The visitors settle into a sort of routine after the recent shocks and disasters

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Disclaimer:

The original characters and plot of this story are the property of the author. No infringement of pre-existing copyright is intended.
This story is copyright © 2018 - 2020 Julia Phillips. All rights reserved.

It uses some of the associated characters and situations that arise from the world called ‘Anmar’ created by Penny Lane, whose stories
are also copyright © 2010 - 2020 Penny Lane. All rights reserved.

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*Before

Insects are funny creatures, basically annoying and some of them even bite or sting. I try to ignore them usually.
But this one I watched for some reason. It flew in a seemingly random pattern as it crossed the courtyard.
Quite why it should have chosen to fly up one nostril of one of the pair of frayen is beyond me. But it did.
Which made the frayen whinny as he jerked and stomped around a bit.
Which made its paired beast do likewise.
Which made the coach jostle.
Which made Davvy fall as she was just then at the most vulnerable moment as she climbed into the conveyance.
Which she didn’t. She fell rather than climbed.
Which meant she stretched her one good arm out to cushion her fall.
Which meant she snapped her wrist. With a loud and sickening crack.

*And now

Which meant that she howled in despair and pain.

Which meant the frayen began to panic.

Which meant that action was needed to calm everyone and every animal down.

And then the coach had to be unloaded once more whilst the two healers who had been summoned did what they could for poor Davvy. The twenty minutes or so it took for them to arrive seemed ten times as long to those of us awaiting them.

Between us, and with much confusion at first, Davvy had been carried – well, more supported actually – into a small room just inside the main doorway. Her pitiful moans and wails helped stretch all our nerves tighter still.

The healers took a quick initial look at the arm and then just looked at each other before nodding at the same moment. Their treatment of her consisted at first of a few drops of some dark purple liquid, dripped grudgingly from a small gourd which the one from whose belt it had been produced guarded most carefully. The drips fell upon a small chunk of bread which they fed to her despite her protests that she would just throw it up again as the pain she was suffering was so great.

One of the healers turned to Waxerwet almost as if she was dismissing the rest of us as being just frivolous and irresponsible girls. She said: “Mistress, these drops are most powerful. Watch now.”

The other healer held Davvy's head which she was twisting and turning as she tried to deny the pain yet fight it at the same time. Suddenly her head fell to one side as unconsciousness hit. The two healers worked swiftly in harmony and laid her out on the daybed in the room into which we were all crowded.

Even as the two women scurried about their tasks, the first one kept up some sort of explanation to Waxerwet: “Should Shiret or myself not be available and another healer calls, then you must tell her that she has already had seven drops. If she has any more within a week, she could die! Seven is the maximum I dare deal out given her size and age. Now you there ...” she pointed at me “... I need you to hold her elbow firmly in the place it is in. You must not waver whatever you hear or see. Is that clear, girl?”

This was not the time to try to correct her impressions of me and I simply nodded my head in acceptance. I placed my hands on Davvy's one good arm where this woman directed me. She, the woman not Davvy, grunted in what I took to be approval.

“Shiret?” she continued, looking now at her partner.

“I am ready, Dilvia.”

“On three then. On. Two. ThrEEE.” This last was between a grunt and a hiss, somehow.

Even in her unconsciousness, Davvy groaned. I winced but could not tear my eyes away from the injured wrist, so I could not see the others' reactions. The one healer stretched her arm making me grunt with the effort of keeping her elbow where they wanted it. The other gripped her forearm nearer my hand than the other’s, twisting in an obviously practiced way, and I heard – actually heard – bones grating and clicking. Dilvia and I broke out in a sweat and I wondered how much more there would be to this when there was a final click, really loud when compared to any that had gone before.

Dilvia gave a puff of what sounded like relief. She gripped Davvy's hand and kept a degree of pulling, far less though than before, the force of which I naturally countered. Her eyes flickered to mine as she said: “We, you and I, must keep this tension while Shiret feels to see how many shards of bones might still be out of position. Can you do it?”

“I can,” I grunted in reply, through teeth that had somehow gritted themselves.

Shiret was not gentle as she squeezed the swollen arm parts, but, on the positive side, she was swift and sure. “’Tis clean, Dilvia, I deem.” Both healers puffed out their cheeks in obvious relief.

“We can relax our grips now, Missy, but slowly if you please – gradually ease off, each at the same time. Take your clues from me. That’s right. Well done.”

Shiret sent Gyth off for a pail of water and asked her to also bring another, one that was preferably old, pail that would, in all probability, be thrown away afterwards. Once she returned, the healers used that second pail to mix a big bag of some greyish powder with most of the water that Gyth had fetched.

They laid six stiff rods along Davvy’s arm and tied them firmly in place with a series of strips of what looked to me to be ribbon. Then they wrapped bandages around the lengths of the rods so Davvy was encased from the middle of her forearm to the base of her fingers. Then they slathered the already setting plaster they had made along the entire length of bandaging.

Davvy started moaning and muttering before they were finished, obviously regaining consciousness. The healers hurried to complete their task before Davvy involuntarily started trying to move her poor wrist. They managed to do that and then, after much scrubbing of their hands to rid themselves of any plaster residue, they fashioned a large triangular piece of cloth into what they called a ‘sling’. They showed Waxerwet how to fold and tie the cloth into the requisite shape, but made sure the rest of our party could also see how they did it. So Prevet, Toria, Gyth and I were introduced to the simple task – simple once we were shown how. They finished it off by tucking the loose corner in (to make it all sit most neatly) and then used a simple pin to hold that corner in place.

Then ’twas time for some pel as we waited for Davvy to come fully back to us. The healers deflected our many questions, saying simply: “We should prefer to say things only the once.”

Once Davvy was aware again, and we had allayed her fears as best we could, for she was still understandably panicking about having no usable arms, Dilvia launched her explanations and instructions.

“Mistress Davabet, normally I would try to calm my patient down and get them relaxed, for being relaxed enables the healing process to progress most swiftly. But in your case, I deem I should start with a dire warning. If you do NOT do as we say, then you COULD be without a usable arm for the rest of your life, so you MUST pay attention and you MUST do as we tell you.”

She paused significantly at that point, to allow the import of her words to settle in and take root. It stretched to the verge of discomfort before she continued: “The choice lies within you. A week or two of what is in effect no more than discomfort, or a lifetime of being a cripple.”

That got Davvy’s fully focussed attention, and the wide-eyed girl swallowed her fears and actually listened. A reaction of hers which I must confess caused me to be filled with admiration for her spirit.

“This first week is going to be the hardest. You will have to quench your habits accumulated over a lifetime. Your immediate reaction upon regaining sense was to sweep your hair back, but your arm MUST NOT be used for a whole week. A jog, a slight bash, even having the weight dangle at the wrong angle could simply rebreak your bones there. The cast we have fashioned on your forearm is still in the process of drying so particular care must be taken for the next bell not to put any undue strain upon it.

“During this first week, you are going to have several problems, not the least of which is itching. There shall be a fierce itching beneath the plaster for it shall be blocking any normal air getting to your skin. DO NOT poke anything under it to try to scratch yourself, for you may break the skin and then the wound will in all probability fester since it cannot be treated. You are going to have to be particularly strong in your mind, for, unlike most, you have only the one really usable arm and you are going to be highly frustrated at being so incapacitated.

“Throughout the recovery period your sisters here, and your mother there will have to do anything for you that you would usually use your arm for. You will have to be fed, and you will have to be wiped, both from normal wastage and from your call, whenever that occurs. If we are lucky, then you will suffer that indignity just the once, but maybe it shall happen twice. You will be able to use your arm again in six or seven weeks, maybe eight if you misbehave at all during that intervening time.”

“Sisters? Mother?”

I broke in then. “Mistress Dilvia. Perhaps now is a good time to tell you about the actual and complicated relationships here...”

… … …

The comical look on their faces would have made me burst out in laughter at any other time, but on that day, at that moment, it was all so seriously important that any and all other considerations were dashed from our minds.

I waved aside their inevitable apologies which merely delayed them from imparting all their opinions and instructions.

And so, finally, the full extent of the disaster was revealed to us.

Dilvia and Shiret explained the exercises she was going to have to do, and the further stages of attention they would give, like changing the bandaging and the cast and so on.

And I had known immediately that I would not be in Blackstone for the rains.

I could never leave Davvy alone, with so few friends around her whilst in pain. So I sighed deeply as I said to Prevet: “Well that has stopped any chance of us travelling away in time. I shall have to speak with Milsy about where we can live during these wretched rains. And now I also have a great many semaphores to write and send. What else? Oh yes....” my voice trailed off as my brain got busy.

… … ...

Those next few days were not exactly fun. Waxerwet and Gyth helped me with tending our damaged colleague.

However the task was far greater than we had first imagined it to be.

The healers were right all along the way. Davvy was naturally worried, concerned and very self-centred. And she became an, at times, harshly demanding taskmistress.

I frequently had to remind her of Dilvia’s admonishments, particularly the scratching-beneath the plaster one.

Looking back, we settled into a routine remarkably quickly. Gyth, Waxerwet and Toria had to be away most of each day which left Prevet and I with the patient. On that first day, I had to go and deal with all the semaphores I needed to get away to a host of recipients way up the Palar/Bray valley. The more I prepared, the longer the list grew. And then I realised that this was going to strain my supply of ready coin.

So I realised that I would have to discuss even more matters with Milsy.

So that first full day, after the rest of her injury day had passed and we had all had an uncomfortable night, I sought to distract Davvy by getting her help in wording those messages. It worked to a slightly deeper extent too; she added a couple of names to my list.

But that was the next morning. As I said, the morning after a most uncomfortable night.

The evening meal was awkward as everyone searched for their levels. How do we react? How do we help? Will this change our routines? And so on and so forth.

Milsy was magnificent. She thought of many things, including the shortly-to-be-required rain protection clothes. She promised to send for a Master Levanar, the local banker, first thing the following morning and she led the enthusiastic encouragement of all the others for our party of six all to stay in the Blackstone establishments whilst we were in Palarand City. So I felt a little better as some of the fundamentals were set up, easing a few of my worries.

Mistress Jenet was also most helpful, understanding some of the problems that would arise when I had to carry out my errands on the morrow. Of course, I would need to take Prevet with me and that would leave poor Davvy alone. Or I could take another female of the household with me leaving Prevet to attend to Davvy.

And so on.

We had an enormous disagreement when Milsy and Jenet tried to insist that we would not be required to pay so very much for staying there. They insisted that the Princess herself had insisted. They also insisted we remain in the Hotel in order to keep it occupied at least a little rather than we move into the already crowded House, even though the rains would dampen our travels between the two. Despite the seriousness of our situation and the need for rapid reassessment and replanning, I felt just then, triggered by those words, the start of an idea in the back of my head. An idea I knew immediately would need to sit there for a little while.

Then, after we had all retired for the night, and poor Davvy had succumbed to the severe shocks she had had and taken to her bed early (she was asleep almost before her head the pillow), the others discussed with me what we could do as far as paying something, anything, for our accommodation. We decided that we would help by taking on some of the chores.

It was indeed a late night / early morning when my racing brain relaxed enough to let me sleep.

… … …

“It is an honour to meet you Mistress Julina. Master Moshan of Tranidor has sent me a most impressive tale of your accomplishments as has Master Schild up in Blackstone itself, not that I have yet met the latter!”

I studied the man in front of me. He was about seven or so years my senior, conservatively and yet stylishly dressed with just a hint in his chosen colours of a certain defiance of tradition. Milsy had told me that he was garnering a good reputation in Palarand City since he had started up with Master Moshan’s of Tranidor ideas. He had proven himself to be a discreet and reliable practitioner of the arts of which Masters Moshan, in Tranidor, and Schild, up in Blackstone, had already granted me some experience. His very body posture told of his confidence and his ease at his chosen subject. I found myself almost grinning at the partially hidden twinkle in his eyes. Did my pulse suddenly quicken slightly? This caused me to frown, albeit briefly.

A fact he immediately noticed: “Have I said something to upset you, Mistress?”

“No not at all! You er … just reminded me of something, is all, something I had hitherto forgotten, but must now attend to.” I attempted to draw the conversation back to where it should be, as I felt a mild blush climb into my cheeks. “You too have met Master Moshan? Does he travel here often, Master Levanar?”

“Oh no, Mistress. He has never come here to my knowledge; maybe BEFORE he took up Her Highness’, Princess Garia’s that is, suggestion but he has become so busy up in your home lands, he claims not to have time to even breathe. I travelled north to Tranidor just after the Equinox earlier this year. I deem that Master Schild departed Tranidor for Blackstone the day before I arrived, I travelled to Tranidor to discuss with Master Moshan what was then to me a most intriguing new concept. One which he saw fit to allow me to start down here in the capital. A set of similar operations to his, with me operating on his behalf down here in the capital.”

His words made me cast my mind back to those days. My breath caught as I remembered clearly the day that Master Schild had arrived in Blackstone, and the ensuing Assembly Meeting.

And Konna getting arrested.

Tears sprang once more to my eyes as I remembered Jaffy’s death on the same day. And the consequent surprise of his bequests.

My word! How much has happened since then? That is only … I figured quickly … around one hundred days ago. Why I didn’t even know Davvy then. And then...

“Mistress? Are you alright?”

I dragged myself back from my thoughts. I unwittingly wiped away the tears dripping from my nose as Prevet handed me a cloth. I raised my eyes to those of Master Levanar and was startled by the concern and worry shining therefrom. It knocked me back into some sort of sense.

“I must apologise, Master. Your words again triggered some memories, startling ones this time. ’Twas then, at the Vernal Equinox, that a good friend of mine died. He left me somethings which have since formed the basis of a few of my sources of income. I was tugged back by your words into all that happened on that day and has happened since then.” I smiled in what I hoped was an engaging fashion. “There were some good memories, too.”

I frowned again. This has all been so FAST! And then I had another thought. Just how much control in all this have I ACTUALLY had? I shook my head, trying to clear away any negative thoughts. He again noticed my involuntary frown.

“Mistress? Perchance we should discuss why I am here this morn? I will try not to cause any more distress.”

I flashed him a smile of genuine gratitude, and decided to tease him – just a little. “Far too late, Master, to pretend to be all business-like. I saw your eyes and you were kind enough to be concerned for me!”

My respect for him increased with his reaction to that. Hmmm. Just respect, Julina? I shook my head in a vain attempt to clear it of these strange thoughts that intruded upon my others.

“Guilty, as charged, Mistress,” he laughed. “Now, I shall ignore all that and get … what shall I say? … more … more ... efficient. I gather you shall be here for the rains at least and that you shall require coin. Should I send a large amount to you, that you can hide away in here somewhere? Or should I send just a smaller amount say weekly, or monthly? Or should I send it to a Blackstone ledger that you might come to some arrangement with those that operate here?”

“Master Levanar, you should be aware that I have companions too, who are here and relying upon my coin. And the four of us that came down from Blackstone now have two maids looking after us. So I am providing for six of us, not just myself and Prevet here.”

His eyebrows shot up at that. “Mistress! I confess that I am now astonished.”

I suppressed a grin as the rest of his face rapidly caught up with conveying expressions as eloquently as had done his eyebrows; so I had no doubt that his last statement was completely accurate. I glanced at the room’s only other occupant, Prevet, and saw that she too was amazed and also amused in equal measure. Her speculative glance at me made me realise that she had not until then fully understood many of the details of our situation.

But I also realised that this man seated opposite me must be of great good character, for Master Moshan himself had appointed him. “And how come you were selected to travel to meet Master Moshan?”

“By great good fortune, as it happens, Mistress. I spent the latter years of my youth in the civilian offices of the Guard at Dekarran and there I befriended a young man. He was – is – a young cousin of Master Moshan and he mentioned my … skills, if you like, to the Master at one of their family gatherings. The Master then sent me an invitation to attend upon him in Tranidor to discuss some mystery plan he had and was looking for bright young men to help expand this idea. I myself investigated in various ways – the semaphore really is a valuable tool, is it not? And what I learnt about Master Moshan was all very positive. I was curious enough about this mystery to take passage to Tranidor to adjudge for myself whether this scheme was indeed of such great interest and as widely important as he had advertised. He and I seemed to like each other. And so, here I am.”

“I see. And yet, despite never having met him, you seem to be on good terms with Master Schild too?”

“He performs the same tasks up in Blackstone as I do here. When you told him of your intention to travel down to Dekarran, he sent a semaphore to my equivalent there. I was informed of your pending arrival here in the City by the said Dekarran man, he having been told to do so by Countess Merizel.”

I gasped as I realised all those messages had sailed over our heads with us being none the wiser.

And then I had to explain my gasp.

… … …

“Well! That was all very, very interesting, Mistress! May I take this opportunity to ask some questions privately? There would appear now to be far more to your good self than I had up to now gleaned – or imagined!”

We were returning from the courtyard after taking our farewells from Master Levanar. I checked behind the door as we re-entered the building. There were two of the staff cleaning the hallway and I heard footsteps descending the stairs. I put my finger to my lips and led Prevet back to the room we had so recently vacated.

“Of course, Prevet. I have been aware for some time that you require to be given some more knowledge but, somehow, the time and the opportunities for doing so have squirted away like a slippery chunk of soap in the bath. However, once again, we must hurry for poor Davvy has been alone for the best part of an hour already. ’Twould be unfair to keep her waiting very much longer.”

“Indeed so, Mistress.”

“Well, then. I suggest you start with your questions!”

“Just how rich ARE you? And how came that about?”

“Well, it was like this ...”

… … …

“Where have you been? You knew I was here and helpless!” she whined.

“Now Davvy, I explained this to you before and you have been alone for scarce more than a bell,” I paused just a little. “Now we need to establish somethings from the start. I will NOT allow you to get querulous, mean-spirited and whiny. We have all agreed that we shall help you, but we cannot ignore our other responsibilities totally. This is the first full day of your … recovery from the unfortunate accident. Matters need to be arranged and routines need to be established. So today will naturally be a sort of settling-in day.”

Speaking to her in mother-mode seemed to work quite well, but Prevet was surprised yet again. She later told me that the greatest surprise was the effortless way in which I just slipped into another apparent persona. (And, at that moment in time, I hadn’t actually told her of my being a mother, to the limited extent with which I had enacted that role.)

“Now Waxerwet and Gythy have landed a contract for some work, so they will be absent during most of the days,” I continued. “Therefore, during the days, you will have to rely upon Prevet here and myself. We shall all have to be here for the duration of the rains so my first priority to all five of you in my ‘party’ was to ensure we all had adequate funding. That is where I have been this morn.”

Davvy blushed and apologised as the facts were made apparent to her.

“However, later today I have to go and send some semaphores. All in Tranidor, Bezlet and Blackstone, maybe also Brayview MUST be informed as soon as possible, for them to lay their own plans before the rains. I was hoping you might help me word these messages and also compile a list of recipients. You may be temporarily incapacitated in the use of your arms, but that keen brain of yours need not sit idly by.”

And so the Great Semaphore Meeting commenced, and Prevet was introduced to other aspects of my life and times. She also told me afterwards that she was astounded at how well the discussions removed some of Davvy’s concerns for a little while.

In the end, we decided that Prevet would stay with Davvy and ply her with questions about me and my life whilst I took one of the ‘house’ girls with me to the semaphore office.

So it was that Salia, the middle one of Sulinet’s daughters, accompanied me to the nearest semaphore station. As we went along, I discovered that Heliga was Sulinet’s adopted daughter, amongst a great deal of other information about the life and workings going on in Blackstone House.

Some of which surprised me greatly. But not as greatly as the surprise that awaited me at the semaphore station itself.

Just before we got there though, Salia started giggling for no apparent reason. I looked at her queryingly.

“Don’t stare, but that young couple over there, she in the green dress with brown hair cut in the Princess style, he in the red tunic.”

I gazed around at the nearby buildings, letting my glance casually drift across the pair.

“What about them?” I half whispered.

“He is in for it when they get home! I can tell from her eyes and her body posture. And the way he is nervously dancing around her. She is FURIOUS but is keeping up appearances. I don’t know what it’s all about, but he won’t enjoy the atmosphere when they get home. I suspect that he is only half aware of the tempest about to descend.”

I altered our course slightly, as if to avoid another clump of pedestrians, and we got near enough to them to be able to overhear some of their conversation. I was forced to agree with Salia. The way the woman insisted that everything was alright even when it was patently not so, the way her eyes flashed, the way she folded her arms across her chest. I had a Molly Moment then as words flashed across my mind even as we drifted unhurriedly past them and on our way. Clouds are her anger and tears are the rains.

Salia nodded as I whispered the words to her. “Very clever,” she said, in a normal tone, which the young couple heard and they both glanced at us sharply. But we by then were already beginning to look elsewhere so they couldn’t be sure we had intruded into their private world of grief.

And then we arrived at the semaphore office where I caused several grumbles from those customers behind me. Davvy and I had come up with seven different messages, the one main one being sent to no less than 23 recipients. The operator of course took some time taking down all the details which was the cause of the discontent for the line of customers waiting outside, which only became apparent after we left the privacy of our Message Room.

But before we left such privacy, I had a great shock. I had brought with me a heavy purse to pay for all those messages, but as soon as the Operator heard my address here in the City, he told me: “Oh! In that case, Mistress, there is no charge. All messages from Blackstone House are sent free of charge, as a thank you to Her Highness for inventing this system we operate.”

After a little more of heated discussions, Salia and I left the room.

Only to be confronted by an angry man.

“How dare you waste our time, young girl? We have far better things to do than wait for just a young girl’s light chatter to block the relays of the semaphore.”

Oh dear.

Salia told me later that I started to resemble that young woman in the green dress and she feared for the pending storm about to break. But she added that she admired the way I eventually kept my cool.

I had turned my attention to the nervous-looking woman next to him: “Are you with this blustery blowhard?”

His face turned purple and he took a deep breath as she nodded to me nervously.

I got in my next comment before he could: “Poor you! I’d seek a better life elsewhere if I were you!”

“How dare you?” he stormed.

I looked at him, from his toes slowly working my way up to the top of his head.

I then turned to the man standing behind him: “This self-important person ...” I sneered just a little on that last word, “… is moaning about not being served quickly enough, and yet he himself is delaying his own business by moaning about someone else’s legitimate and complicated business.”

The man behind grinned at first and then burst out laughing as the private Message Room door opened and the Operator stuck his head round the frame: “What’s the delay here then? We are busy. Please react promptly.”

The rest of those who had observed the verbal ruckus all laughed too. My bad-tempered opponent’s face went even more purple and he raised his hand as if to strike me.

“You touch me in any way and I shall ensure that you are reduced to a pauper before the week’s out.”

The man behind him said sharply: “Men protect women, sir, not strike them!” His hand clasped the first man’s wrist and held it firm.

The Operator said simply: “Have a care, man. Or I shall have a Watchman arrest you. Either come now to conduct your business or leave.”

Then Salia of all people put an end to it, by lying as it happens: “Indeed, Master, have a care. This young woman is conducting business on behalf of Her Royal Highness, Princess Garia and her husband, Crown Prince Keren. You strike her, you strike them. Do so at your own peril.”

The timid woman with him plucked at his sleeve. He wrenched his arm away from the man behind him and turned to march into the Message Room, studiously avoiding my ferocious gaze. I believe that had he kept on for just another sentence, I might have done something I would have later regretted.

I retreated into myself as Salia and I started out on our return walk to Blackstone House in silence. ’Twas, I hasten to stress, a reasonably companionable silence, but nevertheless a silence, which I soon realised would make the young girl feel awkward, so I gathered my wits about me before trying to ease the pending burden upon her. Thus it was that we passed the remaining twenty or so minutes in such a way that my own mood improved dramatically.

But ’twas not improved sufficiently to disappear entirely, since Davvy’s first words upon seeing me were: “Oh oh! Who is going to regret their actions soon?”

My explanations, coupled with embellishments and clarifications from Salia, were sufficient to distract Prevet from her duties and Davvy from her woes for the next half an hour. Heliga was also in Davvy’s room when we returned, so she learnt of my latest … encounter at first hand.

“What a … a … a … miklimunnr!”

My head shot round to her. I recognised that Norse word – it means ‘big mouth’ or ‘loud mouth’ according to Djerk, as it was a word he used, amongst others, when referring to some of the Blackstone citizens – and I was surprised that such a young Palarandi girl would use it. Heliga put her hand to her mouth, blushed brightly and looked guilty. A number of facts suddenly coalesced in my head.

“You are actually from Einnland, are you not, Heliga?”

Looking like a frightened dooclor, she nodded silently.

“How came you here, then?”

“I’m not supposed to say” she whispered, a hint of tears springing to her eyes.

“Come girl, we are but five of us here, One is your sister so she knows already, the other three are myself and two in MY retinue, so I personally speak for us all when I say we promise the tale will never go further than these walls. Prevet here already knows much that she must still her tongue over several matters and has already shown she can do that. Davvy is my best friend and companion and I KNOW she is the most loyal and trustworthy friend anyone could have. Please, I beg of you, explain in the full confidence that we shall never breathe a word about it outside these walls. If you wish, we can all swear binding oaths not to repeat any of this.”

She waved her hand to indicate that wouldn’t be necessary. Then she sighed, let fall two or three tears before starting with wavering voice: “I needed to escape from Einnland. My father...”

And so we learnt the tale of little Alrik, the Visund’s young wicktrimmer, and the rigours of the journey they had undertaken. I knew some of this of course from Djerk, but Heliga’s harrowing (but also in some places happy) tale added colour and substance to the laconic tale Djerk had related to me.

Even as she was speaking, an idea sprang into my head. One that would help me look after Davvy in that ’twould give her something else to concentrate upon. So when Heliga’s tale wound gently to its end, and after we had all had a sniffly group hug, I said: “Heliga, Davvy and I shall have little to do of a day whilst we are stuck here in the Hotel when the rains come. Why don’t you come to us for a bell or two each day and teach us the Norse tongue?”

… … …

As I mentioned, we settled fairly quickly into some sort of routine. In outline, Prevet and I were with Davvy during the day and Gyth and Waxerwet spent a couple of hours with her of an evening, allowing Prevet and I some time to be away from the intense need to distract Davvy from her injury. I deem we were largely successful. Of course, there were little changes to it all every day, but that routine was the overriding one.

One of the irregular yet regular breaks was arranged by Milsy and Mistress Jenet. The latter took groups of us, the residents of Blackstone House as well as us in the Hotel, to the Palace Wardrobe to be issued with reasonably well fitted wet weather gear.

We four Blackstonians were amazed and disbelieving at the amount they gave us. Surely, this is far more than just overkill? Are people down here so much less hardy?

Long-held prejudices surfaced once again: ‘The effete ruling classes who live downvalley wouldn’t survive for a bell up in OUR harsher environment.’ I confess that, once we had all been taken there (for we went on different days), we four had a few sly giggles at the pathetic downvalleyers.

However, all was not sweetness and light when dealing with Davvy, she was cranky, short-tempered and very self-centred. But we all realised that that was inevitable. It cannot be fun relying on someone else to wipe you clean in ALL parts of your body.

But the Heliga idea was a great boon and Davvy, Prevet and I made meaningful strides in learning the basics of the Norse language.

I also instilled a routine during which Davvy, Prevet and I discussed all the matters which I needed to keep up, in regard to my many business affairs. So I also needed to go again to the semaphore station a few times.

’Twas on the last of these visits that I stopped on our way back. Heliga was with me this time.

I sniffed and then breathed in deeply. “Is it me, or has the very air changed in some way?”

“Mistress Julina, ’tis indeed a change. I am told that the air gets heavier somehow, almost wetter if you can believe it. I had not myself credited it, but I declare you and ‘they’ are right. Today it does seem heavier and wetter.”

“Yes. That description indeed seems apposite.”

“Apposite? What means that?”

“Ah! Forgive me! It means simply that it seems accurate.”

… … …

“Why are they setting off gunpowder explosions? ’Tis not yet dawn.”

It was indeed still dark outside, but I knew not the precise time. I threw back the curtains and gasped in surprise. From this vantage point on the upper floor of Blackstone Hotel a spectacular thunder storm was visible, off towards Vardenale. The looming bulk of the massive Palace, and its towers cut off the view towards Plif but the lightning flashes showed the storm was over there too.

I was surprised that I was struck by the eerie beauty of the display so much that I did not notice the rapid advances being made as the storm swept in.

Until I squealed when a bolt of lightning struck the tower of the Palace and a huge BOOM rattled everyone and everything.

All of a sudden, with a great roar, all distant views blinked out. Rain was pouring down in torrents. It was like one of the waterfalls we had seen on our recent journey.

Suddenly I realised that the wet weather wear with which we had been issued might not be sufficient after all. I felt humbled at my, our, previous arrogant thoughts about downvalleyers. This rain made the rains we experienced up at the head of the valley seem like a gentle spring shower.

I know both Davvy’s and my mouths had dropped open in shock.

And awe.

And, I admit it, fear.

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