The Dreamer was puzzled. The tower stood just as he’d seen it from the waterfalls with the Interpreter—but His House was in ruins. This was where he’d heard the Beautiful song. He was sure of it. Things had changed since he’d been here as a child—a lot. Beelzebub’s Castle, abandoned. The Interpreter’s House, broken. And where was Good-Will? Something felt vaguely familiar. He watched intently as Seeker-for-Truth disappeared into the cottage.
***
A fire roared in the fireplace of the common room as Seeker entered the cottage, its light flickering across plaster walls and wooden beams. A pot of stew hung over the flames, the scent rich and comforting. Bowls and wooden spoons were laid out on a long table with benches, and baskets of fresh-baked bread were set nearby.
A young woman not much older than Seeker met him, her hair wild—curls sticking out in every direction. “Companion! You rescued another one.” She rushed toward Seeker with arms outstretched, to welcome him, then stopped short, wrinkling her nose. “You smell disgusting!”
Companion chuckled. “Seeker, this is Miss Cheerful.”
“Seeker? You look hungry. Let’s get some food in you.” She stopped and wrinkled her nose again. “Not smelling like that you don’t. Follow me, Seeker-of-Baths.” She threw her head back and laughed boisterously, the sound echoing through the room.
She started toward a doorway on the far side of the room but stopped, crossed to the fireplace, and used her apron to lift a large kettle. Then she turned to Companion. “You have a spare set of clothes while I wash those?” She pointed to Seeker’s muddy outfit, wrinkling her nose again. “They should fit for now—though they might be a bit loose across the chest.” She giggled.
Companion laughed. “I guess the stream’s going to have to wait.”
***
Miss Cheerful led Seeker to a small room with a stone floor, a drain trough, and a wooden tub bound in iron hoops. On a wooden bench sat a neatly folded towel, a worn linen cloth, and a small crock of rosemary-scented soap. She handed him a bucket and pointed to the door.
“There’s a barrel of fresh water outside,” she said.
She emptied the kettle into the tub. When he returned with the bucket full, she refilled it. “Another!”
Companion entered with a bundle of clothes. She snatched them from his hands, set them on the bench, and handed him the kettle. “On the hearth. Shoo!”
After a flurry of bustle and shouted orders, Seeker found himself standing before the steaming tub.
“Be quick, supper’s waiting. Leave your clothes on the floor. Don’t even think about putting them on the bench.” She shut the door behind her, then called through it. “Take your time! Make sure you get nice and clean!”
The warm water soothed the aches of the road as he scrubbed every bit of the Slough mire from his skin. He left his clothes on the floor, just as Miss Cheerful had told him.
***
When he returned to the common room, they were all waiting. Companion introduced him to Faint-Resolve, a tall slender man with gray streaks in his mustache and a perpetual cross expression. And to Miss Fair-Glance—pretty in a plain sort of way, with long, straight black hair. Miss Cheerful sat next to her, beaming at him.
Companion bowed his head and gave thanks to the King for the food.
“And thank you for sending us Seeker,” Miss Cheerful added. A mischievous grin crossed her face. “And that he smells like rosemary now!”
The stew was plain but hearty, warming him deep into his bones. He bit into the bread—simple but satisfying, soft inside and crisp at the edges. Filling his tin cup from the pitcher, he drank deeply. There is nothing like cool water to the thirsty.
They spoke of Seeker’s journey. Of Companion and Faint-Resolve’s work at the Slough under the orders of the King, how they missed their wives, and when their service would end so they could return to them.
Several times Faint-Resolve looked at Miss Fair-Glance out of the corner of his eyes. No, it was probably his imagination. Companion didn’t seem to notice—but she did. Each time, she looked away and blushed faintly. He pushed the thought aside. It had to be his imagination.
“Well, I’m off to bed now,” Companion said with a yawn. “It’s a long walk back to the Slough.”
Faint-Resolve stood and followed, and soon after, Miss Fair-Glance took her leave as well. With everyone gone, Miss Cheerful rose and led him to his room.
“Sleep well, Seeker,” she said and left him alone.
The room was small but welcoming. Wooden walls, darkened with age, held the lingering warmth of the cottage. A single window let in the cool night air. Its half-closed shutters creaked softly, stirred by the breeze.
The bed, a simple wooden frame, held a straw-filled mattress and a thick wool blanket. On a small table, a single candle flickered. He placed his book there gently and set down his satchel.
He blew out the candle, and within moments of lying down, he was fast asleep.
