duties.
'I'll bring basins for washing. There are various articles of clothing in the chests. I'll be happy to care for your garments. Just leave them in a pile after you've changed,' he said, nodding and walking backward toward the door. He slipped out without another sound.
Within the chests, they found neat stacks of garments. Other than size, they were all very similar, made with a light, soft material Catrin could not identify, whose color ranged from white to tan. She raided the other chests for garments in her size, and she soon had an ample wardrobe stored in her chest. The others had similar success, but the search had left their quarters in disarray-the pristine cabin suddenly looked as if a storm had struck. Catrin was just about to start cleaning up when Pelivor returned.
He carried four clay water basins, a large wooden pitcher, and a stack of soft, white towels. He nodded to Catrin over the towels as he set them down. She was impressed he managed it all in one trip, but the mess also embarrassed her. Pelivor's face registered no surprise, though. He immediately began folding and stacking the piles of clean garments. Catrin rushed to help him, but he seemed shocked.
'Please enjoy yourself. I'll just tidy these up. No need for you to bother with it. Would you like me to bring a washbasin into your room?' He walked to the basins, filled one, and questioned Catrin with his eyes as to which room she had chosen. He placed the washbasin in the room she indicated, handed her three soft towels, and returned to folding clothes.
The others, except Chase, who waited for Catrin to finish, were pouring water for themselves as she closed her door. It felt wonderful to get clean, and the moment of privacy was a luxury in itself. She took longer than she should have, but she felt refreshed and renewed when she finally emerged. Comfortable in her snug-fitting trousers and lightweight shirt, she had no more qualms about using the furniture.
'Thanks for being quick about it,' Chase said with a twinkle in his eyes and a playful swat at her shoulder. Wrinkling her nose, she kept him at a distance. He smirked and went off to get clean.
Pelivor made several more trips, bringing them platters of fresh fruit, cheeses, and hard bread. Another trip yielded a case of the deep red wines favored by Kenward and his family. The rest of the evening was the most pleasant time Catrin had spent in far too long: she was clean and comfortable, her stomach was full, and she was relatively safe. The possibility of being discovered gave her some anxiety, but it seemed unlikely, and she put it from her mind.
Loaded with empty platters, Pelivor excused himself for the night, saying he would be back in the morning. No one said much for a while. They were content to relax or nap on the comfortable cushions and feather beds, though Chase said he had grown accustomed to the hammock and retired to their room.
Soon the novelty of leisure wore off, and the group began to systematically read all the books written in High Common. Catrin had been confused at first, having never heard the language she spoke given a name.
'Most nations speak High Common,' Benjin said. 'In the past, it was only the Zjhon who spoke Zjhonlander, but their influence has spread, and most people of the Greatland now speak both languages. Very few people understand the Old Tongue or High Script. Pelivor is quite a rarity.'
Pelivor would accept no credit for his accomplishments. He would only say he was fortunate to have received a fine education. His self-effacing attitude annoyed Catrin. She could not stand to see such a bright and talented person think so little of himself, and she was determined to convince him of his self-worth. He seemed to sense her desire and was unnerved by it. She asked him pointed, personal questions and watched as he squirmed uncomfortably while attempting to formulate suitably humble responses.
Benjin and the others almost seemed to have sympathy for Pelivor, and they gave him advice on how to handle women. Their advice, however, seemed to disturb him more than Catrin's constant probing, and he often appeared to be fleeing as he departed their company, which seemed to amuse the men.
Catrin enlisted Pelivor's help in getting herbs for Chase. His shoulder still pained him, and Pelivor happily accepted the task. The next day he arrived with a special tea for Chase. Catrin would have preferred the herbs themselves, but she decided to trust Pelivor's judgment. However, she kept a close watch on Chase's condition just as a precaution.
'We should set sail by nightfall,' Pelivor said on his next visit, and excitement rippled through the cabin. The journey ahead would be long, and everyone was anxious to be under way.
Pelivor became slightly bolder over time, and he spent most of his days helping them learn different languages. He concentrated on Zjhonlander, which Catrin found quite easy to learn. She made a mental mapping of each word in High Common and its Zjhonlander equivalent. It was easier for her to learn proper sentence structure, verb conjugation, and other linguistic nuances when she already knew many of the words and their meanings. Still, Pelivor insisted she learn to speak in three different ways, depending on where she was.
'There are many dialects and accents,' he said. 'If you wish to fit in wherever you go, you must not speak like a Southlander when in northern Mundleboro.'
Before long, Catrin could speak passably with each accent, but some of the others struggled. While Pelivor worked more with them, Catrin picked up a book written in Zjhonlander but found it depressing. The other Zjhonlander books had a similar effect on her. They seemed to be written with the intention of making her feel inadequate and unimportant. More like propaganda than stories, they told her she should be thankful her betters were in control of her life and destiny.
One, in particular, raised her ire; it was among the newest and most recently written. On the cover, an embossed image portrayed Istra and Vestra in their immortal embrace. The now familiar symbol of the Zjhon triggered her initial anxiety, but the words within infuriated her, defying everything she'd ever been taught. Descriptions of the Statues of Terhilian made them sound as if they would be the salvation of mankind, if only they could be found. Everything Catrin had been taught about the statues portrayed them as terrifying weapons disguised as gifts from the gods.
'What do you know of the Statues of Terhilian?' she asked Pelivor, but he seemed hesitant to answer.
'I know very little about them,' he said after a long pause, 'but I know a great deal about what other people believe to be true. The statues are the source of the greatest and deadliest debate our kind has ever known. It would be presumptuous of me to offer any information as fact. Some believe the statues will destroy the world; others believe just as strongly they will save it. I remain unconvinced by either argument.'
'Another unanswerable question,' Catrin said as she put the book aside.
Disgusted with Zjhonlander writings, she convinced Pelivor to help her learn High Script. 'In ancient times,' he said, 'the spoken language was much different from written language, and even in those days, High Script was understood by only a very small part of the population. We will concentrate on the written.' He taught her how to form each of the symbols, and the sheer number of them, many of which were only slight variations of others, discouraged her.
'You mustn't make the strokes in the wrong direction; it distorts the character,' Pelivor said as he watched over her shoulder. Over time, she came to see that it did.
It took much longer for her to grasp the intricacies of the archaic language, and many of the concepts seemed foreign to her, but she persisted nonetheless. Once she gained a rudimentary understanding of the language, she attempted to read books written in High Script, but they were confusing. Most contained accounts of family bloodlines and little else. Often, when she asked Pelivor what specific words meant, they were names of places, people, or families.
The books written in High Common were a luxury; most were tales of adventure and intrigue with happy endings. Nothing in them would help her prepare for the Greatland, though, so she pressed on with her studies.
Strom and Osbourne both gained passable knowledge of Zjhonlander, but Vertook steadfastly refused. He had tried at first, but no one spoke his native dialect; thus, it was much more difficult for him to learn. Catrin doubted Vertook would ever be mistaken for a native of the Greatland, and it probably didn't matter anyway. If they kept him disguised, perhaps he could be convinced to remain mute.
Boredom plagued the men. They didn't share her passion for books and needed some other way to occupy themselves.
'Any chance you could find us some dice?' Benjin asked Pelivor one afternoon.
