#88 - Willing to Uncover His Face

The rumble of the work on the House of the Hand reached even down into the water rooms.  All of Inné was taken with the novelty of gun cotton and in the old quarry, it was suddenly creating all kinds of stone for building use, and just north of the city someone had discovered a whole new seam of hard coal that the gun cotton just opened up to everyone’s use.  People were starting to call it Ahrimaz’s Fire or Aeono’s Fluff.

Ahrimaz sat in the hottest pool in the water rooms up to his chin, beard soaking in the steaming water, watching the occasional ripples jiggle through what would normally have been a still pool, and flinched, imagining the explosion so far away.

Didara said she and Jagunjagun heard it as a basso chirrup and then a roll as if the earth were drumming.  Mostly pleasant.  

Sure put her muzzle on top of his head and hung her paws in the water on either side treating him as though his head were a harder bolster on the edge of a pond.  She licked her dewlaps and Ahrimaz snorted at the sensation and noise and went under.

The dog managed not to fall on him but looked very affronted when he re-surfaced, spitting sulphury water at her.

Ahrimaz was clean but he knew that if he got out of the water all the feelings, the pressure, the tears he could feel like a band around his head and chewing all along the backs of his cheekbones, would come pouring out.  He had no energy to bear that.  He sank down again, holding his breath, watching the water grow still, releasing a bubble or two to fly up and become part of his underwater sky.

His lungs were screaming at him by now and he ignored that pain.  It was tiny compared to what he was used to.  But he knew, just as he’d known for the girl, that it was not his time to drown, so he pushed up, bursting out of the water, startling the dogs and landed sitting on the edge.

“I was starting to wonder if I should interrupt,” Pelahir’s voice went from muffled to clear as the water ran out of Ahrimaz’s ears.  “So, Shit-Head,” he asked.  “How are you doing?”

Ahrimaz shrugged, tilting his head away from the Cylak man as he settled next to him, naked.  He’s beautiful and my scorching dick is noticing.  “Aside from wanting to have sex with you,” Ahrimaz said, “I’m fine.”

“Ah.” Pel slid into the water and then burst out, back up onto the edge almost in one motion.  He’d washed clean before coming to soak and water glistened on ever hair.  He smiled.  “I’m a little bristly and I don’t think I’m up for the kind of sex you want. Sorry.”

Ahrimaz nodded abruptly.  He still couldn’t manage to come without some pain being involved.  Either his or someone else’s.  His hand scratched idly at his chin, tangled in the hair, then knotted in it. He turned to Pel.  “I’d like to borrow your razor.”

“I can get you a new one.  Mine’s due for replacing.  You keep pulling on it like that and you'll likely pull your face off." He paused a moment.  "As long as you’re only planning to cut hair with it.”

“Only hair.  I swear…” he stopped, feeling the shape of his face under the full beard.  “You’ve been keeping mirrors away from me, on Limyé’s orders haven’t you?”

“Yes, we have.  You might have noticed the space in your room where it used to stand.”

“I… I’m not sure I’d be safe with my own hand on a razor and seeing this face.”  He waved a hand in front of it.

Pel didn’t answer but just sat silent for a while.  “A barber?”

“No.”

More watery, echoing silence.  “Would you trust my hand? Or Yolend?  Or Limyé?”  Pel was apparently as interested in having sex as Ahrimaz was, by the way his penis stood hard in the nest of his pubic hair.  Ahrimaz tore his eyes away, turning away from Pel.  His skin felt too hot, too inflamed.  As if Aeono would burst through if Ahrimaz lost control of anything.  He held his breath.

Pel waited until Ahrimaz gasped, then held out a glass of water, with cold beads running down it in this steamy atmosphere.

He took it, managed a sip, then a gulp, before draining the glass – not precisely dry – but empty, at the least.  “Ru… Rutaçyen, I think,” he managed to stammer.  “Ink sword hand, sword hand… good with a razor.”

“Good choice.  I'm glad to see you willing to uncover your face, come out of hiding."  He grinned.  "I actually have a freshly sharpened razor for you.” He threw a towel around his loins, to Ahrimaz’s exhaled relief, and threw a cheerful, “I’ll be right back,” over his shoulder.