Melody is leaning against the doorframe; her lips twitch in amusement. :Bet she's relieved you're not an obnoxious foreign dignitary who wants everything done for you: 

That would probably be funnier if Thellim had less of a headache, or if her cultural priors could parse Melody's concept on the first try.  Thellim has a concept of comedic people like that, but they would never be dignitaries, and foreign dignitary doesn't really parse relative to dath ilan's setup.

She'd like to sit down on the bed, but she is somewhat damp, and removing her clothes first would be nicer.  This is not typically done with others present.  Thellim tries for a gesture goodbye and another smile?

:I'll call for a meal for you: Savil says, and ducks out with Melody, shutting the door behind her. 

Thellim takes off the damp outer layers (she wasn't in the rain that long) and attempts to operate this primitive, low-tech bed.  After a few tries she thinks she has it about as right as it's going to get, and closes her eyes.  Probably can't sleep with this headache, food on the way, not really physically sleepy in the relevant sense; but closing her eyes is nice anyways.

The rain drums on the roof and window in a vaguely soothing way, as the room slowly heats up. 

About thirty minutes later by dath ilan reckoning, there's a knock on the door, and a voice saying something in the local language. 

Wow she was not expecting to be that startled, maybe she did doze off slightly.

Thellim staggers up to obtain food.  She is not overwhelmingly dressed.  But obviously all people in professions that come to doors are already married to unusually attractive individuals or aroace in the relevant sense or whatever, and not concerned about habituating exposure to underclothed people.  No sensible person or preference-aggregating mechanism would order a society such that people had to get dressed just to answer their door.

The young palace maid bringing food carefully avoids doing a double-take; lots of the guests who stay in this wing are strange or do things her mother would say were rude, because of being foreign, and it's impolite to let on when you notice it. 

She curtsies in a carefully-practiced way optimized for not being irritating when one's hands are full, and offers Thellim a covered tray of food. "I hope you enjoy, ma'am." 

Thellim takes the tray to the desk, signs her thanks with expansive gestures that hopefully cross the cultural gap, and says "Thank you!" in Baseline in a cheerful tone that hopefully does the same.

The young woman smiles back at her, bobs her head, then ducks back to retrieve a covered jug which she had to set down in order to open the door. Rather than barge in, which feels unwelcome with this guest, she moves it just inside and then shuts the door again. 

The tray, when opened, proves to hold a plate with cooked fish and greens and a sort of cream-with-herbs-in sauce poured overtop, and smaller plate with still-warm soft bread and a pat of butter. There are utensils - a spoon, a not-very-sharp knife, and a mildly weird two-tined fork. 

The covered jug contains the usual wine-mixed-with-water. There's a clean cup to use on the desk, but no sign of plain water. 

Thellim jams her hips in frustration after she tastes the liquid.  She'll take a small swallow to wet her throat, eat this food which continues to beat hard cheese and dried meat, and then another small swallow to clear her throat after.  She can locate properly boiled water later.

Nobody else bothers her. The room is pleasantly toasty by now, and the rain is even slowing outside, the grey-fogged sky brightening and eventually letting through a few weak sunbeams. 

Within a few hours, Thellim's headache is significantly better; not gone, but enough in-the-background that it doesn't interfere as much with thinking or moving. 

And about four Valdemaran candlemarks after their arrival - by which point it's not dark yet but the sky looks like it's starting to think about it - Melody Mindspeaks her. 

:How're you feeling? Savil wants to know if we're up for meeting with King Randale and the other senior Heralds now:

Thellim has been trying to remember printing-press-invention tropes.  It's appeared in multiple Tech Uplift stories, with helpful illustrations, but you need inks and metals with particular properties to do it right.  Some stories did cover making those too, but she's worried about finding acceptable plants and minerals and identifying acceptable metals.  And is she supposed to be inventing better paper first?  Thellim thinks she knows more about metallurgy than this, because Steel is such a classic Tech Uplift trope, but the higher tech tiers for steel aren't easy if a society already has the lower ones.

:Better!  And probably up for it!: Thellim sends back after Melody's touch.  :Mindspeech still hurts a little but nothing I can't push through, so long as pushing through isn't making things much worse.:

:Hmm - I've got the standard useless advice that some kinds of 'pushing through' are fine and some are bad, I don't know how to describe the difference except it's like exercising when you're sore. Personally I'm feeling still not-my-best but definitely up for a Mindspeech back and forth as long as I avoid anything long-range and any intense Mindhealing: 

:I feel more 'sore from exercising yesterday' than 'sore from exhausting myself fifteen minutes ago', if that makes sense.:  Thellim tries to push across the feeling of the way her Mindspeech currently aches.

:- Good, good, I think a close-range Mindspeech conversation won't strain you, but do pay attention to whether you're getting exhausted again. How long do you need to get ready?: 

Thellim puts her dried clothes back on.  :Ready -:

:No, reverse that.  How do I find the local equivalent of a washroom?:  Thellim had a brief experience with 'privies' in Horn, and hopes the Haven facilities are... a little higher-tech.

:- Oh, right, good thought. Should be a chamber pot under the bed, and the shared privies are - hmm, I stayed here five years ago, seems possible they've renovated, but last I remembered they were down at the end of the hall and left. Bathhouse is right: Melody shares a brief mental sense-of-direction along with the words. :And should I tell Savil ten minutes, or longer?: 

She will avoid the chamber pot under the bed because what who would do that.  Down at the end of the hall, and left, it shall be.

:Ten minutes sounds fine.:

A man in Heralds' Whites shows up in Savil's place to collect them; he's a Mindspeaker as well, and introduces himself as Seneschal's Herald Jaysen, and then leads them back outside into the blue-grey twilight, down some paths past more sad rain-drowned garden beds, and to another, somehow even older-looking stone building. 

They reach a meeting-room, with a long rectangular table and an assortment of people sitting around it. Herald Jaysen pulls out chairs for both Thellim and Melody, and offers to pour them drinks from a jug of - guess what - yep, more wine. 

A very young-looking man, also in Whites, with light brown hair in a ponytail, rises from his seat and smiles at both of them. "I'm King Randale. Pleasure to meet you." 

(Melody quickly offers Thellim a Mindspeech translation.) 

(All right, she has to actually remember to ask for boiled water at some point before she falls over, maybe at the end of the meeting, but this is not the time.)

Thellim smiles back at this - Mayor? Tribune but of a much tinier population? - either way it's impressive he's exalted that far up the career path at this young of an age.  She broadcasts to everyone present in the room, and only they.  :Thellim of dath ilan.  I hope that I may be of help.:

The man nods, and smiles, and sits. He glances at Herald Jaysen.