I didn't stay away for long. I couldn't stay away. Not when we had progressed for the first time. The essence of peppermint seemed to be doing the trick for Steele. Undoubtedly, he would probably need a little more of the solution as well as something else, perhaps ginger, to help soothe his insides. He would also need some kind of salve to help with the scabbed over scratches and lashes on his face.
I had none of these herbs or materials like that with me at the moment, but I would surely return; but, for now, I reveled in the moment of Steele speaking with me. I stood there on the ledge watching that once forced smile on Steele's face shift into a genuine grin as he was obviously relaxing. He had a reprieve from the internal torment, and he was obviously grateful. For the moment, we stood in each other's silence. I could only guess what was going on in the Orion's head, but I knew what was going on in mine.
Panic.
Confusion.
Excitement.
All of these emotions and events left my head swirling. Steele had obviously put some form of trust in me. Of all the people he encountered, he chose to trust me and take a chance. It was a leap of faith, and I hoped I would not lead him astray.
I stepped up to the ledge after several minutes and smiled at him. I tried thinking of something he could understand to show I would be back. Somehow, looking in those violet eyes, I knew he understood I would return.
"Trust me?" I asked. Steele, eyes locked onto mine, narrowed for a moment as he processed the words I spoke earlier. Partially recognizing the words, he mimicked them.
"Trust me," a hesitant trust was laced in his voice. He spoke the words foreign to him without knowing what they meant but having faith they would connect him to me.
I hurried as fast as I could back up the Lock to the one person who would possibly be able to assist me – Caster. The guards didn't think twice about me rushing out from The Turret and thankfully no one stopped me on my way to see Caster. I decided I would ask the guards later to see if they were still insistent about giving Steele his water and proceed by providing Steele water myself. It was not worth him getting sick again like this. Relieving the suffering in the Orion's eyes was worth me taking the extra time to fill the barrels of water myself.
I would have to worry about that later though. Something else was bothering me, and only Caster could give me the answers I needed. I approached Caster's home, that small stone cottage with more shelves for books than walls, and knocked vigorously, my knuckles stinging from pounding them against the bitter wood.
A moment passed before Caster, an elderly man with deep set lines on his grandfatherly face, pulled the door open. He was wearing his spectacles, which were two different sizes, and he looked slightly disheveled. Undoubtedly, he hadn't slept, at least he had not slept well, and had barely registered my knocking.
"Caster, we need to talk," I said hurriedly, forgetting the proper social graces. I found myself looking the old man in the eyes. I found myself pushing past into his home and peering through the jars of oils and herbs along his parchment laden shelves. I looked for peppermint, ginger, and anything I might have recognized to soothe and heal scratches.
"Raina? Well, come in my dear," he gestured to the room I had already entered. "What can I help you with?"
In that moment, a thousand things filled my head. What could he help me with? There was so much to know about injuries, the Orion as a race, Steele himself, and what happened to the other Factotum. I took a breath to calm myself. The way my head was racing with questions reminded me of how my daughter would ask about the world – relentless and unending.
Focus. What's most important. I need to get back to him.
"Caster, I need you to help me get as much salve as possible for opened wounds and I need you to tell me everything you know about Steele, the Orion." The old apothecarian squinted at me quizzically.
"My my… what ever for?" he asked, his voice creaking like the boards in his floor.
"Because…" Was there a way to be informative without revealing too many details? I was already committed. Besides, this was Caster. "Because things do not make sense with him. Four days ago, he saved my life and…"
"What happened four days ago?" asked Caster, eyes widening slightly. I bit my lip and decided to tell him everything.
"The guards accidentally pushed me off of the ledge and Steele saved my life by catching me. He kept me safe and shielded me from the spears the guards started throwing at him before setting me back down on the ledge." Caster's old eyes widened again, tripling the number of wrinkles in the corners of his eyes and looking comical in a charming elderly way.
"Is that so?" said Caster, a mix of insight and surprise in his voice. It occurred to me once again that Caster might know something about the contained Orion currently imprisoned beneath the Turret.
"Caster, I thought Steele was tried in court for burning down Ombre. I thought he was found guilty of ravaging the western town and killing dozens of people." I couldn't stop the words from spilling out of my mouth.
"Yes, this is true. He offered no defense, even when a translator attempted to communicate with him," muttered Caster as he turned and began gathering together a large clay pot about half his full height and began mixing in various oils into it. Had he turned away so I couldn't see his face? His eyes?
"If it's true, then why did he save me? Why didn't he crush me or… I mean… He could've let me fall and hit the ground, left me to die; but he didn't. He could have done anything to me, but he didn't. He saved me and took the punishment and has been suffering for days because I'm a complete fool."
I wasn't sure why my throat was constricting or why it was so hard to breathe. All I knew was my eyes were stinging with the salty tears. I choked them down and watched Caster's expression carefully.
As a mother, I learned the tells of my daughter when she was very young. I learned when she wanted something but didn't want to say it. I learned when she was hungry or thirsty without her needing to tell me. I learned when she was frustrated with something she was doing or when something was not going her way. More importantly, I learned when she was trying to hide something from me.
It was a particular look, starting in her eyes and spreading across her face.
It was the same look Caster had on his face.
As I suspected, Caster knew something and was not telling me. I felt my features harden and the motherly side of me bubbling up like water in a boiling kettle.
"Caster? What aren't you telling me about Steele?" I knew I had caught a thread of something based on the way he shuffled his feet and kept his eyes away from mine as he turned to retrieve another handful of crushed herbs. His actions slowed under my, as my daughter described it, "mom look."
I couldn't take it anymore. I moved forward and laid my hands on Caster's hands, forcing him to stop gathering herbs and direct his attention directly to me.
"Well," said the elderly apothecary, slowing to a stop. "I have nothing to confirm it, but I've had my suspicions for some time now. Other Factotum, before they left their post, expressed Steele's relative… neutrality toward them and how he would watch them. All left because other positions opened, not because Steele ever made a violent gesture toward them despite popular belief."
I could feel my heart in my throat, constricting every other breath as my heart pounded against my lungs.
"What are you saying?" I asked, already anticipating what the old apothecarian was about to say to me.
"As I said, I do not have anything to confirm it, but I understand that people tend to adhere to patterns regardless of where they're from. It takes a considerable will to actively change oneself from my personal experiences. With that said, I am not entirely certain of Steele's guilt," stated Caster.
Every nerve in my lungs felt constricted, like tendrils had wrapped around my chest and were squeezing the life out of me. Why was I feeling like this? I hardly knew the Orion! Caster, calm as ever, gently grasped my hands in his, his calloused and caring hands warming my chilling fingers.
"You… don't think… he did it?" I realized only after that I had asked a question. "You don't think that Steele was the one who committed the crime?"
"I do not know my dear, and you would be good to keep these things in confidence between the two of us. I, personally, find it odd that such a large entity who could easily pull those chains loose from the wall, crush us effortlessly without remorse, and who could undoubtedly escape chooses to do none of those things and, instead, saves the life of his captors' employment and elects to stay. There may be more to our Orion than meets the eye. Still waters run deep after all, and he doesn't say much."
Caster's words ran in my head as his hands worked on mixing a large vat of an odd clear solution he claimed would do the Orion well. My head swam as I toted the jug back and a few satchels of herbs and roots to the Turret and stepped onto the Lock. I steadied myself against the railing before throwing the switch which sent me in a rapid descent. I only barely registered that I needed to pull the lever to stop from plummeting further into the depths of darkness.
It made sense what Caster said. If I had been treated in such a way, I would try to find an escape if I were innocent. Or would I? The Lock jolted to a halt, and I stopped outside the door, setting my hand on the slightly clammy rock. The only external sound was the crackling of the small fire on the torches and the buzzing in my ears.
I put myself in Steele's shoes and thought about what I would do. All things considering, I doubted I would have that kind of strength to escape – mentally and physically. After all, I had done little to help my circumstances with the guards and establish who I was to them. Why would I? That's not what I was taught to do.
I took one more breath before opening the door and stepping into the Orion's chamber, something new blooming in my chest – resolve. Before I could answer this nagging question, I had to be able to understand the Orion.
~~~~~^*^*^*^~~~~~
I sat there for a long time. I couldn't tell if I was correct, but there was no one to contradict my thoughts. What occupied my time were those two words the Factotum said which seemed to mean so much – trust me. Their tongue was foreign to me, yes, but something about those two words she spoke felt more deliberate than the insults and taunts from all of the guards combined.
Trust me.
Did that have something to do with how she believed? How she conducted herself? Some kind of deity or spirit? Unlikely. Though I disapproved of it, my people would take the name of our Four Sovereigns in vain and spite, cursing with them whenever it suited them. The Factotum had been locked into a room with something, someone, that obviously terrified her – me – and she hadn't used those words. She was practically flung from the ledge to what would've been her death, and she hadn't used them there either.
Trust me.
She looked at me with such earnest. She needed me to believe her. Is that what it meant? She wanted me to believe her? Whatever the case was, I intended to uphold those two words. It had led to my relief and internal ease. I was no longer suffering because I did whatever those two words were.
Trust me.
I let my head begin to droop in the darkness. I didn't know if she would return, but what I did know was I could finally rest my eyes in peace for the first time in a long time.
The next thing I remember was the sound of my name being called to. My eyelids, still heavy with slumber, threatened to disobey my command of opening as my eyes started to focus on where the sound was coming from. A moment later was when I realized it wasn't just my name being called by one of the tormenting guards. It was the Factotum who was calling my name.
I banished the sleep from my eyes and sat up steadily as to not alarm her. She was skittish like that from time to time, but not as much recently. To my fascination, she wasted no time in descending the long flight of stairs to my left where I had set her down before and where she stood before fixing my illness. Sick. I remembered the word she told me and made a mental note to use it if I felt unwell again.
"Steele!" My attention automatically snapped to the Factotum who was setting down something that was affixed to her back. She turned back to me, something in her eyes, and began speaking that foreign tongue once again to me. They were brief, simple words accompanied with overexaggerated gestures. Still, she had to repeat it a few times before I began to catch on.
She gestured to the platform, then pointed to her arm pointed at me, and then laid her arm down against the railing while saying, "Please place your arm here." She slowed the motions and used only one word for each gesture until I felt confident enough to repeat the phrase back, which seemed to excite her.
I gingerly placed my arm against the ledge. The chains rattled hollowly, like old tolling bells in the fields where I grew up. This brought a flood of old memories which begged me to reminisce, but I would do that when I was alone in the darkness again. She knelt and dipped her hands into the container, though I was having a hard time seeing what she was doing. After rubbing her hands together, she approached my arm and looked me in the eyes.
"Trust me." Those words again. Whatever was going to happen, she wanted me to believe that what she was doing was okay. I repeated the phrase.
"Trust me." She smiled, and I reciprocated in kind. The Factotum looked like she was steadying herself for something before reaching out and touching my arm along the lashes and cuts. It was almost unnoticeable, like the touch of a feather against my skin. What was interesting was it was cool like ice and slowly warmed as she rubbed the substance onto my skin and into the cuts.
I kept my arm and my body as still as possible, instead focusing on her touch as I closed my eyes. The tenderness of her touch made it difficult to stay awake. Her rhythmic movements were like the sway of the ocean against the stones it smoothed.
I dared not flinch or fall asleep, but the exhaustion from days of torment was affecting me. It wasn't until I felt a pressure shift along my arm that I opened my eyes. A chill instantly ran up my spine. The Factotum, for a reason that was only clear to her, had climbed onto the rail and up onto my arm, walking along the top as if my arm were a wall.
"What… I'm… What are you doing? I… don't think… miss… please be careful…" I couldn't put together any coherent words, but the Factotum didn't seem to mind. She actually looked slightly amused. Instead of heeding my words, she looked up at me, said something along the lines of, "It's alright. I'm almost done with this arm," and continued to apply what I believed could be a salve.
Every part of me wanted to shake simply from the nerves, but I maintained control over myself. After all, the smallest movement could send her tumbling off of the ledge and onto the ground. As a precaution, I reached over with my free hand and kept it nearby.
After she completed one arm, she slid off onto the ledge and provided another set of instructions – one that instantly had the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. "Turn your hand. Let me on. Give me your other arm." I very hesitantly followed her instructions, unsure of what she was doing and even more hesitant to move my hand once she climbed into it.
She repeated her phrasing over and over until I brought her over to my other arm for her to apply the salve. I held her as she tended to my wounds. If I didn't know better, I would have said she was a true physician or some kind of professional herbalist working with natural remedies. It took time, countless time, but she dedicated herself to her work for one reason or the next.
Once she was satisfied, the Factotum pointed back to the ledge. "Place me there, please." I raised my hand slowly, picking up on some of her words and gestures. Then, even though I laid my hand on the ledge, she didn't get up. She simply knelt and looked at me. Then, pointing to me, she said my name.
"Steele," she said clearly. She redirected her hand to point at herself. "Raina. My name is Raina." She did this a few times in slow succession. Raina? What's Raina? It hit me. Raina. Was that her name?
"R…ra…Rai…na? Raina?" I asked cautiously. The Factotum had been so kind that I dared not show her discourtesy; however, based solely on her smile, I was on the right track. As she descended and began gathering her things, a thought occurred to me. Raina had spoken before, but she had now changed her pattern. She was speaking slowly and clearly. She was using gestures. Was this on purpose? Was she helping me figure out the language I had been trapped with for so long?
I smiled at her as she ascended the stairs. Finally… someone was trying to listen; and I intended to be the best she had ever taught.