Hedi spent the morning in Korey's room.
At breakfast she had asked Julia for brightly colored yarn and needles. She went up to teach the girl some basic knitting. Korey was so excited by this new project she could barely sit still at first. She finally settled down, and the hours passed quickly as they chatted and worked.
Past noon, Julie came with a tray. She was shocked to see Hedi sitting on the bed with Korey. "My lady…"
Clearly Hedi was not supposed to be here, but Julia would not dare give orders to anyone of favor or nobility.
"Don't leave," Korey said to Hedi. "Please."
Julia's mouth opened and closed, and suddenly she looked frightened
Hedi had no wish to cause a simpleminded servant unnecessary trouble. She stood and picked up her sewing bag.
"I have some things to attend to," she told Korey. "But I will see you tomorrow. We can play at cards again."
Korey's face fell, and she shot Julia a glowering pout. Hedi kissed her on the head and swept past Julia out of the room.
She went to eat her own lunch, and stayed in the meal hall to work on the embroidered pillowcase. Working with her needle, she busied her thoughts with how she might get a message to Byrd, but all possibilities seemed blocked. She considered bribing Julia to carry a note, but if by chance the woman agreed and then faltered in any way, the repercussions would be disasterous-and brutal for Julia.
Heavy boots on stone echoed in from the entryway outside the meal hall. Hedi set down her work and stepped to the archway to see what the commotion was about.
Omasta was there and looked both angered and worried. He was always on edge, like all those around his pig of a master, but he looked more troubled than ever before.
Two soldiers followed him in, dragging a young woman in a sheepskin coat by her bound arms. One of them limped and clutched a canvas pack in his free hand. They dropped the woman, and she landed with her cheek flattened to the floor. The limping soldier dumped the pack's contents out, and Omasta watched impatiently as his men rummaged through the woman's belongings.
There were small roles of parchments bound with string, two leather-bound journals, and some charcoal and quills. A small bottle of ink cracked open on the floor.
The woman, or perhaps girl, was small, with olive-toned skin uncommon for the people here. Her eyes were closed. The left side of her face was reddened and swollen, including her left eye. Her slack lips were bloodstained on the left side.
Parchment, books, and quills-a scribe, perhaps? No, even a journeyman of that profession would have found a place to settle and ply her skills. And what would Omasta want with a scribe badly enough to have her beaten, bound, and searched?
Some type of scholar seemed the only other possibility, but such were rarer than an act of kindness in the Warlands. In Hedi's limited travels with Emel, she had met only two, and both were in service to noble houses. Even an apprentice would be under the guidance of a master, so why was this one dressed for the winter travel… and so young?
"Where's that pasty-skinned hunter?" Darmouth boomed.
He stepped from the counsel hall across the way, a tall pewter tankard in his grip. Hedi ducked back a step.
Darmouth's breastplate was recently oiled and cleaned, and he looked freshly shaved. Omasta stood at attention, but Hedi noted no fear in his eyes. Rather, he expressed deep regret. Hedi had never seen this in anyone facing Darmouth's anger. Omasta genuinely did not wish to disappoint his lord. She could not imagine what would foster such a willing sense of duty to this tyrant.
"She escaped, my lord," Omasta said. "The men closed in too soon. But the search continues, and we may yet find her. I'll keep the men at it, even into the night."
Darmouth's eyelids drooped halfway as he stared at Omasta for a long moment, but there was none of the brutal anger he showed to others who failed him. He stepped forward to stand over the small woman and hooked his boot toe under her shoulder to flip her over.
"Where would Magiere hide from my men?" he asked.
The girl did not respond and simply lay prone below him. Darmouth poured the tankard over her face.
She choked on the foaming liquid filling her mouth. Her head rolled, and only her right eye blinked to clear the fluid.
"Magiere," Darmouth repeated, "where is she?"
"I do not know," the woman mumbled. She tried to shake her head, but the gesture was feeble.
Darmouth's expression darkened. He lifted his boot over the woman's face.
"My lord!" Hedi shouted, and stepped into view. "She is a scholar, not just some commoner."
It was a desperate guess, and all Hedi could think of to halt any further abuse.
Darmouth lowered his foot at the sight of Hedi. He swallowed hard and took a deep, slow breath, perhaps not wishing to appear the beast that he was in front of her. In any other moment Hedi would have found this sickeningly humorous. She consoled herself: As long as Byrd breathed, one day this tyrant would choke and squirm in his own blood.
Darmouth glanced down at the young woman, then back to Hedi.
"Of course," he answered, and turned to Omasta. "Secure this prisoner in a room on the first level-not the lower cells-and put a guard on the door. I'll speak to her later, when…"
He trailed off, watching Hedi. The rest of his orders were not for her ears. He headed back into the counsel hall, motioning Omasta to follow. Omasta nodded to his men and joined his lord.
Hedi had no doubt that Darmouth would order Omasta to organize a raid on Byrd's inn.
The girl on the floor slowly rolled her head to look at Hedi with her good eye. One soldier shoved her belongings back into the pack, and both hoisted her up by the shoulders and dragged her up the stairs.
Hedi followed from a distance.
The guards took their prisoner up the stairs and down the corridor of the second level. Hedi watched long enough to see which room they placed her in. One remained outside the door. Hedi hurried quietly up the stairs to her own room. Once inside she could not sit still, and paced the floor.
A fire burned in the small hearth. She looked about at the cherry-wood desk and wardrobe and the thick quilt upon her bed. Darmouth took pains to have this room made comfortable for her. Such thoughts made her hate the surroundings even more. The same man thought nothing of stepping on the face of a helpless girl for answers she might not even have.
Hedi did not know why she had put herself at risk for this stranger. It was a foolish act that gained her nothing.
"Mrowr."
The sound was so soft that Hedi was not certain she had heard it until scratches followed outside her door. What was a cat doing inside the keep?
She twisted the latch, opened the door, and a dark little form bolted around her skirt into the room. Hedi twisted about.
A small, brown-black cat, with eyes of matching color and a bobbed tail, hopped up on the bed. It stared back at her and let out a soft "purr."
In spite of everything Hedi had just witnessed, she almost smiled. "There are wolfhounds below, you little fool. How did you get in here?"
Perhaps a soldier or servant had brought it in to hunt vermin in the lower levels, but this one looked too small for such a task. It was barely beyond a kitten. Firelight glimmered off the fur across its ears and face.
Hedi approached the foot of the bed, reaching out. "Very well, come here. I will have Julia fetch some milk. If you are lucky, there might even be cream."
A ripple swelled through the cat's shoulders.
Hedi jerked her hand back.
A larger swell passed down its back as it craned its neck and crouched low. It issued a grating yowl, digging its claws into the bedcovers as its eyes rolled up in its head.
Hedi backed away as the cat flopped on the quilt, twitching.