"Please take me down there," she said, "and show me the duties. "
Given the way his old, wrinkled face fell even further, she gathered that was not the reply he had been hoping for.
"Mistress - "
"No'One. And you, or one of your staff, can show me now. "
The assembled masses all looked worried, as if mayhap rumors of the sky falling had suddenly become reality.
"Thank you," she said to the butler. "For your facilitation. "
Clearly recognizing that he was not going to win, the head doggen bowed low. "But of course I shall, mist - Ah, No - Er. . . "
When he couldn't get out her proper name, as if the appropriate title of "mistress" was required to blaze the trail up his windpipe, she took pity on him.
"You are most helpful," she murmured. "Now, lead on. "
After dismissing the others, he took her out of the staff room, through the kitchen, and into the foyer by virtue of yet another door that was new to her. As they proceeded, she recalled her previous, younger self, the haughty daughter of a bloodline of means who had refused to cut up her own meat, or brush her own hair, or dress herself. What a waste. At least now that she was no one and had nothing, she was clear on how to pass the hours meaningfully: work. Work was the key.
"We go through herein," the butler pronounced as he held wide a hidden door beneath the grand staircase. "Allow me to provide you the codes. "
"Thank you," she replied, memorizing them.
As she followed the doggen into the long, thin tube of an underground tunnel, she thought, yes, if she was going to stay on this side, she needed to busy herself with chores, even if it offended the doggen, the Brotherhood, the shellans. . . . Better that than the prison of her own thoughts.
They exited the tunnel by stepping through the back of a closet and passing into a squat room that had a desk and metal cabinets and a glass door.
The doggen cleared his throat. "This is the training center and medical facility. We have classrooms, a gym, locker room, weight room, physical therapy area, and a pool, as well as many other amenities. There are staff who take care of the deep cleaning of each section" - this was said sternly, as if he did not care that she was the guest of the king; she was not mucking about with his schedule - "but the doggen who took care of the laundry has gone upon bed rest, as she is mitte doggen and it is no longer safe for her to be on her feet. Please, we are this way. "
As he held open the glass portal, they went out into the corridor and headed to a double-doored room that was kitted up identically to the laundry she had used the night before in the main house. Over the next twenty minutes, she received a refresher on how to operate the machines, and then the butler reviewed with her a map of the facilities so she knew where to collect the bins and where to return what she had tended to.
And then, after a stiff silence, and stiffer adieu, she was blissfully alone.
Standing in the middle of the utility room, surrounded by washing machines and dryers and tables to fold upon, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
Oh, the lovely solitude, and the fortunate weight of duty settling upon her shoulders. For the next six hours, she had nothing to think of but white towels and sheets: finding them, putting them in machines, folding them, returning them to their proper places.
There was no room for the past or her regrets here. Just the work.
Gripping a rolling bin, she wheeled the blue fabric receptacle out into the corridor and began making her rounds, beginning with the clinic and returning to the laundry when there was no more space left in her transport. After she got the first load into a deep-bellied washer, she went out again, passing into the locker room and finding a mountain of white. It took her two trips to get all those towels, and she made a pile of them in the center of the washer room, beside the drain in the gray concrete floor.
Her final stop took her to the very far left, all the way down the corridor to the pool. As she went along, the wheels on her cart made a little whistling noise, and her feet shuffled unevenly, her grip on the bin's lip giving her some added stability and helping her to go faster.
When she heard music coming from the swimming area, she slowed. Then stopped.
The strains of notes and voices made no sense as all members of the Brotherhood and their shellans were gone for the night. Unless someone had left the music on after they had finished their time in the water?
Pushing her way into a squat anteroom tiled with mosaics of athletic males, she got hit with a wall of warmth and humidity so heavy, it was as if she had stepped up against a velvet drape. And all around, there was a strange, chemical smell in the air, one that made her wonder what they treated the water with - on the Other Side, everything had stayed permanently fresh and clean, but she knew that was not the case on earth.
Leaving the bin to wait in the lobby, she walked forward toward a vast, cavelike space. Reaching out, she touched the warm tiles on the wall, running her fingers over the blue skies and rolling green fields, but skipping any of the loinclothed males, with their archery bows, and their fencing staffs, and their running poses.
She loved the water. The floating buoyancy, the easing of the aches in her bad leg, the sense of brief freedom -
"Oh. . . my. . . " she gasped as she turned the corner.
The pool was four times the size of the largest bath on the Other Side, and its water was a shimmering pale blue - likely because of the tiles that skinned its deep belly. Black lines ran lengthwise, denoting lanes, and there were numbers going down the stone lip, clearly marking depth. Up above, the ceiling was domed and covered in more mosaics, and there were benches against the walls, providing places to sit. Echoing around, the music was louder, but not overly so, and the mournful tune possessed a pleasing resonance.
Given that she was alone, she couldn't resist going over and testing the temperature with her bare foot.