Peter & Max - Bill Willingham [90]
“You’re villains on the run?” the old man said.
“Hardly villainous,” Peter said, “but you’ve deciphered the crux of it.”
Bo started pacing around the cart, closely evaluating its bountiful contents, quietly murmuring “hmmm” and “ah” as she made her examinations.
“I can’t lose my Gertraud, for any price,” the old man said. “She’s become part of the family.”
“She talks?” Peter said.
“No, but —”
“Good,” Peter said, “because we can’t risk anyone speaking up and giving us away, as we pass through that rather imposing guard tower — no doubt garrisoned by a squad or more of bloodthirsty goblins — which straddles the last high pass, leading down to SonnenSee Town. Still, I had a beloved family mule of my own once, back in a more innocent age, and I know well the reluctance one might have to part with such a creature. So, I’ll tell you what; we’ll still pay you double a good sell price for your dear Gertraud, but only to rent her for a week. When next you come to town, you’ll find her fine, fit, and nicely fattened, at the public stables. And we’ll pay for that too.”
The conversation lasted a good while longer, but eventually the old man, whose name turned out to be Meinard, by the way, gave in, unable to turn down the small fortune in silver and gold that the (almost certainly) insane young couple pressed upon him. While Peter handled the bulk of the negotiations, Bo kept a wary eye out down one direction and then the other, knowing that any passerby at this point might ruin their plans. After a while, a considerably happier, and richer, old Meinard went back on his way, down the country road, and entirely out of our story.
Once he was well out of earshot, Peter said to his lovely wife, “Okay, that’s done. Now will you please tell me why we let three perfectly respectable grocery wagons pass us by, but absolutely had to procure this one?”
“Because lovely old Gaffer Meinard had the best pumpkins,” Bo said. “Look at the size of these giants — this one in particular.” She indicated the biggest, fattest pumpkin in the cart, and Peter had to admit that it was truly impressive.
“So Meinard had good results from his pumpkin patch this year,” Peter said. “Good for him. Perhaps I’m not as clever as you are, because I don’t divine the necessity of big pumpkins among the crop we use to explain our way past the guard post. As long as we appear as humble farmers —”
“That’s what I’ve been thinking about, while we hid among the hedges,” Bo said. “So far, we’ve always appeared as two people together on the road. But, if the military authorities are still looking for us, or if agents of your former brotherhood, or my former society still hunt us, they’d all be looking for a man and a woman together on the road.”
“True,” Peter said. “In hindsight, we shouldn’t have written farewell letters to our respective masters.”
“No, it was still the right thing to do, seeing as how we’re both still clinging to the notion that we found the only honorable way to resign from our professions. I’ve scant eagerness to spend an eternity in Hel’s dark realm, ripped apart each day to be tossed into a giant iron kettle, to be gnawed at by dreaded Garm and his fellow witch dogs, which is the fate of all oath breakers in the next life. An official statement of resignation, including an explanation of the reason behind it, was required from each of us.”
“Well, truth be told, I more alluded to the reason behind my sudden resignation and disappearance, rather than state it openly.”
“I suspect you managed to communicate the gist of it.” All the while that they were talking, Bo was busy carving at the largest pumpkin, with one of her many sharp knives. In time she’d cut a wide circle clear around the pumpkin’s fat stem, and with a great heave, she lifted the heavy orange plug free from the rest of it.
“Help me scoop this out,” she said.
“As soon as you finish explaining your cunning plan,” he said.
“Simple enough. Once we’ve got this nicely hollowed out, I’m going to hide inside of it, while you take us through the military checkpoint.