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Cook stepped out from the pantry and wiped off her face with a clean towel. Once Derufin had gone, she would step outside and give her self a more thorough brushing off.
She helped him load up his tray, making sure there was plenty of food for the crew who had filled the Inn’s woodshed. She piled up a sizable plate of tarts, knowing the groundskeeper had a mighty sweet tooth. ‘Oh, and here’s a little pot of vegetable stew I’d set aside for Master Benat, seeing as how he would probably not be wanting to eat the conies. Delicious as they are,’ she said as an aside. ‘And take this bowl of stew out for the nice doggie.’ She glanced up at Derufin as he gave a laugh at this expression of her acceptance of Cullen as a suitable canine. ‘Well, he’s left my old tabby alone. And the little ones like him, I’ve noticed. Can’t be all that bad, can he?’ And that was about as much praise as she had ever heaped on the head of a canine.
Her last favor was to trundle downstairs to retrieve a bottle of Dwarven spirits. She came back with a dust, dark brown bottle with some unreadable runes on it, not to mention a few trailing wisps of cobweb. ‘Don’t get much call for this,’ she said putting it on the heavily laden tray. ‘Most people just don’t have a taste for it. Quite a kick to it, if I do say so myself.’ Derufin raised a brow at her. ‘Tried to use it in a cake I was making . . . had to give it a taste, see if it was alright, now didn’t I?’
Cook held the door open for him and ushered him out before he could make a suitable reply.
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