Lady Maribelle ascended the Guest Bedroom stairs, previously the Dungeons. She and Dottie had already stripped the Bulwark Coveralls off and been doused in vinegar. It seemed the whole castle smelled of pickles.
“It seems to work…” Dottie sounded reluctant to admit it.
“They were a lot rougher with him than they were with me. It is quite comfortable, I admit.” She couldn’t get the image out of her mind of the man falling as they led him down the stairs. He had been suspended by the collar. She shivered.
“If the numbers hold up, it’s only one in twenty that actually become problem cases.” Dottie was reading from her clipboard.
“That’s still going to be two hundred and fifty more from the guests we have. There are more coming every day,” said Lady Maribelle. They were rounding the corner into the Gaoler’s Hall. She pointed. “Have that sign changed to ‘Guest Bedrooms’, please.”
Dottie’s pen scribbled. “Absolutely. This afternoon we have the envoy from Kalden, of course. We have kept them waiting already.”
“I don’t care about them. Has the envoy from the Plains returned? News of Coretta?” She quickened her pace.
“No. But the one from Ariland has.” Dottie smiled. “I wanted you to meet with them personally, but you had your demonstration. I am glad they were absent.”
Maribelle looked over. “What news of Ziggy and Aveline? Will they send their forces?”
“No one goes in or out. A runner brought Ziggy to the border. Their troops will not be joining Ormand’s foolishness.” Dottie climbed after her, following to Maribelle’s bedroom.
“He can’t bring soldiers down from the ‘Gats. That would be lunacy. Fairfield has none. Switforst is with us. Kisten is, of course, indisposed.” Maribelle opened the door to her bedroom.
“Sixteen battalions in Kalden. According to our latest intelligence.” Dottie followed her into the room.
Maribelle turned to her wardrobe. “You said he sent soldiers this time? Tired of the reports of old men, I wager.”
“A squad and a captain.” Dottie flipped back a page on her clipboard.
Maribelle stripped out of her vinegar-soaked rough spun. “Battle armor, then?”
“That’s your answer to everything.”
“I mean the real finery.” She pushed the clothes aside and opened a panel in the wardrobe. Maribelle pulled out a corset lined with overlapping copper plate. The outside shone with gold silk.
Dottie nodded. “I see. Shall I put on mine as well?”
“No point in being underdressed.”