Soul of the Fire

"Well, the estate is quite pleased with your services, I can assure you. The feasts wouldn't be the success they are without your valuable help. Your pride in your business is obvious in your fine meats and fowl."

The man grinned as if he'd just been kissed by a pretty girl in a booth at a fair. "Thank you, Master Campbell. That's very kind of you. You're right about me taking pride in my work. Most people aren't as kind as you to notice. You are as good a man as folks say."

"I try my best to help people. I am but their humble servant." Dalton smiled agreeably. "Is there some way I can help you, Inger? Something I could smooth out at the estate to make your job easier?"

Inger scooted his chair closer. He placed an elbow on the desk and leaned in. His arm was as big as a small rum cask. His timid mannerisms seemed to evaporate as his thick brow drew down.

"The thing is, Master Campbell, I don't take any guff from the people who work for me. I spend time teaching them my ways with cutting and preparing meat, and teaching them numbers and such. I don't put up with people who don't do their work and take pride in it. Cornerstone of a successful business, I always say, is the customer being satisfied. Those who work for me who don't toe the line my way see the back of my hand or the door. Some say I'm harsh about it, but that's just the way I am. Can't change at this age."

"Sounds a fair enough attitude to me."

"But on the other hand," Inger went on, "I value those who work for me. They do good by me, and I do good by them. I know how some people treat their workers, especially their Haken workers, but I don't go in for that. People treat me right, I treat them right. It's only fair.

"That being the way things are, you come to be friends with people who live and work with you. Know what I mean? Over the years they come to be almost like family. You care about them. It's only natural-if you have any sense."

"I can see how-"

"Some of them that work for me are the children of people who went before them and helped me become the respected butcher I am." The man leaned in some more. "I got two sons and they're good enough lads, but I sometimes think I care about some of those who live and work with me more than I care about those two boys.

"One of them who works for me is a nice Haken girl named Beata."

Alarm bells started chiming in Dalton's head. He remembered the Haken girl Bertrand and Stein had summoned upstairs for their amusement.

"Beata. Can't say as the name rings a bell, Inger."

"No reason it should. Her business is with the kitchen. Among other things, she delivers for me. I trust her like she were a daughter. She's smart with numbers. She remembers what I tell her. That's important because Hakens can't read, so I can't give them a list. It's important they remember. I never have to load for her; after I tell her what's to go she gets it right. I never have to worry about her getting orders wrong or being short."

"I can see-"

"So, all of a sudden, she doesn't want to deliver to the estate.”

Dalton watched the man's fist tighten.

"We had a load to bring over today. An important load for a feast. I told her to go get Brownie hitched to the cart because I had a load for her to take to the estate.

"She said no." Inger's fist smacked the desktop. "No!"

The butcher sat back a little and righted an unlit candle that had taken flight.

"I don't take well to people I employ telling me no. But Beata, well, she's like a daughter. So, instead of giving her the back of my hand, I thought to reason with her. I figured maybe it was some boy she didn't like anymore she didn't want to see, or something like that. I don't always understand the things a girl can get in her head to make them go all moody.

"I sat her down and asked her why she didn't want to take the load to the estate. She said she just didn't. I said that wasn't good enough. She said she'd do double loads to somewhere else. She said she'd dress fowl all night as punishment, but she wouldn't go to the estate.

"I asked her why she didn't want to go, if it was because someone there did something to her. She refused to tell me. Refused! She said she wasn't going to take any more loads there and that was all there was to it.

"I told her that unless she told me why, so I could understand it, she was going to take the load out to the estate whether she wanted to or not.

"She started to cry."

Inger was making a fist again.

"Now, I've known Beata since she was sucking her thumb. I don't think that in the last dozen years I've ever seen that girl cry but once before. I've seen her slice herself open good when she was butchering, and she never cried, even when I stitched her. Made some real faces in pain, but she didn't cry. When her mother died, she cried. But that was the only time.

"Until I told her today she had to go to the estate.