The Name He Used

By the time Miller came back, I had folded the same dish towel into a square three times.

Clara was putting the last trays away. She moved around the bakery by memory, fingertips brushing the rack as she counted spaces. The evening customers had gone, leaving the smell of warm rye and wet wool behind them. I sat on the stool beside the counter with my ankle propped up, trying to look like I had a reason to stay there.

The front bell rang. I jerked hard enough to bump my knee against the counter.

“Easy,” Clara said. She didn’t reach for me. “That’ll be Miller. His steps are heavier than Perren’s.”

“I know.” My voice came out too quickly. I flattened the towel again.

Miller came in and shut the door against the rain. He took off his hat, then paused with it in his paw. Water dripped from the brim onto the mat.

“Perren was at the mill,” he said. “I talked to him there. Didn’t go looking for the traveler.”

I nodded. I had asked Miller to ask Perren. I had said not to follow the stranger, not to go down the road. I remembered saying it all clearly. Now my mouth wouldn’t help me with the next part.

Clara set a cup on the counter, a little to my left. “Tea’s still warm.”

I found the handle. “Thanks.”

Miller waited until I’d taken a sip. He didn’t crowd the counter or come closer. “Perren saw him yesterday. At his farm. The traveler asked if a human boy named Toby had passed through.”

The cup touched my teeth. I lowered it without drinking.

“What else?” I asked.

“He described a boy about your age. Said he’d left Sootbank.” Miller’s voice stayed level, but one claw tapped once against the hat. “Perren asked who sent him. The traveler said someone wanted the boy returned. He wouldn’t give a name.”

The bakery had not changed. The trays still rested on their rack. Rain ticked against the front window. But I could feel the edge of the stool under my legs, the rough towel under my thumb, the cup heating my palm. I held on to those things because the other words had started to spread.

Named Toby. Left Sootbank. Returned.

“Did Perren know what he looked like?”

“Not much. Tall, lean, dark coat. He was hooded. Perren couldn’t tell the traveler’s kind.” Miller looked at me, then down at the counter, giving me a place to look that wasn’t his face. “He didn’t see a weapon. Didn’t see a horse or cart.”

That was something. It didn’t make the first part smaller.