Ralph heard something else in his tone of voice. ‘That’s why Gannet thinks I’m a waste of his time; he has that to worry about.’
‘Gannet,’ Birin told him, ‘has no love of assassins. And he has absolutely no patience with any form of weakness, which in his view, and mine, we can ill-afford.’
That evening, after spending the remainder of the day at his forge, Ralph returned to his quarters in anticipation of a hot bath. Along the way, he met a servant in the hall, and mentioned his desire to her, a little uncomfortably, not liking this element of class distinction which existed in Mirrindale. The girl, however, seemed only too happy to pass along his wishes to the “proper” person or persons who executed that particular duty.
Or so he thought.
However, a matter of fifteen or twenty minutes after he entered his quarters and flopped into a comfortable, overstuffed chair to rest, the same girl, accompanied by another, entered his apartment, each pushing a wooden cart. The top of the first wooden cart, he saw, consisted of trays which held implements: combs, clippers, and various devices, the use or function of which was unknown to him; beneath this was a set of drawers, which he was to discover contained linens such as towels and washcloths; the bottom held two enormous earthenware ewers full of steaming water. The second cart was smaller, having an identical pair of the large earthenware ewers sitting on its base, and a pair of bowls set into the top.