“We must do it quickly before people are searching for you. Now would be a good time.”
“Now?”
“Wait here.” William left the Knight’s suite and returned moments later carrying a folded cloth. He dumped it out on the table near her.
“A uniform?”
“That of a maid. Nobility never looks at maids. There are so many in the Palace that even they do not all know each other. Put it on and cover your hair with the kerchief. We need to leave now.”
“So fast?” she asked.
“Word of Sir James’ death will spread fast. I’m his associate and will be recognized, so I’ll weep and make a scene, while you traipse behind me, handing me crying towels. You won’t draw a second glance.”
Hannah accepted the smock the maids wore and pulled it over her dress. The kerchief slipped over her hair, and she stuffed as much blonde hair inside as possible. William went to the door and sent the single remaining guard on an errand, then as soon as he was out of sight, handed Hannah the remaining cloths. “Keep your head down, no matter what’s said. When I reach back to you, hand me a cloth and in the name of all five old gods, don’t speak.”
William went to a chest and rummaged through a drawer. He withdrew his hand and held up a key before slipping the thong around his neck and tucking the key in his shirt. “In case Sir James needed something, your father made sure he had access to his quarters.”
He led her out of the room, down the hallway and around a turn before seeing anyone. When he did, William put both hands to hands to his face and moaned loudly. The woman obviously recognized him and spun away, disappearing down another hallway. The next encounter was a man who kept his eyes locked on William’s face until he passed them and continued. Not once had he so much as glanced at Hannah.
They passed several more, men and women, but none spoke to William or greeted him. A few did turn to Hannah as if to wonder why a servant walked the same halls as they, but the crying William answered that. William, it seemed, was related to Royalty and known by all, but was not one of them. She wondered how that could be if he and Sir James were related, but there seemed to be relationships she didn’t understand. In her world, there were mothers, fathers, sons, and daughters. Beyond that, she knew there were uncles, but not much more. I have a lot to learn.
They descended a set of stairs and entered a hallway darker and with less artwork on the walls. The walls were smoked solid black above the torch holders, and the few exposed beams had also turned black through the ages. Hannah realized they had entered an older part of the Palace, one not frequented by as many Royals.
She wanted to ask why they were in the poorer section of the Palace when William took them up another staircase, after casting her a final warning to be quiet. At the top, they faced a newer hallway, wider and longer than any she’d seen. At least ten noblemen or noblewomen were ahead, gathered into small groups or walking alone. They wore clothing sewn with gold threads, buttons shining of pearl, and jewelry that glittered of precious gems.
When they caught sight of William they yielded way, a few mumbling their sorrow at his loss. William had been right; the entire Palace seemed to know already of Sir James’ passing, as well as that of the Old Mage. She may have made a mistake, but there seemed to be an air of excitement about them. She examined them as she followed William, thinking that a few may have moved a step or two closer to becoming King or Queen this day.
Near the end of the hallway, William removed the key from the string around his neck. The passageway continued past a few doors before coming to a T. William had the key ready, and at the proper door, he inserted it and turned. Hannah heard the click of a well-oiled lock and followed him inside as the door opened only enough to slip from the hallway.
The door shut quickly, but not before William looked out one more time.
Hannah stood and peered at the room her father must have entered a thousand times. Ten thousand. She saw a floor made of stone blocks worn smooth through the years. A makeshift kitchen filled the nearest corner of the large room, the crocks, mugs, jars, and dried foods obvious.
The rest of the room stood open, perhaps twice the size of the massive sitting room in Sir James’ apartment, however, instead of furniture groupings and tables placed to hold food and wine for guests, there were tables, cabinets, storage units, and boxes piled one on top of others. The walls were rows of shelves, each containing books, scrolls, charts, and items of value or interest.
Hannah moved to a shelf and examined the bare bones of a fish, the insides and skin missing. A red rock that glittered sat next to it. She reached for the rock and pulled her hand away, blowing on her fingers. It was red from it being hot.
William had watched. “I would be very careful before touching anything in here.”
“Did he leave traps or triggers?”
“For intruders? I don’t know. I never heard of him doing that, but he may have.”
William sparked a taper to life and used it to light a candle. Hannah resisted rushing over and helping him with the chore, but she also saw the tears streaming down his cheeks. He turned his back to her and fell to his knees where he cried silently.
Hannah moved carefully around the room, finding it filled with thousands of interesting items. Some wore labels, others not. Since she couldn’t read, it didn’t matter what the words were, but on one bottle she saw the familiar skull and crossed bones and knew to stay away from it.
Another door opened into a rather plain sleeping room. The bed was raised, which was a sign of wealth, but other than that, the room was fairly empty. A set of drawers stood in a cabinet taller than her, and two chests sat side by side at the foot of the bed. Another door opened onto a secluded, flat area that overlooked the rear of the Palace, the back-alley places where they stored mundane items like wagons and tools for stonework, where crooks, thieves, and scoundrels gathered to plan their next assault on the good people of the palace.
Harsh smells dominated the rooms. Sour, sweet, rank, and dank all blended together. Together they combined into what might be called interesting, but not necessarily offensive. She recognized the rotten egg smell of sulfur and the damp of earth stored in pots.
The shelves of research material lining a full wall drew her interest. Sir James had told her that her education would consist of four parts, reading and writing the most important. She knew the alphabet to speak it, but nothing else. He had stressed that the other three parts came after reading, and she intended to make it so.
William stood aside, a short man with thinning hair and a bland expression, yet she knew that inside he was special—and her only friend person who cared about her, other than the King. She watched him watch her with interest. As her fingers brushed the top of rock carved into the shape of a turtle, to her lifting the lid of a wooden box to peek inside, she felt his eyes on her.
“I need to read. That is the first thing.”
“I can teach you that, but it will take valuable time we do not have. They would miss me, and people would wonder, and then they would guess, some of them correctly.”
She turned to him and fought down the flush she felt. “Listen, this is all interconnected, and I must read to survive. Reading opens the way for learning. What do you suggest?”
William didn’t react to her anger. Instead, he said, “I will give you the beginnings of reading, and you will have to find ways to amuse yourself for at least thirty days.” He went to a desk and stacked all the papers on a nearby table. He sat and began to use a quill and ink. After a few letters, he halted long enough to use the pen knife to slice the nib of the feather into a sharper point. He continued printing as she moved closer and watched. It was the same as with her mother so long ago. The letters and strokes were familiar, even if she didn’t remember it all.