Guardian of the Night

25

She had to perform her part. Digging in her heels could only place Ranaie and Amaini in further danger and she could not afford that. Undressed, she took a cloth, laid beside the wash bowl, and dipped it into the hot water, rubbing a bar of soap against the rough material. She took her time, cleaning everywhere that she had neglected since learning of her family's disappearance. Once clean, she dried herself with a towel that felt so soft she hated the fact that she appreciated it as much as she did.

Her short, grey hair argued with the comb and the brush, but she won that battle, running fingers through it and trying to remember the last time she had even tried to take care of her appearance so. The soft, linen clothes fitted well enough, but the boots were a little tight. Nothing that could stop her running or fighting, but she would regret it afterwards. Her stomach growled, but still she avoided the food adorning the tables.

More time passed and Bilain knew exactly what Ghistreen intended with keeping her waiting. This was the widow's way of telling Bilain how unimportant she was. Despite taking the time to kidnap her family, Ghistreen considered Bilain nothing more than an annoyance. Something to deal with should she find the time. Of course, that failed to affect Bilain. If it were the case, Ghistreen would not have taken Ranaie, Amaini and Nishrean, nor would she have summoned her. Those types of games may work with others in the gentry, or with other wealthy people, but not with Bilain.

People from The Sprawl never saw fit to play games. They told things how they were and expected the same of others. And Bilain had dealt with powerful people before. She knew well their ways of subterfuge and subtlety and those ways didn't work with her. One part of the game, however, she had to play. Her hunger had begun to bite as the day wore on.

Through the ornate, coloured glass windows, Bilain could see the sky darkening. Night approached and she had now stood in this room for a good couple of hours, left to stew in her own juices, but she couldn't put off eating any longer. A plate of meats, some carrots, a length of bread and an apple were the only things she touched and she ate them as she paraded around the room once again, trying to ease the tightness of the boots on her feet.

Impatience would not help her here. Angered pounding upon a door she knew would not open until Ghistreen declared it so, would achieve nothing. She had to endure and pray to her favoured Patron that her family would see no harm come to them, if only she played along to the widow's satisfaction. Bilain had nothing here. Not a set of loaded dice in her favour, nor a hidden card to win the hand. She played Ghistreen's game and that game involved time. Time and waiting.

By now, the fire had fallen to little more than embers and Bilain had no intention of adding more logs to it from the pile beside the hearth. She paced and wandered around the room in a continuous circle. She had nothing else to do except to keep moving. No-one had entered the room since the parade of servants. Not to stoke the fire, or to remove her dirty clothing, or to take away the vast amount of uneaten food. That food could have fed a family in The Sprawl for a month, used only to prove that Ghistreen had more. Of everything.

Bilain heard the sound of the key turning in the lock once again and the door opened wide. Outside, the guard stood to the side, saying nothing. Not looking to her, not acknowledging her in any way, and no others entered. He expected her to leave the room without needing to tell her and she considered hesitating, if only for a second, but even that could place her family in danger.

As she stepped out, she saw more servants, or the same ones, Bilain hadn't paid much attention, rushing around, lighting candles and weaving in and out of rooms. She saw other guards, too. Patrolling the house. One set walking down the stairs, another pair climbing them, passing each other on the small landing as though they had timed it to perfection.