The Knight's Eyes

35: VOLUME IV

He stuffed his dusting supplies into his designated supply closet around the corner from the kitchen's side door. He glanced down at his fingers, rough and red from dust and polish oils. He rolled out the tension in his shoulders. A nice hot bath sounded good about now. However, he would have to persuade someone to gather and heat up the water for him. And like past times when he was younger- most likely before he turned 20- he'd have to have someone close by just in case he happened to drown.

He exited the congested closet and closed the door. Down the hall the sound of rubbing chains and scrapping arose. The hoist was descending. He approached the hoist big enough to fit two people with carts of food or cartons of laundry. On its right was the dark staircase that led to the upper floors for the servants and waiters.

He watched the hoist shudder downward and lock firm to the ground. Kaahiss released the chain wheel operator and huffed with exhaustion.

"Tell me about it," Alsin grinned recalling the times he had to roll the handle to keep the hoist from slipping downward.

The raptor seemed to grin, but he turned away to his crate of laundry. "I need you to take this to the laundry room. We will do the laundry on the First Day."

"So you're helping?" Alsin asked, shifting feet.

"Yes, I suppose," he muttered pushing the crate off the hoist.

Alsin grabbed hold onto the handle and nodded, "Alright. I have it."

"Did you finish dusting-,"

"-and polishing. Yes." Alsin said pushing the crate towards the glass doors, which always were propped open.

He didn't know where the raptor disappeared to and he could care less. He continued rolling the cart outside into the courtyard. The setting sun above told him he had been dusting and polishing all day. Doing tasks by oneself was tedious and time consuming. He did have a light lunch, which made his stomach growl the more for what Abebe had in store for dinner.

He glanced into the fenced in garden and saw no one. Even the kitchen doors were closed. It was indeed the last day of the week. Tomorrow he could sleep in and never leave his room. Hopefully, the witch or Kaahiss wouldn't create some punishing task for him to do for attempting to kill Nightingale. He threw his eyes to the golden bronze sky and halted at the laundry room door. After a few minutes of holding the door open and sliding the cart inside and placing it in its proper place, he exited with a song on his mind.

"Sing, sweet, child of mines. Sing, sweet child of mines," he whispered thinking about what he should do tomorrow other than sleep. Maybe find something to practice his swordplay skills. One of his trainers at the Armshood once said, A soldier who goes one week without practicing could loose his skill. Already, it's been two weeks and his footsteps were feeling lighter without his armor, and his waist felt naked, and his right hand felt cramped.

A creaking sound echoed through the courtyard. He halted and looked around the courtyard now littered with shadows. He was about to ask, "Who goes there," when the creaking sound erupted a few more times. Alsin glanced back at the propped doors then to the opposite edge of the courtyard. The woods from where he stood already looked like a black sea.

He pressed his body against the pool house wall and made his way to the end. Whispering voices could be heard at the bottom section of the yard. He knelt and drew closer. He peered down the steps and his gaze immediately noticed the slouched over Stein.

What is he doing?

The slim helper of Nightingale was partially leaning through the gate's door. An eerie feeling erupted around him as he stared at the wraith he was talking to. This wraith matched Stein's slim form, except he had a pointed triangular beard, slit angry eyes, pointed ears, and a tilted hat. Like Curl and Casper it was obvious he wore a cloak and had long hair blowing in the breeze.