parvel said firmly.
“Some of us,” Silas muttered, so quietly that Jesse was sure Anton hadn’t heard.
Anton turned around at that and tilted his head curiously. “Seekers of the one true God. Interesting,” he said vaguely. “Well, I’m glad to hear it. You’ll need Him for your work in the kitchen.”
At first, Jesse laughed, until he realized that Anton’s face was serious. “What are we going to be doing?” he demanded.
Anton’s dark, solemn eyes never blinked. “Peeling potatoes.”
Chapter 3
Jesse had never seen so many potatoes in his life. They poured out of three burlap bags like a rockslide in the mountains. He wondered if the house of refuge was home to more orphans than soldiers in a regiment of King Selen’s army. If not, they’re going to be eating leftovers for months.
“Welcome to our kitchen,” Anton said, his wrinkled face beaming with pride. “We take great care to keep things neat and orderly around here, as I’m sure you can see. And here’s your supervisor.”
He pointed to a young man in the corner of the kitchen, hunched over as he peeled one of the potatoes. One of his burly arms was completely wrapped in ragged bandages, turned gray from washing. “Who’re they?” he grunted, barely glancing up.
“Travelers working for their supper,” Anton said. He turned to them. “This is Telemachus.”
“Pleased to meet you,” Parvel said, extending his hand. Telemachus ignored it. Instead, he stood and slumped over to the cabinet on the far wall. That’s when Jesse realized that his back was permanently hunched, making him walk with a stooping gait.
“Grab a root or get out of my kitchen,” Telemachus ordered.
Jesse glanced at Anton. “He’s not as bad as he seems. He just doesn’t care much for strangers,” Anton whispered before slinking out the door.
“Excuse me,” Rae said, tapping Telemachus on his hunched shoulder. He jerked away, glaring at her. “Where are the knives? Unless you want us to gnaw the peels off.”
Telemachus yanked open a drawer and held out several knives in his huge fist. “Thank you,” Rae said coolly.
She handed one to Jesse, and he started in on a big, lumpy potato. He was used to these kinds of chores from his days back at his uncle’s inn.
Parvel, apparently, was not. He held the knife clumsily, scraping off a few small sections at a time. “So,” he said to Telemachus, “how long have you been here?”
“I don’t like questions,” Telemachus growled.
That didn’t surprise Jesse.
After that, they sat in silence. Once, Telemachus lumbered over to inspect Jesse’s work. Now that he was closer, Jesse could see that he had eyes the color of dirty dishwater, barely sticking out under his sandy blond hair, cut raggedly across his forehead.
Apparently, he approved of Jesse’s technique, because he lumbered back to his stool with nothing more than a grunt. Somehow, he managed to keep his eyes roving around while keeping up a quick, steady pace with his knife.
“Stupid girl,” he muttered, glancing over at Rae. “Cut away from yourself.”
Rae stared at him and made a deliberate stroke down the potato, stopping just short of her hand. “I’ll do this as I wish, thank you.” Rae didn’t take orders very well.
“Ain’t my fault you don’t know how t’ use a knife,” Telemachus said, shrugging his huge shoulders. “Like as not, yer folks are still alive—they just got rid of ya ’cause you couldn’t pull yer weight.”
“Take care,” Parvel warned, setting his knife down and looking Telemachus in the eye, a clear warning in his voice.
Parvel didn’t take insults very well, especially insults to Rae, who he called “the lady of the squad,” even though she could probably fight as well or better than any of them.
Jesse tooled a face onto the potato, scraping off two eyes, a gaping mouth, and a nose. He held it out and studied it. The nose was a little misshapen, but overall, not bad. He hated it when his squad members picked fights. Which was often.
It seemed, however, as though Telemachus was too lazy to start a fight. He just scowled at Parvel and went back to his potato. Then his red face contorted with something like a grin.
“You, girl,” he said. “Go out to the well and haul me some water.” He pointed to a large bucket with a finger covered in grime from the potatoes. “You’re gonna wash these here roots.”
“You want me to wash the peels…before we take the peels off?” Rae pointed out, mouth twisted up in scorn.
“Do what I tell you, girl,” Telemachus said.
Rae, hands on her hips, was about to protest, but Silas cut her off. “That bucket is too heavy for her.”
Jesse nodded. He had hauled a lot of water in his days, but he had never seen a bucket so large. It reached Rae’s knees.
Telemachus tossed a dirty potato skin in his mouth, chewing it with his mouth wide open. “Yeah? So?”
“I’ll get the water,” Silas said, taking the bucket. “She can wash the potatoes.”
Telemachus didn’t seem to be in the mood to argue. “Hurry it up.”
By the time Silas got back, straining under the weight of the full bucket, there was only one sack of potatoes to wash. Silas poured the water into a basin and dumped the potatoes in.
“Are
