Talon the Black

by Melissa Mitchell

  She rolled her eyes. “What a glorified way of putting it—I’m still a prisoner.”

  “Do not think of it that way,” he said. “You will have free reign of the castle—for the most part.”

  “And what am I supposed to do? Sit here all day and wait for the king to kill Kane?”

  “Well, that brings us to the next part. For the time being, you will make yourself useful. You will take on duties with some of the servants.”

  “What?!” she roared. “You’re joking, right?”

  Reyr was affronted by her yelling. “I—I am not joking.”

  “You—you let him do this? After everything? You let him condemn me to servitude?”

  Reyr’s upset was growing as quickly as hers. “You seem to think I have direct control over the king.” His teeth were clenched as he spoke.

  “Well, don’t you?”

  “No, Claire, I do not. Just because I manage to sway him in some matters does not mean I control him in everything. If I am not mistaken, it seems you blame me for this. I had no part in his final decision.”

  A Shield’s advice only goes so far. The king is the ultimate decision maker…

  Cyrus? she called, fishing into the depths of her mind. It was the first time hearing his voice since the dungeons. She thought he had abandoned her, that he was tied to the Unbreakable Promise, which had now been fulfilled.

  I will always be with you, remember? Always…

  It was a comforting thought but didn’t help her current situation. She glared at Reyr. “So putting me here, making me become a servant, that was his decision?”

  “Aye. I advised him against it.” Hearing that made her feel a little guilty. Reyr did a lot for her. If it weren’t for him, she would probably be dead. “But, when the king asked if I had a more appropriate suggestion regarding how you might spend your time, a better suggestion of how you might contribute, I came up with nothing.”

  She threw up her hands in frustration. “Um, I can think of a number of ways I would rather spend my time, Reyr. None of them include dumping chamber pots. I know more about Kane than pretty much everyone here. I was the one Cyrus confided in. I’m sure my advice can help somewhere. If I’m going to be stuck here, why can’t I be on the leading edge of the fight?”

  “Firstly, dumping chamber pots will not be part of your job description. That unfortunate duty falls to the chamber maids.” He arched an eyebrow, already driving home the point of how little she really knew. “I think this will be a good opportunity to learn about our way of life. The servants know more about the keep, more about its secrets, than any of the nobles.” He stood with obvious frustration and placed his hands on the back of the chair then leaned against it.

  “Secondly.” He gave her a stern look. “The war efforts are better left to those of experience in such matters. You may think you know everything about Dragonwall, but there is still a vast deal of knowledge to be gained. That education can begin right here in the keep. You may not realize it now, but you are getting placed in an excellent position to do so. It is not ideal, I agree with you, but make the most of it. I encounter enough stress in my position. Feeling guilty for your disapproval because I could not do more is not something I can grapple with right now.”

  His wording made her sound like a petulant little brat for complaining. She gritted her teeth to keep from saying anything else mean. Maybe she did need to make the most of it. For starters, it was better than being locked in a dungeon cell. Besides, if anyone was to blame, it was King Talon. His time would come. Revenge wasn’t something she generally engaged in, but he deserved to pay for putting her through so much. If he was going to keep her here, then yes, she would make the most of her time, but she wasn’t going down without a fight.

  “Fine. I’m sorry I blamed you. So how long am I stuck like this?”

  “I do not know, Claire.” There was still frustration in his voice. “I will do what I can to find a better solution, all right?”

  “I…okay.” That was better than nothing.

  “Now, it is getting late. Tess will have my head if I fail to get you to her before bedtime. Come.”

  “Tess? Who’s Tess?”

  “See?” Reyr afforded her a smug grin. “Look how much you have to learn.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” she muttered, gathering his point.

  “Tess, as you will quickly learn, is the head woman of the castle. A mother hen, if you like. She’s responsible for keeping all her chicks in line. You will like her, I think. Come.” He moved towards the door, opening it for her. She rose and followed. Her muscles protested. She ignored them.

  As they moved through the keep, she was captivated. For the first time, she was truly seeing its magnificence. Reyr did his best to explain various facts before they reached their destination, naming statues and recalling history.

  “The cookery,” he called it, “is located on the east end of the keep. I think you will like it there. It is active all hours of the day, and so is Tess.”

  When they entered, a wall of delicious smells smacked her in the face. Baking bread, roasting meat, sharp scents of garlic and onions, it all mixed together in a marvelous way. Her stomach rumbled like a growling bear. Then just as suddenly, it felt as if she were being hugged by one. In a flourish of movement, a fleshy body wrapped around hers. It belonged to a woman who smelled like lavender.

  “You poor child,” the woman screeched. “You poor, poor thing. To go through all you been through…” She had just a moment to return the woman’s hug before she was pulled to arm’s length for inspection.

  “Look at her, Reyr, skin and bones!” The woman rotated her this way and that. “Gods. She is pretty though. I ‘spect behind all this grime she’s a right beauty.” Tess chuckled, taking her thumb to clear away a smudge of dirt from her face. “My goodness, I’ll have a right job keeping the men’s paws off her.”

  Reyr laughed nervously. “I suspect you will, dear Tess. Shall I leave her with you?”

  “Oh yes, dearie! Off with ya. I’ll take right good care of this one.”

  Reyr looked at her. “Goodbye, Claire. Until next time,” he said. Then he disappeared from their company.

  Tess was a large beast of woman with a round face. She stood tall and husky, with plenty of cushion to her build. This was hidden well under her billowing red kirtle. Her chubby face was lit with an enduring radiance when she smiled, and her greying hair was tucked under a bonnet. Only a few flyaways showed. She was, for lack of a better description, southern hospitality at its finest.

  The cookery was spectacular to behold, bustling with activity best described as organized chaos. There were three cavernous chambers. Tess lead her through each. The inner room held shelves of dishes and wash tubs. Some were piled so high, she wondered they didn’t topple over. At the room’s center sat a large well with a pump.

  Women in drab gray dresses were positioned at every station. As they worked they sang a lively song, washing to the same speed as their chanting. Each smiled warmly at her, giving friendly bows of their head in greeting.

  “Ladies,” Tess announced, bringing their music to a short halt. “This here’s Claire. You’ll be seein’ her round these parts from now on.”

  “Greet’ins miss Claire,” some of them said.

  “All right!” Tess snapped in a friendly manner, waving around a wooden spoon. “Back to work with ya!” The chanting began anew as they got back to their task. She watched for several moments in fascination.

  They moved into the central chamber. This was the biggest room in the cookery. Huge fireplaces and ovens loomed above them, reaching nearly to the ceiling. Delicious smells were coming from each of them.

  Cooks rushed around preparing food. “We get much of the breakfast meal prepared the night before,” Tess explained. “Else we would be up long before the crack of dawn.” While the cooks worked they performed coordinated movements, dancing around the room, never bumping into one another. And like the women in the wash
room, many of them hummed or sang aloud with booming voices, lending a buoyant ease to the mood. The friendly atmosphere left her smiling. Reyr was right, she liked it here.

  The final chamber, the one she first met Tess in, was for food assembly. Meals were staged before going out. Currently there was no food assembled as dinner was long over.

  “Now, I ‘spect you’ll be needing some new attire.” Tess eyed her clothing with a scrunched nose then took her downstairs to a cellar full of closed doors. The air was crisp and cold and smelled like dirt.

  Tess unlocked a smaller door leading into a shelved storage room. The shelves were stuffed with folded clothes made of very plain fabrics. There were lots of browns, blacks, greys, and whites.

  “While you serve, you are expected to wear proper attire.” Tess climbed up on a sliding ladder and pulled out several ordinary white dresses. These looked like nightgowns. They were stiff and scratchy.

  “Do I wear these to bed?” she asked, scrunching her face in disgust at the thought.

  “Goodness no, child! These smocks are to be worn under your kirtles.”

  After her look of confusion Tess humored her, explaining that smocks were used to soak up sweat and odor under the everyday dress. It eliminated the need to wash a gown after each wear. She never realized how complicated the archaic old fashions were, and she wasn’t looking forward to the new dresses she was to be fitted with.

  Next Tess gave her a plain, dark-grey linen kirtle and an apron. “This will be your formal serving attire.” Though ugly, it was better than what she had. Everything she brought was mostly rags now, except for her Sprite gown.

  Tess gave her a few other items too: a gown for sleeping, one to be used on special occasions, and an outfit for recreational attire. This consisted of male breeches, brown in color, along with a knee-length tunic.

  “There now. All set,” Tess said, climbing down from the tall ladder. “Those’ll fit fine,” she added, eyeing Claire’s figure.

  “But…”

  “Yes, dearie?”

  Tess hadn’t given her any underclothes. “What about underwear?” She was confused. All the undies she had brought were well worn and needed a good washing. Even her bras were pathetic.

  “I have already given you your smocks, dear.”

  “Yes, I know, but I mean underwear to wear on, well, you know, my bottom?” She wasn’t sure how else to put it. Surely they wore underwear.

  “I am not sure I understand…” Tess put her hands on her hips, regarding her strangely as if she were some alien creature.

  “You know—underwear. Like this.” Claire pulled up on the waistband of the current pair she wore from under her jeans.

  “What in the name of the gods is that?” Tess balked. She unbuttoned her pants and showed the woman a larger portion of what she meant.

  “Oh, dearie me!” Tess professed, looking faint. The large woman pulled a fan from her apron and began profusely fanning herself. “We certainly do not have garments like that. Not good for the private parts. How ya get any air down there is beyond me…”

  “But surely, once a month…”

  “Oh! Oh-ho! Of course! Just a moment, dear.” She reached into a cubbyhole in the back of the cellar and retrieved a stack of thick padded cloths. Each had twine strings connected to them. Claire eyed them in horror.

  “Here you are.” Tess handed them over, and that was the end of that. “Now, there is a washroom with large baths down the hall from your new quarters. They are specifically for servant use. There are pit toilets too!” Tess was excited about this marvel. “If ya don’t wish to use your chamber pot, that is. But if ya do, there is a waste system in the washroom to dispose of your excrement when you are finished.”

  She gawked at Tess, astonished, because she wasn’t sure how else to respond. Tess interpreted this as her being impressed, which she wasn’t.

  “I know! I know!” She waved a fleshy hand around. “It is amazing that the keep has any plumbing at all. Nowhere else in Dragonwall has such magic.”

  “Yes. Indeed. It is truly amazing,” she cried sarcastically. Tess only thought she was agreeing.

  As they made their way back to the cookery, Tess prattled on and on about the wonders of the keep. “Oh, and I shall have someone bring you a spot of supper tonight, child, for I know you’re tired, but only just this once,” she warned. “You are to dine with the rest of us normally, down past the cookery. Take the evening to rest. I will send for ya in the morning.”

  “Thank you, Tess,” she said. Though the woman was strange, she was kind and warm. It was welcome after all the turbulence. She felt her eyes tear up.

  “Are you going to be all right, dearie?” Tess studied her with concern.

  “I—I’ll be okay,” she said. She wasn’t certain it was true.

  She made her way back to her chambers alone. It was far from easy. Several wrong turns took her to large, empty corridors. Luckily, the servant quarters and cookery were in the same general area. When she finally found her room, she put her things away and noticed that Reyr took the liberty of delivering her other belongings from her dungeon cell. She would deal with those later. The prospect of a bath had her rushing to find the washroom.

  When she did find it, it was not at all what she expected. There were three large baths sunken into the rocky ground and filled with steaming hot water. That was delightful. What she was not pleased to find was that both males and females used these baths.

  Several men were already bathing. Although they kept to themselves, she had half a mind to run away and forgo a bath entirely. Then she remembered how badly she smelled.

  A few women entered. She watched to see what they would do, considering it a first lesson in proper etiquette. The women removed towels from a pile on a shelf. These shelves were near a set of stalls. They entered the stalls and closed the curtains. At least there was some privacy.

  When the women emerged, their towels were wrapped around their naked bodies. They set their clothing down on empty shelving then proceeded to the baths. There they walked down the stairs and into the water. The towels were removed right before they submerged themselves, and placed in a pile on the side of the bath. The men paid them no attention.

  She followed suit selecting the third bath because it was empty. The hot water did wonders on her tense muscles. It even helped ease the headache created by Drengr voices. Maybe she would stay here forever.

  Her stomach soon rumbled, reminding her that Tess promised to send along food. Very reluctantly, she took some soap from one of the holders, gave herself a good scrubbing, working hard to remove the tangles in her hair. Then she removed herself, quickly dressing in one of the kirtles, and returned to her room.

  Dinner was modest, but delicious. The tray on her little table had white meat, which tasted like chicken and probably was, and a large chunk of bread with cheese. She was surprised to see that both ale and water were given to wash it all down.

  Contentedly full, she crawled into bed. It was a little lumpy from the stuffing, but far better than the hard ground. Settled in, she blew out her candle and shut her eyes. Then, for the first time in weeks, she drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

  43

  Kastali Dun

  Claire was vaguely aware of shuffling near her bed. Someone was in her room. A pesky yellow glow seeped beneath her eyelids, disturbing her slumber. She groaned and rolled over.

  “Please, miss!” The voice she heard was insistent. “It is time to greet the day.”

  A dream—this was only a dream. She groaned again and threw the covers over her head. The next moment they were ripped from her grasp. Cool air kissed her exposed skin. Her eyes flew open in frustration.

  “Miss Tess will have a fit if we are late,” the voice warned.

  Who was this pest? And who was Miss Tess? She was too groggy to process anything.

  “There now, you are waking up. Come, dress yourself. We must be going.”

  “But I donwanna ge
up,” she grumbled, reaching for the covers at the foot of her bed. The pesky woman noticed and flopped down upon them. Through the yellow glow, she saw that this woman had a slight build, with hair and eyes the color of dark chocolate, and a plain but comely face.

  “Once you stand up, it will be easier,” the woman said. “And if you hurry, we might get some food.” At the mention of food, her stomach growled. She begrudgingly got up from her bed and sluggishly gathered her clothes. The woman moved over to the door and waited patiently. Her lantern cast bright light around the dark room. The sun was not yet up.

  “I’m sorry, but who are you?” she finally asked, pulling her nightgown over her head before throwing on her smock.

  “Oh, do forgive me! My name is Desaree. You will be my charge for the next several weeks.”

  “Desaree.” She said the name aloud to remember it. “It’s nice to meet you, Desaree. I’m Claire.”

  Desaree chuckled. “Begging your pardon miss. We all know who you are.”

  “Oh, of course you do,” she quietly muttered. She pulled a gray kirtle over her head and Desaree helped her with the white apron.

  As they made their way through the giant castle, Desaree chatted happily. “This here leads to the southern wing. That is where the king lives, in a giant tower full of many ornate rooms.” They passed a carpeted corridor. The walkway was lined with statues of armored men and tapestries.

  “Have you ever seen it? The king’s tower?” she asked out of curiosity. One could easily imagine how spectacular it must be, especially considering what a selfish prick the king was.

  “Oh, no, I have not. I would love to someday. Only the chamberlain and the king’s man servants go up there, well, and his Shields, and the Lower Council. But I have heard about it. I am told there are rugs woven from the finest yarns, tapestries from the lands beyond the Dragonfire sea, statues of pure gold...” Desaree donned a dreamy, faraway look. They walked farther along before she spoke again. “The linen washrooms are that way.” Desaree pointed in another direction. “You and I will be there later today I dare say.”