Chapter 28 – Silly Words

Lillia’s disaster with the dress hadn’t dissuaded Thorne from being…rather forward in fact, it might have encouraged her. After the incdient she’d been very clear about her interest in both Lillia’s fashion and Lillia herself.

Lillia tried to ensure Thorne knew that both were appreciated in their own way. The woman had done legitimately wonderful things with leather. Lillia just didn’t like drawing the connection between the two interests. The longer it went on, the less sure Lillia was that Thorne’s casual brushes were a negotiation tactic.

Thorne had treated the back room where the chitterpede had been as if it were an actual storage room. She ventured in, shutting the door behind her, and came back out with the potions first. Then told Lillia that she was going to need a minute to get the weapon together.

And that she would meet her downstairs on the third.

The third-floor landing was simpler than even the second had been. The gray flagstone from the cathedral floor had spread here as well, with one notable difference. The dust on the floor was thicker than it had been above. Lillia’s first step onto the third came with a small cloud of dust and several clumps that skittered away from her feet.

Had no one been down here? Had Sir Nobody ever gotten down here? Were there people here between him and Lillia?

Lillia looked at the three doors. The first was an unassuming wooden door inlaid deep into the wall, deeper than it should have been. The second was a stone slab, barely carved from the wall itself, and contained the same etching pattern as the wall’s bricks with no clear way to open it. The third was a towering thing of black metal. At the top of the third door, there was a window covered with thick iron bars.

Notably, there was no stairway down from the third.

Just as Lillia finished surveying the floor, she heard the tapping of Thorne’s boots on the stairs behind her.

“Figured out what I was giving you for the carcass,” Thorne said as Lillia turned. The woman was carrying a polearm in the bottom two arms, a polished wooden handle, and a long slashing bladed end. It was different from any spear Lillia had ever seen. But she’d only ever seen the ones in the barracks. “Figured it was appropriate.”

“Thank you, Thorne,” Lillia said. “That’s very kind of you.” Lillia had realized over the course of their conversation she was speaking to Thorne in a higher register than she had to Havoc or to herself during her time in the dungeon. She knew what it was. It was her courtly voice, the kind she used to speak to someone proper.

Thorne handed over the polearm and Lillia accepted it. It was warm where the Huntsmaster’s hands had been. “Ain’t too kind to me. I’m getting something out of it. Don’t you go telling people I’ve gotten soft.”

“There is nobody for me to tell,” Lillia said. “But I won’t tell a soul.”

“Good.”

“I will say everyone I’ve been able to speak to down here has been…I wouldn’t call it pleasant. You’re probably the closest to that. But at least capable of kindness.”

“You probably just throw everyone off, is all, sugar.” Thorne said. She slipped in beside Lillia on the step as she said it. “Usually a lot of aggression comes through those doors and then—Well, I don’t know how to say this kindly, but there is some charm to the bumblin’.”

Lillia nodded. In a better place, in more proper circumstances, she might have fought the bumbling accusations, but she couldn’t pretend she had been the picture of grace during her time in the dungeon. “Thank you again, Thorne.”

“Pleasure for both of us,” Thorne adjusted her hat, running her honey fingers along the blue brim. She’d put one of the Ambusher’s feathers in it. “Can’t wait to tear that beastie apart.”

“Yeah, that sounds like a…good time.” That was another part of courtly grace: respecting other people’s traditions.

“And that hobgoblin upstairs. Sure you want me to leave him together?”

“Yes,” Lillia said too fast.

“Alright, alright, I get it. Just thought I could pull some fangs out of him and give you a potion for the trouble.”

“No, thank you.”

“You know they’re pretty useful; you can use them—”

“Thorne, if I would like that information, I will ask for it later,” Lillia said. It was a diplomatic translation of “Ew, don’t tell me what to do with my friend’s teeth if I pull them out.”

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“Well, good luck then.” Thorne turned to leave.

“Wait, Thorne!” Lillia put a hand on the Huntsmaster’s shoulder, and the bee-woman caught it before it could escape. “Which door has the hearth?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Thorne said.

“You said you could help me.”

“I did. I have gotten you closer. And I gave you that lovely bardiche,” she pointed at the polearm. “I didn’t say I have much guidance.”

“But…you live here.”

“I live on the first sometimes,” she said, “And I hunt on the second in the hunting grounds you burned down.”

“Sorry about that.”

“It’ll reset, just rest a couple of times sooner rather than later so I don’t get too bored. Otherwise, I’ll have to come hunt you down.”

Lillia chuckled politely, even though she wasn’t 100% convinced that had been a joke. “If I accidentally let something out of a room again, I’ll give you a shout.”

Thorne shook her head, “Just be careful with that door in front of you. Don’t leave that one open on me.”

Lillia looked at the intimidating black door. For a second she swore she could hear skittering from the other side. “I’m going to assume that’s Nennia.”

“Her reputation precedes her.”

“You’re scared of her?”

“Don’t put that label on me. I’m the Huntsmaster. I’m not scared of anything. I just prefer not to.”