After sloshing plenty of rain water down the waste shaft - and over Rastellion's uncle - Immalaine scrubs her arms, then heads toward the kitchens, her mind awhirl. They'd found her! And Rastellion ... he'd be here soon. And they'd find her a way out!
She nearly blurts out the news to Mary, but cooks' terse orders and the sharp eye of her ever-present guard remind Immalaine that she has to get Mary alone to ask for her aid. If Sallastin were to discover that help was on the way? She shudders at the thought.
So Immalaine swallows her words all morning. Only after the luncheon chores are done does she find a chance to speak privately with the other girl, when Mary comes to check the hem of the wedding dress. The guard waits outside for this; Immalaine's bedroom, with its barred door and windowless walls, is as good as any prison. Which, Immalaine thinks bitterly, is precisely what it is.
Mary pushes the low stool to the middle of the room, tosses the dress to Immalaine, and begins to sort through her bag of sewing materials. "It's mostly ready," she explains, distractedly, "just got to check it hangs evenly before I make it final. If it doesn't look perfect, won't be you the master punishes..."
Immalaine gives the creamy satin a scowl before beginning to change into it. As she struggles to pull it over her body, she decides to gauge Mary's mood. “You know he's not interested in me, jus' my farm,” she says, as she tugs on the dress. “I'm in no better place than you are right now.”
Mary shrugs. "It’s not so bad. As long as he doesn't get angry. And it'll be even better for you when you're married." She starts rummaging in her basket. "Not like there's any way out, anyhow."
Struggling to get up onto the stool, Immalaine continues. “Times like this I wish I still had my ma. She died when I was jus' four, don't remember a lot about her.” Immalaine puts her arms out to steady herself, before dropping them back at her sides again. “Do you miss your ma, being here?” she asks Mary. “You said he owns her house?”
Mary nods, still digging into her basket. "He says if I behave, nothing bad'll happen to Mother, but if ever ... ah!" She breaks off with an exclamation of discovery. "Knew I'd put them in here." She glances at the door, making sure it’s shut, then turns to Immalaine.
"Cook burned two of the fancy meat pies at lunch," she whispers, stepping closer. "Not bad - just needed some scraping - but not fit to serve." She holds up the two pastries. "Cook was going to save them for herself, but I told her I'd thrown them out, since I'd heard her say they were ruined."
Mary drops her eyes. "You were kind t' look after me, before, when... well, I thought we'd share these when I'm done." She flashes a shy smile at Immalaine, and sets the pies on the small table beside Immalaine's bed. "They'll keep here 'til then."
Immalaine returns Mary's smile as she sets the pies down, the smell of the slightly charred crust starting to waft through the room. Her stomach clenches and she takes a few quick breaths. “You must miss her? Bein' here, not bein' able to see her?”
Mary shrugs again and returns to her basket. "If I've been good, he lets me go visit her every few weeks. As long as I'm here workin' for him, he says, he'll not demand what's owing on the rent. It’s more than I could make, otherwise." She turns, holding a small stick of charcoal. "Stand up straight; I need to mark where it's not even."
Immalaine stands up taller and looks ahead at the wall. The scent of the pies is still making her feel vaguely sick, and she shakes her head to clear it. She has to tell Mary about the rescue. "What if I told you that you might be able to see her whenever you want? That there might actually be a way out of her?" Immalaine asks quietly.
Mary doesn't look up as she circle Immalaine slowly, making small marks on the dress' hem. "There isn't," she says, softly. "You, he's got chained up. Me, well, his men would do worse to Mother than just throw her onto the street. He's said." Now she does glance up, briefly, to meet Immalaine's gaze before returning to her work. "Best put those thoughts out of your head. No one's going to help us. And it's not that bad. Not that bad."
Immalaine takes a deep breath and instantly regrets it as the vague feeling of sickness grow stronger. “But … there is a way out! My friends … Rastellion … they're coming to get me. And you too, and … and ..” Immalaine pauses, covering her mouth with her hand as she tries to control the feeling of nausea.
Mary pauses at this sudden news, charcoal poised, and sits back on her haunches, looking up intently. She shakes her head. "You mentioned him before. But, Immalaine... it's no good imagining things could be different. It... it just hurts to pretend."
"But it's not imagining, and it's not pretend!" Immalaine replies, shaking her hand. "They’re coming; I know this for truth. Rastellion's uncle, he talked to me this morning. And he said they'd come back for me!" Immalaine blurts out her news, excitedly remembering the conversation. "So ... so it's real!"
Mary shakes her head. "Immalaine, no one gets in here. Not without the master knowing."
Immalaine closes her eyes and lets out an exasperated breath. “I'm tellin' you they’ll come. An' they'll help you as well. You'll be free. We'll both be free!” She opens her eyes and looks down at the girl again, silently pleading with her.
Mary sighs, frustrated. "Immalaine, you had a dream, that's all. Stand still and let me finish. I want to eat that pie before the guard comes in and takes them for himself." She lifts her charcoal again.
Frustrated, Immalaine stomps her foot on the stool, causing it to wobble. "I did not imagine it and it weren't a dream! I saw him myself, when I was emptyin' the night buckets! He spoke to me in the privy shed jus' this mornin'!" Immalaine reaches up and rubs her forehead. "They are coming! Rastellion ... he's coming for me."
The charcoal rolls away, unnoticed, as Mary stares up at Immalaine, wide-eyed. "You mean... you really saw? But the privy? How'd he get past the guards?"
Immalaine quickly nods. "He climbed up from beneath. I'm not sure how. But he was there an' he said he'd get me ... us out. That he'd bring back Rastellion and others, and .. " Immalaine pauses as another wave of nausea hits her and she finds herself unable to continue.
A flurry of expressions washes over Mary's face: shock, disbelief, hope, fear. She stutters a few times, but then shakes her head and reaches for the charcoal. "No, there's no way," she whispers. "No way. You saw what he did, in the hall, to that man .. what he said..." She swallows, and continues with more resolve. "And he'd hurt my mother if I was disobedient, if I ... tried to escape."
"Mary, please. I know they can get us out. I need ... I need your .. help ..." Immalaine clumsily staggers down from the stool and onto her knees. "It is possible. An' if ... they can rescue ... us then ... then we could get your ma too."
Mary gives a small cry of alarm as Immalaine half-tumbles down. She stands, pulling Immalaine to her feet as well. "Careful, you'll ruin it! Here, I marked enough. Raise your arms." She starts helping Immalaine out of the dress.
"Immalaine, I promise not to tell him ... but, Immalaine ... no. I already lost my baby to him. Not going to lose my mother too." She finishes lifting the dress free and starts to fold it up. "And you shouldn't be thinking this way either. Go have one of the pies. You'll feel better with more food in you."
Immalaine reaches for the plain dress laying on the bed, frustrated. If she couldn't convince Mary to help her ... But she had to. She’d told Ceolfred that the girl would help. Still mulling it over, she steps over to the small table where the pies lie. But her stomach rolling at the mere thought of eating them.
Mary joins her a few moments later, having packed away her charcoal and set the folded dress aside. She forces a smile. "See, it's not so bad, not really." She frowns as she studies Immalane's face. "You look pale."
Immalaine stares down at the meat pies, trying to want to eat one for Mary's sake. The girl had, after all, been kind enough to offer to share them. But the greasy, burnt smell makes her stomach feel like it’s in knots. "I ..." she started, turning to Mary as the girl looked at her with a hint of alarm in her eyes, "I ... oh!" Immalaine runs to the corner of the room and heaves into the chamber-pot though, since it's been hours since her last meal, not much seems to come out.
Mary hurries after her and puts a tentative hand on her shoulder. "What's wrong? You sick?
Between choking breaths, Immalaine continues to heave until the knots in her stomach finally loosen. As she sits back on her heels, she looks over to Mary and shakes her head. "I don't know," she says. "I've not been feelin' well the past couple of days. My stomach hurts for no reason." Immalaine sighs and brushes a stray hair out of her face.
Mary squats down in front of Immalaine, studying her critically, then putting a hand to Immalaine's forehead. "Immalaine," she says, cautiously; "when'd you last have your monthly?"
For a moment, it doesn't register what Mary has asked. But as Immalaine's mind clears, she furrows her brow, taken aback by the question. "Why, it was ... it was ..." She struggles to recall the time, and shakes her head in the process. "It was ... sometime before Yule, I reckon. About a fortnight before? Maybe more .. but why?"
Mary takes and squeezes Immalaine's hand. "Immalaine, I think you - maybe - are pregnant. My first month, I couldn't eat any..." She breaks off, a sudden spasm of memory contorting her expression, and her grip on the other girl's hand tightens painfully. "Is it his?" she whispers. "Sallastin's?"
Immalaine shakes her head violently. "No! Sallastin he's not ... he's not touched me like that. Not this time. An' the only man I've been like that with is ..." Immalaine's eyes widen at the thought. "Rastellion ..." she whispers, then looks down at her belly with a mixture of disbelief and amazement. "I'm ... I could be ... havin' Rastellion's baby?" she asks.
There's a bump as Mary suddenly sits down on the floor, her eyes gone wide. "Not his then. The master will never let you keep it. It'll be just like mine..." Her fists clench her dress and she stares down at the floor between them.
"Rastellion's baby," Immalaine whispers again, as Mary's words slowly filter through her jumbled thoughts. “Your ... your baby ... what do you mean, like yours?" she asks, turning wide eyed to look at Mary.
Mary doesn't look up. "I was pregnant when he found me, too," she says, almost in a whisper. "When the babe was born, he took it away. Sent it to friends in Angmar. He said it was for fostering ... that my son would have a better life." She swallows. "Was only later that I learned that the Angmarans ... that they sacrifice babies. In their magics."
Immalaine's eyes widen in horror, and she wraps her arms around her middle. "Mary, no!” she blurts, her voice edged with renewed desperation. "Please. If I'm pregnant ... my baby. I have to get out of here. To save my baby!" She chokes back a sob.
Mary's hands shake as they clench her skirt. She doesn't reply for nearly a minute - then asks, in a small voice, still not looking up, "Your friends. Would they help my mother? Take her somewhere safe?"
"Yes, I'll make sure of it." Immalaine replies. "I know you’d not leave her behind any more than I'd leave my own ma."
Mary nods once, more of a convulsive jerk of the head than anything. "Then … I'll help you," she whispers, "for the baby's sake." She looks up finally and meets Immalaine's eyes. "I'll help you escape."
(Credits and love go to Rastellion, who provided the voice of various characters in the stories. *Blows kisses to Rastellion and grins widely*)
