Every was set by the door, ready for my departure, even though I was far from ready. I had placed a few things in a satchel that may be useful including some scrolls of parchment and charcoal. I only had a few of the basics when it came to scrolling and letters thanks to Caster, but I was far from proficient. Still, perhaps I could make better sense of the Orion’s words if I could sound them out like Caster taught me to.

My eyes set on the satchel as I sat on my cot. Was I really about to try this? Would it be enough? I wondered what might’ve happened after I was escorted away. Did they hurt him? What were they planning to do if they hadn’t? I wondered what would happen to the guards. There was a part of me, perhaps the motherly side, that understood punishment and consequences were necessary for discipline and growth. Still, the selfish and childish part of me had to admit that there would be some satisfaction in their discipline.

After a time, I pushed myself out of my cot and began to get ready for the day, realizing I wasn’t going back to sleep with these thoughts. I began to wonder what words he knew and how much he understood; and should I dare act of the notion that took root in my desires. Perhaps it was the mother in me that saw a person, not an Orion, with a child-like mind who hadn’t been taught to speak. Another part wondered if he would he be willing to cooperate? Learn our language if I learned his?

It seemed to take no time at all to arrive at The Turret. My guesses were my pace had quickened or that my mind was too far in the clouded fog to notice what roads I passed. I would have kept going directly into The Turret and down the Lock but finally I let my mind focus on the present and saw six guards standing at the entrance.

One of them wore a cloak more well made than the others. His face had some age from what I could tell from the lines folding his face subtly by his eyes and along his cheeks. His eyes, like that of dried witch hazel, were slightly sunken in and held a shadow by the lids. When he smiled, there were chips in his teeth undoubtedly from fighting with fists. The armor he wore, which was a combination of heavy armor and furred leathers, looked polished, but aged.

“Ms. Raina Toro?” his voice rasped like a winter wind. “You are the Factotum?” I was speechless. For one, I had never been addressed by both of my names by a guard. Second, that they were even addressing me in the first place. What had I done now? Had I done something wrong? A pit formed in my middle. Was Steele alright? My shoulders hunched slightly and my eyes averted instinctually to the ground.

“That is I, Ser,” I uttered with a stiff curtsey. A curtsey which was waved away by the Ser.

“Pleasure to make your acquaintance. I am Ser Drest Anfroy, commander of The Turret guard; and please, that is not necessary. In fact, respects and courtesies are owed to you,” he said and, with another wave of his hand, he and the guards bowed. Staggered, I immediately fell silent and took a few steps backwards. This was unheard of, especially for someone as lowly as me. “I understand there was an unfortunate incident yesterday while you were tending to the Orion and I want to assure you that all matters have been dealt with accordingly and, as further signs of our sincerity, we shall assist in water delivery to the Orion for the foreseeable future.” My stomach dropped and my fears for Steele turned my insides, caring only about the first aspect of what the Ser was saying.

“D…dealt with, Ser?” I asked, trying to hide the constriction of my throat.

“Yes,” he said as he and the others straightened themselves and remained at attention. “The two guards who have evidently been tormenting our beastly prisoner as well as neglecting to protect you have been disciplined accordingly, rest assured. The Orion, on the other hand, has been reminded that the chains are not to be tampered with. I am sure you understand the importance of this.”

I could only nod, unable to hide the stiffness in my posture or the unease of what I was feeling. I silently regretted wishing ill on the guards. Who knew what kind of punishment they were forced to endure because… no… it wasn’t because of me… but it felt like that to me.

“Factotum? I trust you will be able to accomplish your assigned duties?” asked Ser Anfroy. I snapped out of my stupor and nodded.

“Yes, Ser. Of course,” I curtseyed again.

“Excellent, then we shall not detain you any further.” They began to walk away when he stopped again. “Oh, and if you should notice anything odd or suspicious with the Orion, please feel free to come directly to me. Do you understand?” I nodded again, pinning it as an interesting request. With that, the guards departed wordlessly, leaving me with the dread of descending down the Lock and greeting whatever they had done to Steele on my own. I stepped into the room and onto the wooden platform, now used to how it dropped and swayed under my feet as I reluctantly pulled the lever and began the plunge down.

I rolled the barrels onto the Lock and paused for only a moment before lowering myself to the lowest level. The machine whirred into action, the chains and ropes rattling the whole way. It seemed unbearably loud in the darkness and silence. Thankfully, my distracted mind registered the abrupt stop just in time to keep me from stumbling.

There was no torch light from behind the heavy-set door. Had Steele been in darkness this whole time? I pulled the barrels off of the Lock and pulled one of the torches from the wall before taking a calming breath and laying my hand against the door. Apprehension clutched my chest.

Would Steele be angry with me? Would he be reluctant and mistrustful? I closed my eyes and let the sick feeling pass before pulling the door open. Regardless, I was still the Factotum and in charge of Steele’s rations. Perhaps my consistency would have earned me a fragment of trust.

The door moaned as I shoved myself through, the torch doing little to illuminate the space. Habitually, I walked to the cauldrons of oil and began to light them. As they ignited, I tried to let my eyes adjust to the darkness. There was nothing in the darkness at first except for the water barrels which were already set in their rightful place.

I opened my mouth to call out to him when I heard something reminiscent of a growl. Chills rushed down my spine and my hair stood on end. It was faint at first but, as my instincts forced my body to step back, I heard it again; and it was much louder. What was worse was the wincing groan I heard and a harsh, burbling exhalation. The light finally spread far enough for me to barely trace Steele’s form in the darkness. I couldn’t believe it. The light of the dim torches was just enough for me to see the whip marks along his face which was being hidden under his hair. I also picked up the harsh wince as another growl like sound rumbled through the cavern.

I stepped to the ledge and lit the other cauldron with flame just as the chains rattled accompanied by a soft groan. I looked out into the darkness once again, this time picking up the reflection of dulled violet eyes, looking exhausted and weathered. My heart ached in my chest and just as my courage sparked to step forward another, much louder growl echoed against the cavern walls.

My heart leapt into my chest. I stepped away from the ledge hurriedly. I began moving for the door, torch in hand, when I caught Steele’s wince as he curled in on himself and averted his eyes, shoving his face into his arm. I felt ashamed instantly as I realized that it wasn’t a growl from his throat, but from his insides.

He was ill.

The apprehension which led me to retreat vaporized and led me once again to the ledge. Steele’s labored breathing was more pronounced now, sounding like he was breathing through clenched teeth. Everything in me shook. I was angry. Did they do this to him? Was it something the guards did to him? Because of me? My self-loathing twisted my insides. Was Steele mad at me I wondered. Were his teeth clenched because he was biting back words to curse me? Or was it pain I had involuntarily brought on him.

I wished I knew the words to apologize to him. I wish I could ask him what was ailing him. I knew I had none of those things. I knew I could do none of those things. I felt utterly useless as I called out to him using the only words I knew.

“Steele?” I called out and waited until I saw those same violet eyes open and turn onto me. Flashes of those eyes towering over me left chills down my spine. The memory of those fingers towering over me, curling around me, was unnerving; but also endearing. He was protecting me, and that was what I chose to remember. “Bromidian. You hear me? Bromidian. You… saved me.” My throat tightened unexpectedly and my eyes began to burn around the edges. Why, now, was this happening to me?

I still don’t know why, but words began spilling out of me as I wiped my eyes with the backs of my hand. “You… you’re suffering. You’re ill. They hurt you… because you were trying to protect me.”

My memory flashed back to a time when my daughter – my beautiful and wonderful little girl – accidentally had pulled down a laundry line, sending the poles, wires, and freshly washed clothing into the damp earth below. It had collapsed on me, leaving a hefty knot on my head for days, and all of the work I had just completed nullified in just a moment. The remorse in my daughter’s voice, in this moment, matched my own tone; and what I heard from Steele was reminiscent of my tone all those years ago.

“Youl-heiris. Viyoo-en rhonor?” said Steele, that thunderous, rumbling voice sounding soothing and kind; and there was that same phrase again – viyoo-en rhonor. What did it mean? “Vandri, doshti whyr.” I noticed a trace of a smile on his face before he winced again, another grumble hurting him from the inside. He gagged a few times, the chains rattling with each cough, before his body calmed.

“I’m sorry. I… I wish I understood you. You’re sick, right? Ill? Are you drinking enough? Eating enough?” I glanced back at the barrels I had yet to load in. “Here. Let me get you something.” I set down the torch and loaded in the barrels of food. I stepped away, gesturing to the barrels, but Steele made no movement to grab them. Was it because I was too close?

I hurriedly stepped away from the barrels, retreating to the frame of the door.

“Bromidian, cur ptiedier. Ahndee-et mulh amia,” he muttered, a defeated expression filling his face.

The first word I recognized, but what did the rest mean. I stepped back into the room, glancing at the stairs that led to platforms that led to where he had set me down the day before. I wanted to press the matter. I wanted to ask him a thousand questions and break this barrier between our words when he let out a massive groan, growled some word under his breath, and clutched his midsection.

Even from where I was, I could hear the rumble as he gagged and stifled a belch. My heart went out to him, but what could I do? Had he been punished for reaching beyond the barrels to catch me? He looked so defeated. I winced and left, hearing him mutter once again that phrase accompanied by his strange words.

“Bromidian, phorus charlnoar.”

~~~~~^*^*^*^~~~~~

I had no appetite. I couldn’t even think about consuming any food at this point, let alone choke down the liquid in the barrels. I had feared this. I feared the water was tampered with, yet I let my thirst conduct my actions. Now, I was going to pay this painful price until it ended me.

What was worse was I couldn’t convey what had been done to me other than me being ill; but what would that matter to them? I was undoubtedly a drain on their resources and had caused more problems than I was probably worth.

This cavern – this place – was effectively my prison and my tomb.

I heard her come in – the Factotum – and call out my name. Thank goodness she was okay. I let this momentary, mental relief sink in before my body riled up again and clenched my insides. I heard her thank me in my language. This, alone, was worth enduring the torment. I looked up at her, noticing how her kind eyes looked on me with sympathy, but also a moment of apprehension as my gut groaned and growled. I noticed something else though.

She was upset – crying – and speaking so impossibly soft, reminding me of how she felt in my hand when I held her; so delicate and fragile.

“You’re welcome. Are you alright? Please, do not cry.” My pathetic attempt at soothing the woman’s tense and choked words was immediately countered by the sickness ravaging my body.

She vanished and a pang a guilt hit me. Had something so involuntary scared her off? She returned moments later, to my relief, with additional barrels. It would come as insulting and rude, but I did not want to endure this pain for moons to come. Besides, who knew what the barrels were laced with now.

“Thank you but apologies. It will only make it worse.”

She hesitated, and I knew she was undoubtedly trying to figure out what was happening – what game I was playing; but I was done playing. I had endured for long enough as it was, clinging to the hope of justice which I only now realized would never come. Besides, would she even know a cure to this thing contaminating my body? She left just as I muttered to her once again.

“Thank you, for being so kind.”

~~~~~^*^*^*^*^~~~~~

I didn’t understand what was going on. It had been three days, and Steele hadn’t made any effort to eat his rations. What was worse was that he was still ill and getting worse. Was he giving up? What was happening?

I returned on the fourth morning, dread filling the space of every nervous impulse my body possessed. I brought up Steele’s odd behavior to Ser Anfroy and the guards who seemed less than interested in what was happening to the Orion.