Chapter 31: Granary

Greyhaven lent us a granary for the winter, a long stone barn on the flat below the walls with a stove at each end.

The Hollin wagons were drawn up around it, and by dusk there were more people inside than it had been built for.

I stood at the door with a ledger under my arm and counted heads.

"Two hundred and eleven," I said.

"You've counted twice," Nessa said.

"The second time was to be sure."

"You are the only keeper alive who counts a feast."

"I'm the only keeper who has to feed it."

It was the first winter dinner of my own.

For four years I had kept the stores and eaten at the edge of someone else's table.

My plate had come last, and my place had been nearest the draught.

Tonight the cook had pushed me into a chair at the middle of the long board, between Nessa and Joss.

She set a covered dish in front of me.

"Open it," the cook said.

I lifted the lid.

The smell hit me before I saw it, hot pastry and black pepper and onions in their own gravy.

"Pepper pie," I said.

"Nessa told me," the cook said, with great dignity. "She said you'd gone a month on broth and a pie was owed."

"I said a pie was owed a month ago," Nessa said. "Nobody listened."

"I listened," Joss said. "I'm the one who got the pepper."

"He walked the whole market," Nessa said. "Three stalls. He was extremely rude to the third."

"The third had it cut with ash."

"He's a trade warden. He can tell."

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