(Continued from Part 1)

“Mmh, I’m actually really glad you suggested this,” Mel remarked as we stepped out onto the streets, stretching her arms above her head and groaning. The last of the sunset was fading behind the mountains in the distance, and as we walked I could see several druids going from streetlamp to streetlamp, using step ladders and long staffs to light the lamps.

“Yeah, we haven’t been for a good long soak in a while,” Elle said, walking beside me with my hand held lightly in one of hers.

“I’m just glad I’ve got you two to go with me,” I said, taking a deep breath of the cool evening air and sighing.

“So, the place you came from doesn’t do baths like we do?” Mel asked in Elvish, and I flipped the mental switch on my translation to do the same.

“Well, it’s complicated,” I said, tilting my head to the side. “The place I was born, every house has a bathroom with at least a shower, if not a bathtub, and people generally didn’t bathe together. There are minor exceptions like… showering off together after gym, or like, hot tubs, but people usually wear swimsuits to go in one of those. For the most part, it’s considered embarrassing to see or be seen naked by strangers in a public place.”

“Huh.” Mel nodded along with my explanation, reaching up and rubbing her chin thoughtfully. “I can kind of get what you mean—well, the parts of that I understood, anyway—but it’s still really strange. I’ve heard rumors about Yuusha and the Empire and how strict they are about certain things, like the way people dress out in public, but I’ve never heard of any nation where people are taught to be ashamed of having their bodies seen at all, especially doing something as ordinary as bathing.”

“It’s… complicated,” I said, scrunching up my face in thought. “I… can’t claim to be like, an expert on my own culture. Maybe Morgan could explain it better, if she were here, but…” I shook my head, quickly dismissing that thought. “Anyway, it’s not like the concept is completely unheard of, either. I know for a fact there were other countries out there where bathhouses were still completely commonplace, and I’m willing to bet if I’d come from one of those I’d have no problem with this, but…”

I trailed off, unsure of what else to say, and Mel reached down, gently scratching at the back of my head.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll get used to it.”

“A-ah.. yeah, I guess I’ll have to…” I stammered, flushing at the implication. She was right, unless I wanted to forgo baths entirely, or take up bathing in the river, I’d have to get used to it.

Eventually, as we made our way further and further north from the docks, we came upon a street that seemed way too lively for being so late. Several of the buildings were still fully lit and occupied, and I’d also noticed a lot more people out and about on the streets than I’d expected to find at this hour. Through the window of one building, I caught a glimpse of what looked like a tavern, similar to Felda’s, with plenty of people chatting and drinking.

“Huh,” I said, flicking one of my ears at the lively sounds running up and down the street.

“What?” Elle asked, glancing around as if there was something she was expecting to see.

“Nothing, it’s just, I’m kinda surprised there’s still this many places open this late,” I said, gesturing at the well lit buildings. “I kind of thought this whole village would be dead quiet once everybody went to bed.”

“Sam,” Mel said, chuckling and arching her eyebrow. “That’s a pub, it’s open for most of the night.” At my confused look, she laughed even harder. “Do you really think everybody in this town goes to sleep at the same time? Or keeps the same hours?”

I opened my mouth to say “Yeah?” but realized immediately how ridiculous that assumption had been in the first place. I’d met those guards who patrolled at night during my run, but I figured they were more the exception to the rule. Between people who worked nights, demihumans who were nocturnal, and people who just enjoyed staying up late, there were probably plenty of reasons for all night establishments. Hell, I hadn’t even considered it, but we were on our way to a bathhouse that probably got most of its business after everyone else finished their work days.

“It’s honestly a miracle I haven’t been figured out yet,” I said, sighing and letting my head rest against Mel’s shoulder. “I get so many things wrong about how basically anything around here works. If I didn’t have the ‘runaway catgirl from High Society’ thing to fall back on I’d be screwed.”

The three of us shared a laugh at that, then continued to meander down the street, passing by other people on their way to enjoy the evening somewhere. We had travelled a lot further north from the docks than I think I’d ever been, and the difference was definitely noticeable everywhere I looked. It wasn’t like the buildings closer to the docks were shabby or run down or anything, but everything up here seemed to have that much more attention to detail applied to it. All the buildings were vibrantly painted and elaborately decorated, and the people we passed by matched, often wearing more showy, expensive looking custom made clothing like the kind that Dani and the other high end tailors sold.

For a moment, I started to feel awkward and underdressed, even in the custom clothes I'd gotten from Dani myself, but then Elle’s grip tightened on my hand, and Mel’s arm draped itself across my shoulders, and my doubts evaporated, along with most of my other thoughts. We continued to chat idly as we walked, until Mel pulled us up short.

“Alright, here we are,” Mel announced, nodding up at a building that definitely stood out, even amongst the higher end establishments we’d been passing by. Where most of the buildings I’d seen around the village were a mix of wood and stone with glass windows, this one’s exterior was entirely stone, with a wide-open doorway flanked by two carved statues of some kind of long snake-fish thing.

The bathhouse was huge, very wide and very tall with a gently sloping roof, taking up twice the space of either of its neighbors, and as I walked across the threshold with Elle and Mel, I felt an immediate shift in the temperature. While the air outside had been just shy of being cool enough to require thicker clothes, the air inside the spacious reception area we’d stepped into was balmy and humid, and I was immediately glad my shirt didn’t have any sleeves.

The reception area itself had a curved desk opposite the entrance, pressed up against the wall with a honeycomb of little cubby holes behind it, and two more empty doorways to either side of it. Like the doorway into the bathhouse itself, these were empty, covered only by long curtains of strung up seashells and glass beads that clattered gently in the breeze that blew in from the outside. To the left and right of the entryway were two squat corridors, each with a set of four rectangular alcoves about the size of a closet built into their walls. These were covered by a much more substantial heavy cloth curtain hung on a metal rod, and as I watched, one of those curtains was pushed aside. An elven man with green and red speckled skin stepped out, wearing a loose robe of some thin-but-fluffy-looking material and carrying a small folded bundle in his other hand.

The man approached the counter and handed the bundle off to the only person who seemed to be on duty; an older woman with maroon skin, covered in incredibly fine scales, her wavy black hair pulled back into a loose and messy bun. She was a fish per—er, a sea dweller, like Fynn had been, with fin-shaped ears and bits of webbing between her clawed fingers, and as she smiled at something the robed man had said, I saw that her teeth all came to sharp little points.

Finally, the man stepped away and passed through one of the beaded doorways, and the older woman turned and stowed the man’s belongings in one of the cubby holes set into the wall behind the desk.

“Evening, Madam Ikeda,” Mel called, giving a lazy wave with her free arm as we all approached the desk together.

“Mmmh?” Madam Ikeda hummed gently and turned back from securing the locker, giving Mel a thin lipped smile. “Ah, Melody, Eleanore, how nice to see you again.” Her eyes focused on me, pressed between the pair, and she inclined her head forward, lifting her eyebrows. “I do not believe we’ve met, young miss…?”

“Uh, Sam?” I offered.

Elle leaned over and whispered gently into my ear, in Elvish, “She wants your full name.”

“Oh, sorry, Samantha Fisher,” I hastily corrected, and Madam Ikeda nodded her head again.

“Young Miss Fisher,” she said, drawing herself up to her full height, which wasn’t much but still made her look very imposing. “I am Madam Ikeda. I’m given to understand that you are a newcomer to the surface?” I opened my mouth to try and give some kind of explanation, but thought better of it, and just settled on nodding. “Then I will give you a quick summary of the rules you will be expected to adhere to while partaking of the services here, which may differ from what you are used to. First, robes must be left on until you have passed the first corner of either hallway behind me, and must be put back on before you return to this foyer. Second, it is requested that you use the showers to clean yourself first, before entering any of the bathing pools; there are many complimentary soaps and lotions, as well as shampoo and oils for your hair and fur provided. Third, and most important, this facility is a place of relaxation for all, and to that end we ask that you try to limit outbursts of violence, roughhousing, intentionally disturbing your fellow patrons, or over-enthusiastic expressions of affection in the public areas.”

That last bit seemed directed less at me and more at the pair of elves to either side of me, both of whom fidgeted slightly and turned their heads away, muttering a few quick words of apology and reassurance.

“Uh, yeah, I can do all that,” I said, drawing Madam Ikeda’s attention back to me. “Though, speaking of public areas, I was told I could also ask for a private bath?”

One of Madam Ikeda’s neatly trimmed eyebrows slowly rose at that, and I could feel both Elle and Mel having gone suddenly stiff beside me. I glanced up first at Mel, then Elle, finding them both giving me the same expression of unmasked surprise, mixed with amusement in Mel’s case. I didn’t really have time to ask them what the big deal was, because Madam Ikeda spoke up again.

“You understand that will cost more than the regular entrance fee?” she asked, and I nodded, reaching into my pocket, where I’d stowed a small sack with a decent handful of mixed coins.

“Yeah, I figured. How much is it, exactly?” I asked, and beside me Mel’s head jerked and she snorted into a clenched fist.

“The cost is one golden crab for the private chamber, or one and a half if you also wish to have a selection of refreshments delivered to your room,” Madam Ikeda explained, unphased by either Elle or Mel’s reactions. Huh, that was kind of a lot, but I was currently more flush than I ever expected to be, especially so soon, so I nodded and dug out my coin pouch, poking around inside and drawing out one gold crab and five silver clams, laying them on the counter.

By now, Elle and Mel had detached from me and taken a minute step back from the counter, and were having some kind of furiously whispered conversation behind me while Madam Ikeda scooped up the coins and deposited them in a lockbox. She turned to a small rack next to the cubby holes and selected from a set of little rectangular tablets made of smooth, polished wood, with a zig-zagging edge carved into one end and a hole at the other, through which a small loop of cord had been strung.

“Here is your key for the private bath; be sure to return it when you leave.” I accepted the odd key and slipped it onto my wrist, while Madam Ikeda bent down below the counter, coming back up with a small tower of folded cloth. “Here are your robes; you may use the adjacent alcoves to change.”

“Thanks,” I said, accepting the bundle, and almost gasped at the feel of the material the robes were made of. Despite how warm the reception area was, the robes were slightly cool to the touch, and I immediately wondered if that was the work of magic, or some special fabric, or both.

“Oh, here,” I said, selecting one robe from the top and turning to offer the other two to Elle and Mel.

“Heh, yeah, thanks,” Mel said, accepting the robe with a rolling chuckle and throwing it over her shoulder, turning and heading towards one of the changing rooms.

Elle seemed to be having trouble either forming words or looking directly at me, and her cheeks were flushed green. My stomach lurched, but before I could ask what monumental mistake I’d just made without knowing it, Elle snatched the remaining robe and scurried off to change as well.

“Ah…geez.” I sighed, figuring I’d just have to wait until we were inside to ask. I followed them into the changing area to the left, selecting one of the other unoccupied changing rooms and stepping into it, pulling the curtain closed behind me. Inside, there was only a simple wooden bench running the full length of the tiny alcove, with a few hooks built into the walls at different heights, and more than enough space to place everything down as I undressed. I was glad, mostly, that there was no mirror in the room, as I picked up the robe and slipped it on, tying it tightly around my waist. Just as I’d thought, even as it warmed against my body, it still remained just ever so slightly cool enough to balance out the heat in the air without completely invalidating it. It was also light as a feather, and I got the impression it would be a terrible idea to move about too much too quickly while wearing it.

Collecting my clothes and my sandals, I exited the changing room, finding Elle and Mel already changed, and again talking amongst themselves. Luckily, they seemed too absorbed in conversation to notice when I did an almost textbook double take at the sight of them.

How did I ever let Bart convince me this was a good idea?

Tearing my eyes away before they could notice, I hurried past them towards the desk.

“Here you go,” I said, handing over my clothes to Madam Ikeda, who turned and stowed them in a locker, then repeated the process for Elle and Mel as well.

“Please, enjoy your stay,” Madam Ikeda finally said, half bowing and motioning with one arm to the beaded curtains. Since there didn’t seem to be any visible marking or symbol denoting there was any difference between the two, I assumed they both went to the same place and picked the left, mostly out of habit. Pushing through the beads, the corridor beyond was even warmer than the lobby, and wide enough for the three of us to walk side by side with plenty of room to allow another party of two to pass without having to squeeze out of the way to avoid each other.

I unconsciously sought out and squeezed my girlfriends’ hands as we got further down the corridor and approached the first corner, around which the sounds of water in motion and many people talking at polite volumes were drifting. I forced myself to breathe slowly, something that was helped by just how much moisture was in the air now, and rounded the corner.

The room beyond was the single largest interior I’d ever seen since coming to this world, easily the size of a small warehouse, consisting of one huge mostly-open space with a tall, sweeping ceiling. The main bulk of the room was devoted to an entirely stone-floored area, with four recessed pits ringed by ankle-high barriers that formed four sizable pools of water. Even from this distance, I could spot dozens of people scattered around the bathhouse; sitting half-submerged in the baths, perched on the edges, or sunk so low only their heads were visible above the water.

Before we could reach the bathing area though, we had to pass through the showers. They were similar to the changing areas, except formed by two walls of stone with large alcoves carved into them, set up facing each other so they formed a short, open-topped mini chamber, with the entrance from the lobby on one end and the bathing area on the other end. This setup was repeated several times end to end, forming a connected row of showering rooms that stretched all the way across the floor, so that it was impossible to enter the bathing area without passing an available shower stall.

To my not inconsiderable relief, it appeared that everyone didn’t choose to just immediately discard their robes as soon as they entered. Plenty were still wearing theirs as they walked about, though whether or not they kept them tied up was a different story. Still, after my initial look around, I got the feeling I was going to be spending most of my time here admiring either the ceiling or the floor. Though, speaking of, both weren’t too bad to look at, actually; both the floor and the ceiling were covered by large square tiles made of an interesting dark blue-green stone…

“Sam, you alright?”

Mel’s voice snapped me back to reality, and I jerked my head back up.

“Ah, sorry,” I said quickly, shaking my head to clear it. “Just got a little… distracted. I guess we gotta shower first?”

“That’s right,” Elle said, tugging me by the hand. Stacked up right beside the entrance were several lightweight wooden baskets, and Elle scooped one up in her free hand, nodding at me to take one as well. Then she led me into one of the showering chambers, each one with a set of three shower stalls standing opposite each other, for a total of six. There was a waist high shelf with a staggering amount of bottles, jars, and lumps of soap arranged across its surface, and I simply stared, paralyzed by choice, while Elle set her basket down and began selecting things to put in it.

“There, that should do,” Elle said, having put two bottles and a bar of pink-colored soap into her basket. She turned to me, offering a small smile, and asked, “Do you want some help?” Before I could answer, her eyes widened and she held up a hand. “A-ah! I mean, with deciding what to pick! I’m sure you can… handle the rest?”

Huh. Elle was starting to look as nervous as I felt, and I knew I couldn’t chalk her flushed cheeks entirely up to the heat from the pools. But didn’t she and Mel do this all the time? I would’ve figured they’d both be used to it by now.

“Uh, sure, I don’t really know what all I’m looking at here,” I said, placing my basket on the shelf. Elle nodded, squeezing my hand and then starting to poke through the collection.

“Okay, well, here’s the shampoo,” Elle said, selecting a bottle of frosted purple glass. “That goes on first. This one is scented with lavender, now let’s see… here, this is for after the shampoo, it’s oil to keep your hair and fur soft; it’s meant to be left in, so don’t use too much.” She added a small green jar beside the purple bottle, then grabbed a second bar of pale pink soap and a folded square of cloth the size of a napkin. “And this is, well, soap and a wash rag, and I hope you already know what to do with that. That one’s my favorite, apple blossom, but, uh, you could pick another one if you want.”

“No, no, that sounds great,” I said, smiling gratefully at Elle and picking up my basket, leaning down to give the brick of soap a quick sniff. Elle let out a relieved giggle, then looked pointedly down at where our fingers were still intertwined. I jumped slightly and released her hand, and she giggled again.

“C’mon you two, quit standing around being cute at each other and wash up,” Mel called, her voice coming from the other side of one of the opaque curtains that covered the shower stalls.

“R-right,” Elle said, turning and bustling towards an open stall, glancing back over her shoulder at me. “Don’t worry about us, you take as long as you need to.” Saying that, she stepped up to her stall and removed her—ach!

I spun around while Elle hung her robe on a provided hook, all but running into one of the other remaining showers. I pulled the curtain, some thin but thankfully opaque material, closed across the entrance before I removed my own robe, and let my back rest against the cool stone wall.

“This is a disaster…” I muttered to myself. “I wonder if it’s still not too late to just take up washing in the river…”

Well, despite what Elle said, I didn’t want to keep them waiting while I hemmed and hawed. Taking stock of the shower stall itself, I found it almost disarmingly familiar. There was a thick pipe jutting out of the wall that ended in a wide funneled nozzle with many holes in it, above two knobs, all made of…

“I really need to learn what the differences between copper and bronze are,” I sighed to myself, reaching for the leftmost knob while standing well out of the way of the nozzle. Water began to gush forth, and a quick check told me that, through some unknowable cosmic coincidence, this world still put the hot knob on the left, and the cold one on the right. Adjusting both knobs, which was much easier to do than fiddling with one of those annoying single knob setups, I managed to get the water to the perfect temperature and quickly stepped into the spray.

For the first few minutes or so, I just savored the sensation of hot water rushing over me, rinsing my face and running down my back to disappear down a drain in the floor. Eventually, I reached for the basket Elle had prepared for me, starting with the tall purple bottle. Popping the cork, I cautiously poured out a palmful of the viscous liquid inside, giving it a tentative sniff. It definitely smelled like lavender, with traces of other stronger smells I couldn’t really identify. Shrugging, I dumped it onto the top of my head, then poured out a little more straight from the bottle and began to work it into my hair with both hands. It quickly formed a thick, soapy foam, and I suspected I might have used a bit too much, but figured it wasn’t a big deal. Next, I dubiously eyed the jar of oil, deciding I would worry about that last. I grabbed the soap and washcloth, and again spent a minute or more just luxuriating in the feeling of scrubbing myself clean of what felt like way too much dirt for not even having spent a week in this world.

It was at about that moment, mid-shower, that I realized that with the way this place operated, it was entirely possible to just show up, shower off, and then leave without actually entering the bathing area. In fact, I was certain some people did exactly that, and that next time—if I even survived this time—I could probably just do that when I was feeling in need of a wash.

“Fffffffuck…” I hissed out slowly, letting my forehead thump against the wall of the shower. Well, it wasn’t the end of the world. I definitely wasn’t going and asking for a refund.

Rinsing myself off, I returned to the little green jar, opening it and finding it to be filled with a thick, translucent, honey-colored substance that smelled like nuts. Elle said I was supposed to leave it in, so I stepped out of the spray of the shower and dipped two fingers into the oil, pulling up a sizable glob of it and dumping it in the center of my scalp. It was a bit harder to spread than the shampoo, and it definitely made me realize my mass of orange hair was a lot thicker than I thought, but I eventually achieved what I felt like was a decent amount of coverage, even remembering to work some into my ears. Lastly, I pulled my tail around in front of me and rubbed some of the oil into it as well, starting from the base and working my way down the length, until I was running my fingers through the last strands of fur at the very tip of my tail.

Satisfied, I used the shower to rinse as much of the oil from my hands as I could, then shut off the spray, reaching out through the curtain for my robe and tugging it back on. I spent a few short moments just breathing in deep through my nose, assuring myself that I could do this, that everything would be fine.

Pushing back the curtain, I stepped out of the shower, and found Elle and Mel waiting for me, thankfully still robed as well. Both of them turned at my approach, smiling, and I—

Woah…

Both Elle and Mel had pushed their wet hair back away from their faces, but I stumbled slightly as I got my first ever look at the right side of Mel’s face, the side that until now I had only ever seen covered by a curtain of her long dark-purple hair. There were two long, jagged parallel lines of pale white skin that ran diagonally from the top of her brow to about the middle of her cheek, narrowly missing her eye on either side. It was a scar, I realized, one that stood out against Mel’s dark purple skin, and I immediately felt bad for how obviously I’d stopped to stare. I could only imagine how awkward and uncomfortable that must have made Mel feel.

“Pretty sweet, huh?” Mel asked, breaking into a grin and turning her head even further, to give me a better viewing angle on that side of her face.

Okay, maybe I couldn’t.

“Ah, uh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to stare,” I hastily said, but Mel just laughed off my concerns.

“What? Why? It’s not like I mind, I’ve had these since I was a kid, and they’re not exactly easy to miss,” Mel said, cocking her head slightly.

“O-oh, I mean, I just figured you were self-conscious about them, since you usually keep that side covered,” I said, furrowing my brows. Why else would she wear her hair like that?

“Oh, that?” Mel scoffed, waving her hand dismissively. “That’s just so I don’t get into it with the patrons at the tavern. You have no idea how easy it is to end up with sailors and fishermen ripping their shirts off to compare scars. That, and I just like wearing my hair that way.”

“Oh…” I said, letting myself relax again. Well, as much as I could. Honestly, the sooner I got into the bath, the better.

Mel chuckled again, motioning for me to come closer, which I did.

“Alright, well, since you went and paid for a private room, let’s go find it,” Mel said, reaching for the wrist that I’d looped the polished wooden key around. She turned it over, finding the number three that was etched into one side, then turned around and began to lead the way through the main bathing area. Taking one more deep breath, I latched onto Elle’s side and held on for dear life, keeping my head down and staring fixedly at the backs of Mel’s legs the whole time, relying on Elle to steer me out of the way of any obstacles. We only walked a short while before Mel came to a sudden stop. I cautiously raised my eyes, and found we’d navigated to the far-left side of the building, where a row of widely spaced doors—yes, actual doors this time, made of wood—ran along the wall. There was no knob, but rather a small circle of darker wood where a knob would be, with a little indentation that the key I’d been provided slotted into perfectly. Twisting the key in my hand, I felt the lock give, and the door opened inward, allowing the three of us to enter the private bathing room.

My first thought was that I’d somehow entered an empty storage room instead of our private room, but I quickly realized we’d actually entered a small entrance corridor, and the bathing room was beyond it. As I closed the door behind us, I noticed there were two sets of dark, oddly thick-looking curtains hung up over both the door, and the doorway to the bath. Otherwise, there wasn’t anything remarkable aside from a small shelf which sat empty, so I continued into the next chamber.

The private bath was, predictably, a scaled down version of the main bathing area, with a circular pit taking up most of the center of the room, but there were also a row of tiered wooden benches around the outer edges, and a stone shelf jutting out of one wall similar to the one near the showers, a small collection of bottles and jars arrayed across it. Steam hung thick in the air, with only a small row of thin slitted windows near the top of the ceiling to let it dissipate, and I immediately felt my robe begin to stick to my skin.

“Alright,” Mel began, clapping her hands together behind me. I turned to look back at her and Elle, and she fixed her eyes on me with a growing smirk. “I think there's something we should clear up before we proceed.”

“O-okay?” I said, turning around and facing the pair, fidgeting nervously with one of the edges of my robe. Again, Elle seemed similarly uncomfortable, holding a hand to her head and lightly massaging her forehead.

“First, who was it that suggested you ask for a private bath?” Mel asked, and I tilted my head.

“Uh, Bart? He said that would probably help with my nerves, because of the whole… ‘big room full of naked strangers’ thing.”

“Ah, makes sense,” Mel said, nodding and grinning wider. “Probably could've guessed that, it's easy to forget sometimes that Bart isn't from around here.”

“W-what? Why, what did I do?” I asked, my worry immediately ratcheting up several notches.

“Oh, rot take me,” Elle groaned in Elvish, lifting her head from her hand. “You didn't do anything wrong, Sam, really, and now that you say it it makes total sense, but… well, like you said, it's a matter of culture. Torgard’s culture isn't one that sees any particular reason to be ashamed about doing something as innocuous as bathing among your friends or neighbors. Typically, it's assumed the only time anyone ever requests a private room at a public bath like this is… when they…”

“When they plan to do something more than just bathe,” Mel said, and Elle nodded wordlessly in agreement.

“Wha…” I narrowed my eyes, then immediately felt them pop open wide as the implication of what Mel had said hit me like a truck. “Oh! Oooh… Oh my god…” I felt heat rising to my cheeks that had nothing to do with how warm the room was, and brought my hands up in front of my face. I mentally replayed the interaction at the front desk and groaned. “So then… Madam Ikeda, she thought I… she thinks we're…”

“Probably,” Mel said, with her familiar, far-too-casual tone for what was, objectively, a disastrous situation. “Honestly, it was pretty smooth, the way you just came out and asked for it, completely casual. That was what tipped me off that you didn’t actually have any idea what you were doing.”

“Of course I didn’t!” I cried, holding my hands to my forehead. “I would never… I mean!” I immediately bit my tongue, holding my hands up. “T-that’s not what I mean, I just… I wouldn’t… I mean we haven’t even known each other for a week yet!”

“Sam, Sam, it’s alright,” Elle hastily cut in, moving to my side and tentatively putting a hand on my shoulder. “We understand, we know you weren’t trying to pull something. I won’t say I wasn’t… very surprised when you asked for this room, but it’s obvious it was just a simple mistake.”

“Yeah, and hey, honestly, I can’t complain,” Mel said, putting her hands on her hips and glancing around the room with a grin. “I never really got the appeal of paying a whole crab and a half when we could just go home after the bath and—ow!”

Elle had turned, still keeping one hand on my shoulder, but using the other to give Mel’s upper arm a quick swat. Mel chuckled and cleared her throat, rubbing her arm idly as she continued.

“What I mean is, there’s definitely nothing wrong if this is what you need to feel comfortable, y’know?” Mel said, giving me a soft smile. “It’s still hard sometimes to wrap my head around the idea that you’re from somewhere else entirely, and stuff that might come easy to me and Elle could be the exact opposite for you.”

“Yeah…” I said, my shoulders sagging slightly as the tension went out of them. Honestly, it was too hot to be getting so worked up. “I wanna do my best to roll with the stuff that’s strange to me. Like, where I came from, the idea of sharing a bath with someone you just started dating would be completely unheard of, but you two didn’t even bat an eye when I asked you to come here. That seems so strange to me, but it’s just… how things are here, and the sooner I get used to it all, the better, right?”

“Right,” Mel said, nodding and reaching to lightly tousle my slicked-up hair.

“Right,” Elle agreed, then, slowly at first so as not to startle me, pulled me in by the shoulder for a quick hug. I squeezed her back, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath, feeling like a great weight had been lifted from my shoulders.

The sound of the door opening startled all three of us, and we turned as one, making wide-eyed eye contact with a robed young man with dark green scales, who had stepped into the entrance corridor holding an oblong covered tray with both hands. Mel chuckled and went out to meet him, but my heart was beating too loudly in my ears for me to overhear the brief exchange between them. Mel accepted the tray and the young man bowed his head, backing up to the door and slipping right back out the way he came.

“Did you forget you paid for these, too?” Mel asked, carrying the tray over to the stone shelf and lifting the lid, revealing a small dish of berries resting in ice, as well as a stoppered clay bottle and three small cups.

“I did, actually,” I said, breaking apart from Elle and tilting my head in for a closer look. “What is that?” I asked, nodding at the bottle while grabbing a strawberry from the pile and tossing it into my mouth.

“If I know Madam Ikeda, probably sweet pear wine,” Mel said with a dry chuckle, lifting the bottle and tugging out the cork, taking a quick sniff before nodding. “Yup, spot on.”

“Oh,” I said, chewing thoughtfully. “She didn’t even check if we were old enough to drink.” Elle and Mel just stared back at me, and I felt like slapping my forehead again. Swallowing, I explained, “Ah, right, where I came from you had to be over twenty-one before you could drink alcohol.”

The pair continued to stare, both of their eyebrows climbing even higher, before Mel broke out into an extended, wheezing laugh, raising the clay bottle towards her lips. “Sam,” Mel said, shaking her head. “That’s the strangest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Saying that, she tipped the bottle up just enough to take a small sip.

“Well, it wasn’t exactly a hard law to break,” I said, shrugging. “A lot of the coolest kids had older siblings that would buy alcohol for them if they were having a party or something. I… didn’t go to a lot of those parties, but I heard about them.”

“So you’ve never…?” Elle asked, also reaching for a few of the chilled berries.

“Once or twice,” I said, chuckling slightly. “Though I kind of have the feeling that nothing I drank back home can compare to whatever… fantastical brews pass for normal drinks around here.”

This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

“Sam, it’s just wine, not a potion,” Mel said, pushing the cork back into the bottle and placing it back on the tray. “Well, either way, it’s entirely up to you if you want to try some.”

I looked from her to the bottle thoughtfully. This wasn’t the first time I’d considered this world’s lack of a drinking age. I always figured if I did wind up sampling anything harder than lemonade in this world, it would be through Felda and the tavern, but this didn’t seem like a terrible alternative.

“In the meantime,” Mel said, motioning at the array of glass bottles taking up the rest of the shelf space. “We should probably actually get in the bath at some point. Elle, you know all this stuff, why don’t you get us set up.”

“Oh, right!” Elle said, clapping excitedly and turning and regarding the rainbow of glass before her. She hummed thoughtfully to herself as she began poking around, starting a small collection in the crook of one arm.

“What is all that anyway?” I asked, helping myself to another berry.

“Salts and fragrances,” Elle explained happily, turning and heading over to the gently steaming pool of water in the center of the room, kneeling down next to the edge. “One for soothing the muscles, one because, well, who doesn’t like to smell nice?”

Huh. Fair enough. I watched in mild fascination as Elle opened the many jars she’d carried over and grabbed several fistfuls of pale salts, tossing them into the water, then repeating the process with two bottles of something that caused the room to immediately fill with an almost dizzying bouquet of floral scents.

Mel, meanwhile, had picked up the tray again and moved to join Elle in kneeling by the edge, setting the tray on the floor where it would be within arms reach of…

Oh.

They were both looking up at me expectantly now, and Mel gave me a little smirk. Right. I guess there was no putting this off any longer.

“Ah, uh, right,” I said, stepping over to join them on the edge of the pool, carefully taking a seat beside the other two.

“Are you going to be alright?” Elle asked gently, and I bit my lip and nodded.

“I think so,” I said, staring down at my own hands drumming away on my lap. “As… weird as it may seem to me, this is the norm around here, and I’m going to have to get used to it… eventually.” Lifting my eyes, I gave the pair a tiny, nervous smile. “And this doesn’t seem like the worst way to practice.”

“Hah!” Mel laughed, turning so her back was to me, swinging her legs down into the water. “Smooth, Sam, very smooth.”

Elle turned to face the pool as well, and patted the stone surface beside her. I scooted forward, letting my legs dangle into the bath, and let out a quiet sigh as I felt for the first time just how pleasantly warm the water was. We sat there in silence for a few moments, and I wondered if one of us should do a countdown or something, before immediately realizing that would just be… weird.

Then, out of the corner of my eye, Elle and Mel wordlessly shrugged off their robes, folding them loosely and laying them on the stone behind them before sliding into the bath. With my eyes rolled almost all the way up in my head, and took a deep breath and shucked my own robe, tossing it hastily over my shoulder and all but diving into the water. I sank in up to my neck, and a long, satisfied groan drifted up out of my mouth as the hot water seemed to immediately seep into my very bones.

“Holy… shit…” I sighed between breaths, taking a seat on a submerged step, leaning my back against the interior of the pool and letting my head hit the edge. “Oh, that feels so good…”

“Sam.” Mel chuckled from somewhere off to my right. “If you keep carrying on like that, people are definitely going to assume we’re up to something in here.”

“Shh…” I raised a boneless arm and slapped it ineffectually in Mel’s direction. “Too… relaxed… to be embarrassed…”

“Is that a challenge?”

I nearly did jolt upright at that, until I heard Mel yelp and giggle, followed by some light splashing. “O-okay, okay, I’m sorry!”

“Melody Moonglow, behave yourself,” Elle admonished, and I snickered at what I could only imagine was going on out of my field of view, which right now consisted entirely of the ceiling. I felt movement in the water, and a presence beside me, and I heard the serving tray being dragged closer.

Lifting my head, I found Mel beside me, leaning out over the edge of the pool. She met my gaze out of the corner of her eye and smirked, wiggling the clay bottle of wine between two of her fingers.

“Would you like to try some?” she asked before pulling the cork with her teeth, tipping the bottle and pouring a portion of very clear, off-yellow liquid into one of the small clay cups.

Sitting up a little straighter, I nodded, keeping my eyes carefully above shoulder level while Mel grabbed another cup, and poured another serving, handing it over to me. I held it with both hands, savoring the curious sensation of the cool clay surface of the cup against my warm fingers. I sniffed curiously at the clear liquid, but if it was meant to smell like pears, it was lost in the storm of fragrances coming off the bath water. I shrugged, and lifted the cup, taking a miniscule sip. I felt my face and cheeks scrunch up slightly as the strong taste of alcohol hit my tongue first, followed by a sweet, fruity aftertaste.

“Bleh…” I said after I’d swallowed, opening my mouth and taking a few breaths to soothe the slight afterburn. “It’s very strong.”

“That’s strong to you?” Mel asked, clearly amused, clearly having a much easier time sipping from her cup. “I guess that’s what happens when you never drink until you’re over two decades old.”

“Shush,” I said, playfully poking my tongue out at her before going back for a second sip. It was only marginally easier than the first one, but I was also able to notice more of the actual flavors behind the alcohol. It was… pretty nice. The tart pear flavor was especially refreshing after so much of what I’d drank lately had been so sweet.

“Don’t give her too much now,” Elle said, having swam back over and also propped herself up on the edge of the pool, a few feet off to my left.

“Hey, I know my own limits,” I said, crossing my arms. Elle lifted her head and cracked open one eye, looking pointedly at me.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you when one of us has to carry you home,” she said, smiling and laying her head back down.

“Psh,” I scoffed, and just out of spite, took an extra large third sip, draining the small cup. Okay, it was still really strong, and I did my absolute best not to gag loud enough for Elle to notice. Turning back to Mel, I held the cup up for a refill, vowing to have just one more, and to take it slower this time.

“So,” Mel spoke as she carefully poured. “Think you’re getting the hang of it?”

“Oh, yeah, it just takes some getting used to, but it tastes really good,” I said, and Mel snorted.

“Not the wine,” she said, rolling her eyes and smirking. “I mean, you know, you? Us? Here in the water?” She met my eyes, or rather, tried to, realizing for the first time that I was staring fixedly at a point somewhere about her forehead, and she chuckled again. “You haven’t even taken a glance, have you?”

“I’m… trying!” I lied, gripping the little cup tighter in my hands, dropping my gaze from Mel’s forehead to the clear liquid inside. “It’s not like it’s you, either of you, I promise, it’s just… it’s hard to try and suddenly forget a whole lifetime’s worth of instincts and reservations, especially about stuff as… y’know, intimate as seeing someone naked for the first time, even without the whole dating aspect. I’m having to throw basically everything I thought I knew about romance out the window!”

Mel nodded slowly out of the corner of my eye, just letting me rant until I ran out of steam. I stared at my own reflection in the small cup, gathering myself, reminding myself I was supposed to be relaxing.

“Can I ask you something?” Mel asked, her tone soft and gentle, lacking her usual casual joviality. I swallowed and nodded, and she propped herself up on one elbow beside me. “You almost act like you’re afraid something bad might happen if you do look. Could you maybe explain what you think that might be?”

Huh. When Mel got like this, she almost sounded like a therapist. Or, rather, what my impression of what a therapist sounded like, based on Morgan’s recounting.

“I don’t know,” I said, lifting my eyes up towards the ceiling again. “Logically? Nothing. I mean, you’re almost literally asking me to, but… well, back in my world, back when I was still… Y’know, I used to get caught staring at the girls in my class, and I’d get teased or bullied for it for weeks.”

“Why?” I half-turned my head at the sound of Elle’s voice, closer than she had been before.

“Because, that kind of behaviour is considered rude, or weird, or creepy, or whatever the other kids came up with,” I said somberly, giving a lazy shrug.

“Aah…” Mel made a noise of understanding, also sounding closer than I remembered her being. “They thought you were making unwanted advances on them?”

“Yeah, something like that,” I said, dropping my eyes again. I could feel fresh heat blooming in my cheeks, but this time it wasn’t because of the situation, but because I was fairly certain the wine was starting to kick in. I lifted the little clay cup and took a slow, deliberate sip before continuing.

“It was worse when I didn’t even know why I was doing it,” I explained, letting out a few dry chuckles. “Now that all makes a lot more sense, at least.”

Mel hummed thoughtfully for a few moments, and I heard the sound of the clay bottle tapping the rim of her cup. God, how much could she put away?

“It sounds, to me, like maybe… you’re still afraid to get caught staring? Even when it’s just us, you worry we’ll read that as an advance, and then reject you for it?” Mel ventured, and I saw her tilting her head sideways in my peripheral vision. “Which, just so it’s out in the open, we won’t. We like you, Sam, and there’s a reason we invited you into our orchard.”

I furrowed my brow at that, turning the idea over and over in my head. That was… huh… was it really that simple?

I blinked my eyes several times, lifting my head up and staring straight ahead for almost the first time since entering the bathhouse. Gripping the clay cup tightly in my hand, I raised it in one (mostly) smooth motion, and drained its contents in a single go.

Then I turned, meeting Mel’s purple eyes and her wide, smug grin, and then, very deliberately, looked down. One quick glance, about three seconds, and then I was staring at Mel’s face again. Just like that, like ripping off a band-aid, all the built up tension, expectation, dread, all of it just went up like so much steam rising off the bath.

When I finally spoke again, it was to voice the first coherent thought that had entered my head.

“You have a lot more scars than I expected you to.”

Mel threw her head back and burst out laughing, heedless of her own advice not to be overheard by the bathers outside. Elle, likewise, seemed unable to stop giggling as I turned to her for help, but their combined glee too was infectious, and pretty soon we were all laughing together. A momentary look of panic crossed Mel’s face, and she suddenly rose from the bath, hurrying over and disappearing into the little entrance corridor. I watched as she tugged on the first of the thick curtains until it covered the door, then returned to the bathing room and did the same with the second curtain. Turning back to me with a relieved sigh, she pointed at the curtains and chuckled.

“Helps muffle the sound. Figured we wouldn’t need it, but, hey, can’t be too careful, huh?”

That just set me off laughing all over again.

After that, I was finally able to relax, fully relax, and enjoy the rest of our time at the bathhouse.

■

“Urrhg…” I moaned into the nape of Mel’s neck, my face buried in her still drying hair.

“I’m going as slow as I can,” Mel said, half soothingly and half teasingly.

“I told you,” Elle said, for the… umpteenth time.

“S’not… m’fault…” I groaned, letting my head hang down until it was resting against the top of Mel’s chest. I was, currently, being carried in what Elle oh-so-insistently referred to as a “princess style” across Mel’s arms. Her… surprisingly strong arms…

“I keep tellin’ you… I used t’be a lot bigger!” I explained, thrusting a fist into the air as hard as one of my limp, noodly arms could manage, holding it there for half a second before all the strength went out of it and it fell, dangling limply at my side. “Used t’be… six feet tall!”

“And we keep telling you, we don’t know what that means,” Mel said, chuckling indulgently and hoisting me higher in her arms. I pouted up at her, deliberately flicking one of my ears across her face.

“That ssssounds like a you problem…”

“I told you,” Elle said, for the umpteenth and one time. “I told you two cups was plenty.”

“S’not fair…” I lamented, again shaking a fist at the sky. “Your lousy gods… made me too short!”

“I don’t know about that,” Mel said, smirking down at me, almost curled inward on myself in her arms, with room to spare. “You seem pretty comfortable like this. I don’t think you’ve stopped purring since we left the bathhouse.”

I didn’t have an answer to that. No, wait, yes I did. With herculean effort, I raised my limp tail, and bopped Mel across the nose with the tip.

At some point, we arrived back at Felda’s tavern. I must have nodded off at some point, because I only became aware of this fact when I heard Felda’s concerned voice somewhere over my head. I thought about opening my eyes, but… naaah…

“...fine, she just had a little too much of the pear wine,” Mel… or maybe Elle, said.

“What? You rented a private room at the baths?” Felda asked, sounding aghast.

“Nope,” Mel, definitely Mel, said with a chuckle. “She rented a private room at the baths. She, uh, well she’s kind of not used to bathing in public, and thought that would be a good compromise.”

“Oh, goodness.” Felda sighed, and I felt a rush of vertigo. I reached out instinctively for something to cling to, and found purchase on something dense and rock-solid. I heard a gasp, and a sharp intake of air through clenched teeth.

“A-are you alright?” Elle asked.

“I’m fine, dear,” Felda answered calmly, and I felt rough but gentle fingers pry at my own fingers until they lost their tension, and I slumped against whatever I’d been clinging to. “My fault. Sometimes I honestly forgot she even has claws.”

There was more conversation after that, but I already found myself drifting back out of it now that I was once again being comfortably held against another warm body. Rather than listen to what was being said, I opted to listen to the steady rhythm of a deep, powerful heartbeat, so strong that I could feel it as much as hear it.

The rest of that evening existed as only vague recollections of sensations and sounds, of Felda helping me into bed, brushing out my freshly washed hair so it wouldn’t get tangled all over again, and then laying me down and letting me burrow into her side for the rest of the night, and as much of the morning as she could spare.

■

There was no fishing the morning after that. Half because when I finally awoke, my head had a slight ache, and my body still felt as weak as… er, well, as a kitten. And half because it was well after sunrise when I cracked my eyes open. I experienced a truly staggering amount of deja vu as I languished in Felda’s bed feeling dazed and dehydrated.

When I finally recovered enough to go out and about, I immediately found Felda and apologized profusely, both for my general state the night before, and also for sinking my claws into her shoulder when I thought I was about to fall. She forgave me for both, obviously, but my work was nowhere near done. Bart was also there, enjoying a late breakfast, and I apologized for missing another valuable morning of training time. He, of course, didn’t let me beat myself up over it, instead framing it as me celebrating becoming a bronze-ranked professional hunter. More importantly, he said that he would be ready to start teaching me magic in five days, and that helped lift my spirits immensely.

After that, I tracked down Elle and Mel, finding them chatting with Dani, and again apologized to both of them for just… everything. They laughed, and I did as well, as they recounted to Dani the night’s events, mainly focusing on my behaviour after we left the bathhouse, and how, in their own words, “adorable” it was.

Never again, I swore.

Thankfully, after a day of rest, I was more or less fully recovered, and was able to make up the lost time the next day. And the day after that. And the day after that. And so on, for four straight days, during which Bart steadily introduced me to more knots, rigs, and baits, and the list of fish species I’d caught (and then consumed) grew longer and longer. Inbetween fishing, I spent more time at Elle and Mel’s, the three of us getting to know each other better bit by bit. I learned that in addition to her gardening, Elle liked to paint, and that Mel was a pretty decent cook in her own right, helping her make a hearty seafood chowder one evening.

As the days went on, and I didn’t show up at the Hunter’s Guild with another fish half the size of my whole body, the buzz about me around town quieted back down to its usual not inconsiderable level, and I went back to just being “that strange fishing catgirl who showed up a week ago.”

But it was on the fifth day, Serday the twentieth, first quarter of summer, that I would become something more than that. That was the day I was finally going to become a mage!

Or, at least, that was the hope. The night before, in the tavern, Bart told me he’d managed to gather what he needed to try giving me an introductory crash course in magic the next day, and told me I could sleep in a bit. I tried, but I was practically buzzing with excitement when I laid down, and slept for only what felt like twenty minutes before I was scrambling out the window to go sprinting at top speed up and down the main street.

None of the guards had managed to keep up with me once I dropped to all fours. I returned home, thoroughly worn out, and managed to sleep until sunrise.

“He said he’d be here early,” I said, glancing at the doors to the tavern, which Bart continued to stubbornly not walk through.

“It’s still early,” Mel grumbled from the stool beside me. She and Elle had turned up bright and early, saying they didn’t want to miss my first magic lesson.

“The sun has only been up for five minutes,” Elle added, wiping her mouth. Felda had, of course, prepared a fantastic breakfast of eggs and thick slabs of buttered toast for us all. I’d wolfed mine down, expecting Bart to show up any minute, and was now working my way through seconds.

“But it’s been five daaaays,” I whined, letting my head come to rest on the counter beside my plate.

“He’ll be here, Sam, don’t worry,” Felda said, leaning over me and smiling that tusky smile of hers that I couldn’t help but return, even as frustrated as I was feeling.

Finally, the door creaked open, and I shot to my feet in an instant, crossing the room so fast I was standing at attention in front of Bart before he’d turned back around from closing the door. He started slightly and jerked backwards, nearly dropping the sack he had tucked up under one arm, then schooled his expression and cleared his throat.

“I suppose I don’t need to bother asking if you’re ready?” Bart asked, which was the same thing as asking the question, in my opinion.

“I’m ready!” I said excitedly, standing up on the balls of my feet to try and get a slightly better look at whatever Bart was carrying.

“Good, well… let’s get started then,” Bart said, uncharacteristically hesitant. He glanced towards the bar, where Felda, Elle, and Mel were all watching with interest. His mouth twitched, and he sniffed once, then turned and walked towards one of the round tables, which had had its chairs taken down in preparation for this exact moment.

“Now then, you told me you have very little experience with magic, at all?” Bart asked as he set down the sac and loosened the drawstring top.

“Uh, yeah, basically nothing,” I said, climbing into a chair to watch. “I mean, I… know about mana, kind of, but even that’s not very much, so, you’re probably best just starting from the very top.”

“From the top. If I can even remember that far back.” Bart nodded, chuckling once as he began to pull things from the sack; a very thin, worn-looking book with a beat-up cover, a small stack of papers bound together by string, several writing implements, and, finally, a thin wooden stick that couldn’t be anything but a wand.

“Well, the best place to start is the very foundations of magic as a craft,” Bart said, reaching for the well worn book. “Magic, ah, that is to say, the act of casting spells is, in its simplest form, done by learning to inscribe in the mind's eye the sigils that are responsible for creating magical phenomena in nature.”

As he spoke, Bart opened the book and flipped forward to one of the first few pages, turning it and showing me its contents.

“Sigils are, essentially, a… pictographic alphabet, pieces of the language that shapes our very world, and…” Bart pulled the book back, and I realized he’d been reciting from the opening passage of this very book. “Allows a mage to… inscribe his own dest—how old is this book?”

Sighing in exasperation, Bart pinched the bridge of his nose, then pulled out a chair and dropped into it beside me, holding the book open for me to see again.

“Alright, the gist of it is, these symbols here are sigils. They’re what makes magic happen.” I followed his finger as he tapped the page, and squinted. Aside from the plain text, which Bart had been reading from, I saw several rows of… well, at a certain angle they just looked like more plain text, only in thicker, bolder handwriting. But, as I stared, and tilted my head, the words on the page melted into a series of simplistic black strokes, unfamiliar symbols that, when I tilted my head the other way, turned back into plain words.

“This one, for instance, is the sigil for water,” Bart said, pointing to the word “water” in thick black ink, which when looked at from the other angle turned back into some kind of swirly glyph. “This one, here, is wind, and you can see some of the same curved shapes from the water sigil,” Bart continued, and the same process repeated. I realized, with a sensation like a bucket of ice water dumped down my back, that only I was seeing both versions of the text. So my translation blessing did work on spells!

“I… see…” I said distantly, glad that I was already sitting down. I had asked Elle and Mel if they could give me any early peeks at what I might be learning from Bart, but they’d said it was best if I just went in blind, but now that was coming back to bite me, because I had no idea what this meant for me. If I could just read the language that made up all magic spells, wasn't that like… a huge advantage?

“I know it can seem daunting, the prospect of learning a whole new language from scratch,” Bart said, misreading my suddenly pale expression. “But I’m only showing you some of the basic, foundational sigils. There’s been hundreds of years of advancements and refinements since the discovery of the basic elemental sigils.”

Bart turned the page, and I saw that the example sigils had grown more complex. Where before it had been a single symbol, which morphed into a single simple word when viewed through my translation, these were strings of sigils pressed end to end that formed… well, not sentences exactly.

Begin,ElemWtr,SphereDiaTwo,VelEqlsManaPerTick,End

What. The fuck.

It made so little sense that I went back to just looking at the unfamiliar string of plain sigils instead. That way, I could at least follow Bart's explanation better.

“You can still make out the original sigil for water here, but it's been simplified, see?” Bart asked, tapping at one cluster of strokes in particular. I could see the resemblance to the sigil from the previous page, but some of the extra swirly bits on the edges had been pared down.

“Huh, that makes sense,” I said, nodding. I had to be very careful not to say too much here, lest I give away that I was seeing much more than I should've. Clearing my throat, I asked, “So, this is some kind of… water spell?”

“It is, yes,” Bart confirmed, moving his finger to tap at the symbol that sat closest to the one for water, of two curved shapes with a pair of dots over them. “This means it forms an orb, a medium-sized one to be specific. The rest of this, well, I can break it down once you know more, but it determines the force behind the orb when you release it.”

“Got it,” I said, even though I was pretty sure I already had some kind of inkling of how it worked. “So, is that what this spell is named? ‘Water Orb?’”

“Named?” Bart said, reaching up and stroking his chin. “I suppose you could call it that, but spells don't have concrete names.”

“What?” I asked, furrowing my brow. “But, I've seen you and Elle, and that girl at the guild cast spells, you always call out the name when you cast them.”

From the bar, I heard Mel chuckle slightly before Elle shushed her.

“Ah,” Bart said, shaking his head. “That’s getting into the mechanics of actual casting, and spell memorization. Like I said, this"—Bart tapped the water orb spell on the page again—“is the beginning and end of what a spell is. The act of casting it simply involves picturing the correct string of sigils in your mind, what the book calls ‘inscribing’ them, and then pushing the required amount of mana into it.”

To demonstrate, Bart took another glance at the page, then held up his right hand, palm up. Without a word from him, water began to appear from midair, collecting into a fist-sized ball, before he pointed his arm straight out and it went sailing lazily away from him to splash against the floorboards a few feet away.

“See?” Bart said, with a small, pleased smile. Then, as if realizing what he'd done, he glanced at the puddle of water and then looked guiltily towards the bar.

“Just try not to break anything,” Felda said, chuckling and shaking her head.

“My apologies,” Bart called, then turned back to me. “Anyway, as you can see, that's all there is to it.”

“Then why do you and Mel say those things when you cast?” I asked, and Bart's smile grew.

“Because that is one of many techniques taught to mages to help them learn and memorize longer, more complex spells.” Bart motioned towards the puddle. “That water orb spell is incredibly simple, the kind of thing you'd teach young children to give them a taste for magic, and so it is trivial for a fully trained mage to cast. That’s why I can cast it without having to utter a word, or make a series of hand motions. Now, this spell, on the other hand...” Bart pulled his hand back, holding it up before him, and took a deep breath, and the next time he spoke his voice thrummed slightly.

“Frost Touch,” Bart said, and a skin of ice crystals formed around his hand like a glove, thin wisps of mist rising off of it. He turned, and nodded toward his upraised hand. “The string of sigils I have to inscribe every time I want to cast this spell would make that water orb spell look like a simplistic doodle.” Saying this, Bart focused on his hand again, ending the spell with some mental trigger, then started shaking it out, sending tiny flakes of ice onto the floor and table. He then immediately winced and glanced back at Felda again.

Felda just stood at the bar with her arms crossed, smiling back at Bart.

Clearing his throat, Bart turned another page in the book. “Like I said, this is what a spell of that complexity looks like.”

I stared blankly at the page before me. Without the translation, it was a string of extremely tightly compacted symbols, with almost no room between them for blank paper to show through. With the translation, it was a mess.

beginelmwrtsphrdiathrmultsixvelveleqmanaprtkend

I… could barely make heads or tails of what I was looking at, and definitely couldn’t understand it, and felt a little deflated that it didn’t seem like I was going to be able to just automatically become some kind of mega mage.

“This isn’t the same spell, of course,” Bart said. “This is a continuation of the last two pages, a spell that creates a barrage of water orbs. I don’t think I need to demonstrate that for you, but the point is, you can imagine how difficult it might be to be able to inscribe something that complex, and be able to do it over and over again.”

I nodded, because at least that part made sense. Trying to keep a clear, strong mental image of that solid block of super condensed sigils seemed impossible, actually.

“That’s where the different casting techniques come in,” Bart continued, holding up the hand that had just been covered in frost a short time ago. “By performing a specific set of steps, using unique arm and hand motions, breathing a certain way, or speaking a particular word aloud, or in some cases a combination of all three at once, and doing it over and over again each and every time you cast a spell, you condition your mind to associate one with the other, then reinforce that association until it becomes second nature, until it becomes impossible to do one without the other.”

I furrowed my brow slightly, trying to follow what he was saying, and pointed towards his hand. “So… you can’t say the words ‘frost’ and ‘touch’ next to each other or you’ll automatically cast the spell?”

“Not quite,” Bart said, then suddenly placed his hand on my shoulder. “Frost touch.”

I almost jerked backwards, but the fact that his voice lacked the same odd effect that accompanied an actual cast of the spell tipped me off, and Bart gave me an approving nod, lifting his hand again.

“I’m glad you picked up on that so quickly, that’s actually a mistake many novice mages make, and it takes just as much work to unlearn as it did to learn,” Bart said, giving me an approving smile. “If you’re using that method, the best way to avoid your spoken spells spilling over into your regular speech is to tie a specific trigger to the opening sigil, one of two sigils that every spell must open and close with.”

Blinking, I looked back down at the book, and carefully flipped the page back and forth. I had missed it with the nonsense string of letters, but even then, I could make out the words “begin” and “end” at the very start and very end of both spells.

“Oooooh…” I said, my eyes widening with comprehension. “That makes sense… So you, what, have one special move just for that sigil?”

“Indeed,” Bart said, and took a deep breath. Now that I was looking closely, I saw that he also rolled one of his shoulders ever so slightly, and this time when he spoke, his voice was again tinged with power. “Frost Touch.”

Again, the ice materialized, until Bart made another series of seemingly random movements of his shoulders and arm, and the effect ended.

“That’s… that’s soooo awesome,” I said, not even minding the flakes of melting ice that landed on me this time. Another thought occurred to me, and I tilted my head, grinning slightly. “Wait, if the name has no actual connection to the spell that comes out, you could tie it to anything couldn’t you? Like, if you had a fireball spell, but you named it, uh… Cloud Burst or something, and totally confuse your enemies, right?”

Bart tossed his head back and let out a bark of laughter, and I began to worry if that had been a stupid question, but my fears were dispelled by the way Bart smiled as he looked at me again.

“Another good question, Sam. You’re already thinking like a mage,” Bart said, still chuckling. “The answer is, yes, and in fact you’re far from the first person to come up with that. That trick has been around almost since the dawn of the era, and in fact there’s a rather famous story about the first mage who employed it to win a duel. Though, in truth, it’s only useful when fighting other mages; if you’re part of a team that needs to coordinate around your spells, using them that way can only confuse your other party members and expose them to harm, and that’s not something you want to get in the habit of doing.”

“Oh,” I said, chuckling a little as well. That figured, it was probably the first thing that came to my mind for a reason. As much as I wanted to ask Bart to tell me some of that story, I wanted to stay focused on the lesson more.

“So, uh… I guess when you break it down like that, that’s everything I need to know to start trying to do magic, then?” I asked, looking hopefully up at Bart.

“Hmm? Oh, well, I suppose you could try something simple,” Bart said thoughtfully, turning and reaching for the wrapped stack of index card-sized papers. He untied the string and pulled a slip of paper from the top, placing it before him. “The first sigil you’ll want to study is the opening sigil, the one I mentioned.”

I leaned over and watched as he used a thick black pencil to scratch out a single symbol on the paper, a sort’ve curvy triangular shape, but with no third line forming the bottom. He then turned the page, so the open end was faced to the right, and my translation immediately latched onto it and the word “Begin” resolved on the paper.

“So I just… think real hard about that symbol? Picture it inside my mind?” I asked, and Bart nodded, so I tilted my head and squinted my eyes until I was looking at just the plain sigil again. Then I just started to imagine exactly how I’d have to move my pencil to draw it out myself.

“Yes, but don’t be disappointed if you don’t”—

Begin

—“manage it right… Sam?”

I furrowed my brows, my eyes going slightly unfocused. I had just finished my imaginary drawing of the little sideways triangle, and immediately both the symbol and the translated word had forced themselves into the forefront of my mind, where they glowed brightly and refused to diminish in clarity or urgency. It was like there was a huge neon sign floating at the forefront of my brain, blinking incessantly.

“Uh, I… did it, but now it won’t go away,” I said, looking up to Bart for assistance.

“What?” Bart asked, looking taken aback and sitting up straighter in his seat. “Just now? You mean… you mean the symbol is inscribed in your mind, right now?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“Try to lose focus on it, think about something else,” Bart said, and I did my best. I glanced around the tavern, looking for anything else I could focus on. The puddle where Bart had tossed the water orb. Elle and Mel and Felda back at the tavern, who waved at me. I smiled, and waved back, then turned back to Bart.

“Is it still there? Is it still fixed in your mind?” he asked.

Begin

I only had to think about thinking about it, and it was there, just as crisp and crystal clear as before.

“Yeah, it’s still there,” I said, furrowing my brow. “It's actually getting kind of annoying, can I get rid of this?”

Bart’s mouth hung open for a second, then he reached for another slip of paper, hastily scratching out a symbol that, as I watched him draw it, turned out to be a mirror image of the first, flipped vertically, with all the distinct dots and flourishes on the opposite end.

“My apologies, I didn’t think you’d get it right away. Here, inscribe this, and it should close the spell with no effect,” Bart said, a note of slight concern in his voice that had me growing slightly worried again. But I could deal with that when there wasn’t a gigantic glowing Begin burning itself into my brain.

I considered the second sigil and repeated the process of imagining it out in my mind’s eye, placing it right next to the first one and—

BeginEnd

—waited for… oh. There it went. As soon as the symbols resolved into full clarity, they both winked out. I sighed, and reached up to rub my forehead.

“That sucked,” I complained, and Bart closed his eyes and brought a fist to his forehead. By now, the slight commotion had drawn Elle and Mel out of the stools and Felda out from behind the bar, and the three of them were standing off to the side of the table.

“Did I hear that right?” Felda asked, looking from Bart to me with a curious smile. “Sam managed to open a spell already?”

“And close it,” Bart said with a sigh, opening his eyes again and fixing them on me. “Either Sam is… already a mage and is playing a very strange trick on me, or she has a natural talent for magic.”

“R-really?” I said, gasping and sitting bolt upright in my chair. It really hadn’t been that hard to just picture two little triangles. In fact, it felt like most of what had happened was automatic, with the way the first sigil refused to exit my mind until it was “closed” again. Was that not how it worked for everyone?

“That’s… amazing!” Elle said after a moment of hesitation. She and Mel had been exchanging glances since they’d walked over, and I didn’t have to ask to know what they were worried about.

“Ah, I’m sure I just… got lucky?” I offered, and Bart sat forward again, looking at the two “Begin” and “End” sigils he’d drawn.

“Perhaps. I suppose the next thing we ought to try is to have you cast an actual spell,” Bart said, taking another slip of paper from the stack. “I’ll give you something simple, one of the simplest spells there is in fact.”

Bart spent almost a minute scratching out a small string of sigils on the fresh slip of paper, and then slid the first two he’d drawn apart, placing it between them so that they formed a single line. I tilted my head to read it.

Begin,ElemLight,SphereDiaOne,DurTckThree,End

“This spell will create a tiny ball of light that will last for a few seconds and then go out,” Bart explained, and I bit my lip, conflicted. I could see the sigils, plain as day on the paper, and if the experiment a second ago was any indication, I would only have to start drawing them inside my head and my mind would latch on and produce the spell. Was that how easy it was for everyone, or was this another blessing? And if I did cast the spell, would that be suspicion on top of more suspicion? I wanted to learn magic, and I was finally doing it, but because I still hadn’t worked up the courage to rope Felda and Bart into my secret the way I had Elle and Mel, I was now contemplating backing down.

Aaagh, fuck it! It’s magic!

I took a deep breath and fixed my eyes on Bart’s hand-scrawled sigils. As I studied the details of each one, they appeared in the forefront of my mind, stroke by stroke, their meanings resolving into clarity as I completed each one in turn. Finally, I had a string of half-words etched into my brain, waiting for the final piece. Holding my hands up, I sighed, and pictured the “End” sigil at the very end of the row.

The sigils flashed inside my mind, and I felt something start to move up my spine, and—

“Ah! Ow, fuck!”

I winced, grabbing the side of my head as an intense ache flared up inside it, like I’d pinched a nerve, but in my brain. I didn’t know what had just happened, but there was definitely no flash of light, and the sigils were gone from my mind.

“What happened? Sam?” Felda’s voice, not Bart’s, was the first I heard, and I blinked my eyes blearily before looking up, finding her hovering over my shoulder.

“I… don’t know?” I said, rubbing the side of my head, thankful that the mysterious ache was already starting to fade. “I did the spell right, but when I tried to close it, I felt something start to move and then just this really sharp pain in my head.”

Felda made a noise of concern, and I felt her hand on my back, rubbing it gently. Elle and Mel, meanwhile, were looking even more startled.

“A pain?” Bart asked, his brow knitting together. “But was the spell completed properly?”

“Yeah,” I said, lowering my hand and leaning forward slightly, resting my elbows on my knees. “I guess it was just a fluke after all? I must have done something wrong.”

“That… shouldn’t be possible,” Bart mumbled, half to himself, bringing a hand to his chin and stroking it slowly. He eyed me closely, and I felt some of the fur on my tail start to stand on end, before he looked away and started muttering again. “If you managed to get your mana moving to complete the spell, then it should have gone off… There’s no way you could be out of mana, you’d be dead on your feet… Could it be some kind of catkin thing? Not that I’ve heard of, but maybe…”

Bart trailed off, glancing up at Elle and Mel. Or, at Elle specifically, who was chewing nervously on one of her knuckles. I got the feeling there was something they both knew, but weren’t saying. Sighing, Bart reached for a fresh slip of paper. “There are two possible answers I can think of. I’ve heard of mages who let themselves get rusty developing a kind of ‘mana clog.’ It’s usually easily cleared by casting a few small, simple spells to get things flowing again, but you say you’ve never done magic, so…”

“What’s the other possibility?” I asked, and Bart shook his head.

“Let’s not worry about that until we’ve tried this,” he said, picking up the pencil and leaning over the table again. “I have a little trick that should get things moving properly. Something my grandfather taught me.”

As he spoke, Bart traced out a pair of sigils on the paper, then turned the paper and drew the same pair again, rotated and offset from the first. He repeated this twice more, until he had written out a spell in the shape of a little ring. As I titled my head to look at it, the shapes resolved into words again.

Open,ManaInManaOut,ManaInManaOut,ManaInManaOut,ManaInManaOut

“Uh… I thought you said there had to be a closing sigil?” I asked.

“Not for this,” Bart said, tapping the paper. “Technically, we’re getting into the realm of scrolls, and sustained spells, but all that I can explain… later. For now, I’m going to push my mana into the spell on the page, and it’s going to activate. All it does is cycle the mana, and because this is just paper, it’ll burn itself out pretty quick, but with plenty of time for you to make contact, and the motion of the mana should draw yours out, clearing whatever blockage you experienced, or… Well, it’ll solve the problem.”

“Wooah,” I said softly, my tail swishing excitedly behind me at the mention of scrolls. I was still feeling nervous that something was about to go wrong, but I figured it couldn’t hurt to give this a try, just in case Bart’s hunch turned out to be right and my mana was just clogged up for some reason.

“Now, when I say so, just place your hand on the paper,” Bart said, and I nodded, scooting my chair closer to the table and holding my hand up at the ready.

“Are you sure about this, Bart?” Felda asked from behind me.

Bart glanced over my shoulder at Felda, then at me, then nodded. “It will be fine.”

Looking down at the paper, Bart reached out and pressed the tip of one finger to Begin sigil, and I saw at once as the black pencil marks that made up the ring started to glow blue, as if lit from beneath, the light starting to move around the ring like a dog chasing its own tail.

“Now,” Bart said, and I slapped my hand down onto the page. It felt warm against my palm, and, again, I felt a strange sensation travel up my arm. Movement, but disconnected from anything physical, like what I imagined it would be like if I could feel my shadow moving. I tried to follow the odd tingle as traced its way up my arm, but then it was suddenly overtaken by a new sensation, like the first but faster, traveling back down my arm and into my hand, spreading out to the tips of my fingers until—

Tiny purple sparks began to dance across the tops of my knuckles, and I had a split second to lift my hand from the table and fling it out in front of and away from me, all the while a sound like the angry buzzing of a hive of wasps filled the air, until it reached a crescendo and—

CRACK!

A fork of purple lightning arced out of my open palm and shot forward until it hit the first solid object in its path; one of the thick wooden support beams that ran up into the ceiling. It struck the wood, which blackened immediately, then dissipated as quickly as it had appeared, leaving behind a slightly painful afterimage in my vision.

“Holy shit!” I gasped, grabbing my outstretched hand and turning it over, inspecting it for damage but finding none. Letting out a nervous but relieved chuckle, I asked, “Was that supposed to happen?”

I turned to Bart for my answer, but found that he had jumped out of his chair, and was now standing several feet back, and he was… staring at me with a look of wide eyed, absolute terror that made my blood run cold. He was breathing heavily, and had one hand pressed against his chest, the other groping around at empty air above his hip.

“B-Bart?” I asked, now growing fearful myself. If what had just happened had Bart looking this scared, then exactly how terrified should I be? I stood up from my chair to take a step towards him, and Bart turned and bolted for the doors, slamming into them so hard it was a wonder that they stayed attached to the frame. I listened to the sounds of his heavy breathing and footfalls on the docks as they grew more and more distant, and I had absolutely no idea what was going on.

I turned to see if maybe Felda had any answers, but she, too, was looking at me in a way I’d never seen before. Not angry, not fearful, but just… a lack of warmth, a hardness of the features that made us seem like strangers, which somehow felt even worse than Bart’s reaction. Before I could speak, Felda turned on her heels and ran after Bart, calling his name in vain.

Stunned, I turned to Elle and Mel, and at least they hadn’t run off. But they definitely looked confused, and scared, just staring blankly at the charred segment of the support beam.

“What… just happened?” I asked, and that seemed to break them out of their stupor.

“Sam…” Mel said, still sounding dazed. “Do you know what you just did?”

“Uh, no? That’s why I asked?” I stared at the pair helplessly and shook my head.

“That was innate magic!” Mel said, and I furrowed my brow. That sounded familiar, I knew we’d talked about it before, but I couldn’t place it… oh!

“Like, the bloodline stuff you told me about?” I asked, and Mel nodded. I stared down at my hand, recalling the magic history lesson I’d gotten the first time we visited the temple. “You said people used to be born with magic like that, before the first mages discovered spells, so… why do I have it?”

“It’s not why you have it, it’s what you have, Sam,” Mel said, and I lifted my head up to look at her curiously. She had one arm across her chest, and was massaging her forehead and temple with her other hand. “It’s not unheard of for people to still be born with innate magic. It didn’t actually stop happening when sigil magic was discovered, but it’s much less remarkable now that everyone has access to magic. It’s actually almost more of a detriment than anything.”

“What? Why?” I asked, panic rising in my throat.

Mel sighed, her shoulders sagging, and she walked over to the burned support beam, holding her hand up to its charred surface.

“Because, Sam, people with innate magic can’t use sigil magic,” she said, mechanically, and I felt like the floor had dropped out from under me. “That’s probably what Bart was trying to check for, but he didn’t want to say it until he confirmed it, to avoid upsetting you.”

What?

Did that mean… I couldn’t learn magic? At all?! But…

Wait, no! I couldn’t get distracted by my own disappointment right now!

“Then… What happened just now, with Bart?”

Mel didn’t answer for a moment, just slowly dragging her fingers along the blackened wood where the lightning that shot out of my hand had struck.

“I don’t know,” Mel finally said, lifting her hand and turning her fingers over, rubbing at the soot left behind on them. “But it’s not hard to guess. Now, just like in the past, people born with innate magic usually just end up with one of the basic elements. Fire, wind, water, earth, the simple stuff. Occasionally, if they’re very lucky, you'll hear about someone somewhere who was born with something advanced, like ice, or lava, or glass.”

Mel turned to look at me, and her expression was worn and tired.

“But there’s only one place in the world where people who can control lightning are born, and only one bloodline they’re born into…”

■ ■ ■

Thousands of miles across the sea, and nine days prior, on the morning after the night of the four comets, Amanda “Mandy” MacIntyre awoke with a start, just in time to watch someone hurl a full bottle of champagne directly at her.