“Well, of course I’veheardof it,” Gantalla said. “But only rumours and stories. It’s not like actually having seen it.”
Thankfully, Elria smiled. “Well, have I got some stories to tell you, then…”
◊ ◊ ◊
An hour later, Gantalla was staring about herself in wonder. The city of Minia was a huge, bustling place, and she reflected that a century or so ago, her own home city of Ranaka would have looked much like this. Dozens of humans wandered about, visiting shops, chatting with friends and enjoying food from a number of roadside stalls. Large animals clopped down the streets with riders on their backs, looking much like unicorns, but a dull brown colour, rather than gleaming white, and without the horns on their heads. Gantalla wondered if these were the horses Elria had mentioned.
She tried to look small and inconspicuous, following Elria along the road, and it seemed they were heading right into the centre of the city. The streets were growing more and more crowded the further they went. Houses made of stone and wood lined the roads, and on one corner, she saw a blacksmith working at a forge. Next to it there was a carpenter in an open shed making a table. Some parts of life here seemed comfortingly familiar, while other parts looked very strange.
“Here we are,” Elria said at length. She’d talked for most of the journey here, and by now, Gantalla knew the names of three or four of the nearby towns, she knew that spring was wet and humid, while summer was warm and dry, and she’d heard a dozen stories about the ‘heroics’ of the so called warriors of the gate. Tales of them slaughtering ‘demons’ and ‘trolls’ abounded, with each story decorated in descriptions of ‘bravery’ and ‘courage’. Was there anything courageous about killing people who were just trying to escape their own imminent deaths? She said nothing, knowing by now that these people had a far different perspective on the gate from her own.
“This is the town square. There’ll be tables of food set out come evening, and everyone is welcome to share in the feast. The local brewers bring plenty of beer, whisky and wine. And there’ll be dancers. They’re a sight to see. Such beautiful dresses and they dance with swirling ribbons. It’s gorgeous. Now, you will be staying for the festival, won’t you?” She peered up at Gantalla with an expectant look on her face, and Gantalla realised it hadn’t escaped Elria’s notice that she had yet to commit to spending the night in the city.
Given how enraptured Elria had sounded when describing the warriors, Gantalla had a strong suspicion that it would be considered very rude to refuse. “Perhaps for just one night,” she said, hoping to appease the woman. “But then I really must be on my way.”
“So you say,” Elria said, winking at her. Her wrinkled face creased up in a mischievous look. “You might change your mind after you see the warriors. But come along. I have to take this wood to the square for the fires tonight, and then I’ll introduce you to the other young women. Oh, but before we go, this here is the road to Palashran.” She pointed to a wide road heading to the east. “It’s easy to find, once you know what you’re looking for. From the main city square, the town hall is on the right,” she said, pointing at a tall building made of brown stone. “And the hospital is on the left. That’s the big building with the blue circle on it. Keep going on the same road until you’re all the way out of the city, then the road splits into three, but there’s a signpost, so just take the one that says Palashran.”
“Next to the hospital, follow the road until it splits, then follow the sign to Palashran,” Gantalla repeated. “Got it.”
“Excellent. Now I’ll introduce you to the other young women. They’ll show you where you can have a bath and there’ll be oils to put in your hair and perfumes and what-not. The seamstresses donate plenty of pretty clothes, so they’ll help you find something that fits.” Elria smirked, though Gantalla wasn’t entirely sure why… until she spoke again. “Not that you’re likely to keep your clothes on for all that long. You need a bit more meat on your bones, but even so, you’re pretty enough to catch the eye of some of the young men. Your hair is just beautiful,” she said, taking one of Gantalla’s black locks in her hand and running her fingers along the strands. That, at least, was one part of her that hadn’t changed with her transformation into a human. Her hair was still jet black, falling almost to her waist, though it lacked its usual shine, with all the dust from the desert.
“Wait, these women. They…they sleep with the warriors?” Gantalla said, suddenly realising just what Elria meant.
“More often than not,” Elria said. “If one of the men takes a particular fancy to one of the girls, they might well end up getting married. But the men, being men, they like to try out a few different options before locking themselves into a decision. And I dare say the women don’t mind so much. Youthful stamina’s a wonderful thing.”
Gantalla felt herself blush, though from embarrassment, rather than desire. There was nothing particularly prudish about hadathmet culture, and it was common for young couples to begin sharing a bed before they were married, but from the sounds of it, these women were bartering their bodies simply to land themselves a rich husband. It sounded absolutely horrible.
“But what about… I mean, sex isn’t the only criteria for a good relationship,” Gantalla said, wondering how to navigate this latest conundrum. Was Elria expecting her to go out and bed three or four different warriors?
“Well, you can argue the point, but the men are a bit spoiled for choice. And when they’re away from home for literally half of their time, I suppose they’re more concerned about coming home to a pretty face and a decent pair of tits than thinking too hard about whether their wives are good at conversation.”
“Right,” Gantalla said, not knowing what else to say.
“You’re not from a big city,” Elria said, picking up on her discomfort. “So things might be a bit different for you back home. But here, that’s just the way it is. No one looks down on them for wanting to enjoy a bit of physical pleasure. And if they get married, they’ll have children, and the boys will likely grow up to become warriors, and the gods know we need plenty more of those.”
They’d reached the main square now, and Elria temporarily abandoned her cart at the side of a large water fountain. “Come this way. Oh, here’s Fin. Fin! Darling, you’re just what I was looking for. This here’s Gantalla. She’s passing through town – just in time for the festival. She’s walked all the way from Gadash, if you can believe it. Now, would you be a sweetheart and show her to the baths, and find her something nice to wear? There’s a warrior named Hallix,” she said, turning back to Gantalla with a sly look. “Yesterday he killed aunicorn. Oh, those are scary creatures, flaming beastly demons that they are. And he’s just about your age. Tall, muscles, the whole bit.” She looked Gantalla up and down with a look of satisfaction. “He’d be right into you, if you play your cards right.”
The lady called Fin laughed. She looked a few years older than Gantalla, though she was still young enough to be considered attractive, with a slim waist and high cheekbones, and flowers woven into her hair. “I’ll take care of her,” she promised Elria with a smile. “And I’ll introduce you to Hallix, later on,” she added, grinning at Gantalla. “By the gods, I wouldn’t mind bedding him, if I got the chance.”
This had all been a terrible mistake. Gantalla should have just refused to go with Elria, way back in the forest, and then she could have avoided this whole mess. “Actually, I need to get myself a new pair of boots,” she said, desperately seeking a distraction. “If you could show me where I could buy some-”
“Oh, pish-tosh,” Elria said. “There’ll be plenty of time for boots in the morning. And you can’t show up to the festival in anything so common as travelling shoes. Go on. Fin will find you some dainty slippers to wear tonight. Worry about the rest of it in the morning.”
Not knowing how to argue about it, Gantalla let herself be led away. If there was one bright side to this whole situation, she consoled herself, it was that neither woman had noticed anything odd about her – her lack of suitable footwear notwithstanding – and she hoped it meant that the witch’s spell was working just as it should be.
First up was a bath. Inside a wide, wooden building, there were five large, rectangular tubs carved out of limestone rock, each one big enough to fit three or four people in it. A natural spring at one end of the building fed water into the tubs, and the water was a balmy temperature, soothing Gantalla’s aching muscles and frayed nerves. She scrubbed her skin, layers of grime washed away in the continuous flow of water. There were also plenty of sweet-smelling soaps and herbal conditioners for her hair. For now, there were only women in the baths, though Fin had told her that by mid-afternoon, some of the warriors would have joined them, selecting a woman or three to ‘bathe’ them. From the waggle of her eyebrows, Gantalla got the impression that getting clean would be the least of the men’s concerns.
But as Gantalla floated in the mineral-rich water, Fin suddenly sat up in surprise, sloshing water over the side of the tub.
“My goodness, look at your feet!” she exclaimed. “You must have been walking for days! You poor thing, even your blisters have blisters. Come on. Hop out and get dry, then I’ll take care of that for you.”
Ten minutes later, wrapped in a fluffy towel, Gantalla sat on a cushioned chair as Fin rubbed a soothing lotion into her aching feet. Now, this was more like it! Back home, she’d had a bevy of servants, and every morning they’d spent time rubbing moisturiser into her skin, weaving ribbons into her hair and helping her dress in fine linens. The attention soothed her nerves, reminding her that she was a princess, not just a commoner destined to serve others.
“There’s a whole collection of lotions and moisturisers in the storage room,” Fin said, dragging her out of her thoughts. “It’s just up the hall to the right. No doubt some of the men would appreciate a littleattentiontomorrow,” she said with a smirk. The reminder came as a rude shock. This was not the norm. According to human culture, Gantalla should be the one on her knees, rubbing lotion into the feet of some human barbarian. The thought was galling.
“Is this your first time in Minia?” Fin asked, and Gantalla nodded.
“Yes. My brother lives in Palashran. I was on my way to visit him.”
