took a deep breath then closed the door, again a slight smile on her face. She was going to kill someone today.
As she changed out of her riding clothes, de Baard could hear the old couple arguing downstairs but she had no interest whatsoever in their conversation. She no longer cared what they thought and a great pressure lifted from her shoulders. This trip was exactly what she needed. She was satisfying a craving for a need she hadn’t realized was empty.
Once changed, de Baard moved downstairs fully intending to let the old woman cook before killing anyone. Her kali were still strapped at her side however, and she was making no promises.
Cyndee, who was standing over the sink, glanced back and frowned when she noticed the weapons hanging from the woman’s waist. “Fenn thinks I ought not to make ya work, you being a Captain in the army and all,” the large woman began, turning just enough for de Baard to see she was stirring a large pot of boiling vegetables. On a spit over the fire was what looked to be a freshly plucked chicken. It was browning nicely and smelled divine.
“You a Captain in Prince Gwaynn’s army?” Cyndee asked.
de Baard nodded. “King Gwaynn’s army,” she corrected softly.
“Hmmmph. Well I’ll be lettin’ you decide then,” Cyndee said turning an intimidating glare on the tall beautiful woman relaxing in her kitchen. “You can help or not.”
de Baard took a seat and smiled sweetly at the large woman. “Alright then, I guess…not.” She answered and lifted one leg and rested her foot on the chair opposite her.
Cyndee’s brows furrowed in disapproval.
de Baard laughed, light and joyous, and for the next half hour she made no move to help at all. She just sat as the fat woman made a mixture of boiled potatoes, carrots and onions, baked a small loaf of bread and periodically turned the chicken as it cooked. As she worked de Baard ran over the many ways she could kill the Fultan slut without being discovered. Poison and miscarriage might be the best, though de Baard loathed the idea of not slicing into the bitch with her kali. Finally the heavenly smells of the food coaxed de Baard to rise. She moved past Cyndee to the stove where the vegetables were simmering. The old woman eyed her scornfully as de Baard picked up a spoon and stirred the boiling mixture, raising a piece of carrot and a potato to inspect them.
“Smells delicious,” de Baard said and meant it.
Cyndee frowned deeper, though the compliment pleased her. “It’s the chicken broth. Brings out the vegetables.”
Fenn pulled open the back door and walked in and caught de Baard with the spoon in her hand. He smiled.
“Smells wonderful…both of you,” he said. Cyndee glared at him.
“Shut it ya old numbskull.”
de Baard smiled but said nothing and both she and Fenn sat down and discussed the war news as Cyndee set the table and served the food. They all ate quietly for a time. The food was very, very good and de Baard ate heartily.
“So the old Deutzani King is dead?” Fenn asked obviously delighted, taking a large bite of bread.
“Hmmmph,” Cyndee said.
“Oh yes. He’s very dead,” de Baard answered with a slight smile for the nice old man and he beamed back at her, slightly dazed by her beauty.
“And ya say Pr…King Gwaynn is a fighter?”
“Yes…he’s very good,” she answered as she finished her chicken. It was every bit as good as it smelled. The vegetables were also excellent, but the bread was a bit undercooked.
“Hmmmph,” Cyndee mumbled again. de Baard glanced her way. The old woman was finished eating and was leaning back slightly, her arms crossed over her ample bosoms, clearly unimpressed.
“I see your kali,” Fenn said hastily, trying to cover his wife’s rudeness. Cyndee, sweet as she was, could be a bear at times, though when ya came to know her ya realized she didn’t mean nothin’ by it. “You a Captain of arms?”
de Baard nodded, a bit confused by the question.
“That’s something,” Fenn added with another wide smile. “I reckoned most woman fighters to be workin’ with the bow.”
“It ain’t proper for any woman to be a fightin’,” Cyndee finally said, confident her opinion was the only one that truly mattered. They were her first true words since supper was served.
de Baard sat utterly still, her thoughts drifting dangerously toward the bitch Samantha, at the mention of women fighting with the bow. She smiled sweetly at Cyndee.
“What was that?”
“She don’t mean nothing’.” Fenn said hastily. He was very practiced at smoothing over his wife’s rough edges with folk.
“Do too mean somethin’,” Cyndee retorted. “I mean it ain’t proper for woman to be fightin’. Tis man’s work.”
“Not proper?” de Baard asked, her right hand quivering ever so slightly, the itch beginning to build. She placed it lightly on the hilt of her kali to steady it.
“Not proper!” Cyndee repeated.
“Now ladies,” Fenn said.
“Not proper,” Cyndee insisted with a scowl. She didn’t much like the beautiful young woman who sat meekly at her table. “I’m surprised Prince Gwaynn didn’t just send ya away…not much better than a harlot.”
de Baard’s eyes widened slightly.
“Now Cyndee…” Jasper started, but his wife interrupted.
“No proper woman would…” Cyndee fumed but stopped in mid-sentenced as de Baard drew her sword and lashed out, hard and fast. A bright red smile appeared suddenly in Cyndee’s neck; blood ran freely over her numerous chins and flowed down the cavity between her large breasts. The woman’s head remained in place for a long moment, but then slid off to the left and fell to the floor with a loud thud. It bounced once and then rolled to a stop against the oven. Once free of its head her neck sprayed blood for several long moments but luckily it missed the table. Fenn just sat very still and stared at his wife, his mouth hanging open, her death not yet registering. Cyndee was so large and wide around the hips and buttocks that her body slumped but remained upright, sitting headless in the chair.
“It’s hard to think without a head,” de Baard whispered, staring at the decapitated corpse at the table, “and it’s not proper getting blood everywhere like that,” she finished then her eyes shifted to Fenn.
“Sorry Jasper,” she said softly and began to stand. She was surprised by the speed of the old man as he launched himself out of his chair and toward the back door. Quick as he was, de Baard was faster and sliced open his back from shoulders to hips. The old man spun with a scream and de Baard plunged her left kali through his open mouth and out the back of his neck, the force of the blow driving the sharp weapon deep into the heavy wooden door. Fenn hung pinned. He struggled and waved his arms about for longer than de Baard would have thought possible. She stood back and giggled softly at the man’s antics, watching as blood and drool dripped from his ruined mouth. His movements finally grew feeble but he was still alive when de Baard moved close and kissed him lightly on the cheek.
“Your wife was horrible,” she whispered. Jasper, close to death, wanted to object; he loved his wife despite her faults, but his mouth wouldn’t work and he died thinking of her. de Baard sighed, happy and then yanked the weapon free. Jasper slid down along the door, leaving a bright trail of red behind.
de Baard looked about at the carnage in the small kitchen and smiled.
“No please, don’t get up,” de Baard whispered and then giggled as she left the kitchen.
?
Gwaynn returned to Manse nearly six weeks from the day of his departure, and the change was utterly astounding.
