Page 82 of Traitor Son

Remin sat on a handy rock to take off his boots, basking in a soft breeze. It would have been a nice day for fishing.

“Can you swim?” he asked.

“No,” she replied, sitting a short distance away to remove her boots.

“Don’t go out further than your knees, then. I’ll have to teach you one day.” He rolled up the legs of his trousers and tugged off his jerkin, hanging it on a nearby branch. Laundry was messy work. “Usually the river is pretty consistent, but if you’re ever down here in spring, you might see sudden floods. See that pole over there?” He nodded toward a sturdy pole a few feet out in the water, marked with black lines at regular intervals. “That marks the river depth. We check it every morning and evening. During the spring thaw, you’ll see huge chunks of ice break off the glacier in the Berlawes and fall in the river. If you ever see it start rising fast, run.”

“I will,” she said, for the first time looking intrigued, rather than nervous.

“We’ll do one of the blankets first, they’ll need the bat. Tuck your skirts up so they don’t drag you down in the water.”

Obediently, she tucked them to her knees and then waded after him into the river. There was a small spit of land that jutted out into the Brede, and the water in the inlet was clean, clear, and still enough that he could see minnows darting away as they headed for the rocks.

“First, we soak it, and then scrub it with soap,” he explained, producing a rough bar of brown soap from his pocket. “If there are any spots, scrub them harder, but otherwise we just want the whole thing soapy.”

She nodded, unfolding the blanket in sections for scrubbing and then taking her own turn with the soap. It took both of them to fold it back up again and set it on the rock, and then Remin retrieved the bat, spinning the handle in one hand. He put a little muscle into it as he smacked the flat end of the bat onto the folded blanket, sending out a wave of soapy water.

“Sorry,” he said as the princess brushed suds off her skirts. “We’re both likely to get splashed. Turn it over and fold it the other way.”

“It’s all right.” She moved quickly to obey. For a while, they worked in silence, but it was a better silence than the oppressive, anxious tension of the cottage, and the princess was quick and efficient as she plunged the blanket into the river and dragged it back onto the rocks. “Can I try?”

“Sure.” Remin handed her the bat and retreated a pace. “You don’t need to hit it too hard, you’ll wear—”

The paddle cracked onto the blanket and a fountain of water shot up, nailing him directly in the face.

“Oh.” The princess dropped the bat and gazed up at him in round-eyed horror, the tips of her fingers rising to cover her mouth. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean…”

Remin spat out a mouthful of water.

“—wear yourself out,” he finished, the corner of his mouth twitching. Contrary to popular opinion, he did have a sense of humor, and that had been funny. Swiping at his face with his arm, he handed her the bat before it floated off. “It’s fine, go on, Princess.”

It was hard, tiring work, and in due course he relieved her of the bat and they soaked down the blanket again, dragging it back onto the flat rock. He didn’t exactlyplananything in particular, but when he brought the bat down it was at an expert angle that sent out an explosion of icy water, and the princess dodged away with a squeal.

“You did that on purpose!” She accused, forgetting her nervousness for a moment as she pushed her wet hair out of her eyes.

“I’m just doing laundry,” Remin said blandly. “Come, turn it over, my hands are full.”

Warily, she approached to flip the blanket and then rapidly backpedaled, her bright eyes shy and wondering. It made him want to tease her, and it was only belatedly that he realized that it was too late; that was exactly what he was doing. It felt so natural, he hadn’t even noticed.

Remin forced himself to focus on the work, using the bat to grind the soap deep into the fibers of the blanket, and then finally waved her back over.

“Hold this end,” he said, handing her one end of the blanket. This would be the hardest part for her, and the reason why he hadn’t just written her a list of instructions and let her get on with it by herself. Twisting the blanket to wring it out, soapy water cascaded into the river. When it stopped dripping, they plunged it into the river again and repeated the motion, rinsing and wringing until the water ran clear.

“I’m sorry,” she said as her hands began to shake with effort. The tighter he wound it, the harder it was for her to hold onto her end. “It’s slipping…”

“It’s fine. I don’t expect you to be able to do this by yourself,” he said. He finished wringing it out by himself, his huge hands crushing the water out of the cloth, and then they hung it over a handy tree branch to dry. They repeated the process on the second blanket, and while he wrung it out, he sent her to fill the washtub.

Wading over to her, he tossed all her white things into the tub, along with a few of her dresses, and then bent again with the bar of soap.

“The lye will irritate your skin if we don’t wash it out,” he explained. “And we do the same thing with your dresses that we did with the blankets, but they’re too delicate for the bat. Scrub them down with soap, and then I’ll show you what we do next.”

It was pleasant, feeling the sun on his bare back and the soft sand gritting between his toes. They traded the soap back and forth, scrubbing, and when everything looked sudsy enough, he rose.

“All right, in you go,” he said. “We’ll take turns.”

“What am I doing?” she wanted to know, lifting her skirts to step into the tub.

“Stomp on them. You have to use your toes and heels to grind in the soapy water. Yes, just like that,” he said as she began to stomp first one foot and then the other. White articles bobbed to the surface of the water, the white linen and silk too buoyant to sink down the way her dresses did. Remin poked them. He’d never washed clothes like those before.

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