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SUMMARY: First draft of first work. Opinions and critiques appreciated. Three spying women view the capital city of Attilus.

Prolog

"The water will be done in a moment" the little girl said. Though there was only one other person in the room, the words felt like they were for no one in particular. Kalinda continued swinging her legs back and forth from her lofty spot on one of the kitchen chairs that were all too big for little girls. Swish swish went the sound of here little toes as they barely rubbed the earthen floor in perfect time.
Kassandra snorted as she reached for cups and the jar of honey with the conservative movements of the elderly. The kitchen was oval in shape and cozy in size. The walls consisted of mud and clay, rising to the height of an average man before merging with the grassy domed roof. Brownish gray splotches on the roof and walls denoted the age of the structure."The water, and all things for that matter, will have its time in time."
Kalinda's face turned red as she giggled and shoved her hands into her face. "You should write more rhymes Kassandra, it suits you" came the voice from beneath tiny hands. When the hands came down, they revealed a serious face, without any childish expression. Suddenly the little girl squirmed out f her chair as a voice rang out, "The water's done!"
Shrill whistling of steam punctuated the voice from behind the door into the family room of the home. Another door, made of gnarled branches bound tightly together by twine and packed with mud stood on the opposite side of the room leading outside. Both doors were identical except for the lock on the outside door. A golden pin stuck out from the door and rested in a similarly golden catch on the wall, these were in turn tied together by a silver thread. Loosely resting on the lock, the thread appeared flimsy and ready to fall with the slightest encouragement, but neither the thread nor the door ever moved.
Kalinda crossed the kitchen, stomping her five-year-old feet with great exaggeration, hands and face raised imploringly toward the heavens."The water's time has come, so has the voice of NOW ordained!" boomed the little voice in its attempt to sound both impressive and frightening. Kassandra began to smile but made a clucking sound instead, "don't tease, O' goddess of the many clouded paths." The whistling steam died off as Kassandra, iron tongs in hand, removed the singing lid from the boiling pot. Putting the lid and tongs back on their proper pegs on the shelf she was unaware of the tongue stuck out in her direction. Kalinda knew she would be unobserved, for this was always a special moment for the old women. Steam billowed from the large pot above the fire pit, rolling over the spit upon which the black cast iron pot sat and flowing up over the shelves and pegboard. The shelves and board were finely carved oak with a spot for everything and a beautiful series of flowers and vines along the inlay. When the steam slid across the shelves it would roll and tumble against the carvings as it continued its unstoppable journey up. As Kassandra moved the hot water from the pot into a pitcher with a wooden ladle and sealed the pot the steam abruptly stopped.