PDCOO Chapter 6

The flush that had shot up her face at the word Lady refused to retreat. It had been the sort of word that made you tingle all over. Honestly, it hadn't been altogether unpleasant—but if he called Anna Lady in front of the village people, she'd have fifty years' worth of teasing material loaded against her.

Anna collected herself and said, firmly:

"Mr. Bertram. The people here use 'Lady' and 'gentleman' to mean 'important people from other parts.' So please don't call me that here. You don't need to escort me either. I've been walking around this village alone for twenty years already."

"Then I have the privilege of being the first to escort you."

"Eek! No—it's—fine!"

Anna let out a small involuntary shriek and spun on her heel.

Her face was burning.

'Privilege? Lady? Did he learn about the world from books? How does a person say things like that out loud?'

The men in this village couldn't even manage a perfunctory I'll walk you home!

Bertram, apparently encountering this sort of response for the first time, followed immediately behind her with an air of genuine puzzlement.

"I thought it a common courtesy. Is it a burden?"

"Yes! Yes, absolutely! Please don't! Where did you learn to say things like that—it's mortifying!"

"I will restrain myself. However, the desire to escort you is genuine."

"I'm fine! This village is safe!"

Anna quickened her pace. But however briskly she scurried through the dark, a few of Bertram's long strides were enough to close the distance instantly.

His voice came from directly behind her head.

"There are a good number of large predators—wolves—living near the village."

"Wolves almost never come into the village itself! And when they do, they go to the communal pasture where the livestock are!"

"Which means there are measures against wolves near the pasture. A night patrol, perhaps?"

Right. Near the pasture there was a lodging where workers took turns on overnight duty, and in the event of wolf sightings they were responsible for calling the patrol immediately.

Bertram took Anna's silence as confirmation.

"Wolves are intelligent. The moment they realize the pasture is an unsuitable hunting ground, they will come down to the village. Tonight might be that night."

"...You're very clever. Oh—you were about to say 'yes, I am,' weren't you. Don't."

"..."

"When you talk to people, you use observation and logic in place of emotion, don't you? The way I use every other sense in place of smell when I cook. But here's the thing—when I talk to you, I always feel like I'm being treated as a puzzle."

"A puzzle?"

"Yes. You reach your conclusion first and then fit other people's words into it. You did it this afternoon too. 'I owe a debt. You two will cooperate with me in repaying it.' You're doing it now. 'You appear to be in danger. Accept my help.'"

The words had come pouring out, and Anna paused to catch her breath.

What had been grating at her about talking to Bertram was, at last, sorting itself out in her own mind.

For someone who claimed to know nothing of emotion, conversation was a pure instrument. Which meant that the moment you introduced a topic even slightly divergent from his objective, you couldn't help feeling like you were talking to a wall.

But would he actually try to improve, having had it pointed out?

If he ignored her after she'd explained this carefully, she would kick him in the shin and never look back.

Anna turned sharply around, prepared to hear whatever excuse he offered.

That was the moment Bertram said:

"Miss Anna, are you all right?"

She understood what was wrong an instant later.

Tears were running down her face. But the corners of her mouth were pulled as high as they could go. From somewhere deep in her throat, a sound emerged that had nothing to do with her intentions.

"Ha, ha... ah-ha-ha-ha!"

"Miss Anna!"

"What, what is this, ha-ha-ha, what?"

The tears and the laughter refused to stop. Her cheeks ached from the sustained grin.

Anna understood the situation belatedly. Eating those ugly brown mushrooms that grew near the village produced exactly this effect, didn't it? Crying and laughing for a few hours before falling asleep.

'What on earth did he go and cook, this man...'

What mattered now was securing a safe place before she fell asleep.

Anna looked up at Bertram, trembling. Was this man going to be any use at all? She'd count herself lucky if he didn't simply abandon her here, too frightened of the villagers finding out what he'd done.

"Ha-ha-ha-ha-ho—home..."

"Miss Anna. I am deeply sorry."

"Stop a-ha-pologizing!"

'Now isn't the time for apologies! You're not thinking of leaving me here, are you?'

Of course he wasn't.

Bertram gave a short, brisk bow.

"Excuse me for a moment."

He took off his cloak and swung it around Anna's shoulders—then, before she'd quite registered it, had her wrapped up in it and hoisted onto his shoulder. The ground fell away instantly. It was a height she'd never encountered in her life.

"Wa, wa, wa—"

"You want to be put down? No. I will return Miss Anna to her home quickly. Before that, however—there may be quite a lot of jostling..."

Bertram said solemnly:

"You may be sick on me. I am quite good at laundry."

It was, against all reasonable expectation, a comforting thing to say.

Dieter's mother, Collie, tried her best to make sense of what her son was telling her.

"So Anna came by earlier and gave us some of her leftover onion porridge. And now you've decided that telling her 'the night roads are dangerous, I'll walk you home' would help your chances with her, so you want to go out and do exactly that—is that it, son?"

Dieter's face went crimson.

"Mother. It isn't courting—"

"You think I don't know you like that girl. Anyway, stop being ridiculous and stay home."

"Why! I know this village isn't particularly dangerous, but—"

"Because what good would it do? Would you be protecting Anna, or would Anna be protecting you?"

Dieter had no response.

Small as she was, Anna had shown courage to match any member of the night patrol.

She'd once sent a wolf skidding down a muddy track and cracked its skull open with a rock, back when it had gotten its head stuck in the pasture fence and was snarling. All the shepherds had fled. Anna had gone and picked up a rock.

"I'd be more worried about sending you out, Dieter. And on top of that, there's an odd character still wandering around the village."

"That person who went to Anna's restaurant?"

"That's right. Nobody's seen him leave after Karlah threw him out. The patrol's on edge—they're worried he might come after the village men who hassled him earlier. Wait—Dieter! Where do you think you're going!"

"You say something like that and expect me to stay home?"

"Was everything I just said to you meaningless?"

"I've always been worried about—ugh!"

Dieter's voice cut out.

One of the uncles had just driven his elbow into Dieter's solar plexus.

"Shh."

His finger extended toward the edge of the village. A grey wolf was circling there. Separated from its pack, probably. Scrawny, but the kind of beast that could kill a person or two without much effort.

"Dieter. Go down to the village and get more people."

"Is—is that a wolf? Strange to see one here."

"It's heading up the mountain, though. Probably got its sights on something else. Maybe we leave it."

At that, the uncle beside him muttered:

"Up the mountain? Come to think of it, I heard Dean and some of the village lads were talking about making a fool of the bear-man today."

"Hmm? What did they do?"

"Apparently told him the ugly brown Jester's Cap mushrooms that grow up there were delicious if you cooked them. Lord, you don't think he actually believed it and ate them and is now passed out somewhere, do you?"

"...Unbelievable."

The two men gripped their farming tools tighter.

However suspicious a gatecrasher might be, they had no desire to watch him die from a village prank. That would be a year's worth of nightmares. One of the uncles gave Dieter's shin an irritated kick.

"You—go get more people, I said!"

"Uncle. Up there. Something's moving, don't you think?"

"...What?"

Both men squinted toward what Dieter was pointing at.

What had first appeared to be nothing more than dark rustling leaves was drawing slowly closer, and in the moonlight, revealing itself—

The gatecrasher.