Quaint Escapes for Traitorous Bastards: Chapter Two, Part One

 Notes: Sooo...some seriously rotten political stuff is going on chez moi, and to help tamp down on my sense of outrage, I'm going to share some more cozy fantasy. Because FUCK those assholes, that's why.

Title: Quaint Escapes for Traitorous Bastards: Chapter Two, Part One

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Chapter Two, Part One

 

Photo by Annie Spratt 

An Almost-Expected Adventure

 

Hiram had lost his ability to be surprised as Mistress Tate led him and his ambling wagon back the way they had come, down the rutted path until stopping at the very first or, in this case, last house along the lane. It was the same one he had passed on the way in, mentally noting the dilapidated back door, the hutch without a roof, and the general state of disarray of the garden.

It was fate, he figured at this point, the same thing that had led him to choose a town he had never seen before on the suggestion of a person he barely knew. When things happened to Hiram, they happened quickly, rarely allowing for even a moment of contemplation to let him come to grips with things. And so, despite the faint look of apprehension on Mistress Tate’s face as they stopped in front of the house, Hiram simply smiled at her.

He had no interest in throwing some kind of fit in front of the lady. He was not, after all, a great and powerful wizard. He was an herbalist, and herbalists didn’t care about whether their pillowcases were made of Cithinian silk, or the furniture in their home was aged white oak polished with wax made by blue bees. He would manage just fine.

That said, after walking up the three steps to the front porch—the second was rather wobbly—and forcing open a door that had swollen during the winter rains and stuck in place as it dried, Hiram had to confess that he had at least been hoping for some furnishings.

“Oh, dear,” Mistress Tate said, not sounding all that surprised or sorry. “It looks like the scavengers got in.”

“Scavengers?” Hiram asked, a bit surprised. “You get that kind of thing this far south?”

“Not the way you’re thinking,” Mistress Tate said, her hands still folded gracefully in front of her. “Not in a desperate, lawbreaking kind of way, more in a—well.” She shrugged. “We are a proud town, but a rather poor one, compared to others in Oribel, Master Emblic. Farming and raising rabbits is a good life, but it doesn’t leave much room for luxuries like a second chair or a spare bed. I daresay you’re rather lucky that they left the stove.”

She gestured toward the enormous iron monstrosity taking up one wall. Hiram had never seen a stove like it, not even in the imperial kitchens of Vordure Palace. It was black as pitch, for starters, rather than the polished bronze that he was used to, and the metal seemed pitted, almost spiky in places. The handles were loose, and several of the drawers seemed to be falling off their hinges, but there was a sense of comforting solidity to it that he could appreciate.

“I do count myself lucky,” he said, with as genial a smile as he could put on. His earring heated up briefly, and Hiram resisted the urge to flick his own ear in front of Mistress Tate. “So, this is the greatroom,” he said, turning around to look at the space.

“Sitting room, we call it,” she corrected, indicating the largest of the open spaces that they had just walked into. “The kitchen area is often separated by a half-wall, but Raileene enjoyed being able to see her guests as she cooked.” Her smile was soft and a bit sad as she went on, “The preparation and cold storage area is over there. They left the icebox—that was friendly—and the trap door for the cellar is right there.

“I suggest waiting until you’re properly armed and have a torch to go and check that out,” she added. “There are very few dangerous creatures in this area, but it’s not impossible that there could be a crawl-bear or coiling snake of some kind down there.”

Crawl-bears and coiling snakes. “Good to know,” Hiram said. He knew his smile was faltering a bit, but he couldn’t stop it at this point. Mistress Tate, at least, was kind enough not to mention it.

“And of course up there is the second level,” she said, pointing at the staircase that traveled up the wall on the left side of the sitting room, which leads to the sleeping areas. “Really, it’s just one large room, but when Raileene was raising her family here, it was easy enough to put in screens to divide it up. You might consider a study of some sort.”

“Perhaps,” he agreed, then looked around the great—no, the sitting room—again. Three of the walls had two-foot-by-two-foot windows that let in a decent amount of light, and given that there was no back door right now, he got a decent amount from there, too.

It still felt close in a way he wasn’t accustomed to. Back in his chambers at the palace, Hiram could have fit this entire house in just his laboratory. His suite had spanned thousands of feet, each nook and cranny filled with something from his adventures in service to the Emperor. It had been a monument to his life, a life of power, of magic, of excitement and adventure. It had been a life he was proud to lead, one that he would thought he always would. And now…

Now this place is where you’ll build your new life, he thought to himself, trying to polish the grim edge off his words and not quite succeeding. Two unfurnished floors, a cellar which may or may not be inhabited by crawl-bears, and whatever the state of things is outside.

 Speaking of… “Mistress, would you care to come out and inspect the rest of the premises with me?”

“I would love to,” Mistress Tate replied primly, a secretive little smile on her face as she stepped past him and moved through the open door. Hiram watched her go and wondered for a moment just what she knew, or thought she knew. Well, whatever it was, he would deal with it. At the very least, she seemed like a woman capable of discretion.

He followed her into the garden, then took two steps past her and stopped, closing his eyes and letting the sounds of the place rise around him. It didn’t take magic to feel the life out here, just a certain sort of presence. The soil was rich with insects, worms digging their tunnels, larvae lying in wait to crawl to the surface and begin a new life in one of many different forms. Bees buzzed—not rare blue bees, but fat, yellow-bodied bumblebees, stopping occasionally on slightly battered-looking flowers to gather their nectar and pack their already heavy bodies with more pollen. Birds chirped in the trees, and a bit beyond them Hiram heard the thud-thud-thud of a rabbit tamping down on the ground.

The air itself was practically green with light and life, and the sweet scent of honeysuckle and lavender caught in his nose when the wind kicked up just right. Hiram smiled broadly and turned to look at Mistress Tate.

“Ah, there it is,” she said with a smile. “That’s the look of a man who knows good earth when he feels it.”

“It’s been a long time,” he said. His voice was unexpectedly hoarse, and he coughed to clear it. “A long time since I had the chance to be this close to the earth.” Hiram had made fire his everything for so long that he’d almost forgotten his childhood, hours spent working rich, dark soil, seeding and smoothing, plucking pods and gathering flowers. Those times came back to him stronger than ever now, and he found himself almost shivering with anticipation of more.

“So you will make this work, then?” she asked more briskly.

“I suppose I’ll have to,” he said. “But,” he added, before she could remonstrate him, “I believe I will be happy to. My needs are few, and with some work,” a great deal of work, his mind clarified, “I think this will be a very comfortable place to live for the foreseeable future.”

“I’m very pleased to hear it,” and she seemed genuine. “Let me show you to the barn.”

The barn was little more than a lean-to, actually, but it at least had a roof and timber sturdy enough that Hiram would be able to stable Mule there without worrying too much about him. There were some run-down chicken coops behind it that he hadn’t seen the first time as well. All the wiring on those would need to be replaced if he were to keep hens, which he might, and as for the rabbit hutch—

’Oh, I don’t think I need to look at that,” Hiram said when she brought it up. “I’m not a rabbit-raising kind of person.”

Mistress Tate just laughed at him. “You live in Lollop now, sir,” she said archly, “I think you’ll soon find that everyone here is a rabbit-raising kind of person. But sometimes the rabbit must discover the man. I’ll leave you to find that out.

“Come to the market tomorrow,” she continued, drawing her shawl a bit more closely about her shoulders. “I have a stall there, and I’ll be able to introduce you to the carpenter and the blacksmith and the like. They’re good people to know for projects such as this.”

“I’ll see you in the morning then, Mistress,” Hiram said with a nod as he escorted her out. “Unless you’d like me to accompany you back to town?”

“I’ve been walking this village alone for much of my life,” she replied. “They’re safe as can be. I’ll see you tomorrow morning, Master Emblic.” They exchanged nods, then Mistress Tate took off at a brisk pace along the road.

Hiram went back through the front door, looked around at the empty space just waiting to be filled, and clapped his hands. “All right,” he said. “Let’s do this.”