Book One – Chapter 15

The kitchen, connected to the common room by a swinging half-door, was Bubs’ domain. Yu had not been called in yet. From the threshold, he had only glimpsed a narrow hallway leading to one door at the left and another at the end. Bubs came and went out of the latter. When he worked, it stayed shut.

There was also a pass-through that served as a window between the kitchen and common room. It was a simple cut-out in the wall between the half-door and the stairs leading to the upper floors. A broad wooden ledge lined the opening, a place for setting down plates. From there, the sharp tang of smoked spices, fire, and simmering broth wafted out, tangled with the ever-present undercurrent of ale that had long since soaked, seeped and settled within the wood. More often than not, the only thing to emerge from that gap was Bubs’ perpetually sour face, his dark eyes peering over the ledge in constant suspicion. The mianid was too short to see over it naturally, which meant he had to stand on a stool just to glare down at Yu.

It would have been funny — If Bubs weren’t so utterly determined to piss on every single one of Yu’s attempts to actually get shit done. The scrutiny never ended. While Yu worked, Bubs lurked, emerging again and again, his eyes darting like a carrion bird searching for something rotten to pick at. His dissatisfaction took the form of constant corrections, clipped criticisms, and sharp, high-pitched orders thrown at him without pause.

Cleaning with his stumps was as much a challenge as it was a personal humiliation. The tools were crude but functional: coarse rags and sponges for the furniture, leather cloths for the windows, stiff-bristled brushes for scrubbing grime from stone, and buckets of soapy water drawn from the rain-collection barrels outside.

Carrying a bucket was an ordeal. Yu slipped one arm through the handle, bending what little remained below the elbow to lift it. There was hardly any strength left in that limb, certainly not enough to hold a full bucket without struggle. Keeping it steady while walking was even worse. The first few times, he filled it way too much, so that water sloshed over the sides with every unsteady step, soaking the floor, his feet and his trousers. And again, when he rinsed the rags, the movement sent more spilling over. Another thing for Bubs to shout about.