5.8

Jewel and her Father had been given separate but tiny rooms within the temple complex.

It was very gracious of the Abbot Herbort to prepare beforehand for their lodging.

However the space available was far too small for Jewel (also they didn't have anything like properly sized baths!).

So it was not the most comfortable to sleep.

Jewel had ended up settling her face and neck mostly on the bed while the rest of her curled and looped two layers deep in coils over the floor, her sides touching every wall of the room and her wings needing special care to avoid scraping the rafters.

It was an incredibly tight fit but she preferred to stay in the cramped tiny space just to prove that she would take the accommodations instead of giving the Abbot Herbort even the hint of an excuse for anyone to more openly suggest she go sleep in the stables with Smithson and the horses.

And apparently Bromthil and Kraok had been bunked in a room they shared between the two of them!

So Jewel was thankful at least no one else had to try and squeeze into the room with her.

And at least she got to sleep near to Father.

And they were also fortunate to be given proper board at all.

The twenty-five footmen’s accommodations had apparently been made of lodging with the village nearby or bunking in the stables with Smithson and the horses.

It was a rather cramped way to sleep, but not overly uncomfortable. Although the sound of a bell echoing before dawn broke was an incredibly unpleasant way to wake up.

The sound came piercing and mind-addling in a way wholly unnatural, leaving her completely flummoxed at the predicament of being packed into a too small room and buried under herself.

Jewel spent quite a while just trying to figure out why anyone would be making so much awful noise in the middle of the night.

Which was then interrupted some time later by a knocking at her door, followed by a muffled voice (by wood, stone and heaping mounds of wyrm coils).

Jewel was still trying to get her senses clear and figure out precisely how she was going to get out when she felt the cool brush of air on the parts of her coils that had once been pressed against firm wood.

Followed first by stunned silence and then an utterly flabbergasted yelp of confusion from a young male voice who appeared to have come to wake her, knocked and then decided it was somehow appropriate to open a lady’s bedchamber before being admitted!

He was fortunate that instead of finding her being in inappropriate attire he was met with a wall of (what she could only imagine) was slowly heaving scales blocking the door!

Well, if their host was going to be so incredibly rude, she was going to have to get up and meet them properly.

But the intricate process of slowly looping over and under herself while keeping wings, arms and legs from getting tangled or twisted until she could get her face to the door was less than ideal.

For one it was not helped at all by being woken up so terribly and put out of sorts. Furthermore there was just not very much clearance to maneuver in any particular way.

Getting into the room had seemed fairly straightforward and she had even managed to swing the door closed to latch!

But that had been a whole night of subtly shifting in sleep and now she was a bit lost as to where exactly she had to move to undo the roiled up pile that had been made of her.

Still some thought and care eventually had her sliding over herself and finally getting a look at yet another one of those cloth garbed men that seemed to be the only kind present in the household (and staff?).

The possible servant (but who could tell when everyone dressed identically?!) was still frozen and looking quite pale at the sight of her. Also now that she was able to get an unobstructed whiff and look at him significantly younger than anyone that had been there for supper.

He reminded her a bit of Smithson, actually.

The utterly silent gaping however was significantly worse then her Squire had ever been.

Honestly not unheard of among strangers but this looked like it was going to be a bad one. And it was far too early for dealing with this.

Jewel sighed and yawned a bit to clear her throat and try to wake up more. Maybe if she gave him some time he would come out of it on his own?

No, that apparently caused him to strangle and freeze up even harder than before.

Well okay, maybe he was also under the impression she could not speak and thought she was a wild animal that somehow made its way into his home? Well if he did, this was very stupid of him!

A poor man acting like this with the Terror Boar might have gotten him killed. Or maybe not, it had been fairly docile before Alexander shot it.

Hmmm… well if he’s going to stay frozen and hope she goes away, they would get nowhere. He came to her door and knocked — that suggested she was who he was looking for and he had a duty.

But it was far too early to be managing all the poise Mother always had with speaking to rude strangers. So she settled on keeping her words short.

“Yes?”

Well that made him jump. Not the best response but movement was an improvement from barely even breathing, eyes not even blinking in terror.

Still no explanation for why he woke her up. Just mouth opening and closing.

Maybe more words would help? That’s how talking worked? Jewel’s interrupted sleep was not helping her thinking.

“Why are you here?”

More silent gaping like a fish plucked from the river. Not very helpful, Jewel was starting to feel bad for the poor man. Maybe he was actually mute? Or perhaps simple?

There was an insult there regarding something but it was too early to unknot the implication. Ugh why was he here before sunrise?! He was still using a candle to light his way!

“Were you sent for Lady Jewel?”

That caused an expression of realization and a strangled throat noise followed by desperate looking nodding.

Jewel blinked and yawned again, What time even was it?! Too early to be doing anything she was sure.

“Ah... Well good job... you have found her. Was there a reason why?”

More nodding and strangled throat noises and panicked looking at every single part of her face. Jewel decided to see if this was the situation that some rubbing her eyes helped with; she had seen everyone else do it but still did not understand the reason.

Not like yawning, which was invigorating and a great stretch of the tongue and jaws.

Still no answer, Jewel was pretty sure they had sent a mute servant to get her.

Because otherwise this was possibly one of the worst reactions Jewel had ever seen someone have to her before. She’d gotten less trouble from babies who couldn't speak! Maybe she was doing something wrong in her bedraggled state?

Was she sticking her tongue out?

No, tongue was in the right place, she checked her teeth for something between them.

Ugh, she was going to have to guess.

“Did my Father call for me?”

A head shaking and more throat squeezing too tight and a few grunted words.

“Something else? Some kind of trouble?”

More nodding. And then shaking. So no emergency? What reason could there be to wake up and then come get her?

Before sunrise even began?

Wait...

That smell.

It was cooked egg and porridge and honey drifting faintly off his robes.

Could that mean?!

This EARLY?!

Jewel spoke the words hesitantly and slowly, hoping to hold back the anger from her throat.

This was absurd! Who did this before sunrise?!

“Is it time…”

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

Who could possibly want to live like this?

But the sudden eager nodding and slight vocalization was damning.

“...for breakfast?”

More nodding.

Bother.

Jewel nodded, but she wanted to sigh, this was not enough time sleeping! But they were here at the grace of their hosts and it would be grave insult to refuse a meal offered.

“Very well, lead the way.”

Which got a grateful nod and a bow as he continued to mutter and squeak out things that might be attempting to be words.

His eyes glanced over her as she continued to emerge from the room for several seconds before quickly turning away, straightening his back like Footmen working drills and marching the front of her down the hall and away from the many doors all presumably leading to further narrow rooms.

They strode by them and Jewel found herself spooking other (possibly?) servants or staff in identical robes.

All of them walking (some sleepily stumbling) in the same direction.

They arrived once more to the room where they had the evening supper before, but the tables had been rearranged and added too.

One set in the center line, at the farthest end of the long hall from the entrance door. Eight of them arranged down the hall with many more stools for seating and again the air was filled with the scent and light of burning wax candles. The extravagant expenses surrounding her baffled imagination.

The tables were set with absolutely delicious-smelling covered wooden pots of food but no one was eating or even sitting. They all stood and once again Jewel was struck by the similarity to the temple.

Was it a Temple?

Jewel knew a few god keepers and other such lived in Temples but never this many!

Also, a Temple was for a village! Where were the villagers?

No, it can’t be a temple.

But looking at the stone work and the windows it was very similar. But the only figures gathered here were the men in brown robes, quite a lot of them in fact. Maybe seventy or more Jewel saw as she followed her guide to a table at the head of the others and found Father with one of the Brown-robed men between them at the obvious place of leadership/honor to the whole ceremony.

Tsugotholan and Bromthil were already there at the nearer tables but not at a pride of place seating like Jewel and her Father. There was a murmuring quiet of people moving slowly into the space. Followed by a pause before Kraok arrived with his own guide stepping a bit unsteadily into the room with his dinner clothes rumpled on him.

He found a place near Bromthil standing by the tables and Jewel made the necessary shifting and adjustments to take her own place. Although technically she was laying on the ground instead of standing at seeming attention like everyone else, this brought no comment from anyone.

Only then after Jewel had settled into a comfortable lounging pile over herself with head just slightly lower than Father’s own standing height was it apparently time to begin.

The man in the brown robes between them — who, judging by her nose, was definitely Abbot Herbort (although from this angle she could not see his face) — raised a hand and all the subtle murmuring fell silent.

One of the figures at the entryway of the hall unrolled a scroll of vellum which was a bit too old and far away to identify if it was from Rochford lambs or not.

And then the far figure spoke, presumably reciting from it.

But it was not some ceremonial address as she had been expecting.

It was something like music or singing, it had a character similar to it. And there were sounds like words.

The voice of the ‘crier’ rose deep and low with rumbling change.

It made the air flicker and twist in presences that Jewel could feel tingling the same way that her Wyrmfire danced itself.

It was like little spinning rings, each no bigger than a finger.

And then the first voice was joined by the others. First one and then all the dozens of men. The pitch shifted and the calls became clear and Jewel could feel the not quite wyrmfire sparkling and shining like kindling in the air.

The light of the candles catching in the spiraling rings and being pulled into a sparkling, almost liquid radiance through the air with them.

The Bog Wizard had grown still, bright violet eye following the motions of the rings as they spun and moved, in weft to the songs and voices rising.

Pulled together into stacks around the rooms and then columns weaving those stacks together and then those further joined over on top each other and twisted further into growing shapes of cascading light.

Slowly, each voice petered off. Leaving the scroll bearer to continue and his voice alone guided the resultant columns. Moving them gently, adjusting their placement.

Only for old, well-worn throats to rise and join his and in their new song grasp the light in the air and the effervescent current of flame beneath before and within it to further dance and stack together.

It reminded Jewel a lot of watching the peasants pulling together hay in the harvest, busheling up the not quite wyrmfire before her and as a result carrying golden light with it into kind of radiant stacks of woven light and flame.

Bromthil and Kraok were trying to hold themselves still but they were very tense.

But Father just smelled bored and Tsugotholan, while interested, did not move as if there was any danger.

The singing continued and the old throats petered off until at last there was but a single column stacked and pressed in rings of wyrmfire close enough she could have nipped it with her teeth.

Tall as the room itself and almost as wide as Abbot Herbort’s shoulders, settling in front of him like a slowly drifting feather as the voices all fell silent.

And then slowly, with the precision and care of an elder farmer at harvest with sickle in hand Abbot Herbort brought hands and fingers into the spinning torrent of wyrmfire rings. Touching and brushing them, flicking and moving the corded, ropelike spirals that had been fashioned by the throats of the robed figures present.

And then his voice took up song and where every one of them had kept low and gravely, his soared: it rose like flight, like wind over summer fields and as he called he tilted back his head, his hands shooting upward in a rush and as one in voice and hand the column was carried and soured up above him, pulling Jewel’s gaze to the path that shot up what she had originally thought solid stone above.

But there was a glass window set there, perfectly circular and the torrent of light and spiraling fire shot up as one into it and then in a rush were gone leaving only the dark of night that fell upon them like a blanket.

The rush of air that had pulled with the column had snuffed out every candle and doused the room in darkness and the gentle scent of smoke and tantalizing breakfast.

It was quiet there in the room, but for shallow barely audible breathing.

Darkness.

And then in silvery shine the windows began to light up with the rising sun, filtering in as if in gentle answer to the radiance that had been sent out.

And Jewel saw every figure in robes relaxing, breathing a sigh of relief as it touched them.

All but Abbot Herbort who was watching her and the way the dawn slipped from the windows and filtered in and onto her scale.

It was very strange, this dawn. It didn't welcome her the way she was used too.

Jewel looked down and frowned with Abbot Herbort. This was odd. The fresh sunlight seemed dim on her scales and the heat felt anemic as well. Tired and distant, somehow?

She looked back to him and saw a strange expression.

A deeply upset frown was there for a moment, long enough that others were turning to look at her as well.

Which was itself almost as uncomfortable as their faces. Some confused, others (now that she paid attention) groggy and tired, unused to the early hour.

But among all the older faces an equally deep concern mirrored Abbot Herbort.

Jewel looked back at her scales in befuddlement before she realized what it must be, well that made sense! There must be very heavy clouds this morning for the light to feel so weak and timid on her. That was going to be rough traveling and possibly even rain.

Perfectly good reason to frown so much.

Jewel gave him a soft smile and a nod for his concern.

For his part, the Abbot Herbort raised a brow for some reason then shook his head and turned back to the rest of the room and raised his hands again.

This time the movements were in a far less precise gesture than last time, and he spoke as he had at their welcoming feast, losing the incredible soaring beauty.

Dronning and dull and a little raspy from strain.

As soon as he was starting to utter a word he was joined by all the other robed men around them. Jewel imagined it was to help muffle how absolutely boring his usual speaking voice was.

“Once more offered.”

Their voices filled the space to join the dawn silver glow that now flowed in from every window.

“Once more accepted.”

They lowered their heads and their hands went to their hearts. Jewel felt like she somehow should bow too but Kraok, Father, Bromthil and Tsugotholan simply stood, so she did as well.

“Thanks and Praise to the Silver Lady on this day as always for all her gifts and blessings.”

And finally with that, everyone sat down and they proceeded to eat the absolutely wonderfully smelling breakfast!

Honey was again very prominent. And they served their eggs somehow both solid and runny at once!

The white all pristine and stiff but the yolk thick and running like some kind of buttery blood syrup of the richest orange! It was really a very different experience to eat it like that instead of all mixed together and springy yellow or whole, raw and slimy like Jewel had eaten it before.

And this porridge?!

She took a solid double of her usual breakfast portions and was thanking everyone for the treat, be damned their strange looks!

It had been uncomfortable and annoying but if waking up before dawn and doing something strange with wyrmfire and light in the morning was part of having breakfast like this?!

Well Jewel might do it every ten or so days.

As a treat.

She was just finishing her third helping when her wings twitched in the sudden sharp warmth of a welcoming new dawn and had to pause in confusion.

Surely the sun had been up and shining strangely silver for most of breakfast already?

But there on her wing was the warmth of an early dawn just peaking free and full.

What?

But if it was dawn now.

What happened to signal breakfast?