“There’s greens, tomato, and some kind of meat as well. You needn’t go on and on about the pickles and mustard.”
“Then you do like pickles and mustard?”
She turned to look at him, her eyebrows scrunched down and her mouth pressed in a firm line. “It doesn’t really matter whether I like pickles and mustard. It really doesn’t! I wish you’d stop talking about pickles and mustard and sandwiches.”
Bealomondore did his best to sound sympathetic. “Aren’t you hungry?”
“I’m starving!”
“That explains it then.”
“Explains what?”
“Why you’re a bit peevish.” He smiled even though she showed signs of inflicting violence on him. Her empty hand had balled into a fist. “Let’s eat, and then we’ll both feel better. Do you mind if I thank Wulder for our food?”
“Wulder? Who’s Wulder? I thought you didn’t know who left the sandwiches.”
“I’ll give you a complete explanation of Wulder after we eat, and all good things come from Wulder, either directly or indirectly. I’ve often thought He might be the provider. But that’s a discussion for after we eat.” Bealomondore pointedly bowed his head to cut off any further comments. “Oh, Wulder, I thank You for this meal and for bringing Ellicinderpart Clarenbessipawl to Rumbard City. Help us to work together to find a way out. Thank You for meeting our needs even before we ask. And bless this food.”
He lifted his eyes to find her staring at him wide-eyed and slack-jawed. He took a bite of his sandwich and winked at her.
“Delicious. Try it.”
Raising the sandwich to her open mouth appeared to be an automatic movement. But once she chomped down on that first bite, an expression of delight came over her. She chewed, swallowed, and took another bite. Leaning her head back, she closed her eyes and breathed deeply.
A feeling of satisfaction filled Bealomondore. She was enchanting in that unguarded moment. And his tension over their circumstances fled with the pleasure of a good meal. Perhaps he would be able to gain her trust. They could work together to solve the mystery of Rumbard, although by that time the coronation and wedding would have passed. He took another bite of his sandwich and hoped for a myriad of solutions to his varied problems.
The first to tackle would be the most immediate. What was he going to do with Ellicinderpart for the whole afternoon? He didn’t regard being her bodyguard as a productive way to spend his time. But he couldn’t let her roam around on her own.
“I usually go to the library in the afternoon. The horde runs wild,and they get tired and cranky. I prefer to be out of their way, and since Old One won’t let them in, it’s a good time to do research on the city.”
She took out a handkerchief and wiped breadcrumbs from her lips. “I’d like to see the library, but I don’t know if I want to see the librarian.”
He took the two bottles and paper wrapping and jumped lightly to the sidewalk. “I don’t know that Old One is legitimately a librarian. But he does live there.”
“Did you search for him?”
She swung her legs back and forth while he deposited the trash in the butcher’s box. Stained blue and riddled with holes, her socks ought to be discarded.
“What did you do with your shoes?” he asked.
“Oh, my feet were sore from all the walking and the shoes were wet, so I took them off.”
“It doesn’t hurt your feet to run like we’ve been doing all morning?”
She blushed.
Bealomondore cringed inwardly at his social blunder. How could he, the suave portrait painter for the rich, be so insensitive? It must be the result of being a warrior in Chiril’s defense against Baardack. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”
“No, it’s all right.” She lifted her chin. “I take the goats out to the mountain pastures every day, and when the weather is fair, I go without my shoes.”
He nodded and moved to stand in front of her. He held his arms up and smiled.
“Then you do like pickles and mustard?”
She turned to look at him, her eyebrows scrunched down and her mouth pressed in a firm line. “It doesn’t really matter whether I like pickles and mustard. It really doesn’t! I wish you’d stop talking about pickles and mustard and sandwiches.”
Bealomondore did his best to sound sympathetic. “Aren’t you hungry?”
“I’m starving!”
“That explains it then.”
“Explains what?”
“Why you’re a bit peevish.” He smiled even though she showed signs of inflicting violence on him. Her empty hand had balled into a fist. “Let’s eat, and then we’ll both feel better. Do you mind if I thank Wulder for our food?”
“Wulder? Who’s Wulder? I thought you didn’t know who left the sandwiches.”
“I’ll give you a complete explanation of Wulder after we eat, and all good things come from Wulder, either directly or indirectly. I’ve often thought He might be the provider. But that’s a discussion for after we eat.” Bealomondore pointedly bowed his head to cut off any further comments. “Oh, Wulder, I thank You for this meal and for bringing Ellicinderpart Clarenbessipawl to Rumbard City. Help us to work together to find a way out. Thank You for meeting our needs even before we ask. And bless this food.”
He lifted his eyes to find her staring at him wide-eyed and slack-jawed. He took a bite of his sandwich and winked at her.
“Delicious. Try it.”
Raising the sandwich to her open mouth appeared to be an automatic movement. But once she chomped down on that first bite, an expression of delight came over her. She chewed, swallowed, and took another bite. Leaning her head back, she closed her eyes and breathed deeply.
A feeling of satisfaction filled Bealomondore. She was enchanting in that unguarded moment. And his tension over their circumstances fled with the pleasure of a good meal. Perhaps he would be able to gain her trust. They could work together to solve the mystery of Rumbard, although by that time the coronation and wedding would have passed. He took another bite of his sandwich and hoped for a myriad of solutions to his varied problems.
The first to tackle would be the most immediate. What was he going to do with Ellicinderpart for the whole afternoon? He didn’t regard being her bodyguard as a productive way to spend his time. But he couldn’t let her roam around on her own.
“I usually go to the library in the afternoon. The horde runs wild,and they get tired and cranky. I prefer to be out of their way, and since Old One won’t let them in, it’s a good time to do research on the city.”
She took out a handkerchief and wiped breadcrumbs from her lips. “I’d like to see the library, but I don’t know if I want to see the librarian.”
He took the two bottles and paper wrapping and jumped lightly to the sidewalk. “I don’t know that Old One is legitimately a librarian. But he does live there.”
“Did you search for him?”
She swung her legs back and forth while he deposited the trash in the butcher’s box. Stained blue and riddled with holes, her socks ought to be discarded.
“What did you do with your shoes?” he asked.
“Oh, my feet were sore from all the walking and the shoes were wet, so I took them off.”
“It doesn’t hurt your feet to run like we’ve been doing all morning?”
She blushed.
Bealomondore cringed inwardly at his social blunder. How could he, the suave portrait painter for the rich, be so insensitive? It must be the result of being a warrior in Chiril’s defense against Baardack. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”
“No, it’s all right.” She lifted her chin. “I take the goats out to the mountain pastures every day, and when the weather is fair, I go without my shoes.”
He nodded and moved to stand in front of her. He held his arms up and smiled.
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