Chapter 279: Four – Hot Springs Episode

RavensDagger

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Chapter Two Hundred and Seventy-Four - Hot Springs Episode

“Now what?” I asked as I stretched my arms way way up.

Amaryllis, Awen and I were milling around the exit of the Exploration Guild. The journalist was long gone, and Reginald--after thanking us profusely for our time and for the cleaning--was back at work. I think he was out of whatever slump he’d been in before, or at least he seemed very enthusiastic about fixing the guild up again.

“We could walk around,” Awen said. “Ah, explore a little? We haven’t really tried any sylph-food, except what was at the inn.”

I nodded. That sounded like a nice way to spend the afternoon.

“I have a better idea,” Amaryllis said. “Reginald wasn’t able to tell me everything I wanted to know about the other delegations, but we do know where one of them is now.”

“Oh?” I asked.

She nodded. “The grenoil delegation is in the Purple District, which I imagine isn’t too surprising, but, notably, they have been visiting a bathhouse next to their embassy every day.”

“How did Reginald learn that?” I asked.

“I think it’s mostly the city’s rumour mill,” Amaryllis said. “The sylph find it amusing that the grenoil are so ill-suited to the weather here.” She gestured to the sky, which was a particularly drab grey. There was some sunshine, and it wasn’t too cold. Not cold enough to snow, at least.

“That’s not too kind of them,” I said.

“The grenoil are from a much warmer area of Dirt, it’s normal that they wouldn’t handle the cold here well,” Awen said. She was probably a bit biased there herself. She was wearing as many layers as she could get away with, and had been applying warming spells to herself all morning.

“So, we know where to find the delegation then?” I asked.

“Oh, finding their actual location isn’t hard,” Amaryllis brushed off. “The trick is finding a way to actually reach them. I don’t think the three of us could walk up to their embassy and ask to speak with the delegate and expect a meeting. But a chance meeting at a bathhouse? That’s far more manageable.”

“Alrighty then!” I said. “I’ve never been to one of those before. I also haven’t taken a bath in a while.”

“Please keep your strange hygiene issues to yourself,” Amaryllis said.

“I’m clean,” I protested, but it fell on deaf ears. “If I didn’t have cleaning magic, I’d take baths all the time, I swear.”

It was Amaryllis who took the lead and guided Awen and I back towards the more fancy districts of Goldenalden. We went up a stairwell, then hopped over a few easy rooftop gaps on a meandering path towards part of the city that seemed a little older. The plateau there was more pronounced, with buildings spaced out on a flat rocky surface.

Most buildings were distinctly sylph-style, but one of them stood out like a sore thumb. It was made of stone, like the others, but instead of being all angular and brutalist, it was round, with the second floors and up made of carved wooden panels occasionally broken up by circular windows.

“That has to be the grenoil embassy,” I said.

“Did you read the sign?” Amaryllis snarked.

I blinked, and only then noticed the swaying sign next to the building’s lot. It very clearly had the address, and Deepmarsh Embassy, embossed on it. “Oh,” I said.

“The bathhouse should be one street down,” Amaryllis muttered.

We eventually found it. The bathhouse was rather squat and fairly large. Smoke poured out of a pair of chimneys at the back. Just inside the entrance was made up of a large lobby area, with seats and a big counter before a trio of double doors. One labelled Men, the other Women and the last Other.

I stared around as we slid in and Amaryllis moved to the counter. A few coins were paid to a young sylph woman who then accompanied us into the women’s section. The main area was filled with cubicles with little pads next to them. A push of mana into the pad would lock it, and only the same person’s mana would unlock it.

“Right, this is where we store all of our equipment,” Amaryllis said. “And if this is anything like the bird baths at home, then there should be showers that you can clean yourself off in before heading to the baths. Usually you wash yourself with cooler water.”

“Okay, wait,” I said. “Two things. First, cold water?”

“Yes?” Amaryllis said. “It wakes you up properly, and it's good for your feathers.”

I nodded slowly. “Second, you call them bird baths?”

“Well, that’s what they are, aren’t they?” Amaryllis huffed.

I supposed that she was right. We took off all of our stuff and stored it away. The air was a bit chilly, but the floors felt heated. Awen was a bit shy about it at first, but I reassured her that there wasn’t anything to worry about and she seemed to get over it by the time we found the showers.

I made sure to lather up my ears nice and good, they were a bit strange, and I wasn’t entirely sure how normal buns keep them clean, so I just did my best and hoped that was enough.

Maybe I could find a bun to tell me how to fix my hair up around my ears? They parted my hair in strange ways, and I was worried it looked a little strange. The small fluffy bits just inside the ear were strange too, they weren’t like normal head hair, but were a lot softer and thicker. Also, I now had to make doubly sure to remember to wash behind my ears!

I had to ask around and find another bun settlement or group where I could ask some more questions.

Once we were all done showering, we followed a dripping wet Amaryllis over to the main bathhouse.

We had to climb down a spiral staircase to reach the bathing area. It was a cavern of sorts, though I suspected it wasn’t entirely natural. The middle of the room had a large circular bath, with steaming-hot water within. Smaller baths to the side, all of them recessed into the ground, seemed to be held at different temperatures by magical rune-powered devices.

“Oh, it’s so warm!” I said. The air was thick with warm humidity that seemed to seep right into my skin and hair.

“It’s nice,” Awen agreed.

Amaryllis hummed, then gestured to the largest of the pools. “It seems that we’re either too early or too late.” The room was empty save for a pair of sylph ladies, one helping the other clean off her wings with a big soft-looking sponge.

“So, if they’re not here, what do we do?”

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“Enjoy the warm water until they show up, obviously,” Amaryllis said. She walked over to the largest of the pools, her talons click-clicking on the stony ground.

I skipped after her, then wobbled my arms around as my feet almost slid out from under me. I giggled as I caught my balance, the sound echoing strangely across the room.

Amaryllis lowered herself into the water, and I splashed down next to her, with Awen slipping in carefully, one toe at a time.

“This is nice,” I said as I leaned against the side of the pool. It wasn’t all that deep, the water stopping mid-waist unless I leaned way back and let my head rest against one of the smoothed stones along the edge. I was sure they were designed to act as pillows of sorts.

“This really is nice, yes,” Awen agreed.

Amaryllis raised a wing and sighed. “My pinions are a mess,” she said. “And I’m certain it’ll be a nightmare to find a proper wing groomer.”

“I could help,” I said while sitting up with a splash. “What do you need?”

Amaryllis huffed a sort of ‘there’s no way’ huff, but then she huffed a smaller ‘well, maybe’ sort of huff. “Preening isn’t as easy as it looks. But if you want to try...” She shifted closer, then spread a wing out before her. “There are many kinds of feathers. These little fluffy ones here are down feathers, their barbules are softer and tend to warp and waver a lot.”

I leaned in and stared at the smaller feathers that were at the base of her arms. “Those are like your hair feathers,” I said.

“They’re not hair,” she said. “These need to be brushed straight when wet, otherwise they clump up, and when they dry out, they become a mess of tangles.”

I nodded. That made sense.

Amaryllis reached up to her head and plucked a small feather out with a tug. “These are contour feathers. They’re shorter and fatter, to make you more aerodynamic in flight.” I grabbed the little feather and twitched it this way and that.

“Does it hurt to pluck them out?” I asked.

“Only a little. It’s a... relieving pain when you take an injured feather out. Like cracking your spine to work out a kink. Now, these are wing feathers.” she ran her talons through the longer feathers in her arms. “These are the easiest to care for. They need to have all their barbs lined up properly. Those are the little arms sticking out of the main shaft of the feather. There are smaller feathers under the wing feathers, for insulating, and you need to make sure they’re not curled up underneath.”

I nodded, then gingerly grabbed her arm. It took a bit of focus, but it really wasn't all that hard. She stared at me, one eyebrow raised, as I lifted her wing feathers up and then tugged the feathers under it straighter.

“You’re actually not bad at this,” Amaryllis said. She relaxed against the bath’s side. “You could find work as a preener. What with your little human hands.”

Awen giggled at that before asking a question, “Don’t you use any tools? For preening, I mean.”

“Of course we do, but some puritans only use their talons.”

Awen nodded. “I can think of a few ways you might make hooks to grab the smaller feathers underneath. Or small brushes.”

“Hmm,” I agreed. I found a broken feather near Amaryllis’ elbow joint. “What do I do with this?” I asked.

Amaryllis had to twist her head to see the feather near her elbow. It was no wonder harpies needed help preening if they couldn’t see what they were doing. “Oh, that’s broken. Just tug it out. It’s probably best to pile the broken feathers on the side, we don’t want to make a mess.”

I pinched my tongue and tugged the feather out. Amaryllis hissed, but she didn’t flinch. I placed the wet feather to the side and went back to playing with Amaryllis’ feathers. “I wish I had feathers, they’re neat.”

“You’ve changed species once already, isn’t that enough for you?” Amaryllis asked. “If you truly want, I’m sure you can become some monstrous multispecies chimera.”

“Does that happen?” I asked.

“It does, actually. Much like how you evolved into a bun, some people will evolve into multiple other things. Usually that requires three or four classes though, which means, obviously, that those people are ridiculously strong.”

“Huh,” I said.

Amaryllis tensed, and for a moment I was afraid I’d done something wrong, but a glance at her face and I noticed that she was staring out towards the entrance.

I shifted around and noticed a group of people entering the baths. Frog people.

There were three of them, squat female grenoil with greenish skin that already glistened wetly with all of the humidity in the room clinging to them. The three moved right over to the big bath we were in and lowered themselves into the hot water with happy croaky sighs.

“Is that them?” I asked Amaryllis.

“Possibly,” Amaryllis said, “they’re definitely from the embassy, judging by their classes.”

I glanced over to the grenoil again. One was a Secretary, of all things, and the other two were a Ribbiting Conversationalist and a Cold-Blooded Politician.

It was actually hard to tell which one was the most important one when none of them were wearing anything. Still...

“Hi there!” I said with a wave. “Do you come here often?”

***

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