Forge of Darkness (The Kharkanas Trilogy 1)

The old woman blinked and then nodded. ‘It is indeed, hostage. Or it was when we last left it. I imagine it is cooling even as we speak.’

‘I trust the fire is close, Hilith, should more heat be required. Now, please do lead on. Afterwards, I wish a tour of this house I now call my own.’

Hilith tilted her head and then marched from the room.

Sandalath followed.

‘Upon the Lord’s return,’ the matron said over her shoulder, ‘the two maids attending you shall be at your call. I, however, have other responsibilities that will demand my attention.’

‘Day and night, I am sure.’

Hilith shot a glance back at her and then continued on. ‘Just so.’

‘In the meantime,’ Sandalath said, ‘you will attend to me, as if the house were my own.’

‘Just so,’ Hilith snapped without turning this time.

‘If the bath is insufficiently heated, I will wait for the remedy.’

‘Of course, hostage.’

‘I am curious, Hilith. Were you in charge of the household staff in the time of Lady Dracons?’

‘I was.’

‘Then you have indeed given your life to this service.’

‘Without regret, hostage.’

‘Indeed? That is very well, then, isn’t it?’

She made no reply to that. Their swift passage down the hallway came to an end at a landing leading down. Hilith led Sandalath down the stairs, into a steamy laundry room dominated by a huge basin. Two maids — laundry-beaters by their chafed hands — stood in waiting beside the basin.

‘These will attend to you now,’ Hilith said, turning to leave.

The smell of lye was overwhelming, and Sandalath felt her eyes beginning to water. ‘A moment,’ she said.

‘Hostage?’ Hilith’s expression was innocent.

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The old woman blinked and then nodded. ‘It is indeed, hostage. Or it was when we last left it. I imagine it is cooling even as we speak.’

‘I trust the fire is close, Hilith, should more heat be required. Now, please do lead on. Afterwards, I wish a tour of this house I now call my own.’

Hilith tilted her head and then marched from the room.

Sandalath followed.

‘Upon the Lord’s return,’ the matron said over her shoulder, ‘the two maids attending you shall be at your call. I, however, have other responsibilities that will demand my attention.’

‘Day and night, I am sure.’

Hilith shot a glance back at her and then continued on. ‘Just so.’

‘In the meantime,’ Sandalath said, ‘you will attend to me, as if the house were my own.’

‘Just so,’ Hilith snapped without turning this time.

‘If the bath is insufficiently heated, I will wait for the remedy.’

‘Of course, hostage.’

‘I am curious, Hilith. Were you in charge of the household staff in the time of Lady Dracons?’

‘I was.’

‘Then you have indeed given your life to this service.’

‘Without regret, hostage.’

‘Indeed? That is very well, then, isn’t it?’

She made no reply to that. Their swift passage down the hallway came to an end at a landing leading down. Hilith led Sandalath down the stairs, into a steamy laundry room dominated by a huge basin. Two maids — laundry-beaters by their chafed hands — stood in waiting beside the basin.

‘These will attend to you now,’ Hilith said, turning to leave.

The smell of lye was overwhelming, and Sandalath felt her eyes beginning to water. ‘A moment,’ she said.

‘Hostage?’ Hilith’s expression was innocent.

‘Tell me, does the Lord bathe in this chamber?’

‘Of course not!’

‘Then neither shall I. I stand in his stead in his absence, and I will bathe accordingly. Have freshly boiled, clean water brought to the appropriate chamber. I wish this done in haste, so I will entrust the task’s overseeing to you, Hilith.’ Sandalath gestured to one of the maids. ‘This one will lead me to the proper bathing room.’

Hilith’s narrow face was pale despite the heat. ‘As you wish, hostage.’

In her first time as a hostage, in the Citadel, there had been a frightening hag still tottering in the service of Lord Nimander’s household, and she had been most cruel — until by chance Andarist was made aware of the endless torment. That hag had disappeared. If Hilith were to prove a similar harridan, then Sandalath would speak to Draconus, and see the woman deposed and sent away.

She was not a child any more, to cower before such creatures.

As she walked with the young laundress, she said, ‘If I have made an enemy, I trust I will in turn have many allies?’

Wide eyes lifted to her, and then the girl’s round face split into a broad smile. ‘Hundreds, mistress! Thousands!’

‘My father was a hero in the wars,’ Sandalath said, ‘and I am his daughter.’

‘In the wars! Like Ivis!’

‘Like Ivis,’ she agreed. ‘Is Ivis well liked?’

‘He never looks happy, mistress, and is known to be harsh with his soldiers. But to us he is ever kind.’

‘As he was to me. Will you tell me more of him?’

‘All I know!’

‘Do you think him handsome? Soldiers have a way about them, I think.’

‘But he is old, mistress!’

‘Perhaps in your eyes, he is. But I see a man still in his years of strength, younger than my father, and sure of command. No doubt Lord Draconus values him most highly.’

They came to a heavy wooden door, artfully carved in intricate geometric patterns. The girl pushed it open to reveal a narrow room tiled from floor to ceiling, and at the far end a wash basin and then a tub of copper, large enough to accommodate a man. As Sandalath entered the chamber, she felt waves of heat rising from the floor. Crouching, she set a palm flat upon the tiles. ‘There is fire beneath?’

The girl nodded. ‘I think so, yes. I am rarely here, mistress. But there are flues from the Great Hearth, leading everywhere.’

‘Then this is not a cold house in the winter.’

‘No, mistress, it is blessedly warm!’

Sandalath looked round. ‘I feel welcomed by this house, most welcomed.’

The girl smiled again. ‘You are very pretty, mistress. We’d thought-’