“I’m not sure where to put you, young lady,” Jenny told Orenda when they were both in the hall and out of earshot, “The headmaster told me to find ‘someplace suitable’.  I don’t think that he would like you around the other students…”

    “I would be fine in the slave quarters,” Orenda told her.

    “I’m sure you would, but it has been expressly forbidden,” Jenny explained with perhaps a hint of sarcasm or…  insult.  She stood, in thought for some time, considering her predicament, and Orenda stood to her side, clutching her things.

    “What path do you walk?” Orenda asked her.

    “What do you mean?” Jenny asked.

    “Nothing, I suppose,” Orenda sighed.

    “I should probably wake the housekeeper,” Jenny said at length, “She would know what to do.  She runs the place.”

    “Not Quiroris?” Orenda asked.

    “Well,” Jenny admitted, “I meant that she runs us.  The headmaster obviously runs the students.  I suppose he runs us too.  But the housekeeper is…  I don’t know how to explain it to an elf.”

    “I’ve been told I’m one of the good ones,” Orenda offered, as if it would make a difference.

    “I’m sure you are,” Jenny told her, leading her across a plush carpet that descended down a staircase.

    “I asked to be put in the kitchen,” Orenda said in an attempt to make conversation.

    “In the kitchen?” Jenny laughed, “Destroyed the bathhouse and asked to be put in the kitchen!”

    “I can’t imagine I’m the first person to think of destroying this place,” Orenda told her, “Not from what I’ve seen in my short time here.  Do you live in those little wooden houses on the edges of the grounds?”

    “Why, yes,” Jenny answered, “I don’t suppose you plan on blowing them up?”

    “No,” Orenda explained, “It just seemed odd to me that you should live there instead of here.  It seems Quiroris lives here.”

    “The elves live in the main buildings,” Jenny told her, “I built my house- well, my husband and me.”

    “That seems like a good skill to have,” Orenda liked how animated she was getting, “Back at the workhouse we all slept in rooms.  I think that the idea was that one would sleep where they fell, but everyone had their own little spot.  We called them ‘areas’.  I kept a pile of straw and sawdust.”

    “Did you?” Jenny asked as if the subject greatly interested her.

    “Yes,” Orenda explained, “I had two dresses, and an extra pair of stockings.  I could hide them, buried, and be reasonably sure they wouldn’t be stolen.  Of course, you can never be too sure of anything.  One cannot let down their guard completely.  But it worked, for the most part.  I don’t like to fight, so I tried to avoid them before they began.”

    “That seems a good philosophy,” Jenny agreed.  

The staircase ended in the biggest open hall Orenda had ever seen and Jenny led her off to the side of it, into what seemed to be a dining room but it was so large that it took four wide tables to fill it.  They walked briskly through it, and Orenda remembered what Ali had said about humans being unable to see in the dark of night.  The moons shining in through the windows did little to illuminate the room, yet Jenny navigated it expertly, moved quickly down an aisle between tables, and opened a small door to the side.

    Orenda followed her into a large, smart kitchen, with more space than she had been accustomed to back home- no, she corrected herself, back at the library.  It had more space than she had been accustomed to, back at the library.  Orenda thought she would like to bake here, with the larger oven and more counter space to roll out and cut cookies but Jenny seemed to be in a hurry, so she spoke her compliments as quickly and concisely as she could.

    “This is nice,” She said simply, “It’s rather large, compared to what I’m used to.”

    “I’d say that’s strange,” Jenny said, “I’d think a workhouse would have more people to feed.”

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    Orenda had no response to that, because she didn’t want to tell Jenny about the library.  Instead, she silently followed her out the little wooden door that she had tried so hard to get into from the other side.  It opened exactly where it should and Orenda saw the guards from before were back to standing by the archway.

    “Are you alright?” One of them asked her, and Jenny froze in her tracks.

    “Yes, thank you,” Orenda said politely, studying the adult woman with the large ring that had attracted her partner’s attention earlier.  “I like your ring.”

    “Thank you,” the woman smiled and looked down at it, “My boyfriend got it for me; he asked to become my husband.”

    “How nice,” Orenda said, and thought that Jenny had a husband, but no ring.  “I’m afraid I must hurry along.  It’s quite late.”

    She moved in front of Jenny and began to walk towards the little wooden houses.  The other guard looked as if he was going to ask her something as well and she absolutely did not feel like getting roped into a conversation with them.

    “You should be more polite,” Jenny chastised as she caught up and began to walk beside Orenda, “You have to respect your elders.”

    “I don’t know that to be true,” Orenda challenged, “My elders have often not been respectful of me.  Especially the ones who dress like that.”

    Jenny looked down at her stern little face and decided not to press the issue.  Instead, she led them to the first house in the row and Orenda stood back and watched her knock on it.  All the houses were alive; the flickering fire of what Orenda believed were kerosene lamps was visible from the windows.  She wasn’t shocked by how quickly the door opened, but was a little concerned with how quickly the news of her arrival had traveled.  She had meant to be inconspicuous, but that seemed to have been thrown out the window, because when an elderly human woman opened the door, the first thing she saw fit to do was ask about it.

    “Is that the girl who destroyed the bathhouse?” She asked, looking at Orenda.

    “Yes, mam,” Orenda answered before Jenny was able, “I had no intention of destroying anything.  I was trying to get here, to the school.  I…” Orenda realized, in that moment, that it was these people who would have to fix her mistake, to clean up her mess, “I would like to help in the repairs.  It was an accident.  I was in fear for my life.”

    “I don’t think the headmaster will have that,” The woman said, “not in the clean-up, at least.  And he’ll probably bring in actual masons to repair the damage.  I’ll say that place’ll be out of commission for a good while.  I don’t know where the students will bathe.”

    “They’ll have to use washtubs, won’t they?” Orenda asked.  It was the most obvious solution to the problem but it was apparently hilarious to the older woman who began to laugh as if the idea was ridiculous.

    “I’d love to see that,” She said when she caught her breath, “those kids trying to pump water, trying to keep it contained- there would be pandemonium.”

    “I’m Orenda,” Orenda told her, “What is your name?”

    “This is Mrs OfQuiroris,” Jenny told her, but Orenda cut her off in a distasteful tone.

    “I suppose you’re all Mrs OfQuiroris,” Orenda snapped, angered by the idea, “that isn’t particularly helpful.”

    “What a little spitfire,” the older woman laughed, “My name is Rada, young one.”

    “Mother?” A voice inside the house asked and Orenda peered behind the girth of Rada to see that a younger woman had risen from where she had been sitting on a mattress and was walking to the doorway.  

She was the most beautiful person Orenda thought she had ever seen, only a little older than she was, an age that Ali had convinced her was not as adult as she had once thought.  The young woman would probably one day resemble her mother, but now she was all curves and curls that flowed down her back and outward.  Her eyes were dark pools that seemed to contain the answers to the universe, and Orenda knew she was staring, but could not look away.

    “Is that her?” The girl asked, peering around her mother at Orenda and Orenda had the sense to nod.

    “Bubby,” her mother said, “Go back inside.  This is the child that destroyed the bathhouse.  God knows what she would do to us.”

    “I would never do anything to you,” Orenda promised, feeling offended that she had been considered dangerous, though she had to admit that she had set the precedence herself.  She took in the beautiful teenager’s dark skin and hair and gazed into her eyes as she said, “I follow the path of order.”

    “What are they going to do with her?” The girl asked.

    “I’ve been told to find somewhere to put her,” Jenny answered, “I couldn’t think of anywhere.”

    “I know of a place!”  The girl darted under her mother’s arm before she could stop her and hurried out into the night, “In the research library, in the tower, there’s a little room that I found one day while I was cleaning up in there.  It has a bed and fireplace.  I’m not sure who was using it before, but it’s empty now.”

    “It’s probably meant for some student up there pouring over all those books and too lazy to walk downstairs to bed,” Rada huffed.

    “I’ll show her to it,” the girl said, “Jenny you’ve been up all night, you get some rest.”

    “I would appreciate it,” Jenny sighed, “But tell me exactly where it is, later.”

    “Come along, miss,” the girl put a hand on her shoulder, and Orenda knew she could feel the heat when she touched her, but she did not pull away, “I’ll show you.”

    “Thank you,” Orenda said, “My name is Orenda.”

    “My name is Bubbider,” the girl told her, “and I love rabbits.”