Chapter 16 — Misidentified

The bath was incredible.

Ness moaned in simple ecstasy as she lowered herself into the hot water. After days— weeks? She had lost count— of living rough and of so much walking, the feeling was absolutely exquisite. She swore she would never step foot outside a city again.

It wasn’t my choice to leave in the first place, she reminded herself, with a mildly frustrated laugh. It didn’t matter; she was not sure she would ever voluntarily leave the bath.

The facilities were substantially nicer than she had expected, with rich polished wood, subtle incense, and complimentary herbal tea. Runes similar to those she had seen on the beer kegs kept the water hot, and despite all of the dirt and grime caked onto her skin, the water seemed to stay clear and lightly scented, a delicately spicy and woody aroma not unlike vanilla. She wondered if vanilla existed in the world; which reminded her about coffee. She resolved to ask Mira about coffee.

She stretched out in the bathtub, letting the heat soothe away her aches. She examined the magical runes, half-submerged in water and glowing a sullen red. They were not hot to the touch, like she would have expected. The shape of one rune was similar to the chilling rune, but the others seemed wholly different. She made a mental note to ask Mira about these, too.

She sighed in momentary contentment, and thought idly on the challenges still ahead— a heist to plan and execute, which she had no practical experience with; and then finding a way home.

Those things can wait at least a little bit, she assured herself; she would take as much enjoyment from the moment as she could.

She would also need to deal with the fact that she sported a pair of very real and very furry dog ears.

Or not deal with it…

She set all of these thoughts aside and instead focused on attempting to become one with the bath water; on attempting to become soup.

She was startled out of a light nap by a knock on the door, and a few words in a language she didn’t recognize.

A five minute warning, or something like it, she guessed, and sighed.

She climbed out of the bath, shivering as her skin began to air dry. She wasn’t excited about re-dressing in her same clothes; she did not need her enhanced sense of smell to know that they reeked. One wall supported a shelf with several towels, plain but serviceable flat-woven cotton. They were large enough and thin enough that she was able to tie one into a sarong dress. She appreciated, as she did so, the way her body had grown leaner and more toned after what amounted to weeks of hiking.

Ness stepped out into the hallway, and waited outside the room Mira had been assigned. The door opened a minute or two later, and she was surprised to see a different woman step out, not Mira. She was attractive in a cherubic way, all soft curves and an innocent smile. She smelled like flowers and musk. The woman nodded to Ness and said something the girl couldn’t understand, but which seemed polite. Ness smiled and raised a hand in return; and the woman disappeared down the hall, around a corner.

Mira appeared in the doorway next, looking somehow even more sleepy-eyed and relaxed than Ness herself felt. She was wrapped simply in a towel, held closed for modesty with one hand, which made Ness feel like not dressing in her clothes had been the right decision. She could smell the same spicy scented bath water on Mira, but also traces of flowers and musk.

Ah, Ness thought. That explains the attendant, and how relaxed she looks.

She was surprised by feelings of jealous and envy at this realization; she chalked it up to the peculiar effects of channeling Mira’s magic. She could definitely imagine the appeal of a few hours alone with a willing—

She blinked, realizing that Mira had said something, and she had been too busy staring at the sorceress’s collarbones and wondering if they tasted the same way they smelled.

“Sorry, sorry, what? I’m.. uh.. pretty tired.”

“I said— that’s clever, with the towel.” Mira gestured at the knot around Ness’s neck, which turned the simple piece of fabric into an elegant dress. “You can drop your clothes in the basket. They’ll wash them and bring them by before morning.”

“Oh, I was wondering, yeah. I didn’t think they’d have coin-op machines here.”

Mira narrowed her eyes at the unfamiliar term, and shrugged, too unbothered to care.

“Let’s go find our rooms.”

“Couldn’t we just bribe the innkeeper?” Rist whispered, barely audible.

He and Phaine stood back in the alleyway once more; deep in those quiet hours halfway between midnight and dawn. A waning half-moon shed dim light across them; enough to navigate the streets by, but not much more.

Phaine shook her head. She was staring up the brick wall, eyeing the window above.

“And if our quarry paid him more? Besides, do you have spare money for a bribe? Wait here. I’ll drop a rope.”

Phaine slipped off the soft-soled leather shoes she wore, and added them to the contents of her canvas sling bag. She drew in a deep breath, and let it out slowly, readying herself for the next part. She flexed her hands and focused her thoughts on the bone and sinew there and in her feet. Her fingernails and toenails slid forward silently, curling over themselves and arcing forward until her hands and feet each spotted a full set of feline claws.

She gritted her teeth against the pain. She had saved every coin she could for nine months to pay the Shapers’ fee for the enhancement. When she found out how much it hurt, they had offered to fix that for an extra third of the fee. She learned to grit her teeth, instead.

The pain faded rapidly once the claws had grown out; and with their help, climbing the brick wall was as easy as climbing a ladder. The window was slightly ajar, letting a little of the cool night air into the otherwise stuffy room beyond. Clinging to the wall with her feet and one hand, she gently eased the window open.

The wood frame creaked loudly, and she froze, pressing herself, reflexively, low and close to the wall. After several long breaths, and hearing no movement or shouts of alarm from beyond the window, she pushed it open enough to slip inside. The room was inky darkness, and while she let her eyes adjust, she extracted a small steel grappling hook and a length of rope from her bag. She secured the hook to the window sill and let the rope drop to where Rist waited, below.

By the time Rist climbed through the window, her eyes were able to make out the vague outlines of shapes— a simple bed, a writing desk, and the organic lump of a sleeping woman sprawled out, snoring lightly, underneath a worn quilt. There was too little light to make out her individual features, but the room had a disheveled and lived-in look; clearly occupied for several days, which aligned with what Phaine knew about the corrupt caravaneer.

She gestured Rist to watch the closed door out into the suite’s antechamber; there was no sign of the bodyguard, who she guessed was keeping watch — or more likely asleep — on the divan.

Ness startled awake at a sudden creaking sound.

She blinked blearily in the darkness, groping for where her phone should be on the bedside table— and nearly rolled off the narrow cushion she had been asleep on.

Right, she reminded herself. Magic fantasy world.

The room was pitch black, and she began to wonder if she had heard a sound at all, or simply dreamed it. She sighed, staring up at the impenetrably dark ceiling that she presumed existed. The antechamber didn’t even have a window to admit moonlight. It smelled of dozens of different perfumes and scents of guests past, and she spent a few moments marveling that she could tease them apart, like identifying the individual instruments in an orchestral recording. She could smell Mira, even— black pepper and a hint of something like tree bark. The scent was fresh and alive in a way that the previous occupants' lingering traces were not.

She knew there were candles somewhere, but she had been dreaming about sex and ice cream. She really did not want to try to figure out how medieval matches worked, at whatever hour of the death black morning it was. What she did want was to get laid, but without being able to speak the native languages, the only person she could talk to was Mira.

And Mira sees me as something contemptible, barely above a house pet, she thought, with frustration.

Not that she could touch me, even if she wanted to. Not without—

Ness drew in a deep breath, and tried to think of literally anything else. She counted prime numbers, rehearsed graph theory algorithms in her head, and imagined what her friends and family were doing about her disappearance.

She relaxed back into the divan, listening for any other noises that might indicate something had actually happened, and the sound had not just been a stray fragment of dream.

Probably Mira rolling around on that giant bed, she surmised, darkly.

She had taught Mira the game of rock, paper, scissors, and subsequently been thoroughly annoyed when the woman had bested her two out of three games, and won the right to the bed. The divan was comfortable enough — infinitely better than the pile of leaves she had slept on the night before — but stretching out on a spacious feather bed sounded like unbelievable luxury.

She was half asleep again moments later, her mind drifting, imagining tirelessly running through a field of tall grass, chasing rabbits. She caught the scent of two strange ones- one dark and sweet like good chocolate, and the other roasted and bitter like pecans toasted just a bit too long.

She was fully awake a moment later, rising to stand while her mind kicked into overdrive. The two new scents had the same fresh vibrancy as Mira’s scent— she was smelling two people in the next room, with Mira, that had not been there moments before.