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“Hello, Henrik,” a woman says. She’s clean and tidy, with carefully pinned gray hair and a friendly smile. But the smell seems to be coming from her.

I bow my head, trying not to let my revulsion show.

The odor is putrid, like the scent of a rotting carcass combined with the smell of the guards’ barracks when they’re not adequately aired out on a hot day.

“How may I be of assistance?” I manage.

“I understand you’re leading the supply trip up to the north?”

I swallow hard, trying not to breathe through my nose. “That’s right.”

“Good, that’s good.”

I wait, hoping she’ll hurry to her point. When it seems she’s going to need some prodding, I ask, “Is there something I can help you with?”

“As a matter of fact, young man, there certainly is.” She practically beams, thankfully not noticing the tears pooling in my eyes.

“You see, my husband is up north right now at Fortress Lintanry. Lord Forlentia? I’m sure you’ve heard of him?”

Never in my life.

“All right,” I say.

“He can’t come home until spring, you see.”

Whatisthat smell?

“And he so loves this cheese I make…” As she says the words, she removes the tea towel from the basket at her side, releasing a fragrance that is so potent, it could be considered a political act of war.

And there it is, the source of the stink. A mottled wheel of cheese, green with fuzzy mold, lies nestled in the basket—smelling andlookinglike an elgernauth rolled over it.

“Would you be so kind as to take it to him, dear? It would mean the world to me.”

I stare at the cheese with dread, imagining smelling that unique aroma the entire trip up to the north.

“I…” Accidentally breathing through my nose, I falter. “I don’t think…”

Her face falls.

“I don’t think it will be a problem,” I end up finishing, earning an approving smile. “But you’ll have to put it in something. Something closed tightly—to keep it safe.”

“Oh no.” She shakes her head adamantly. “It must be allowed to breathe, dear. Simply keep my tea towel over it, just like this, and it will be safe as can be.”

“Breathe?” I manage.

She wrinkles her nose. “Otherwise, it gets a bit soggy, you understand. And no one wants that.”

“No one wants that at all,” I mutter.

Like a fool, I accept the basket.

“You are so kind, Henrik,” she says. “Just as everyone says. Good luck with your seal.”

“Thank you.” I bow my head once more. “I will send your husband your warm regards.”

She pats my arm before she leaves. “Yes, yes. Such a nice young man.”

The moment she’s gone, I shove the basket at the closest unsuspecting guard. “Take this to the wagons.”