The sound of harp music drifted in from the rooms below, awakening her, but it was quite a pleasant awakening. The player had skill far beyond that of Lianne and Anastasia, skill certainly worthy of a Bard. For a moment, she stretched and relaxed in her bed, imagining for just one moment that she was somewhere other than here.

The illusion didn't last for long. Her reverie was almost instantly shattered as Lianne pounded savagely upon her door. "Rella!" her screeching voice demanded. "Get up! The guest we were expecting has arrived! Get up and get things ready for him, you stupid lazy slut!" Lianne's stomping footsteps echoed down the hall.

Why do they insist on calling me a slut when surely they know I haven't been anywhere near a male for more than two seconds since I was ten? she wondered, with a touch of ironic humor. "I'm up, I'm up," she called half-heartedly, rolling out of bed and landing on the floor with a thump.

So, their guest had arrived. Maybe I'll finally get to see who he is. I wonder--is he the one playing the harp? If he is, I hope he stays the night. It would be nice to wake up this way again.

Rising to her feet, she pulled on a plain linen dress that had once been white was now a sort of brownish-gray. Running a comb through her tangled hair, she heaved a sigh and emerged from her room.

As she emerged into the hallway, she could hear Rhianna's cultured voice from the direction of the entrance hall. "Surely you could make time to stay for dinner, Sir Bard. It would please my daughters and myself greatly, I assure you."

"I promise you, Mistress Rhianna, I would love to stay," a light, dancing voice replied. The voice was definitely male, with a light accent to it that spoke of country origins. All in all, it was a voice that was entirely pleasant to listen to, and Rella couldn't help but wonder if he sang as well as he played the harp. "However, I must soon be on the road again. I fear if I tarry here long enough for dinner, I will be late getting on my way, and I won't be able to find an inn willing to accept a customer so late in the evening."

"Why then, Sir Bard, we would be glad to extend our hospitality to you for the night, if it pleases you."

"Indeed, how could I deny the chance to spend the night in a house with such a lovely mistress?"

Rhianna chuckled. Taking a chance, Rella took a peek around the corner into the entrance hall.

A young man stood before Rhianna, dressed in a white shirt and tan breeches, with the scarlet tunic and overrobe of a Bard. He carried a harpcase under his arm--he was the one playing the harp--and his brown hair came down to his shoulders, somewhat long to be considered quite in fashion. He didn't look too much older than Rella herself.

"Rella!" Anastasia called--whined, really. Turning, she found Anastasia right behind her. "Go tell the cooks to prepare lunch and dinner for an extra person, halfwit. After that, the chimney needs to be scrubbed, the windows need to be washed, and Lianne and I have gowns from yesterday that need to be washed, too. Did you get the room ready for our guest last night?"

"Yes, milady," she sighed, bobbing hastily into a curtsy before Anastasia could claim she was being insolent.

"Well then, you have work to do! What are you waiting for?!"

Rella curtsied again and scurried off obediently, entirely glad for an excuse to leave before Anastasia could think of anything else for her to do. Navigating the hallways with ease, she came to the kitchen in record time. Cook, looking up, saw who it was and smiled. "'Ello, girly," she said. "Come ta break yer fast, such as it is, eh?"

Cook was a plump, kindly old lady with brown hair that was rapidly going to gray in her old age--the head cook and manager of the kitchens, as far as anyone knew, she didn't have a name besides Cook. She was also the only human in the entire household that could honestly be said to like Rella. Cook had rather unofficially adopted her within the first few days of her residence here, making sure she got enough to eat even when she was denied meals. Without Cook, her life would have been much worse--not that it wasn't bad already.

She shook her head. "Actually, I came to tell you to prepare lunch and dinner for an extra person. Our guest came--he's a Bard, and apparently he's going to be spending the night. Rhianna's working her charms again."

Shaking her head, Cook clucked at her and shook a rolling pin in her general direction. "No matter what ye came fer, ye ought ter have some food while ye're down here with us kitchen folk. Ye need fattenin' up, girly! Here, we have some leftovers still from th' ladies' breakfast; take a roll, here ye go, and a lil' bit o' cheese, and a apple, there ye go. Now be a good girl and sit yerself down and eat, it won't do to be starvin' yerself and faintin' in the middle of workin'."

Smiling, Rella obediently sat and began to eat. The roll wasn't very good cold and without butter, and the cheese had a little bit of mold, but the apple was good, at least, and it was enough to at least take the edge off the hunger that had been gnawing at her ever since her rude awakening. She generally never got much besides table scraps; after all, she was just the scullery maid. Cook did the best she could, but she was rarely really full.

Finished, she wiped the crumbs off her hands and skirt and stood. Cook, who had been hovering over her to make sure she ate every last bit, patted her on the shoulder and went back to her work, satisfied. Smiling, she headed back up the small flight of stairs out of the kitchen.

Trotting down the hallway, she turned to the right, heading for the stairs. Once on the second floor, she turned right again, trotting down a set of twisting, iron stairs that led back down to another hallway on the first floor. This hallway was somewhat hidden; it was adjacent to the entrance hall, but the only way to get to it was the way that Rella had come. This was where Rhianna's room and the rooms of her daughters lay.

Rella almost ran into Lianne, who was standing in the center of the hallway, effectively blocking it with her fat body. "There you are, you worthless piece of filth. I hope you're coming for mine and Lianne's and Mother's gowns, because they need to be washed, and I'm supposed to tell you to scrub the entrance hall when you're done with the chimney and the windows. Get to it, don't stand there gawking at me like an idiot!"

The other girl pushed past her rudely and headed up the stairs, leaving Rella seething. Wash the gowns, never mind that there's only about two of them to wash and nobody's going to wear them for another month or so. Scrub the entrance hall--the hall is clean, I scrubbed it just yesterday! This is not fair!

One of these days those pompous bitches are going to work me to death. Then maybe they'll stop calling me worthless when they see how hard it is to get by without me to do all their work.

Then again, I doubt it. If they work me to death, they'll just get another maid.

Still fuming, she turned to Lianne's room, the first on the left. As she unlocked the door and shoved it open, Rhianna's grey cat came slinking out of the room. Rella resisted the temptation to kick it; it hissed at her as she went past, as if it knew what she was thinking.

She finished with the laundry fairly quickly; after all, she only had four gowns to wash. With the laundry hung up to dry, she went to the supply shelf in the kitchen and grabbed a bucket and a jar of Rhianna's special window washing solution. The windows she scrubbed at viciously, taking out some of her anger at the sorceress and daughters, until Rhianna found her and told her sharply not to scrub so hard, for she might break the glass.

As if that's really going to happen. The glass isn't that fragile, and I'm not scrubbing that hard.

The chimney was next. Armed with a scrub brush and not much else, she made her way to the large chimney at the rightmost edge of the entrance hall, climbing inside and beginning to clean, scrubbing viciously and getting rid of the anger that hadn't dissipated when she scrubbed the windows.

She had learned a long time ago that it was best to take out her fury by scrubbing something rather than answering back to the sorceress or something equally foolish. Answering back would only get her beaten, but no matter how viciously she scrubbed, she could simply say she was getting off a difficult stain.

Unless I'm scrubbing the windows. After all, they might break.

Chimney clean, she climbed out, wincing at the ashes and soot that covered her hands--and most of the rest of her body. Surveying herself in dismay, she heaved a sigh. I'll have to take a bath before I do anything else, and I bet it's a cold one. I hate cold baths!

A voice came floating down the hallway, humming off-tune very annoyingly. She winced again as Lianne came skipping into the hall merrily. The older girl sneered at her. "Look! It's Cinderella! Get it? Cinder? Rella?" She let out a peal of high-pitched laughter, standing in the hallway with her hands on her hips. "Mother sent me to tell you to scrub the entrance hall now, especially now that you've gotten it more dirty." She wrinkled her nose. "You'd better take a bath first, though, cinder girl!" Laughing again, she skipped off down the hallway, taking up her annoying humming again.

After a quick dousing in freezing water and changing into another dress, she found herself in the entrance hall, scrubbing fiercely at the spots on the tiled floor where she had gotten soot and ashes. Lianne's mockery had brought back all her fierce anger; she was entirely glad she had something else to scrub, now.

Dipping her rag back into the bucket of soapy water, she glanced up, happening to admire the entrance hall for a moment, as she always did when she came into the room. The domed ceiling was the tallest part in the entire castle, stretching several miles above the floor. There was a mural painted on it; Rella didn't know what it was of, for the only part of the castle where it could be seen clearly was on the third floor. The third floor was an attic, an ancient section of the castle; everyone was forbidden to go there, even Lianne and Anastasia.

Rhianna and the Bard were now long gone, and the entry hall was empty, Rella's footsteps giving off echoes off the domed ceiling several feet above. The ceiling had some mural painted on it; the only place it could be seen clearly was in the uppermost part of the castle, the ancient part that Rella had never been in. Turning to the left, she headed up the grand flight of stairs, a twisting spiral that might have made those without a head for heights somewhat dizzy.

Dipping the cloth into the water again, she gazed at the bucket, watching the bubbles rise for a moment. The silence of the empty entrance hall grew stifling.

She had to do something to break it. Softly, she began to hum, then to sing quietly, almost under her breath. The song was from a play that had been all the rage last month; she had never seen the play, but Lianne and Anastasia had. They had come home singing all the songs, and Rella had overheard this one and found she liked it.

"You have a beautiful voice," a voice said from behind her. Startled, she whirled around, dropping the rag.

Behind her stood the Bard, the one who had been with Rhianna earlier. Smiling, he swept her a bow. "Begging your pardon. I didn't intend to frighten you, I assure you."

She blinked, staring, and reached for the rag again without really looking at it. "Um...thanks," she managed to get out, momentarily speechless. She wasn't used to Rhianna's guests taking any interest in the scullery maid, no matter how small.

The man surveyed her, a curious expression on his face. Gulping, she made herself look away and began to scrub the floor again. He opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by Lianne, coming down the hall behind him. "Oh, hello, sir Bard! I was wondering where you went," Lianne tittered. "If you'll just come this way, dinner is ready..."

Rhianna made her wait on them at dinner that night, taking platters of food from Cook and carrying them to table, letting all four diners get their fill before handing the platter back to Cook and retreating into the shadows, to wait until she was called upon. She was somewhat glad for the opportunity; waiting on the four wasn't really hard work at all, and it gave her a chance to observe their guest.

Really, she couldn't help but feel sorry for him. Lianne and Anastasia had apparently decided that, with his handsome features, charming manner, and high status, he was quite desirable material, and had turned their charm on full blast. Unfortunately for them, though, the sister's idea of charm was more likely to repel someone than attract him. They had never quite figured that out, and chattered on continously, giving the Bard sly smiles and flutters of eyelashes.

Noticing the look on his face, Rella grinned, and was glad that the shadows in the corner where she stood hid her face from sight. The Bard looked like he would rather be anywhere but here--something Rella could definitely sympathize with. He looked as if he would very much like to leave, but, having already agreed to spend the night, could hardly do so without appearing rude and insulting Rhianna.

Rella noticed that Rhianna was trying to charm the young man as well, and shook her head. Rhianna's charm was much more subtle and much likelier to work than the charm of her daughters, but the Bard, if anything, looked even more put off by the sorceress's subtle flirtations.

Rhianna, Lianne, and Anastasia, all trying to seduce him at once. Poor guy.

After dinner, much to her amusement, the Bard pleaded weariness and fled to his room at the first opportunity. Rhianna and daughters left more gracefully after that, Lianne and Anastasia pouting and looking quite disappointed that their attempts to snare the young man had failed. Cook managed to sneak Rella into the kitchens and get some food in her stomach afterwards; Rella thanked the woman and headed to her room, every bit as tired as their guest had claimed to be.

She sank into bed, and was asleep before her head touched the pillow.

Between dreaming and awakening, Rella found herself hearing voices. They were talking about her rather than to her, so she kept quiet and listened. The voices sounded familar, and after a moment, she identified them as the ones she had heard before, the unknown speakers named Emerald and Ruby.

"The poor dear," the motherly one called Ruby said kindly. "They've been working her to death. I wonder how she manages?"

"I still don't see what the big deal is," said a second voice, the one called Emerald who took time to warm up to people. "I'm not trying to be cruel, but if we helped out every mistreated child in the world we'd have our hands too full to do much of anything."

Ruby sighed. "Emerald, this girl is something special. Can't you feel it in her? She not only needs but deserves our help."

"I know she's of fairy blood and all that--"

"Royal fairy blood," Ruby interrupted.

"Royal fairy blood, fine. But there have been halflings out there before. We never went to help any of them, so why should we start now?"

"But we did go to help some of them, Emerald. A long time ago, any halfling that showed up with magic powers, we took to the Faerie Lands and trained. That's a historical fact."

"What makes you think this girl even has magic powers?"

"I can feel it, Emerald. Can't you? Look at her--really look at her, not just with your eyes but with your magic and with your heart."

A moment of silence. Then an astonished whisper from Emerald, "You know...I think you may just be right."

Then Emerald was back to her normal self. "Okay, so she at least has magic. That doesn't mean we have to help her." She didn't sound as convinced as she had a moment before, though.

Ruby chuckled. "You see what's special about her just as much as I do, Emerald. We'll help her."

Emerald sighed. "Okay, okay. We'll help her. But not right now, and she's about to wake up. Let's go!"

Rella came awake all at once and sat up, blinking. The waning moon shone into her room, illuminating it just as brightly as the night before. The room was empty, with no sign whatsoever of the mysterious speakers.