Kastali Dun

Claire woke up to find a fluffy bed beneath her. She rubbed her fingers against the soft linen fabric, sinking in and out of consciousness. She wanted to sleep forever. Maybe she would.

When she finally opened her eyes, she saw a white-washed ceiling with dark beams staring back at her. "Where am I?" she croaked. Her left cheek throbbed as she talked.

"You are in the great keep of Kastali Dun," a voice answered.

She recognized it and smiled. "Reyr!" She turned to find him observing her from a nearby chair. The movement aggravated her head. Why did her face hurt so much? Suddenly, her memories came crashing back. The dungeons, her horrible experience with the king, the way Reyr looked at her after discovering she'd had the Dragon Stones all along, and her fall to the floor. It felt like a lifetime ago. Maybe it was a dream. Why else would she be here instead of her dungeon cell?

"Glad to see you are finally awake."

She struggled to sit up. "How...how long have I been..."

"Several hours, give or take." His arms were crossed. He still looked unhappy.

"Reyr, I...I'm so sorry! I wanted to tell you. I wanted to tell you everything. I would have given you the Dragon Stones when you found me. Cyrus made me promise. Please don't be angry with me." He was silent. "Please!" she begged. "I can't stomach your disapproval."

He sighed. "I am not mad at you, though I wish to be."

"You're not?" Hope found its way back into her heart. The tension in her shoulders released.

"You cannot begin to understand how it felt to believe the Dragon Stones were lost." His eyebrows scrunched together, as if the thought were painful.

She swallowed. "I...I know. Everyone was worried about them and it was all my fault. I was the only one who knew they were safe."

It had been difficult witnessing the Drengr's apprehension during the journey. More challenging was holding onto a secret she wanted to reveal.

He shook his head. "No matter how hard I tried, I could not understand why the Vodar attacked us. Once I got over the shock of seeing them, no explanation was adequate. I did wonder though, I wondered if you witnessed something you should not have."

"They were after the Stones."

"Yes. I know that now." He pulled his chair a little closer.

"I can tell you everything," she offered, hoping to make things better between them.

He nodded. "I would like that very much. I would like to hear the story from your side, but tonight we are short on time." The intensity of his golden gaze hinted at something serious. "I want to say what I came to say before anything else."

"Oh...okay." She scooted back against the pillows.

"The king told us everything after—well, he told us everything you told him." He ran a hand through his golden hair, pulling at some of the tangles along the way. Was he nervous? Apprehensive? "The truth is, Claire, I have no right to be upset with you. After what you did for Cyrus, you saved his life without knowing him. He was a complete stranger, yet you did what you could to help him. He trusted you enough to tell you his secrets. That—that says a lot. Cyrus was not easily trusting. His ability to bend minds showed him things no normal person would ever see."

The memory of Cyrus breaking into her mind, the whopping headache, and their dinner conversation afterward swam into her consciousness. Did he do that to everyone? No wonder he struggled with trust.

"Ultimately, Claire, Cyrus was mine to save—my responsibility—but I was too late. You got to him first."

She felt tears spring to her eyes. "I...I tried to save him, Reyr, I really did." Her voice fell to a choked whisper. "I never wanted him to die. He knew they would come back. I never took it seriously, but he knew."

"There was nothing more you could have done. What you have already done, the Promise, keeping the Dragon Stones safe, traveling across an entire kingdom because he asked you to, is nothing short of incredible. I find myself impressed on the deepest level."

It took a moment to sink in. "You really aren't mad at me?" That was all she cared about. She didn't need his thanks, just his friendship.

His smile came slowly. "No. I do not think it is possible to be mad at you for more than a few minutes."

She exhaled.

"Now, enough of the serious matters. I know talking about Cyrus upsets you, it does me too. Let us address the situation at present."

"The situation?" She glanced around the room, only just noticing the finer details of her environment. The chamber was small, about the same size as her cell, but a vast improvement. However, it didn't look like a typical room you would see in a castle, like the ones bathed in rich tapestries and ornate furnishings. It was simple, yet clean. There was a single chair upon which Reyr sat, a small table in the corner, a wash basin next to that, a multi-paned glass window above the bed, a small fireplace with a grate across from her, and the bed itself, upon which she sat. Despite her surroundings, a new question came to mind. "Wait—Reyr. What happened to those men? What happened when I blacked out?"

"I was wondering if you were going to ask. I suppose we can start there." He leaned back in his chair. "After you lost consciousness, several of us noticed, including the king. It seems he got a bit carried away. We all did. That Kane thing was...well...I've never seen dark magic like that before."

"Did they die? The men?"

"No, we healed them immediately, just after you fell. A quick death is too easy. There can be no mercy for a traitor."

Her stomach tightened. She recalled the barbaric devices in the torture cell. Those men would come to know them well. Grotesque as it was, they deserved it. Still the thought was no easier to bear.

"They were taken away as soon as they were healed. The king will deal with them later. For now, he has many important matters requiring his attention. The heap of information you provided will keep us busy for some time."

She nodded.

"Anyway, that brings us here." He spread his arms wide. "While you were out, the king and I discussed your future—"

"I get to go home now?" She sat up straighter. Dragonwall was great and all, but it was time to leave.

Reyr's face fell. "Unfortunately, no."

"But—but I need to!" If she didn't get out soon, the Drengr conversations in her mind would literally drive her insane. Each day's headache was worse than before. Even now it was difficult to concentrate, leaving her extra moody.

"I understand where you are coming from, Claire, what it took to leave your old life behind. However, you cannot leave just yet."

"Why?! I did what I came to do. When can I go home?"

"Considering what you know, considering all that has transpired, considering the threat Kane made—he promised to kill you, remember? The king believes the safest place for you is here. I agree with him on the matter."

She snorted. "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 flinched, affronted by her yelling. "I...I am not joking."

"You...you let him do this? After everything? You let him condemn me to servitude?"

"Now hold on just a moment. 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. And there are few to dump, given that most rooms have pit toilets." 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. "Besides, it will keep you out of everyone's notice."

She opened her mouth—

"Secondly, 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."

She exhaled. He made her sound like a petulant little brat for complaining. She gritted her teeth to keep from saying anything else. 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." She blew out a breath. "So...how long am I stuck like this?"

"I do not know." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "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 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 but 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 said, "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 rose up to meet her. 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 everyone's paws off her."

Reyr laughed. It sounded nervous. "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 eyed her. "Goodbye, Claire. Until next time," he said. Then he disappeared from their company.

Tess was generously curved, with a warm round face. She stood tall and husky, with plenty of cushion to her build. This was hidden under her billowing red kirtle. Her 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 seeing 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 any new dresses.

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 filthy 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 brown pants that buttoned up the front, 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?"

"I have already given you your smocks, dear."

"Yes, I know, but I mean underwear to wear on, well, you know...?" She gestured, unsure of how else to put it without offending the woman before her.

"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 looked 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 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, 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 an arm 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 said, sarcasm ringing in her voice. 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," 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.

"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 they 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 a lot 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.

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