#11 - A Bath

He slept on the floor, too exhausted to crawl over to the bed.  When the guard came in with breakfast, Limyé was with him.  “Yolend tells me that you agreed to be my patient.”

Ahrimaz stared at him. “Yes,” he managed to croak out of knotted tight throat.

“Will you swear to do your best to heal?”

“I swear, on my hope of God and my fear of the Demon.  I swear on my head and my testicles.”

“I suppose that will have to do,” Limyé said.  “Do you want to go outside? Or would you rather have a bath?”

Ahrimaz shook his head hard. “Did you just say ‘outside’ or ‘bath’? He started trembling.  “Or am I dreaming?”

“No. You will sicken if you are not clean, even your astonishing constitution needs support.”

“You’re basing your understanding of my constitution on him.”

“Indeed I am.”

“Bath…” Ahrimaz stammered and staggered to his feet, hands stretched through the bars.  “Tie me.  I don’t trust myself.”

“Very well.  I would rather not have to knock you unconscious again, especially since you seem to be trying to hurt yourself in various ways.”

“The pain focusses me,” Ahrimaz said.  “It’s how I learned to fight. It’s how I learned to plan.  Always in pain and having to rise above it.”

“That’s very hard on your body,” Limyé said, but wrapped the fastest knot Ahrimaz had ever seen, with a wide band around his hands, placed a rubber ball between then and then lashed them together.

“Interesting,” Ahrimaz said, as he backed away from the door.  “I’ve never seen this way of tying someone before.  It’s almost gentle.”

“We don’t want you to cut into your flesh if you try and wrench free.  By the way, I am going to have to lash you to the bars, and tie your ankles as well.”  He smiled.  “You’ve sworn, but I am not inclined to just trust you right off.”

“Very wise.”  Ahrimaz stood while they secured him to the wall bars and then opened the door.  Limyé tugged his boots off and his trousers, though Ahrimaz tensed when the air hit his bare skin.  He draped a towel around his hips that tied in place, and then removed his shirt somehow without untying his wrists.  “Hey! How did you do that?” 

Limyé shrugged.  “Magic trick.”

“Ha.” Ahrimaz was suppressing shivers and when they led him down the hall, hobbling in half-steps that the soft bindings allowed, past braziers, he raised his head, sniffing.  “You use a lot of salt in your baths.”

“They have it naturally.  We try and pull most of the sulphur out.”

“Naturally?  A hot spring?  We don’t have such a thing at home.”  He could see the guards’ faces as they kept sneaking looks at the brand on his chest.

“It’s always been here.  Brace yourself, the paintings are what you would consider Demonic.”

“I’d kiss Herself’s arse right under her barbed tail for a bath, Imaryan.” He paused for a few more hobbling steps.  “Thank you for warning me.”

“You’re welcome.”

“You know, I have nothing to fight you for.  You’re going to break me and re-make me.”

“That’s not how I would put it.  Here we are.”

The bath was a tiny room really, and it was hot enough to make his hair go flat in an instant.  The ties on his ankles allowed him to step down each stair and he looked down rather than the blasphemous paintings on the walls.  A guard held his leash as he sank down chin deep in the steaming water and leaned his head back on the headrest.

A gentle touch on his head and his eyes flashed open, to see Limyé leaning over him, cloth in hand.  “Let me clean the grit out of this scrape.” Why bother? It’s only a bruise. I didn’t come near cracking my own head open, except the skin a little.

“Do whatever you want, Limyé.” Looking up at the brown eyes that had a hint of smile in them let him ignore other things in the room.  He closed his eyes again and was surprised how little it hurt. “An orderly in the Hospital for the Violently Insane,” he said.  “It seems rather a change to becoming a personal physician to a head of state.”

“Well, it was after the Cylak war, when Pelahir and Ahrimaz were both captured by his Stag Lord and in the process of escaping found that they were on the same side. Yolend got them both out of the tower they were imprisoned in and Ahrimaz wouldn’t leave Pel.  They got Ahrimaz, grievously injured, to Imarya.”

“Well, that’s different.  In my world Pelahir was the loyal warrior to the Cylak, fighting Inné, and I captured him on the field.  He nearly killed me, that man.”

“He and Ahrimaz were so close as warriors, they found mutual attraction.”

“Not for me.” I refuse to remember the absolute joy when I found that I had him in my grasp, knowing that he was mine. 

“Hmm.”

“Where you serious about letting me get outside?”  Ahrimaz struggled to keep the eagerness out of his voice.

“Quite serious, though it will be in the evening,”

“Still keeping it quiet that I’m not their beloved?”

“Of course.”

“You realize that’s the first step toward tyranny.  Hiding things from your people.  I know.”

“Of course you do.”