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wheel against the ramp parapet, the driver thudding his stick against the
burden beast's rump.
"Wheel be jammed," yelled Piemur, not liking to see any animal beaten for what
was not its fault.
He jumped forward to help guide the carter. The man now backed his stolid
beast, swinging its head left. Piemur, setting his shoulder to the tailgate,
gave a push in the prop-
er direction. He also tried to peek under the covering to see what on earth
was being delivered to the Hold on a
Gather day when most business was done in the Gather meadow. Before he could
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get a good look, the cart had picked up speed as it reached more level ground.
He was past the guards, arguing with the smith and pay-
ing no more attention to the procession of carts. Ducking quickly to the side
of the cart away from the carter, Pie-
mur gained access to the Hold proper.
As the carts rumbled on into the kitchen court, Piemur rapidly wondered how he
could turn this opportunity to advantage and remain in the Hold after the
carters had unloaded and left. Certainly if he was actually in the
Hold, he might find out more than he could possibly learn wandering about the
Gather. If nothing else he could dis-
cover what the carter had delivered.
Then he spied a line of coveralls bleaching in the spring sun. He darted over
and removed one, ignoring the slight dampness as he slipped it over his head.
Kitchen drudges were never noted for cleanliness, and once the beast dirt and
stains on his tunic were covered, the dust on his boots and trousers would be
unremarkable.
"Hey, you!" Piemur tried to ignore the call, but it was repeated and could
only be directed to him. He turned toward the speaker, affecting a stupid
expression. "I mean you, with the empty arms!"
Obediently he trudged back to the carter, who slung a heavy sack across his
back. At that point, the kitchen stew-
ard bustled out to supervise, and Piemur, bent double un-
der the sack, passed him without a glance. The steward alternated between
chivvying his drudges out to help un-
load, and the carter for his ill-timed arrival. The carter replied with equal
heat that he had heavy carts and slow beasts and had had to give way and eat
dust from those
209
hurrying to this bloody Gather. Meron ought to be pleased he'd got here within
the day allotted, much less at an ear-
lier hour.
The steward hushed him and began shouting orders, or-
dering Piemur on to the back storerooms. Piemur got inside the kitchen, not
knowing where the stores rooms were, so, making a business of wiping his face
and easing his shoul-
ders, he waited until someone brushed past him and turned down the proper
corridor.
"Don't know where Ah'm t' put more as is plenty here a'ready," muttered the
drudge as Piemur followed him.
"A-top them others?" suggested Piemur helpfully.
In the dim light of waning glows, the Nabolese peered at
Piemur. "Never saw you afore."
"Nor you haven't," Piemur agreed amiably. "Sent from t'Hold to help in kitchen
for t'Gather."
"Oh!" And the sly gleam in the man's eyes suggested to
Piemur that he had just let himself in for the worst and dirtiest of the
chores about a Hold on a Gather day when the Lord was feasting guests.
Haste appeared the vital factor in unloading the carts, so
Piemur didn't see many of the seals on the sacks, barrels and boxes he humped
out of sight. But he saw enough to realize that the delivery came from a
variety of sources:
tanner, weaver, smithcraft for the heaviest boxes, wine from many of the
yards, but none, he was pleased to note, from Benden. When the last bundle was
stowed in the now-bulging stores rooms, Piemur's sigh of relief was echoed by
Besel, the sly drudge, who had managed to stay close to him during the
unloading. Piemur had no sooner lowered himself to a sack to rest than the man
snatched him to his feet.
"C'mon, we've no time to rest t'day."
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Nor did Piemur, who was set first to scrape out ashes from the secondary
hearths and then to gutting beasts and wild fowl, thankful that he'd watched
Camo often enough at that task to know the tricks. He scoured extra plates,
encrusted with the dirt and grime of Turns, until his fin-
gers shriveled. When he'd done that, and peeled a dragon-
load of tubers, he was allowed a breather so long as he kept one of the five
spits turning.
110
Chaos broke loose when the Hold Steward arrived to in-
form the kitchen that Lord Meron chose to eat in his own quarters and these
were to be prepared while he walked the
Gather.
The kitchen steward obsequiously took the change of or-
der, having only that hour completed the feast arrange-
ments in the Great Hall. The moment the heavy door had swung shut on the Hold
Steward's back, however, he burst into obscenities that won him Piemur's
astounded approval.
If Piemur had thought he'd worked hard already, he was soon disabused of that
notion by the rate at which he was sent flying about the kitchen to collect
cleaning and pol-
ishing tools and preparations. Then he was sent on ahead with Besel and a
woman to start cleaning the Lord's rooms.
Already weary from an early rising and more hard labor than he'd known since
he'd left his native cothold, Piemur tried to cheer himself by imagining
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