“Here.” Athan handed her three pewter coins that had been stamped with the king’s seal on one side and a dragon on the other. “That’ll be enough to get you a full bath and your clothes laundered. Should have the place pretty much to yourself this time of day. I’ve a few errands to run and mushrooms to trade, so take your time. If you’re finished before I get back, please wait.”
She nodded and held the coins tightly. “I will, I promise.”
“Good,” he smiled then started off with Treven.
“Athan,” she called out, suddenly afraid to be left alone. When he turned back to her, she lost the will to speak her fear aloud. Instead, she held the coins to her breast and smiled with gratitude. “Thank you.”
He stood in silence and looked at her, an unspoken thought coming into his eyes but disappearing before she could discern its meaning. Finally, he nodded, with that easy smile of his, and continued off down the street, Treven a step behind. She stood on the bathhouse’s threshold, watching as Athan made a turn at the next street. It was Treven who paused this time, his large eyes looking back down the street at her, his head nodding as if telling her to go get clean and promising they would return, then he too disappeared behind a building.
Of all the foresters in all of Ellium, that she should be found by a kind man and his smart mule felt like a miracle within a life of endless days, lonely nights and a cold collar. As uncertain and unplanned as her previously repetitive existence had now become, she knew Athan would return to the bathhouse. It was a feeling set deep in her bones, like the urges to run or stay; something whispered on the wind, if the wind could speak, holding her in place or pushing her along.
A gentle breeze blew through the narrow street. Her arms beneath the bandages itched, as did her dirt matted scalp. With a deep breath, she pushed open the heavy wooden door and embarked on her first journey into a public bathhouse.
11
Dnara did end up having the bathhouse to herself, and the attendant who took her coin seemed appreciative to have a customer at such an odd hour. Most people, the older woman explained as she tossed logs into a stone oven set beneath a large wash basin, took their baths in the evening, to get clean before bed. A few would come at other times, if they were to meet a boy or attend a social gathering. They wanted to be freshly perfumed and their best dresses ironed, though she had seen less of those sort in the past few years. After talking Dnara’s ear off while preparing the bath, the woman then took the dirty clothes and tottered off with a muttering of ‘I’ll see what I can do with these’.
Thankful for the quiet that followed, Dnara soaked in the warm bath until her skin pruned and the water cooled. Holding her arms under the water, the lavender oil laced suds having long dissipated, she stared down at the scars’ distorted and warped lines beneath the surface. No longer an angry red, they’d miraculously sealed back up into the lightning pattern first seen two nights ago. This time, she wouldn’t hide it from Athan, strange as it was. Perhaps he would have some idea on the how or the why, even if he held no more understanding of magic than she.
Magic. Could it be possible? Her, a mageborne?
The very idea made her shudder in a mix of revulsion and fear. Clenching her hands together beneath the water, she prayed to Faedra’s mercy that it wasn’t true. Magic, like that of the keeper and his assistants, had brought nothing into her life but pain and confinement. Biting her bottom lip, she said another small prayer, begging Faedra to not let the keeper find her, if he had not died with all the others.
Stopping short of wishing for his death, Dnara stood from the water and let it drip a moment before she grabbed the provided towel. It felt incredible to be clean again. Looking down into the dirty water around her knees, her face murkily reflected, she thought perhaps this bath could be the start of a new life to come, one clean and free of her past. She also thought of Athan’s suggestion to open an apothecary. It no longer sounded so ludicrous, and it made her smile.
“Ah, all finished, then?” the old woman asked as she walked briskly into the bathroom.
Dnara startled at her reflection in the water and tried to cover her arms with the towel, then she sucked in a calming breath and did her best to keep the pleasant smile on her face. “Yes, ma’am. Thank you.”
“You clean up nicely, dear,” the old woman smiled genuinely and set down a bundle of clothes on a nearby dressing stool. “That dark hair of yours is not a color I’ve seen before. Looks like raven’s feathers, it does. You’ll find a suitable brush there, on that table with the mirror.”
Dnara didn’t know what a raven looked like, but assumed it to be some sort of bird with feathers of deep black, like her hair. Not wanting to sound stupid, she simply said, “Thank you,” then stared at the clothes for a moment as the woman made to leave the room. “Pardon, ma’am, but I don’t think those are mine.”
The old woman stopped in the doorway and chortled a tiny girlish laugh. “Thems from a sir, m’lady. Handsome lad, name of Athan. Dropped them by for you. Said I was to wrap your old ones up. They’re there,
