Ch. VI | Trust Me

All of my necessary belongings were set by the door, ready for my departure, even though I was far from ready mentally and emotionally. I had placed a few things in a satchel that may be useful including some scrolls of parchment and charcoal. I only had learned a few of the basics when it came to scrolling and writing 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 have 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 the guards' discipline.

There is another part of me that is worried. Would he be angry with me? I was the one who slipped, even if the guards had a direct hand in the incident. Steele would not have pulled himself free if I did not fall. He would not have been punished if it were not because of me slipping off of the ledge.

I hoped he wouldn't see me as an enemy and resent me for what happened. I wanted to help him. Would he see it that way?

I had to try. If nothing else, I had to try.

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 and well used at one point in his life.

"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, the fact that this guard was even addressing me directly, making eye-contact and giving me his complete and undivided attention. What had I done now? Had I done something wrong?

A pit formed in my middle. Was Steele alright? Had something gone wrong with the Orion? 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, proper courtesy 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 in front of me, lowering themselves to the point where I could see the tops of their heads.

Staggering slightly and absolutely flabbergasted, I immediately fell silent and took a few steps backwards. This was unheard of, especially for someone as lowly as me.

Ser Anfroy continued addressing 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. He has never acted out in such a way, and we understand how terrifying that experience may be for someone who is not accustomed to working with the Orion. We assure you he will be kept in order from this point forward. 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 rigid position in my body or the unease of what I was feeling. I silently regretted wishing ill on the guards. Even if they were indecent, they were still capable of mistakes. 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? Or should we expect your resignation from your position? Either way, we in the guard respect your decision," stated 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 fear was starting to get to me, and I knew it. 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. There was no glow from the cauldrons of fire which I had always seen lit. Had Steele been in darkness this whole time? Were they purposefully keeping him in the dark as part of his punishment?

I pulled the barrels off of the Lock and tugged one of the torches free from the wall before taking a calming breath and laying my hand against the door. Apprehension clutched my chest.

I wondered again if Steele would be angry with me? Would he be reluctant and mistrustful? If he was being polite before, would he actively attempt to attack me now after I helped cause him pain, even if it was involuntary? I closed my eyes and let the sick feeling pass before pulling the door open. Regardless, I was still the Factotum and I was in charge of Steele's rations. Perhaps my consistency would have earned me a fragment of trust with the Orion.

The door moaned woefully as I shoved myself through, the torch doing little to illuminate the cavernous space. Habitually, I walked to the cauldrons of oil and began to light them. I also threw the switch which poured a little flaming oil into other cauldrons to light up the rest of the cavern. As the cauldrons of oil ignited with a quick "whooshing" sound, I tried to let my eyes adjust to the darkness. I noticed there was nothing in the darkness at first except for the two water barrels which were already set in their rightful place on the ledge.

I opened my mouth to call out to him when I heard something reminiscent of a deep throated 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 wanted to retreat, but something else kept me in place that was, surprisingly, not fear.

Instead, I stepped to the ledge and lit the other cauldron with flame just as the Orion's 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. My steps faltered. 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. I wondered if Steele was possibly mad at me. Were his teeth clenched because he was biting back words to curse me? Or was it pain I had involuntarily brought on him?

On the other hand, was he just sick? And, if he were just sick, why hadn't the guards noticed? Were they so insistent on keeping him punished in the dark that they would ignore his illness?

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 was 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. My heart ached for him. Was he in pain? Or was he just sick?

"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 onto the ground 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? Or was this some sickness that just happened?

He looked so defeated. He looked weathered and aged, the grey flecks in his hair accentuated by the light of the cauldron fire. Steele looked tired, and there was nothing I could do to help him. I thought about the materials I brought to try and teach him my language, but that would have to wait. He looked like he needed some rest. I winced and left the Orion, 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? They were the ones who made me sick. I was undoubtedly a drain on their resources and had caused more problems than I was probably worth. The one person who would have attempted to listen to me, the Factotum, may not even return because of yesterday's events.

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

Time passed and my hopelessness grew. Perhaps it would be easier to succumb to the injuries and illness that wracked my body.

I heard her come in – the Factotum – and call out my name. Relief washed over me. 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. I had no control over my body, and I wondered if she noticed. It would be hard to not notice if I were being completely honest.

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. I saw her gesture to the barrels and back away from them, but I didn't feel like eating. 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 by the door, 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. No one listened to me, nor would they send anyone who actually could understand my language. 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 had not made any effort to eat his rations the past day and had barely bothered with the barrels for the other two days. What was worse was that he was still ill and getting worse. Was he giving up? Was this out of protest for being confined in the Turret? Had he done anything like this before? What was happening?

I returned on the fourth morning, dread filling the space of every nervous impulse my body possessed. It terrified me, but I knew that I needed to do something. 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. I emphasized that he was sick, or at least acting sick, and that he was not eating and had not been eating for the past few days. I asked for medicine or that a physician of the town come and see what was going on. Again, they did not seem interested in the slightest.

I was utterly annoyed. Something was going on. Something was happening – and I couldn't figure it out.

The smartest thing I could have done was to keep my head down, ask Caster for potential places of employment, and let the Orion wither away. It would have been safe and not out of the norm for me to leave this position. Others who were the Factotum did not stay in this position for very long after all. I could vanish and be like all of the others who came before me.

What drove me over the edge, however, was the thought that I considered letting someone suffer when I could've done something to help them. If it were my daughter, I would go to the ends of the existence to help her. If Steele were one of us or a friend, I would do all in my limited power to help. The final straw was a chilling thought I had while walking to the Turret one day.

Is this how I would treat someone who saved my life?

I didn't bother retrieving other barrels the evening of that fourth day. Instead, I threw the lever and descended the Lock directly to Steele's chamber. It was reckless. It was everything I had tried not to be, but there I was throwing the door open and storming into the poorly illuminated chamber.

Steele was curled up on the ground, arm still tucked around his mid-section. He looked tired and miserable. The barrels were untouched from that morning, but that was expected much to my personal dismay. Staying on the ledge made it hard for me to see him, and my furious determination would settle for nothing less than an answer or compromise from the immense giant. I took up a torch and walked down the stairs along the platform that led along the wall closer to the Orion.

My heart was throbbing in my throat, and I could clearly hear blood pumping in my ears, making them ring faintly but clearly. Each step echoed in unison with his breathing, making my movements sound like they were filling the cave and not the Orion himself.

"Steele!" I shouted as I planted myself near the ledge where he placed me just days prior. The chains rustled and there was an audible noise of confusion as he pushed himself up. Only now did I begin to comprehend how dangerous this mission of mine was as I watched Steele's head crest over the ledge, rising high like the sun. His eyes were turned to the ledge where, undoubtedly, he expected me to be standing. Knees shaking, I shouted again as loud as I could to get his attention.

"Steele!"

Those violet eyes of his narrowed in confusion as he scanned the ledge for a moment longer before turning his head to the left and down toward me. The moment he realized I was so close, his entire body tensed, and his eyes widened. As if he were afraid of me, he began to push himself backwards. Just to see his face, I had to turn my head completely upward to the ceiling.

There was no going back now. I could only hope he would help me and cooperate.

"Steele! Please, let me help," I called out. I could see his mind working by the way his eyes darted around in an attempt to translate my words into his own. I suspected it would come to this, and instantly began to rely on how I used to communicate with my daughter when she was very, very young. I could only hope he would realize my efforts and, if nothing else, try to tell me what was going on.

I pointed to him after lodging the torch in my hands into a small slot in the rocks. "You. Steele. You are sick." The sick motion was a little harder, but I ended up wrapping my arms around my torso and wincing. It was extremely childish, but I could see Steele working out my meaning. I shrugged as dynamically as I could and followed up with the other gestures I used before.

"How? How are you sick?" Somehow, this felt like a game and now, more than ever, I was glad the two reprimanded guards weren't there to hear me or taunt me for my actions. Part of me felt a little foolish for treating a giant adult like a toddler learning to speak, but I could not think of what else to do.

For some reason, Steele still seemed to be hung up on some of the words I was using, but I didn't know what else to do. As my mind raced with another way to convey something so fundamental, he winced again as another twisting growl churned his insides.

"That! Sick!" I exclaimed, surprising myself with the volume my voice took, and pointed to him. I was met once again with silence and a puzzled look. Defeat began constricting my throat when I heard him.

"S…ee…si…k? Si-ck?" I could've leapt out of my skin for joy. He said the word slowly, most likely to keep from misspeaking as he learned this new word. Still, he was speaking and trying to communicate with me.

"Yes! Yes, sick. You are sick. How? I mean, how did you get sick?" I asked. There was a second where his eyes illuminated familiarly before fading again. I followed with more motions by bringing my hand up to my mouth. "Did you eat something? Or drink something?" His eyes narrowed, as if he were trying to see through me. I suddenly realized how close I actually was and that I was ordering, and quite possibly annoying, a being much larger than I was. A simple breath from Steele the wrong way could send me flying off of the ledge.

Still, I stood firm as my heart hammered in my chest and my knees knocked as Steele cautiously reached over to the ledge which held all of the barrels and pulled one from its place. I tried not to flinch too hard as another eclipse worthy hand reached up and ripped the top off of the barrel, water spattering everywhere.

He was hesitant, almost reluctant, but he reached up and set the barrel down near me once I had backed away a few steps. The side of his hand was as wide as I was tall. It felt surreal to think about him catching me the way he did, gentle and tender to keep me from splattering against the cold hard ground, after he ripped a sealed barrel open with no effort at all.

After setting down the barrel, he retracted his hand. Steele's keen violet eyes were filled with exhaustion, but also a flicker of hope and curiosity. He was putting his faith in me. I could only hope I would not let him down.

I approached and examined the water, swirling it around with my hand and bringing the torch near the surface. I remembered a time when I drank some less than desirable water and was sick for several days, and that water was slightly murky and felt strange. Sadly, I there was nothing. I swirled my hand in the water again deeper in the barrel, thinking that there might be something near the bottom. Nothing. No discoloration that I could see. It wasn't murky. It wasn't slimy.

It wasn't until I went to dry my hand that I noticed a faint odor. Garlic? No. It was more bitter than that. I leaned closer to the water and knew for certain the stench was coming from the water's surface. I looked at Steele again and motioned for him to get closer and lower, which, to my delight and utter shock, he did. Now I was standing at nearly eye-level with the Orion, a sensation which left my head swirling.

"Could you blow out slowly?" I could almost watch the confusion in his eyes, which were slightly crossed to keep me in his view. "Curses, that was too many words all at once. Um…" I muttered to myself. I take a breath and try to slow down my thinking and how to best convey what I needed from Steele.

"Alright, Steele, can you sigh for me? Sigh. Like this." I inhaled and exhaled once again in an exaggerated motion. I gestured to him and repeated myself. Steele shifted, seemingly uncomfortable. "Sigh." I repeated the motion again.

Steele was beginning to pick up on my actions as he inhaled and exhaled slowly. I had braced myself to inhale and smell his breath, but it was still extremely unpleasant. Warm air from his lungs washed over me. I gagged and coughed as the sensation and the smell hit me. There was a scent of stagnant air, but what caught me was the overwhelming smell of garlic – just like the water. I didn't know much about healing and medicine, but what I did know was I was familiar with this particular smell – poison.

I didn't know much about natural herbs and remedies, and I especially didn't understand much about poisons. This one, however, was one I was familiar with because one of my friends from my hometown told me about it.

Arsenic. It was a slow acting thing and could be confused for simple internal distress. How I knew and who I learned it from was less important than how to make him better – which was something else in my wheelhouse. I felt jubilation and, at the same time, unadulterated anger.

The arsenic was in the water, and the guards were in charge of providing water to Steele. Ser Anfroy had even insisted that he and the other guards would take care of the barrels of water. They were doing all of these things to the Orion on purpose. They were trying to hurt him and end him. I knew I would have to destroy those barrels and start giving Steele water myself, but that would have to wait. For now, I needed to retrieve the antidote to make Steele feel better.

"Viyoo-en rhonor?" he asked wearing the most concerned look on his face and speaking in the softest whisper he could manage, still resonating in my bones like the pounding of a thousand horse hooves, but now I had something to cling to. I pulled myself out of my thoughts and focused on what I needed to do right here right now. What was more important was part of me seemed to finally understand the phrase he had said to me several times now; at least, I thought I understood.

"Am I alright? Viyoo-en rhonor? Is that what it means?" I asked. Before the Orion could answer, I smiled and nodded. "Yes. Yes, Steele. Viyoo-en rhonor. Steele, I'll be back very soon. Okay? Soon. Bromidian!" I abandoned the torch and began climbing the stairs as fast as my legs could carry me to the Lock.

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

I didn't understand what she was doing. I didn't understand what she wanted. All I knew was she was trying to communicate with me, which was more than any of the guards had tried to do. I did what I could to decipher her motions and strange language; although, I began to notice patterns in the simplistic way she spoke. It seemed childish, but it was surprisingly effective.

My confusion only intensified when she repeated a new phrase, 'am I alright,' in her tongue proceeded by a string of other words I could not understand. What I knew was she seemed lighter, happy, with whatever she had perceived from the barrel of water and my exhalation.

She left for what felt like so terribly long; and just as I curled up to attempt to rest once again, she returned. She had something in her arms that resembled a much smaller barrel, but it was clear. Was it a jug or jar possibly? The Factotum set it on the ledge before vanishing again and bringing out another water barrel. What was she doing? My insides twisted again, but I managed to keep one eye open just enough to watch her pry off the top of the barrel, examine the contents, and then pour the contents in the clear jar into the barrel.

The Factotum pushed the barrel as far as she could to the ledge and gestured for me to take it. I could only focus on some of her words, but ultimately it seemed like she wanted me to drink the contents. Personally, I had already had enough, but there was an earnestness in her voice which captivated me. Was this meant to help? Would it heal me? Perhaps it would end my suffering? In either case, she said something that seemed like a sincere conviction.

"Trust me. Please Steele. Trust me."

I didn't know what it meant.

I wanted to know what it meant.

I took the barrel from the ledge and prayed for an end, muttering the strange phrase she said to me.

"Trust me."

The liquid was water, but it didn't taste spoiled or bitter. In fact, it was refreshing and left a faint after taste like winter. Peppermint perhaps? Within moments of swallowing the liquid, relief washed over my body. The twisting and knotting began to subside. Every tense feeling began to release. Finally, I could breathe a sigh of relief.

"Thank you," I muttered in my tongue with a smile. I was sure looked horrifying and exhausted in the light of the torches to the Factotum, but I looked over in her direction and was pleasantly surprised to see her smiling.

"Thank you – Bromidian," she said in both her tongue and my own. I smiled and decided to try and teach her a new phrase – youl-heiris, which was used to express gratitude.

"You're welcome," I said softly in my language. "It's you're welcome." I hoped she would understand, and I wasn't disappointed. In her tongue, I heard her say a few words which I could only assume was her attempting to translate my words.

"You're welcome? Is that it?" she said. It took a moment for my mind to catch up, but I finally I thought I had the right pronunciation. I looked into her eyes, and she looked into mine.

"Thank you," I said in her tongue slowly. Her bright eyes, those soft, light brown eyes, ignited like the torch light.

"You're welcome," she replied in my tongue, just as slow and hesitant as I had spoken. Perhaps… maybe… this was the start of something. Maybe, finally, I could finally understand.