So when I left the bath, was he going to rape me, slaughter me, or something else? But why? Sure, it might be easier to make the next meal walk itself home, but that didn't explain how nice he'd been. It said nothing about why I was here, in what was obviously his home.
And yet I could think of a million horrible reasons why. Men were always kind to the women they proposed to. Just look at how doting Gideon had been before he'd proposed to Meri! But once she'd given herself to him, all he'd cared about was breeding. If she even thought about refusing, he'd punished her.
None of that explained why the doctor had treated my feet and other injuries, though. Then again, it could explain some of what the men had bickered about. Maybe they'd been fighting to see which one of them got to claim me as his property? Had the Wyvern won? Sadly, there was no way for me to ask with nothing but gestures as our only form of communication.
But what if, as soon as I left the bath, the horrors finally showed themselves? All my life, I'd been told God had lost the great war. The Earth was now the Devil's domain, and the heathens above would destroy me in ways I could never imagine. If that was the case, would delaying make it any different? Probably not, so I might as well face it head on.
Besides, what if Callah had been right?
What if the Dragons weren't evil?
What if I might actually be able to survive up here with them?
The drain was opened by pulling the chain attached to the plug in the bottom. Immediately, the water began swirling down. Among the things on the counter were the towels. I took one, pleased to find it was soft and comfortable, even if it had been made from a different material than I was used to. Beside those was the towel-like dress.
It looked nothing like what the women in the square wore, nor like what I was used to, but it covered more than my chemise. And while my undergarments were filthy, the dress was thick enough I could get by. Slipping it around my back, I pushed my arms into the sleeves and folded the flaps over my chest, tying the belt tightly - but this thing was huge. Much too big for me.
Not that it mattered. It still covered more of me than I had been wearing, and I wasn't about to put on my old clothes. The chemise and my underthings were disgusting after all the sweat and dirt I'd covered them in. So while it wasn't what I was used to, this wrap would have to do.
Dressed and clean, I unlocked the door and stepped out. The sound of the door unlocking announced me. Voices died in the other room, and I froze. The Wyvern wasn't alone.
"Orin?" he called gently.
I didn't call back. A lady did not yell through the halls; she came when beckoned. I knew the drill - it had been pounded into me since I was a girl - so I stepped towards the sound, terrified of what I'd see. My feet rounded the corner and I paused.
Standing in the middle of the relaxation room were three men I knew. Yellow, brown, and a green so dark it sometimes appeared black. These were the same Dragons who'd walked back with me. Maybe the yellow and brown ones were the Wyvern's friends?
All three of them smiled at me, and then the yellow one gestured for me to claim a seat. Cautiously, I returned to the one I'd used before. The one with the book sitting right in front of it. That made the brown one glance at me strangely, but he didn't complain.
No, the trio of men acted like I'd done a good thing. Granted, I'd also obeyed. The real question would be what happened when I said no.
Twenty-SixKanik
The girl sat down in Zasen's favorite chair with his robe trying to swallow her body. Those impressively blue eyes of hers jumped between the three of us, and they were still much too big. Still, she looked a lot better clean. Sadly, the dark colors on her face hadn't all washed away - nor the bright pink of her sunburn - and I had a feeling the rest of her wasn't any better.
"We got you clothes," I tried to explain.
Beside me, Rymar grunted at my feeble attempt to be nice. "Kanik, she still doesn't understand you."
"But it's still nice to try," I insisted. "It shows we're at least acknowledging her."
"Dunno about that," Zasen said. "She seems to do pretty good with charades."
"And miming a conversation isn't as easy when it's about more than picking her up," I shot back.
"No?" Rymar asked, grabbing one of the dresses Jeera had begged, borrowed, and absconded with from every petite tailless woman she knew. "Watch this."
Unfolding the first one, he held it up so the girl could see. "Orin?" he asked, turning it both ways, and then lifting it up to his own body.
When her brow creased, he laid the dress on the chair beside her, then picked up the next. Over and over, he showed off the dresses - four in total - and the whole time she watched him with suspicion in her eyes.
I couldn't help but chuckle at my friend. Zasen, on the other hand, had claimed the other chair and was simply sitting there with his fist pressed against his lips. When I glanced over, he looked up at me, clenched his jaw a little harder, then back at the girl.
That was when I realized his lips were too tight. He was trying not to laugh! Of course he was. Rymar was good at making a fool out of himself, but this whole game of pantomime was getting old quickly. If this girl was supposed to have information we could use, then we really needed to figure out how to communicate with her better.
My eyes immediately dropped to the book before her. "Zasen?" I asked. "Did you give her that?"
"Nope," he said. "She took it off the top shelf of my room."
"Mhm..."
Because the book was in English. It was a dead language, but one we still used for the sciences. Since that was the subject I taught, and middle school was the time when we began to dissect the English roots of most of our words, I was very familiar with it.
Then again, so was Zasen. He'd learned it when studying medicine as a young man. Back before he'd changed his profession to security. And yet, with his mother being a doctor and his sister serving as an emergency nurse, I was pretty sure he used it as much as I did. That was why he collected the ancient books.
But Rymar had moved on to the underthings we'd picked up from the market. The sizes might not be perfect, but Rymar swore he was good at guessing. Pulling out the first pair of panties, he held them up - and the girl's cheeks turned even more red!
Sucking in a breath, her eyes jumped over to Zasen. When he did nothing but raise a lazy brow, she snatched the panties from Rymar's hands and shoved them down in the chair beside her.
"She's embarrassed," I realized, grabbing the package of bras before Rymar could demonstrate those. "Guys, pre-teen girls don't like it either. They haven't yet realized men know all about these things, so they don't want us looking or even talking about them. Certainly not flaunting them in her face if she's going to be wearing them later!"
"But they're cute," Rymar said.
Zasen just flipped a hand. "So give her the packages and let her get dressed."
"Bathroom?" I asked.
He sighed heavily. "My room. It's the one she's going to be using."
