Agent of the Dragon

Mieryth had guessed right about the horses. The half-army, however, turned out to be a large, heavily loaded wagon and attendants. She saw Armina speaking with the lead teamster.

When Armina’s eye fell upon Mieryth, her eyes lit up. “Mieryth.” She pitched her voice to carry above the cacophony. “Come here, child.”

When Mieryth was close enough, Armina laid an apologetic hand on her shoulder. “It looks like you won’t get as much of a rest time as I expected. The Bandars sent some of their personal effects ahead of them. I’ll detail some of these teamsters to carry Lady Bandar’s effects to her rooms. Will you take charge of unpacking?”

Mieryth nodded. “Absolutely.”

“Good.” Armina turned to the man she’d been speaking with earlier. “Gavin, send some people up to the Lady’s chambers with her belongings. Mieryth here will do the unpacking.”

“Yes’m.” The stout man turned to a group of his men and began giving orders.

“I’ll wait in the room.”

Armina nodded her agreement and went to attend to another portion of the unpacking.

Mieryth looked around the lavishly decorated rooms and wondered where she was going to put more stuff. The teamsters had been efficient in hauling the chests and boxes from the wagon. Now, she was alone with no idea how to find space to put it all. Perhaps Lady Taryn wanted to put her new maid in the wrong immediately so she could have absolute control based on guilt.

She made her way into the bedroom and decided the inside of the wardrobes and dressers weren’t decorated, and began to go through the trunks of clothes. Most of the clothes hadn’t been folded properly. She gave an irritated click of her tongue; they would have to be ironed. She set them aside. As she removed clothes from the trunk, she found a few that didn’t need ironing; these she put in the dresser. By the time the trunks were empty, the stack of dresses and blouses and skirts requiring ironing was thoroughly depressing.

Putting that concern from her mind for the moment, Mieryth went back into the public area and sorted through the baggage left there. She found whoever had packed these trunks was better at sorting than the person who had packed the baggage in the bedroom.

One of the trunks was entirely given over to bathing paraphernalia. She picked up the trunk; part of her mind noted the weight, and realized the person Mieryth appeared to be wouldn’t have been able to lift it easily, if at all. She quickly moved the trunk to the bathing chamber before someone walked in.

It didn’t take long for her to have everything placed in the bathing chamber. By the time she finished, she’d thought of a way to clear some room in the public area. She took a couple of throw pillows and placed one on a wooden stool in the bathing chamber.

If the contents of the trunks revealed anything about Lady Taryn, she was vain enough to spend hours in the bath. She would probably require Mieryth to attend her the entire time. Softening the stool seat was definitely a good idea. She placed the other pillow on the chair in front of the vanity in the bedroom.

Mieryth returned to the public area to investigate the remaining trunks. As she’d suspected, they contained more decorations. A thought had occurred to her while she was unpacked the other trunks. The decorating in this chamber was similar to what she found in the baggage--similar but not quite the same, as if someone were following guidelines but couldn’t quite get the details. Surely, Lady Taryn would want the ornaments and furnishings she’d packed herself--or more likely, had chosen for packing.

Mieryth went through the trunks again and removed the contents. She took down the decorations already in place and carefully packed them into the trunks. Then she put out the ornaments she’d just unpacked.

She took one last look around, and decided she’d done a good job. Now she needed to summon some people to carry the empty and re-loaded trunks to storage. She also needed an ironing board and an iron. A knock on the outer door distracted her. She went to open the door, taking in the stark difference between Lady Taryn’s rooms and her own. Maybe the walls didn’t need anything after all. The emptiness was restful.

Armina was waiting at the door when Mieryth opened it. “How are you faring, child?”

“I’ve finished unpacking, mostly.”

“So quickly?”

Mieryth shrugged. “It wasn’t that difficult, really. I do need to do some ironing. And can you have someone take the trunks and chests to storage?”

“Certainly. I came up to see if you’d remembered to eat.”

“Oh! I haven’t had anything since lunch.”

“Mm-hmm. I thought so. I’ll send someone for the luggage, and send a maid to bring ironing supplies. I’ll have her leave it--where? In the bedroom?”

“That will be fine. Thank you.”

“Good. Now go get something to eat before you fall over.”

“Yes’m.” Mieryth mimicked the lead teamster’s accent. Armina chuckled, but Mieryth continued before she had a chance to interject anything. “I switched out the existing decorations with the decorations in the luggage. Can you tell whoever you send up the trunks will be heavy, and that the contents are to be put in storage as well as the luggage?”

Armina nodded. “That shouldn’t be a problem.”

“And now, for some supper.”

“One thing before you go. They expect to be here tomorrow. Early afternoon.”

“Huh. Thanks for the warning.”

The kitchen was in an uproar. Sterling was near to pulling his hair out. When he saw her, he sighed. “I’m afraid you’ll have to fend for yourself. They moved the time schedule up on us. Take your food from that pantry,” he gestured, “it hasn’t had a final inventory, yet. I don’t want to have to recount any more than I have to.”

“Sure thing. I’ll be out of your hair.” Mieryth grinned. “What’s left of it, anyway.”

Sterling rolled his eyes. “Go. Get your food and go, before I conscript you for inventory.”

Mieryth mimed fear before grabbing some food and leaving the kitchen. In the suite, the trunks were gone, and an ironing board stood in the bedroom. Someone had placed a bucket of water next to the ironing board, and an iron hung on a hook in the fireplace--which had been lit. A brief search of the hearth revealed the hook and insulated hand covers that would allow her to use the iron.

With a sigh, she took the top garment in the pile she’d made earlier. It was a frilly dress. Of course it would be frilly. It would be too easy if Lady Taryn’s clothes were easy to take care of. Oh well. Using water and iron, Mieryth set about fixing the Lady’s wardrobe.

It took a couple of hours to get through the large stack of clothing. Several times, she was tempted to use magic. But at the last minute, she decided against it--until the last dress. For some reason the wrinkles wouldn’t iron out, no matter how often she tried resetting it with water. Exhausted beyond caring, she set aside the iron. With a deep breath, she let her channels fill. She didn’t dare open them up all the way, but it was a relief to actively use them again. Maintaining the disguise wasn’t really actively using them, though it did keep them clear. She glared at the dress--and the wrinkles straightened themselves.

She hung the dress in the wardrobe and set about putting up the ironing tools. She was about ready to summon a maid to take them away when she felt she was being watched. She froze, hoping she hadn’t just completely blown her cover by using magic in exasperation. There was a movement in her peripheral vision, but when she looked, nothing could be seen. Paranoia. Great.

Mieryth shook off a momentary chill and glanced out the window. Night had fallen. She decided it was time to see how the rest of the house was faring. She glanced around, assured herself everything was in order here, then went to walk the halls.

The halls were mostly empty. The public rooms she looked into contained only a few servants finishing up a bit of cleaning or straightening. The kitchen had settled to a muted tempest and Sterling flashed her a tired grin.

“Everything seems to be in order, here.”

Mieryth glanced around. While the kitchen had been tidy before, it was now spotless. Some of the undercooks cleaned vegetables for chopping tomorrow. One cook browned finely diced meat, draining the drippings. In the wash area, three scullions washed utensils as soon as the cooks or undercooks finished with them, rather than waiting to do them all at once. One of them was sniffing and red-eyed. A sullen undercook was cut a wheel of cheese into wedges at the other end of the kitchen. Quite a change from a few hours earlier.

“Impressive.” She smiled at Sterling. “Did you learn this from the head chef at the main Bandar manor?”

Sterling laughed. “No. I learned it from my mother and dealing with bratty younger siblings.” Mieryth was glad to see no trace of the earlier nervous stiffness. Though tired, Sterling was obviously at ease here. He motioned her to a chair. “Have a seat.”

“Thanks.” She sighed as she sat. “It’s been an eventful afternoon.” Sterling merely nodded. “My feet hurt, and I’m starting to get sore,” she lied.

A brief flash of nervousness turned Sterling’s movements stiff, before taking refuge in his culinary expertise. “I can make you a relaxing tea.”

Rhysa very carefully did not narrow her eyes at his reaction. She hadn’t meant anything by the comment. It was only that Mieryth wouldn’t have the physical training or stamina to handle the sudden frantic activity that had taken control of the manor. “I’d like that,” Mieryth said, smiling.

Sterling went to a cupboard and opened it. It contained leaves and flowers and roots of various plants. He selected several, picked a jar from the spice rack, and proceeded to fill a small saucepan with water. He set the water on the metal top to an extension of the main fireplace. While he waited for the water to boil, he took out what looked like a fine mesh basket on a long handle. Into this he put the herbs he’d taken from the cupboard, then, holding the contraption by the handle, he held it in the fireplace, careful to avoid the flames; instead, he held it against the sidewall. Every now and then he turned the basket over. Before the water began to boil, he pulled the herbs out of the fireplace, then sprinkled some of the spice he’d selected into the water. When the water began to boil, he rolled the herbs between his hands to crush and bruise them, letting them fall into a mug he’d taken from a nearby rack. He removed the pan of boiling water and poured the scalding liquid over the leaves. He carried the mug to the table where Mieryth sat, and placed it in front of her.

“Let that steep for a bit.” He went to clean the implements he had used.

Mieryth watched as he worked. Despite being the only thin chef she’d ever known, Sterling belonged in the kitchen. Anyone could tell he enjoyed his work, and that he cherished every tool of his craft, right down to the pan used for washing dishes. It was almost as if the kitchen made him complete--as if he were the heart of a living creature. He knew the rhythms and the stresses; he would know if this part of his being became sick. If he were forced to defend himself here, it would seem the kitchen itself protected him.

Mieryth warmed her hands around the mug of steeping tea, relishing the effect the heat had on her hands.

“How long is this tea supposed to steep?”

“Until it’s the color of stained oak.”

Mieryth smiled. Definitely an expert in his field. Someone merely “good” would have given a more technical sign to watch for, and a novice would have described the color as “dark brown”--which left the field wide open for interpretation. “Stained oak” gave her something concrete to look for. Simple, descriptive, and efficient. Only experts and masters could reduce the arcane mysteries of their craft so anyone could understand them.

The tea was ready by the time Sterling returned to the table. Mieryth sipped and raised her eyebrows at the taste. She’d expected something earthy; this was tangy with a hint of spice, but not sweet. Sterling grinned at her expression.

“That recipe always surprises people when they first taste it. It doesn’t taste like it will relax you, but give it a few minutes to work.” He grinned. “I may have to carry you to your room.”

Mieryth gave him an amused look. “I’m sure you’d love that.” He made the guiltiest “innocent” face she’d ever seen, and she laughed despite herself. She sipped again, turning the simple movement into a dare. A few moments of silence passed. “Why did you ask me about dancing?”

Sterling gave a small start, and his neck turned red. Sterling looked down at his hands before looking back at her. “I was going to ask Armina if we could go into the city tonight. I was just asking her when the wagon came, and all plans were postponed indefinitely.” He shrugged. “Sorry it didn’t turn out.”

Mieryth patted his clasped hands. “Don’t worry about it. There will be other times.” She glanced at her own hands. “Thank you for thinking of it.” There was a moment of charged silence, and she sipped to cover her own awkwardness. Rhysa didn’t particularly want to get romantically involved with this man, but he was showing the “falling-for-you” body language. She looked into her tea for a few seconds, resuming her Mieryth persona, then sighed and drained the mug. “I’m going to go to bed. It’s been a long day, and I suspect tomorrow will be longer.”

She stood and handed her mug to a passing scullion before leaving the kitchen. She didn’t have to look to know Sterling’s eyes followed her. This could get messy. She would regret that if it happened.

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