“You’re in luck, ladies! That means yes,” said Thatcher, smiling up at us, but I noticed he spoke to Helena, in particular. “And you can have my second bar of soap as well.” His offer was to Helena, not the rest of us.
She blushed but did not look away and nodded politely.
“Not mine,” said Perch, glaring at Mischa and walking away.
“Bathe in your clothes,” I said to the rest of the women. “It’ll be cold tonight, but you can rinse some of the dust and sweat out and the sun will dry them tomorrow.”
“Don’t let your regular clothes show too much from under your robe,” said Quinn.
“Good thinking,” said Helena, eyeballing a shame-faced Mischa.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “That one with the long hair chaps my ass.”
“What is wrong with you?” I said, realizing how closely she came to giving us away.
“I don’t know. I’m on edge,” Mischa said.
“We all are,” said Helena. “We have to watch our words.”
8. Quinn
After the second half of the company bathed, we were granted a bath. They divided us into groups of two or three, one soldier escort for each, down the bank of the stream to behind the water trees. The sun was almost gone and the forest was mainly lit from the two campfires and a glowing pale blue and green moss that grew along the bank and the stream’s stone bed. As the sunlight faded, the brightness of the mushrooms and moss increased and soon the river looked like it was made of moonlight.
“That might be the most magical thing I have ever seen,” breathed River from where she sat in her place on the chain strung between two trees, her right hand supporting her on the ground chained by a shackle, her left pointing at the stream.
“It really is,” I replied. “And I say that as a woman who does not believe in magic.”
“And we are going to the most magical country in the continent.”
“Are you going to tell me the rumors about dragons are true?”
“Not quite,” she answered. "They worship the elements. Brother Air. Sister Sea. Father Fire. Mother Earth. And they borrow magic from their four divinities by blood sacrifice. Well, that and other sacrifices, but I do not know how it all works.”
“Blood sacrifice?”
“Each citizen of Tintar has a leaning towards one of the four. Usually what one of their parents has. Nine of ten are small affinities. Sea Tintarians never drown. Air Tintarians are light on their feet and an air Tintarian with a strong endowment will always have successful sailing weather. They offer blood to their god’s element and ask for magic. I understand they can attain the magic through meditation as well. Again, most of them only have it in bits. It is more their history than their present state. Ancient Tintar used to be overrun with powerful magic wielders. Fire Tintarians could conjure a wall flame and the like. Earth Tintarians moved mountains.”
“This is in historical record? This is all real?”
She held her left hand out flat and wiggled it. “Yes and no. I have never seen it. Few outside of Tintar have. But it is a vital part of their culture. Their capital city—”
“Pikestully, correct?”
“Yes! Pikestully has four huge temples. All next to the Shark King’s castle. And the four archpriests of each element serve the king closely.”
“The lunatic.”
“Yes, Hinnom is a known force of extremeness. And heismad. He apparently swims off the coast to wrestle sharks when he is restless and his hall is decorated with their bones. His throne is made out of their jaws and sits inside the full jaw of a shark the size of a house. He apparently harpooned it and had his naval ships drag it to shore. That’s why all their army breastplates have that tooth sigil. Sharks are his obsession after power and dominance. For he is crazy, but he is a military genius. He has beat the Helmsmen clans back into the northernmost mountains before unmapped wasteland begins. He has locked up all ports along the continental coast and any other country has to pay a high tariff to use their ports. And he is not a frivolous man. Almost all of their taxes go towards their armies.”
Where were we going? I wondered yet again. What would happen to us? I stared at the gorgeous stream nearby, at the undulating water tree leaves on the surface, the eerie twists of the eroded roots on the bank. Lizards crawled along rocks, their naps cut short as the sun left with its heat.
Here I was, at my lowest point, even lower, perhaps than the saddest days of my marriage or the poorest day of my first winter in Eccleston. For none of those days had been in chains. At my feet I noticed trampled clumps of wild lavender. My indulgences in Eccleston had only been on books and lavender oil. My dresses were plain and well-made, repaired when torn. I had thick boots for the winter and slim leather shoes that tied at the ankle for warmer seasons, which is what I still had on when I was taken. I saved all my coin. But I did buy a lavender oil for my nightly sponge bath and washing my hair occasionally at Mischa’s house she had with Brox, where they had had their own well pump in the yard.
With my left hand, I pulled it from the earth and stuffed it under my scribe’s dress at the neckline. The smell alone cheered me.
As the deer cooked on the fires, we took our turns. First Eefa, Bronwyn and Mischa bathed, Fletch, the silver-haired man escorting them. They returned soaking wet but smelling better. Then the young man named Luka had taken Catrin and River. The fair-haired Nash had escorted Maureen and Helena and I noticed his eyes rove over them as they stood next to the chain, right hands extended to be shackled. Helena’s wet robe over her dress clung to her slim frame.
“The water trees’ leaves have a good scent and they’re coated in a sticky sap,” said Maureen excitedly. “I used it to wash my hair!”
