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Will followed in Rowan’s wake. Behind him he could hear the happy chatter of those now digging into their meals; before him, he caught Rowan’s question about dessert. He saw Cook wave vaguely in the direction of the pantry. ‘I’ll see to it,’ he called out to Rowan who was seeing to a cup of tea for the Ranger, in addition to the mug of ale she’d already brought him.
‘Let’s see,’ he said, pulling back the pantry door. He walked quickly past the bins of flour and sugar, past the tins of tea, and boxes of peppercorns and paprika. Though it was dim in the pantry and he hadn’t brought a candle in with him, he knew just where to look, not because he helped out with the cooking, but because he had a sweet tooth. And since he’d been taken on at the Inn he’d manage to ferret out the various hiding places Cook had for her pastries and other baked goods.
As he recollected, there had been spice cookies left over from day before yesterday’s lunch. And they would only have improved with a few days’ aging. Now where had the old gal put them?
He checked all the usual places and found nothing save for a half a treacle tart left from yesterday. ‘Ah hah!’ he said aloud, reaching his hand behind the crockery jar filled with raisins. There was the large wooden chest Cook often stored away her extra cookies. He hauled it off the deep pantry shelf and brought it out to the kitchen.
‘Well, that’s taken care of, then,’ he said as he sat the chest down near the kitchen table. He fetched himself a plate piled high with chicken and all the trimmings and sat down opposite Hithadan. If you’re not going to drink that ale, man, maybe I could take care of it for you, eh?’ He glanced at the Ranger’s leg as it rested on the kitchen chair. ‘What ever happened to you?’
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