Chapter Twenty One: Cooking School

Rook was so shocked he almost fell off his perch.

“Obi! The detect skill! Can she see us?”

［I don’t know. The skill is still active. There is no way she can see you.］

Rook was about to tell Obi to bring him into the soul space when he was startled by a loud knocking noise right next to his head. The woman had flicked something from her hand and it had struck the tree trunk right above him.

He flinched, which was a bad thing to do for someone not experienced in climbing trees. The world spun, and he was lying on the ground, the wind knocked from his lungs.

“Like I said. Who are ye?”

The woman was now standing above him, the dogs on either side, cutting off the normal routes of escape.

Rook struggled to reorient himself. His eyes were full of stars, and his ears were singing from the fall and impact. He struggled to catch a breath, but mentally, he shouted at Obi.

“Bring me inside!”

［Wait a second.］

“What?!”

［Just wait a second. She’s not holding any weapons. It’s only an old lady. I don’t think she’s a bandit. Besides, she’s staring right at you. You shouldn’t do anything strange, like disappear into thin air.］

They had actually discussed this while he was in the forest. One of the most regrettable things that Obi had done was to pull Rook inside right in front of the bandit Willis. If Willis had not seen him, the bandits would likely just assume he died in the forest. But there was no way the man would forget a boy who could disappear right as he was bringing a spear down on his head.

Of course, there had been no other option at the time, but because of that, there is a good chance that the bandits would be looking out for him specifically.

［Don’t worry, I’m watching the doggies. If they make a move, I’ll pull you in before they can take more than three or four bites.］

Rook coughed and wheezed as he struggled to get air back into his lungs. As he did, the woman knelt down and stared right into his face as if trying to commit his features to memory. He caught her eyes flicking up and pausing for a moment when they passed over his hair.

She looked nothing like the old ladies of the village. They were all thin and mean-looking. This woman was old, maybe even older than Thayn, but she had a round, plump face. She moved smoothly, like a man in his prime, without the awkwardness of old bones and aching joints that old people seem to do nothing but complain about.

As Rook recovered, he glanced to the sides, looking for a way to escape, but with the woman in front, the dogs on either side of him, and the tree to his back, he was completely boxed in.

“Catch yer breath. My boys won’t eat ye less I tell em to. But keep yer hands down, or they might take a nibble. Right?” She warned, not in a threatening way, but with a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

［Well, I don’t think she’s a bandit,］ Obi offered.

Rook almost used heal, but he didn’t want to do anything to alarm the woman or her animals. He wasn’t seriously hurt, and already, he was catching his breath back. He hoped that if he could keep his wits, there would be a chance for him to escape without causing more problems.

“One last time, who are ye? Don’t play with me. This is my land, and if ye are here for trouble, I promise ye, I got plenty to give. So, talk. Name first. Don’t be lyin, either. Trust me, I’ll know.”

Rook started to panic again. If her gave his name, then someone could track him down. They might send him back to the ranch, or the bandits may find out.

His mind raced. He could just tell her something. He could make one up.

He reached down deep into his thoughts, trying to pull a reasonable name to use.

He came up with nothing. He almost couldn’t even remember the real name he had used all his life. Rook opened his mouth, and nothing came out.

“Well?,” the woman eyed him suspiciously.

［Simon.］

Obi whispered the name into his ear.

［Say, Simon.］

“S… Simon,” He croaked.

The woman stared it him with steely grey eyes. A small frown appeared on her lips and she examined him again, disapproval etched in her face as she examined him from head to toe.

Finally, she let out a sigh. The kind of noise Rhaeger made when he was too tired to yell at Rook properly.

“Simon? Fine. Simon, then,” skepticism dripped off of her words, sending a chill down Rook’s spine.

“Next question. What the hell did ye do ta that fish?”

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“Teeva, Teepo, watch the boy. If he does anything, take an arm.”

Both dogs let out an immediate bark in reply, then glared at Rook like he was a tasty rabbit.

The woman walked over to the river, and surprisingly, she walked in until the water came up to her waist.

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splash, thud. There was a quiet sound of something hitting the water, and then a moment later, something landed on the bank. Rook barely caught any movement, but when he looked at the ground by the water, there was a live fish, flopping around, gaping mouth flexing as though it was struggling to breathe.

Another splash, and another fish landed next to the first one. In short order, six fish were lined up beside the old woman’s cloak and shoes that she had removed before stepping into the river.

［What is that old crone doing?］

“I don’t know. Maybe she is hungry?”

Rook was sitting next to the fire with a confused look on his face, as the woman walked over to the log and recovered Rook’s knife.

He tensed up immediately, but instead of moving toward the fire, she went back to the fish, still moving on the ground.

“Ei, watch this. Watch carefully.”

Rook did as instructed, and watched as she picked up one of the fish. She turned so that he could see what she was doing, grabbing the fish by sticking her fingers into fleshy flaps behind the head. Holding the fish up with one hand, she inserted the knife into the belly and slid it down to the tail in a quick motion.

“First, ye got to take out the guts.”

She put down the knife, then reached into the slit she had cut, and pulled out the small, slimy organs from the still squirming fish. Then she reached into a pocket and pulled out a thin string wrapped around a piece of wood.

“We tie em up, then let the river wash out the blood.”

Sticking the end of the string into the fish’s mouth, she pulled it out through the flap of flesh behind the head and tied a knot.

In a blur of motion, she repeated the fish cleaning four more times. Then she pointed at Rook.

“C’mere. Let’s see if ye was payin mind.”

After some prodding by the light-colored dog, Rook walked over to the old woman, standing in the shallow water of the riverbank.

She shook her head when he stepped into the water with his boots still on, but didn’t say anything. Instead, she picked up the last fish, and grabbed his hand, directing him to the place he could stick his fingers to hold it.

It was a strange and disturbing sensation. The fish was slimy and it was hard to hold on to. The fact that it was still alive and he could feel the muscles twitch made it even more uncomfortable.

The fish that he had taken from the river had all been dead when he had pulled them out of the soul space. He wasn’t sure if his power had killed them, or perhaps he had only caught the ones at the bottom who were already dead.

He didn’t even notice when she lifted up the knife, then turned it around, placing the handle in his hand, while keeping her grip on his wrist.

She twisted his hand holding the knife so that the tip of the blade was pointing at the belly of the fish hanging from his fingers. Slowly, they cut it together.

Even with her directing his movements, it was awkward, and his cut was uneven and ragged. Still, when she inspected it, she gave a perfunctory nod, then put out her hand while looking meaningfully at the knife still in his other hand.

Immediately, he held up the handle with his fingers, and she snatched it back. She cut off another length of string and showed him how to tie it up. The she stared at the large gash in the bottom of the fish.

“Guts.”

Rook blinked, not sure what she meant.

［She wants to you to clean out the guts, moron.］

Rook frowned as he reached into the fish and pulled out the slimy organs. It was a very unpleasant experience, and he wasn’t sure it was worth this much work to eat fish. He realized that the woman was actually teaching him a useful lesson, but he hoped he would never be so desperate for food that he would have to resort to this slimy, smelly meat.

After tying up all the fish to a large branch of a bush on the riverbank, she let the river wash the blood and dirt away. Picking up the knife, she walked over to the pile of wood Rook had prepared for the fire.

In short order, she had cleaned the bark and leaves off six straight and thin branches, each as long as an arm. She also sharpened the end of each stick to a sharp point.

“Go get the fish,” she ordered.

Rook untied the strings from the bush and carried the six fish over to the fire.

He watched as she skewered each fish with one of the long sticks, then pushed the end deep into the ground surrounding the coals of the fire. Soon, six fish were staring into the sky, slowly roasting over the fire.

The old woman put out her hand, and a small jar appeared in it. She opened it and took out pinches of a white powder, which he threw over each of the fish.

Catching his worried expression, she explained the seasoning.

“Just salt. Couple of pinches is more than enough.”

They sat, facing each other over the fire with the fish comically floating between them.

“So, Simon,” she said the name with a strong emphasis as though mocking it.

“Care to tell me what a bondling, wearing bandit garb, and carrying an Imperial soldier’s knife, is doing, stealing fish from my river?”

Rook’s blood went cold, as the blood left his face.

The woman stared at him with a fierce intensity.

Rook’s eyes almost went to look at his palm, but he stopped himself from making such an obvious move.

［Ain’t gonna do any good now. Of course, she saw your sigil. You have been waving your hands around the whole time without those gloves,］ Obi scolded him.

He had been happy to find the gloves, as that was the easiest was to disguise his bond sigil in public. In another sign of his over-confidence, he had neglected to use any camouflage, like the gloves or mask, before encountering the woman.

Now, he had been caught. There was no question that he had broken laws. He was a bondsman, unaccompanied by his contract holder, outside his home. He was also carrying a weapon. All of these were grievous crimes. The knife alone was enough to earn him a lifetime extension to his contract, or worse.

If they suspected him of harming his contract holder, or anyone, he could face execution.

“Obi…”

［Just wait. I don’t know what her deal is, but I don’t think you should freak out… yet. Just don’t use any magic, got it? If it looks dangerous, I’ll pull you inside, but don’t let on that you have any skills, or coins, or anything. Just keep on being the dumdum that you have been for the past ten years, got it?］

“Simon? Well, alright. Let’s hold on to that question for now. I think the fish should be just about done.”

Indeed, there was a strange and wonderful smell filling the air. Instinctively, Rooks’s stomach growled loudly.

“Well, at least one part of you can speak honestly,” She said with a wicked grin.

Pulling one of the sticks from the ground, she examined the fish at the end. Then, with a nod, she carefully pushed the fish off the end and onto a stone to one side of her.

The large grey dog immediately grasped the fish between his jaws.

“Teepo! It’s still hot. Stupid, greedy boy!” She scolded.

She put another fish on the stone, which was quickly picked up by the other dog.

“Always copying your big brother. I won’t have any sympathy if you burn your mouths, you naughty boys.”

Rook watched as the two dogs started eating the fish, their sharp, gleaming teeth biting into the steaming flesh greedily.

“Here,”

Rook turned to see the woman holding one of the sticks out to him so that he could hold it.

“Like, I said, it’s hot. Also, be careful for bones. They can be sharp,” she said, picking up a stick for herself.

Rook watched as she held the stick so that the fish was in front of her mouth. She blew on it, then took a small bite.

“Oh! Very hot,” she said, blowing on it more.

Rook frowned. He still remembered the taste of the slimy fish stew from earlier. He was sure this was going to be better. It actually smelled wonderful. That odd odor from the fish that permeated the stew was completely gone now. But he was still hesitant to bite into it.

He lifted the fish the same way the woman had, putting it in front of his mouth. He sniffed, and it did indeed smell amazing. His stomach growled loudly.

Embarrassed by the noise, he ignored the still attached head of the fish and took a small bite from the middle.

Rook’s eyes shot open, and he let out an involuntary squeal.

He had never, in his entire life, tasted anything like this. This fish had to be the most delicious food in the entire world.