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(Page 3 of 13) Cry for the Wolf, chapter 10. by Richard WalkerThe ruin he made of the language was monumental, between his lazy gutter speech and the remnants of his mangled teeth. She had to respect the visible effort it took for him to communicate.
His partner followed suit, pulling the knit cap from his head, showing hair long past thinning and inexplicably bare spots where his hair was missing entirely.
"Fokes jes' caw me Patches, ye Wadyship," Two of a kind, she was completely taken aback.
"Welcome, and watch that 'ladyship' thing. I'm Mistress Elmyra here. I have been anxiously awaiting word of men willing to do a little work for me, I suppose ye're them?" They bobbed their heads in agreement.
"Yes'm,"
She grabbed her skirts and showed a dainty slippered foot as she stepped down.
"Won't ye join me at the fire for something warm to drink? Basithia, make some room on the fire and put the kettle on." She tossed the girl her keys, "Ye have the key to the spice chest." Bandar brought her folding camp chair. "Please, pull up a couple stools." She turned back to the rascals before her. "I am so glad someone has responded."
Ruggles cocked his head to the side.
"Well, ye wadyship din't ask for no smaw thing, now!" Patches screwed up his face. Myranna pursed her lips in irritation at the use of the title, but he didn't seem to notice,
"Oh, no!!" he chuckled, "'tweren't easy at aw, finding a cwaftsman who were wiwin' to a'mit he had a pair of dies 'ud match t' royaw seaws!"
She gave them both a frigid smile.
"I'll thank the both of ye to keep your voices down. Or perhaps we might devise some sort of incentive for you to do so?" Bandar gave them an evil leer from over Myranna's shoulder.
"Here, now, mum, there ain't no cause to go gettin' wike that! We come wi' good news!"
Patches nodded his vigorous agreement. Basithia returned with a little cheesecloth bundle and dropped it into a spouted three-legged pot sitting on a stone by the fire where the coals were gathered.
"We foun' t' man what wiw giv ye what ye wants, by way o' t' seaws, and Wugguws here, he'w dwaw up the papers hissewf."
Myranna looked Ruggles up and down with a shrewd and appraising eye.
"Honest!" he protested, Bandar snorted at the unlikely exclamation, Basithia set the pot among the coals on the fire and ladled water into it from the small cask she fetched from the wagon.
"No, weawy!" added Patches.
Myranna smiled.
"Very well, then. Bandar will give ye or one of your men the contents of the documents I need already penned for you to take with ye. He will accompany you. I only need one document under the Small Seal, the other under the seal I drew the design for, made to look like one of those from a branch of the royal family, which one doesn't matter. I don't suppose ye will have any trouble coming up with such a thing." They shrugged. She pressed them. "I imagine that along with the cream of society that has gathered for the proceedings, the dregs have gathered as well?" They grinned again, nodded. She felt a little nauseous at the sight and briefly wished she hadn't asked.
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