‘I can actually conjure a magical horse. I’ve just been… a bit too tired to the other times. No reason to overburden your poor mare. We’ve been working her hard. What’s her name anyway?’
‘Alma. It means “soul” in Elvish, I think.’
‘Alma.’ Syline rubbed the horse’s muzzle. It butted its head affectionately into her chest and let her scratch at her ears. ‘It’s a pretty name.’
She stepped back, conjuring up her own arcane mare. Alma nickered at it; the horse unsure about this new arrival. She hopped onto its back, picking up the illusory reins.
‘So, where are we going anyway? You seem to have somewhere in mind,’ she asked as Thelonious set off at a gentle trot. Corax came flapping back to them and sat down on the illusory mare’s head. The magical horse didn’t seem to mind.
‘Guess I can’t blame you for not remembering. I thought we’d head to Dawnsteel. See, it basically belongs to the church. If we can get to the church and tell them what’s going on, we should be in good hands. At least you should be.’
‘Thelonious, that’s a great idea!’ Syline had barely any memories from what went on after she’d cast the spell last night. Even when she had flickered into consciousness it had been only momentary, hazy.
‘Why didn’t I think of that?’ she cursed herself, chuckling softly. She had to admit, she was so glad to have him along, and not just because he was a comfort to have around and a damn good sword hand. Thelonious definitely seemed a bit more worldly than her.
‘Aw, thanks. You good to get started?’
‘I could use a bath, but that won’t be happening out here.’
Thelonious chuckled and, as they hit the edge of the island, set Alma off at a slightly quicker pace. One she’d easily maintain for the whole journey.
‘I think you can wait ’til we hit town, Syline. Oh, here.’ He pulled out the box of deer meat and tossed it over to her. She scrambled to catch it, practically falling out of her saddle as she did. That got more of a laugh out of Thelonious.
‘What’s this?’
‘Breakfast.’
Perhaps it was luck, perhaps there were no other hunters after them for the moment. Either way, the journey proved uneventful. The two didn’t actually speak much, both largely lost in their own thoughts. When they got to town, she wanted to do a bit of shopping, get the chance to clean herself up before she went to meet with the clergy. She’d have to be presentable as a noble heir of the Petranski family. She had to be convincing. They had to believe she was truly working for the cause of good here.
Coming into sight of Dawnsteel’s rooftops was exciting. It wasn’t the same kind of walled fortress the capital was. The city had once been nothing but a single cathedral and had grown larger from there, spawning and spilling out from around it. Whereas Russenholde was cramped with tight streets hidden behind high walls, Dawnsteel was all open terraces, wide lanes and beautiful parks. Whereas Russenholde did their best to warm their homes and guard from the night, Dawnsteel embraced the sun with countless windows, many of them beautifully stained frescos and tableaus. It filled Syline with a sense of hope, but so too did it bring dread. She couldn’t help but think of all the ways this could go wrong. She just had to pray for the best. She wondered if the Wanderer could hear her this deep in the Glorious Dawn’s domain.
They hit the edge of town and found a stable to leave Alma. Syline’s arcane horse disappeared with a word of dismissal, but the same could not be done for the life and blood mare, so she was set up with a trough of water and a bale of hay. She seemed happy to be left with that. Corax stayed with his animal companion, taking roost in the hay even as she ate it. That left Thelonious and Syline free to wander up the main street of town. It was bustling, the sun shining down on its city as its people went about their business. The place was famous for its stained glass, and it seemed like anyone who was anyone had at least one beautiful window, displaying the sun or some other such religious symbology at the front of their shop. Russenholde people were welcome to worship whatever they wanted, but the Wanderer was always the focus of the cathedrals. Here, the town felt like one giant church to Soel, his icons on every corner and his words spoken on every street.
Syline felt terribly nervous walking through the street, hanging off Thelonious’ arm and making a point to keep her wide brimmed hat affixed low on her head. Hopefully, it would hide her face from anyone who might be looking.
‘Relax, Syline. The hunters wouldn’t look for us here. Not yet. You’re safe, today.’ Damn Thelonious for being so straightforward. She couldn’t help but stress about every little thing that could possibly go wrong today.
‘Come on.’ Thelonious pulled her along as he caught eye of a side street.
‘What, what is it?’ Syline asked as she was dragged along.
‘Bathhouse called the Morning Dew. I think we could both use it,’ Thelonious said as Syline adjusted herself beside him, still holding onto her escort’s elbow with both hands.
The pair made their way down the road towards it with ease. The religious people of the town parted before Thelonious, though they didn’t give him trouble. They didn’t seem all too happy that he was here either, many glaring, or muttering curses, when Syline was not looking; she did her best to glare back at those she heard.
The Morning Dew was a large stone building with gleaming stained glass windows of beer steins being raised in a toast to the setting sun, or maybe it was supposed to be rising, considering the name. It seemed to be both a spa and a tavern. Syline was eager to head inside, leaving Thelonious trailing after her like a good guard dog. The place was warm, humidity wafting in with the steam from the bath house attached. The bartender was a handsome young man with pale-brown hair and a happy smile on his face. He wore a pale, bone-colored doublet.
‘How can I help you today, miss? I mean in all good faith that you don’t look like someone here for an early afternoon beer.’ The man was soft spoken and smiled incessantly as he spoke. He was the kind of boy Magdova would fawn over. Syline thought it seemed a little fake, like he was hiding something under that smile. Maybe it was just her.
Syline giggled a little. ‘I was hoping to take a bath. My bodyguard as well. S-separately, of course.’
The young man chuckled. ‘Of course. We separate the men and women’s baths, except for a few special holidays. We aren’t that sort of bathhouse. The men’s bath is empty except for some out of town mercenaries right now, so it should be fine for your bodyguard to use it, if he’s quick.’ He caught a barmaid’s attention, and the woman led Syline through a side door.
Thelonious was directed in the opposite direction for the men’s baths. Before they parted ways though, he called to her, ‘If I’m out first, I’ll go get us some clothes and other supplies: rations, potions, the like.’
Syline nodded, giving him a smile and a thumbs up. She trusted him to make good choices. As she walked to the bath, she wondered why Thelonious would not normally have been able to use the bath. She did not like the conclusions she came to.
Inside, she found a large rock pool, heated by permanent magical runes of flame beneath the water, tucked away behind bright-red, glass screens. A few women were bathing in the pool as it was, conversing happily with each other, concerning themselves with washing their body, or in one case, having a servant do it for them.
‘The glass patches are very hot. They’re marked red, so they should be easy to see, but please still be careful to avoid them.’ The barmaid bid her goodbye before departing back to the main room.
Left to her own devices, Syline was giddy to get in the bath. She stepped over to a bench and line of hooks where people left their possessions and disrobed. Public bathhouses like this were popular in Russenholde as well, and she’d been to a few with her sisters in the past, so at least she didn’t feel all too awkward disrobing in front of others who weren’t her personal servants like Alexis. Still, a thrill of excitement and nervousness went through her as she did. It was different when you didn’t have your sisters with you. Skipping over the tiles to the bath, Syline sank in with a pleased groan. She thought of the bath she’d taken right before heading for the grand library. How she’d felt that was relieving so much stress. Gods, the thought of how little stress she’d really been dealing with then. How trivial a nightmare felt before everything she had to worry about now.
That said, this bath had similar effects for Syline. She paid no heed to the women around her, simply shutting her eyes as she reclined against the walls. The bath water softly steamed over her form and worked away the dirt, grime and stress. In no time, she slipped into a gentle doze. It was only a barmaid gently tapping her shoulder that roused her from her nap. She looked up to see the woman averting her gaze politely from Syline’s form.
‘Excuse me, miss, but your bodyguard is wondering when you’ll be out. He says you’ve been here an hour already. He also brought you this.’ She was holding a paper parcel. Syline practically leapt from her skin at that realisation. How had she let so much time pass so quickly?
‘Tell him I’ll be right out, alright? Where are the…?’ She trailed off, spotting the stack of fresh towels on the bench.
The barmaid nodded and departed after handing the parcel to Syline. Standing up, Syline noticed many of the women who’d been in the pool when she’d arrived were long gone, and since replaced by new bathers. She really had been in there a while. This truth was only reinforced when she took note of how pruny and wrinkled the tips of her fingers had become. She hated when that happened; it wasn’t often, usually since her sisters were eager to rush her out of the bathroom to get their turn. At least it had been nice to take as long a bath as she pleased for once.
She dried herself quickly, more to give herself time to focus upon her hair than to hurry out. With so much of it, she knew she’d be unable to get it completely dry before she had to meet the clergy. But perhaps, with the aid of a few sigils in the spell-book, she might be able to manage something. She dried her hair off the best she could, enough so it wasn’t dripping anymore, and moved to her possessions, draping her towel across her lap to open the spell-book. A few of the bathers watched her idly as she skipped through page after page of sigils, many she’d never heard of, before finally settling on just the one: a minor spell of fluid control. Murmuring the incantation, she let the magic pass through the spell-book and back into her hands, giving them a strange, oily sheen that shone with every colour of the rainbow as it caught the light. She ran her hands slowly through her hair and felt the water bubble out of it and drip cleanly onto the floor as her hands passed through. By the end, her hair was perfectly dry and silky as if she’d let it dry for hours like she normally would.
A few of the women in the pool cheered and begged to know the spell, getting a giddy grin and a wave from Syline. She could imagine other women would want to know a spell like that, in fact.
‘This is the best spell ever,’ Syline, a girl who had suffered for her love of overtly long hair, muttered to herself.
