by Terah Edun
They walked into a room that was really three rooms in one. Each section was marked off by a single column that stood alone in the center as a dividing line.
In the middle section and throughout the three was a profusion of pillows and blankets, sleeping pallets, and sofas. All dusty but all perfectly acceptable furniture. As long as they didn't break apart at the merest touch of a guest's weight.
As if reading her mind, Seven said, “All sturdy. All well taken care of. We haven't much…call for guests in the past few decades, but we've kept two suites of rooms ready in case the need arises. You are welcome to use anything in this room at your leisure.”
“You have our thanks,” said Christian.
Seven pointed. “Your bath is to the left. Just before that is a chest of drawers with healing ointments, clean bandages, and assorted supplies, if needed.”
Ciardis was only half listening to Seven rattle off the list. There was something tantalizing teasing her nose, and she turned away to sniff the air in the opposite direction. What she smelled wasn't the perfumed steam of a bath, but the crispy scent of roast chicken.
Am I hallucinating? Ciardis wondered. It's too early in the day for that.
She was only half kidding.
But then Seven pointed to his right. “And under those covered cloths is your meal.”
Ciardis's eyebrows practically rose into her hairline in surprise.
Seven caught her look. “Yes, lady, we have our ways…and we always provide for our guests.”
Ciardis murmured her thanks.
Then the soldiers walked into the windowless room in front of them. Terris slumped on a pillow. Thanar snapped his wings closed and Christian helped Raisa hobble to a seat.
“My,” said Seven as he backed to the door exit. “You all are such an odd lot of traveling companions. I do believe this trial shall be quite fun.”
Ciardis's face twisted into a snarl as he opened the door and walked away. It closed shut behind him and a lock latched with an audible click. Without even thinking about it, Ciardis called on her magic and threw it at the door, testing its strength.
Unfortunately, it held up to her magic, bouncing the power off harmlessly and revealing a strong shield encircling the entire room in its place.
Wearied, Ciardis copied Terris, sat down onto the nearest poufy pillow, and slumped over.
“Well, we're certainly in a pickle,” Terris said to everyone and no one.
Then they all heard the audible crunch of bone snapping inside the room.
Ciardis lurched up on high alert before she even realized what the sound was. Some of their group had knives in their hands as well, ready to take on any foe that came at them.
When they turned to the sound of the second crunch, they saw Ambassador Raisa walking away from the buffet table with a leg shank, which couldn't have come from anything less than a cow, in her petite hands and continuing to gnaw down to its gristle with her sharp teeth.
Ciardis noted that she wasn't the only one whose jaw dropped at the comical sight.
Raisa turned to give them all a hard look. “You're all starving, and so am I. You do not want to be alone in a room with a starving dragon if you can help it.”
Murmurs of assent sounded throughout the room and then someone else's stomach rumbled.
Ciardis stood up abruptly and said, “I don't know about you all, but I could use some food and a bath. In reverse order. Shall we?”
They looked at each other and then one of the soldiers waved to the bath. “Shall I check it out?”
Ciardis said, “Be my guest.”
Tobias sauntered over to the sunken pool big enough for five half-hidden behind a silk screen. When he came back out, he said, “Looks good.”
Rachael walked past him. “Well, I hope by good you meant drainable water and inlaid faucets, soldier, because we all stink like wildebeests, and by the time I'm done that water will be as black as a mud hole.”
The solder stammered, “Yes, ma'am.”
Rachael reached the screen, looked over her shoulder, and pinned Christian with a sultry smile. He promptly blushed scarlet.
But it was Ciardis that Rachael finally turned to and said, “Join me, Weathervane? You can wash my back and I'll wash yours.”
Ciardis eyes widened in surprise. She looked over at Terris, who shrugged and said, “Go ahead. I'll take the dragon.”
Ciardis almost laughed at Raisa's baleful look toward the Kithwalker at that comment, but she didn't discount what Terris said.
Then Ciardis shrugged and said, “Why not?”
With that, she walked across the room to the first bath she would have in days, and she hoped it was everything she had ever dreamed of.
19
Ciardis sank lower into the hot, sudsy, decadent bath with a sigh that spoke volumes.
She closed her eyes, leaned her head back on the step nearest the rim, and basked in her own private heaven.
“Enjoying yourself?” Rachael said from just a few feet away with a few splashes of hot water to accompany her statement.
Well, almost private, Ciardis thought. But her smile didn't leave her face. Nothing could ruin her enjoyment of this long-sought bath.
“Immensely,” she said in reply to Rachael after a minute had passed.
“I thought so,” the shaman said quietly.
Ciardis opened her eyes to see Rachael sitting not in the water but on the rim of the tub. She had one knee up to her chin and was meticulously wiping each leg down with an oily substance before dipping it back into the waiting waters.
Ciardis eyed her speculatively.
“What's that?” the Weathervane asked.
Rachael tilted her head up from where she had been concentrating on the smooth play of oil over her legs and said, “Salt scrub.”
Ciardis raised a questioning eyebrow.
“I figured I needed it after this much time in the desert,” the shaman said.
“Really? I'd think your people would be used to the conditions we just went through,” Ciardis said.
“Would anyone be used to blood and gore and sand in places that can't be named?” said Rachael sarcastically.
Ciardis flushed. “I-I just meant that you grew up in this environment. That's all.”
Rachael snorted. “No harm done, Weathervane. I knew what you meant. I just wanted to tease you, is all.”
“Oh,” said Ciardis as she finally sat up from her reclining position and scooted her butt back so that she sat on the last step in the large bathing pool.
“And just so you know,” the shaman said, “my people live on the plains, not in the desert. They are very different conditions.”
“Just so you know,” said Ciardis in a mocking tone as she grabbed some soap to lather on her arms, “I don't care.”
She peeked up through her lashes at her companion, just to see how she'd take the reply.
Rachael didn't let her down.
The shaman stared at her with a piqued expression just a moment before she smiled and said, “Two can play that game, horse stealer.”
Ciardis surged up with an outraged gasp, completely forgetting her modesty for the moment. “My people don't steal.”
“Well, I heard differently,” said Rachael with a grin. “I heard that the winter regions are filled with nothing but horse thieves and ne'er-do-wells and swindlers. Who else would live in a place that is blockaded by snow for half the year?”
“It's not half the year,” Ciardis said. “Just a quarter or so.”
“And the swindlers,” said Rachael in a deadpan voice.
“Well,” Ciardis said with a laugh, “we do have our fair share of those.”
“I knew it.” Rachael howled as she jumped into the bathing pool with a splash, submerging even her hair.
When she broke through the surface again, she looked fresh and pink, blinking water rapidly out of her eyes.
Ciardis said, “Looks like that salt scrub worked wonders for you.”
<
br /> Rachael shrugged. “Try it next time. It usually does.”
“I'll keep that in mind,” Ciardis said.
Truth be told, I don't plan to be here that long, she thought as she scrubbed her own body with a sponge and soap. When it came to her hair, though, she knew it would be a lost cause.
Before long, Rachael tossed a sponge at Ciardis's face and turned away in the same moment while holding up her long locks with both hands.
“Scrub my back, please,” the shaman said.
“If you insist,” Ciardis said in a teasing manner as she waded through the waters to get over to Rachael's side of the large sunken pool.
“I do,” said Rachael. “It is why I brought you, after all.”
Ciardis brought the sponge up with a wry chuckle and squeezed water along Rachael's back. Before long it was squeaky clean and Christian was nagging through the other side of the privacy screen, “You ladies almost done in there? There are quite a few of us out here who would like a relaxing bath of our own.”
“Hold your horses,” the shaman shouted as she twisted around and spun Ciardis so fast in the water that she had no time to think.
Rachael grabbed the poufy sponge from the Weathervane's hand and scrubbed the daylights out of her back in six seconds flat.
With a push of Ciardis's shoulder, Rachael said loudly enough for Christian to hear, “There, all done. We just need to change and we'll be out.”
There was a grunt from outside the screen, which could have been Christian or one of the soldiers, Ciardis wasn't entirely sure.
“Change into what?” Ciardis said as she climbed out of the tub and grabbed a waiting towel. “Our clothes are filthy.”
“They're not just filthy,” agreed the shaman. “They're fit to be burned. Lucky for us, our hosts seem to have thought of everything.”
Ciardis turned around while tying the ends of the towel just under her shoulders, and looked to see what Rachael was talking about now.
She was elated to see the woman holding up two simple but well-made white dresses. All of one piece and thick enough to be comfortable for sleeping in.
“These citizens of Kifar seem to surprise us at every turn,” Ciardis said as she walked over to take one of her own.
“Now, if only they were as pleasant as this room, we'd be just fine,” the shaman said wryly. “Tell me again why you want to save these people so badly?”
Ciardis heard her through the dress she was busy pulling over her head, but her first attempt at speaking was so muffled that Rachael had to prompt her to say it again.
Head finally popped through and on to struggling with buttons, Ciardis said, “I said that they are citizens of the empire, no matter what.”
Rachael snorted as she grabbed the loose dress strings to wrap around her waist, and tightened the tunic into something that had the appearance of a loose smock.
“I wouldn't really call that ravenous horde citizens,” the shaman said. “I'm pretty sure you have to be able to think for that.”
Ciardis shrugged. “Some would call kith non-citizens because they don't physically speak or look human or let baser instincts rule their thoughts. Doesn't make it true.”
Rachael pinned her with a look. “But it doesn't give them all the rights and privileges dedicated to an intelligent, forward-thinking, culturally sensitive being either.”
Ciardis's lips thinned. “Nevertheless, this city is one of our own. And we've seen at least the existence of sentient beings here.”
“If you meant that sadistic representative that picked us up at the gates,” Rachael said with sarcasm, “I think I'd rather take my chances with the ravenous horde of inhumans.”
Ciardis's lips twitched, and then Rachael's eyebrow rose and she couldn't hold her chuckle in anymore.
“You may have a point there, Lady Shaman,” the Weathervane said.
Rachael waved a hand as she walked by. “There's no lady there. Shaman will do just fine.”
Ciardis blinked and then followed her out of the bathing area, noting as she went that the bath was already magically draining itself and somehow the discarded towels had disappeared in a room, with no doors or attendants anywhere in sight.
As she walked into the larger, non-private room, she thought, This room has more to it than it lets on.
She heard Thanar say grimly in her head, This entire city has more to it than it lets on.
She looked over and caught his eye. Uncharacteristically for him, especially with his behavior over the last few days, he let his gaze remain on her face and beckoned her across the room.
Surprised at his acknowledgement, she started walking across the room before she really thought about it.
He was standing, looming rather, over the only table in the room, which had a few books and maps strewn over it.
Ciardis was starving but as usual her curiosity got the better of her. She stopped in front of the table and wondered where he'd gotten all of the materials. She didn't see a bookcase anywhere in the room, and yet this didn't look like it had originated in the city of Sandrin either.
The maps were darkened with age, for one, and burned on the edges, as if they had been nearly set to flame and pulled back at the last second.
“Where did these come from?” Ciardis asked.
Thanar continuing paging through a book, but responded, “Our host was kind enough to bring an allotment of city legal documents at our request.”
Ciardis's eyebrows rose into her hair. “And why would he do that?”
This time it was Raisa who answered her request. “Because he knows the rules of hospitality and engagement were introduced the minute he gave us lodging. In older cities, that requires the ruler's representative to give fair and equal access to most resources.”
“Including these texts,” Sebastian said over her shoulder.
As soon as he stepped up behind her, Ciardis wrinkled her nose at the atrocious smell and sidestepped to a corner of the table that didn't have any of the others anywhere near it.
“No offense,” Ciardis said. “But you lot smell.”
Sebastian looked over at her with an incredulous gaze.
Thanar chuckled. “I think I'll try not to take offense to that.”
Raisa gave her a smile. “Someone's senses are delicate.”
Ciardis glared at her and pointedly sniffed the air toward her. “Not really.”
Now that she was clean, the intense odor was noxious.
The ambassador said, “My dear, you haven't smelled anything near as horrendous as a dragon ring in your pitiful existence so far, so you have nothing to whine about.”
“Uh-huh,” Ciardis said. “Well, to this pitiful human's nose, the scent around her is worse than offal.”
She gave a pointed look at Sebastian and Thanar.
Sebastian threw up his hands in an exaggerated gesture and said, “Fine, fine. We'll bathe. I hope you left us some water, though.”
Ciardis gave him a satisfied smirk. “It's a self-refilling tub.”
“Huh, well then,” was all that Sebastian replied as he turned away.
Thanar continued to study the difference between a smaller map in his book and the larger one on the table. Oblivious to them both.
Ciardis crossed her arms and tapped her toe in irritation.
Sebastian looked back and over at Thanar. “I think she means you too, mate.”
Thanar looked up and around to see whom Sebastian was talking to. When it became clear that it was him, he said, “You must be insane to think you can order me around.”
His voice didn't quite dip into the deep register he liked to use when threatening someone, but it was almost there.
Fortunately, Sebastian didn't take the bait. “Fine,” he said, shrugging. “Continue to smell like offal. In the meanwhile, Christian and I will get cleaned.”
Sebastian walked off with a wave at Christian to join him.
Thanar glared at his retreating back with a look that had Ciardis almost
laughing. It was quite amusing to see Thanar both confused and mildly angry at the same time.
It was almost as if he couldn't decide what the focus of his anger should be.
But enough is enough, Ciardis thought.
While holding a hand to her nose, she said, “You stink. You need a bath. You must go.”
“Must I?” said Thanar with his trademark smirk.
He wasn't going anywhere, or so he thought.
“I'll turn your hair bright pink if you don't get out of here right now,” Ciardis snarled at him.
Surprise crossed Thanar's face and he outright laughed. “You'll what?”
Ciardis stiffened her spine and doubled down on her bravado. “I. Will. Turn. Your. Hair. Pink.”
Incredulity crossed Thanar's face.
“And I will help her,” Raisa said with a decidedly final air.
Thanar slid his astonished gaze over to Raisa's seated form.
“And I will enjoy it,” said Raisa with a toothy grin.
Ciardis laughed but quickly turned it into a cough at Thanar's disgruntled look. Truth be told, she wasn't sure if she could turn Thanar's hair pink, but with a dragon in her corner the experiment would at least be…memorable.
Thanar snarled, “Fine.”
He turned to walk away while thumping the book down on the table for emphasis. Even a daemoni prince knew when he was beat.
Ciardis heard him say over his shoulder, “At least review the materials while we…clean ourselves. We'll talk when I return.”
She smiled and said, “Yes, of course.”
He left in a funk of swirling misery, and Ciardis stifled any laughter that she wanted to let out. Thanar would see it as an insult to his already ruffled honor.
Ciardis looked to Raisa then, prepared to say thanks.
But before she could speak, the ambassador said, “Do not think you can scare me off with threats of pink hair.”
Ciardis sniffed. “I wouldn't dream of it.”
She didn't mention that the dragon still stank to high heaven, but fortunately she didn't need to. She watched as a mage body shield quickly descended all around Raisa, blocking smells from wafting in the air.
