Three Abosoms stood at the foot of the joba tree, red blood dripping from their wrists to the ground. Offerings of plantain and dried fish were cradled in the gnarled knots of the tree’s roots; even a sacrificial goat had been slaughtered and hung from one of the lower branches.
Sylah couldn’t get the image of the goat out of her mind as they walked back to their chambers together.
“What are you going to do for Ardae?” Anoor asked softly as they climbed the stairs up from the kitchens. “The servants normally have quite a good party during the tidewind. Sometimes I go.”
“I think I’ll just enjoy the time off. Gorn said I’m excused from duty today.”
“She must be starting to like you!” Anoor laughed, and Sylah tried to join in.
“I’ll be going to my mother’s chambers,” Anoor continued. “Do you have a large family?”
She tried to slip the question in innocently, but Sylah had noticed how Anoor had begun to pry more and more.
“Some. Not many.”
“You mentioned a mother.” Had she? She needed to be more careful. “Does she live in Nar-Ruta?”
Sylah gave a nonchalant shrug.
“Maybe you can visit them, if they’re not far.”
Sylah opened the door to Anoor’s chambers and stalked to their bedroom.
“I’m taking a bath. Do you want help getting dressed or are you okay?”
Anoor shook her head, smiling faintly. She was probably remembering the first and last time Sylah had tried to help dress her. She’d thought a ruffled suit jacket was a skirt and got it halfway over Anoor’s legs before she realized. Anoor fell into a fit of giggles, the suit jacket still wrapped tight around her leg. In fairness, the sleeves were very long.
Sylah went to the bath and began to fill it. She was still mesmerized by the bloodwerk runes that pushed the water from the kitchens below. Now she could read them, they only fascinated her more. She went over to the shelving unit by the sink and lifted out the sandalwood oil. Pouring a healthy amount into the bath, maybe a bit too much, she slipped off her clothes.
Submerging herself into a bath was one of the most blissful feelings Sylah could think of. Well, second most—joba seeds would always come first. The hot water lapped over her shoulders and tickled the back of her neck, soothing the scar that she had gained that awful day six years ago. It still hurt, not physically, but the aching bruised her soul in an irrevocable way.
She heard Anoor moving around in the bedroom and dressing room, which had been restored to its “rightful” calling, as Anoor had put it. Sylah hadn’t closed the door and could see Anoor moving frantically in the slip of light.
“What are you doing?” Sylah called out. She watched as Anoor’s shadow paused, her sheepish face tilting into view.
“I have too many clothes.”
“Yes, you do.” Sylah nodded, slipping deeper into the bath until the tip of her chin was submerged. Anoor held her gaze and didn’t stray to her body. It galled Sylah.
“And with it being Ardae…”
“Also stating another fact that doesn’t explain your actions.”
“I’m giving some away. To the Dusters, across the river. I’ll have them dropped off at the Dredge.”
Sylah held back her laugh, though it desperately wanted to come out. The image of Dusters in the Dredge wearing one of Anoor’s combinations of ruffles and bows was enough to set her crying. They’d cut up the expensive fabric and turn them into tablecloths.
“That’s a nice idea.”
“What is it? You think it’s silly? Oh, you think it’s silly, don’t you?”
“No…no, I didn’t say that, did I? I think it’s a lovely idea. But aren’t you going to be late for your mother’s Ardae lunch?”
Her smile was all teeth. “Oh, well, I’ll get Gorn to organize taking the clothes across the river later.”
“I can do it.” There’d be some fancy table settings this Ardae.
“But it’s your day off.”