by Fel
The Quartermaster was on the second level, in a large room that was filled with shelves, those shelves holding assorted items and articles. The Quartermaster himself was a small wiry man, approaching his golden years, with a bald pate fringed with gray hair. His face was drawn, as thin as he was, but Tarrin saw that he moved with a spry step that belied his advanced years. he wore a simple brown coat over a white shirt, with brown trousers, and he had several stick pins stuck to the sleeves of his coat. He had several Novices and similarly young people with colored shirts or dresses rather than white. Those, he'd managed to deduce, were Initiates, in the step above the Novices. "Madam Elsa," he greeted in a scratchy voice, eyeing Tarrin warily. "What can I do for you?"
"This boy needs Novice's clothing," she said, jerking her thumb at Tarrin.
"Ah, this could be a challenge," he said, studying Tarrin. "Is he always so thin?"
"He should fill out a bit," Elsa said.
"Turn around," the man told Tarrin, and he did so. "That tail is going to cause a problem," he said. "I'll have to put a button in the back for it. I'll just have to cut holes in the underclothing."
"Do you have anything just for now?" she asked.
"We could put him in a robe until I get his pants sewn," he offered.
"That's a good idea," she agreed.
"Do you commonly wear shoes, Novice?" he asked.
"No sir," he said, holding up a leg and letting him see the rough pads on the bottom of his feet. "My feet do well enough for me."
"Good, I don't have any shoes big enough for those feet," he said, "and those claws would cut them up pretty quickly anyway.
"Let me measure you, and then I'll get to work on some pants," he said, taking a knotted cord out of his pocket, the knots tied at regular intervals along its length. "Go behind that screen and take off the shirt and pants." The affair took about ten minutes, for the wiry Quartermaster was quite adept at what he was doing. He would wrap that knotted cord around some part of Tarrin's body, and then write down the resulting measurement on a slate board he'd taken off a table. Tarrin was a bit antsy when the man casually wrapped that cord around the base of his tail to measure its width. He was unaware of how sensitive that particular place was, but Tarrin didn't do anything. He just stayed still and let him get it overwith. In a very short time, he had Tarrin thoroughly measured, and had taken reference measurements from Tarrin's current pants. The man gave him an old, worn out robe to wear, for he adamantly refused to give back the filthy, ripped clothing Tarrin had been wearing. "I'll be sure to leave room for him to fill them out," he told Elsa. "From his current clothes, I have a good idea of how much that's going to be. He can wear that old frayed robe to the bathing pool, and he can wear this one until he gets these clothes." He pointed at a folded garment that had been placed on a table by a Novice.
"When will they be ready?" Elsa asked.
"I can have them for you tomorrow morning," he replied.
"Very good. Come along, Tarrin, we'll get you clean."
They went down into a basement, and he was quite surprised. In the basement was a huge pool of water, one end of it steaming, and it was occupied by a surprising number of people who were bathing. Both men and women. There were many chairs set around the bathing pool which were filled with clothing and towels, and there were several Novices scurrying about tending the baths. The water smelled heavy to his nose, and he realized that it was minerals in the water, the minerals of a natural hot spring. A most ingenious way to build a communal bath and keep the water hot.
"Surprised?" she asked.
"A bit, ma'am," he responded.
"There's just the one pool, and since we all don't have the same hours, it would be impossible to divide the time. Don't worry, you'll get used to it. It takes some people longer than others, but you will. Everyone uses this pool. You, me, the Novices, Initiates, Sorcerers, guards, servants, and visitors. Even the Keeper herself bathes here."
Tarrin felt absolutely no reservations about undressing, he realized. The time with Jesmind had indeed changed him, in more ways than one. Or maybe the time with her had allowed him to come more into contact with the Cat within him. Either way, he realized soberly in that instant that he was changing, he was adapting to his Cat instincts. And, in some ways, they were starting to have a serious influence on his views and mannerisms.
He unbelted the robe immediately, and pulled it off his shoulders, then draped it over the back of a chair. She laughed richly. "That didn't take very long," she said as he stood beside her nude.
"I'm not human, Mistress Elsa," he reminded her gently. "My idea of modesty isn't the same as yours."
"Point taken," she acceded. "Is there anything else I should know? Anything special you'll need?"
"No," he replied. "I don't need anything special, ma'am. My blood is dangerous to humans, but let me be the one to worry about that problem."
"Yes, you would be the best to deal with it," she agreed. "And telling everyone that you're contagious may not endear them to you."
"I can do without that added stress, ma'am," he told her, giving the hot water a longing look.
"I'll leave you to your bath now," she told him. "I'll send someone to take you back to your room."
"I can make it back on my own, ma'am," he replied.
"Are you sure?"
"Positive, ma'am," he said. "I can find it. I'd like to walk around and see things after the bath, anyway."
"Alright then," she said. "Just don't get lost."
"No chance of that, ma'am," he told her. "I can follow my own scent trail back if I don't know where I am."
"Your nose is that sensitive?"
He nodded.
"Interesting. Have a good bath. Don't get waterlogged."
She left him as he lowered himself immediately into the water. It was tepid, and he discovered that it got hotter as one moved towards the far end of the pool. He waded in the waist deep water until he reached a delightfully hot temperature, then picked up a cake of soap that was sitting on a tray between the outer and the inner lip of the pool. He saw that there were two edges to the pool, the upper one and a lower one near the water level, that was just below the surface of the water. The water poured over that edge in a very thin stream, then was channeled away to a drain that removed the excess. He noted that that skimmed the soap foam and dirt out of the water and carried it away, keeping the water clean for other bathers. A very clever design.
He scrubbed at himself for a very long time, washing over twenty days of dirt and sweat and leaves and bark and all other manner of things off his skin and out of his fur. It was a bit hard to get at his tail, but he managed to scrub the formidable dirt out of it and comb out the mats with his claws. He unbound his hair and washed it thoroughly, watching as dirt and bits of bark and leaves, and a couple of dead flies and mosquitos, washed out of his hair and were carried away by the gentle flow towards the edge. He climbed up onto the edge of the pool to thorougly soap down and lather the dirt out of the fur on his legs, then he combed the mats out after dropping back into the water to rinse.
During the bath, he'd come to realize how thin he'd gotten. His ribs stuck out like bare branches, and every muscle he had was visible to the eye as he moved. The heavy meal had done wonders for him, though, and he could literally feel how much weight he'd gained since then. He suspected that it was the semi-magical power of regeneration that Jesmind said they possessed at work there, using the food he'd eaten to quickly put meat back on his bones. He was already hungry again. He was going to have to find out if he could get more to eat. He had the idea that if he ate heavily for a day or so, his regenerative ability would flesh him back out in almost no time.
He felt like an entirely new person when he climbed out of the water and shook much of the water out of his fur. He was clean, warm, safe, secure, and he would soon be full. The trials of the journey to Suld were quickly fading into his memories. He felt the eyes on him, but unlike the sensation he'd felt when he wa
s on the run, he didn't mind these eyes. Some of them were in fear, but the look on one blond woman who was in the bathing pool was one of appreciation, not fear. Jesmind's prediction that he would come to not mind being nude in the presence of others had come to pass, he knew. The Cat had taken that much of a hold on his mind. And he found that he welcomed it.
He took a towel from an edgy Novice girl and dried himself off, then sat down on a chair, nude, and tried futilely to try to braid his hair back up. His huge paws made the task extremely difficult, and he came close to using his claws to shear it off more than once. He knew how futile that would be. It would grow back in a matter of hours, and may end up growing back longer than it was now. He didn't want to risk that. Having it three quarters of the way down his back was more than long enough.
"You look like you could use some help," a voice called.
He looked up. It was the blond woman who'd been in the pool, with a towel wrapped around herself. Her face was young and very pretty, with deep blue eyes that sparkled in the light and the classic high-cheekboned, delicate face that made Draconian women famous for their beauty. Her common mode of speech marked her as a Tykini, from the breakaway kingdom of Tykarthia. "I do have trouble with it," he admitted.
"Here, let me," she said. She went around behind the chair, and he felt her take up his damp hair in her hands. "Why do you grow it so long?" she asked.
"Because it just grows back," he replied.
"Hair this long must have taken you years," she noted, starting to pull his hair into sections for braiding.
"No, hours," he told her.
"Really?"
"It's racial," he said delicately.
"Ah," she sounded. He could feel her hands swiftly begin to intertwine his hair into a single thick braid.
"You're good at this," he noted.
"I have five sisters, and braids are a very common hairstyle in Tykarthia," she said. "Not as popular as they are in Tor, but popular enough. Have you ever seen a Torian woman?"
"No."
"They put their hair into as many tiny little braids as they can," she told him. "Sometimes they weave beads into the ends. I shudder to think of how long that takes."
"They must have alot of time on their hands," he noted.
"Truly," she agreed. "My name is Jula," she introduced.
"I'm Tarrin," he responded.
"You're visiting?"
"Actually, I'm supposed to enter the Novitiate," he told her.
She laughed. "Then I'd best not let too many people see this," she told him. "I'm katzh-dashi. If they see me braiding the hair of Novices, I'll never hear the end of it."
"I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't know who you were."
"I didn't know who you were either," she said. "Down here in the baths, it's not easy to tell. It's not like I have the shaeram tattooed on my bosom."
"I think that would be a bit ostentatious," he said sagely.
"Not to mention painful," she agreed. "Do you have a bit of twine or thong?" she asked. "I need to tie this in, or it'll unravel itself."
"I think I have the old one somewhere," he said. "No, wait, I undid it in the pool. I forgot about it."
"Not a problem," she said. "I'll cinch it so it'll hold itself for a while, but you need to--" She stopped as Tarrin, who had his old, frayed robe in hand, ripped a bit of cloth off the hem, then handed it to her. "I hope you're not quite that hard on your clothes," she said with a bit of a laugh, taking it from him and tying it to the end of his braid. "Want me to make a pretty little bow in it?"
"No thank you," he said dryly.
"We don't have too many non-humans in the Tower," she told him as she knotted the torn fabric and then came back around him. "I think there are a couple of Wikuni that act as emissaries of a sort, but that's about all. If I may ask, what race are you?"
"I'm not Wikuni," he told her. "I'm a Were-cat."
"Really?" she asked, her eyes brightening. "We'll definitely have to talk. I have an interest in the non-human races, and most Were-kin are very tight-lipped. Well, it will have to wait, I guess," she sighed. "I need to get dressed and get to the class I'm teaching before they think I'm not showing up." She went over to the next chair and dropped her towel without so much as batting an eyelash. Tarrin noted that she had an exquisitely shaped body. She was very lovely. Her figure almost compared to Jesmind's.
Tarrin pulled the new robe on and belted it at his waist, then gathered up the old one. He realized that they didn't tell him what to do with it. He decided to take it back to his room and drop it off. He'd ask about it later.
"What do I do with the towel?" he asked Jula as she pulled her shift over her head and settled it into place.
"Just leave it," she told him. "A Novice will pick it up in a while."
"Thank you, Mistress Jula, for the braid," he said.
"Any time, Tarrin," she told him, shrugging herself into a robe. Obviously, she would wear that back to her chambers, where she would dress. And the sight and thought of that told him that this robe he was wearing was his. He was supposed to hang it on that peg on the wall.
He couldn't follow his scent-trail all the way back, since they'd come from the Quartermaster's so he went up to the first level and wandered until he saw something that looked famliar. From there, he quickly found the central hall, and followed it down to the door to his room. He noticed that there were no locks on the doors. Opening it, he saw the room much as it was before, except for a neatly folded pair of trousers and a shirt resting on the bed. He also saw, to his own surprise, a single leather pack sitting in front of it, and his staff was sitting in the corner. Dolanna had had his things all this time? He was impressed, and a little relieved when he realized that the Box had been in that pack. Going to it quickly, he noticed a note resting on top of the pack, and another note sitting atop the clothes. The note on the clothes was from the Quartermaster.
Master Tarrin:
I finished this set, and decided to bring it so you had more to wear than a robe. You can pick up your other four sets of clothes in the morning. They will be ready for you.
The second note was from Dolanna.
Tarrin:
We managed to recover this pack from the wreck of the ship. Thank Faalken for this, it was his quick thinking that saved our belongings. I dried them out as best I could with magic, and I do believe that nothing was damaged. It took some doing to recover your staff, but I knew how much it meant to you, so I decided that it was worth the effort. By the way, what is in this pack will be held in the strictest confidence. It was obvious to me that what is within are things that you hold dear for sentimental reasons. It will remain a private matter.
This evening at sunset, I think you should visit the library. It is easy to find. I am certain that you will find it to be an interesting place.
Tarrin folded the note carefully, and then opened his pack. It was obvious from the letter that Dolanna wanted to talk to him, and without the Keeper or a stranger around. It would be no problem. Since he wasn't really a Novice yet, even if his excursion broke a rule, it wasn't a rule that applied to him. Then he unpacked his pack to check things.
The Box was alright. The four items inside, the tooth, the piece of quartz, the gold nugget, and his treasured wing, were just fine. They showed not a sign of being dunked in the water. Neither did the box. His small daggers were in the pack, and so was his larger one, which surprised him. He thought he'd lost the item he'd won at staffs in the fair. His shaving razor was there, but not the soap. But then again, he didn't need the razor. With a start, he realized that he'd not shaved once since being bitten. And his face was hairless. That he didn't mind, for he didn't like beards and he hated shaving even more. His sleeping mat, tent, and cooking pot were absent, probably lost, but this pack, with his clothes and his personal items, it was what was important.
He placed the pack in the chest at the foot of his bed. The clothes in the pack were his sturdy leather clothes, and he wanted to keep them. A
bit of cutting with a knife or claw would free up a place for his tail in his pants, and that was all that really mattered. He took off the robe and dressed in the Novice's clothes that had been left for him, and hung his robe on the wall on the peg. Then he went to his staff.
The sturdy Ironwood showed not a sign of any duress, but that was usual for it. It took something like a blazing inferno to mark Ironwood. It seemed almost feather-light to him now, but he could feel every indentation on the wood intimately, and it felt just the same as he remembered. He was just stronger, and that made the very heavy wood feel lighter. His hands were now paws, and were much larger. He knew he'd have to practice with the staff to get used to the different grips he'd need to use it, now that his hands were so different. And learn how to use his natural weaponry in harmony with it.
The door opened. Tarrin stood by the bed calmly, staff in paw, and regarded the young man that entered. He was a bit tall for his age, which looked to be around fifteen, and he had the dark, swarthy skin that marked him as an Arksian. His hair was black as pitch, long and done up in an attractive side-parted style, and his eyes were a rich almond brown, almost like amber. He too wore the white shirt and brown pants of a Novice, and he had a book in his hand. "They told me that you may be here," he said calmly. "I'm Dar, Dar Ulthan," he introduced. "I'm your roommate."
"I'm Tarrin," he replied calmly.
"They asked me to show you around," he said. "We can do that after lunch, if you want."
"Lunch sounds very good at the moment," Tarrin said with a smile.
"Well, if we're going to eat, we'd best get moving," he said. "They don't let stragglers eat."
Tarrin put the staff back in the corner and followed the tall, lanky young man out.
"Where are you from?" he asked.
"Aldreth."
"Where?"
"A village about as far from Suld as you can get without leaving Sulasia," he replied.
"I'm from Arkhold, in Arkis," he returned.
"What brought you all the way here?"
"My parents are in the spice trade," he explained. "Merchants who are educated in the Tower tend to do better, and my parents want me to keep up what they've built."