THE BITTERBYNDE TRILOGY

Book One: The Ill-Made Mute

(c) Cecilia Dart-Thornton.

stairways spiral their way between the multiple levels, but of course we of the House only travel in the lift cages."

"What are the stairways for, then?" asked the second man, demonstrating remarkable obtuseness. Magnanimously, the first lord gushed on, gesturing with his pale hands, while the menial behind the tapestry trembled in his rags.

"The servants are arranged according to a complicated hierarchy. The lower ranks, being forbidden to ride up and down the internal shafts in the busy lift-shafts, must needs use the stairways, which reached the ground at exits near the domestic goat caves. Forbidden to trespass in the higher regions of the Tower, they pursue their drudgeries out of sight of their betters. Only the higher echelons of servant are permitted to personally serve the lords and ladies of the Tower.  They use the upper stairs, or on rare occasions, the lift cages."

He cleared his throat.

"You, my dear pedlar, who visit Isse Tower from regions rife with warm underground springs, will be interested to discover how our bathwater is heated for the Relayers and our scented ladies."

"Mmph," was the grunted response.

"All heating here on the upper floors is achieved by means of an ingenious furnace."

"Extraordinary," mumbled the orange guest.

"Extraordinary? But no," contradicted the black-and-silver lord, "Isse Tower is, after all, the chief stronghold of an ancient and powerful dynasty second only to royalty. We of the Seventh House of the Stormriders deserve only superlative service for our creature comforts!"

“Which no doubt is well-earned, as compensation for being forced to dwell in such an island as this,” said the visitor somewhat sourly, “surrounded as you are by wights and wilderness. No doubt you and your servants are rarely able to leave the Tower, or never, unless you go with a well-guarded caravan.”

“On the contrary, we come and go on the sky-roads as we please,” cried the other, “And what matter the servants? It does them good.  They are safe here, and well fed – too well fed for the paltry amount of work they do, the lazy gluttons.  What need have they to wander?”

Their voices had begun to fade, indicating to the cringing eavesdropper that they had turned around and were pacing away from him. As the conversation died to a whisper, he peeped around

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