"Finally, I couldn't take it anymore!"

As soon as I am alone, I loosen my shoulders in a vain attempt to find any form of peace. The numbness grips me where the skin tingles and the limbs feel so tired. I manage to remove the hood and slide it down on the floor.

I breathe deeply. I would like to calm down, but again I am not very successful at it. No matter how much I try, this unpleasant feeling Is stuck within me. And as much as I tell myself that it will end soon, God willing maybe even now, every moment and every Chime that I pass in this crap of cities goes on longer than necessary.

"Oh, praised be God!" I exclaim as soon as my gaze rests on the tub, which sits comfortably waiting at the back of the room. The host must have already filled it. Which doesn't surprise me, after all they knew about my arrival for the longest of time. As I imagine myself immersed in hot water my nerves slowly begin to melt.

And suddenly, it's like my father used to say: "Nothing is better than a nice bath!"

And yet he knew about this luxury for a brief Moment, still he spoke of It as if he could do that from the start. Ah, I guess one can forget a life of hardship if he become rich enough. Not that I mind It though, that kind of happiness. If only it had lasted long enough... Anyway, there is no doubt that he was right. A nice bath is all I need right now to clear my mind.

"And let there be a bath!" I announced, moving foward as if my pace had suddenly become more graceful.

There, near the pool, I see a window overlooking the capital. There is a thin layer of icy air on the glass. I wrap the sleeve around my wrist and use it to clean it, but my attempt doesn't improve the situation much. However, it is enough for me to see the profile of the city standing out towards the light of the Sun God, which slowly rises above the horizon. The houses perched on top of each other. The more I look at them, the more something inside me boils. A feeling of nostalgia, with a sweetish taste of melancholy; I miss the countryside, the open, clean air, the wind on my face and my feet on the fresh grass.

There is none of that here. Only smell of rot and piss and dirt and misery. I can't even imagine how you can even think of living in Ras Alhague. Nonsense. Why doesn't anyone run away? I would. I would do it even now, if it weren't for my mission.

"As soon as I have the opportunity, I will go as far as I can," I repeat to myself aloud.

I turn around. I untie the laces of the leather harness. I put them on a chest. I free the straps that hold the sheath of my sword, so that I can lay it against the wall with extreme care. I bend my back just enough to loosen the straps of my boots and take them off. I put them on the bed. Then I drop my trousers and throw them away with a firm kick. I have a formidable aim: they take a flight and end up on a chair.

I've never missed a shot since I learned to do it! I smile. I lift my dressing gown over my shoulders. I precisely remove the bandages around the breasts, thighs, and most of the torso. Contact with cold air scratches strongly on wounds. With a quick gesture, I put everything at hand reach.

Slowly I approach the tub. I touch the surface of the water and discover it as warm as I like it. Neither too much, nor too little. The dissolved bath salts rise in warm puffs from beyond the wooden edges. Even imagining what awaits me sends a signal to my entire body and the muscles soften accordingly. I sink one foot and then the other. A shiver goes up my spine, but it's one of those out of pleasure that are as deep as they are short. I have no hesitation in letting myself be carried away. I sit in the tub. Actually, no. I'm sinking into the tub. Ah, hot water: how I missed you! When was the last time? Yes, before leaving. Long, long ago. It took three Odes to get to the capital. Notes of cold, bad weather, skirmishes with military garrisons and unexpected events.

"I feel dirty just thinking about it," I snort. I raise my legs and rest my calves on the edge of the tub. I slide with my butt on the bottom until I have water behind me and the nape of my neck. I close my eyes. I search for the rough sponge. The soap slips through my fingers, but on the third attempt it's mine. I lift myself just enough to start digging away the filth that the city has attached to me. I've been here for a short time, but that's already a little too much.

"Ah, what would I give to stay like this forever!" I sigh. The heat that permeates the pores of my skin.

My limbs seems to dissolve into the water. The tension has almost completely vanished, although I know it will come back once I'm out of the tub. I lunge with my back. I stick my head underneath. I wish I could fly away.

As soon as I re-emerge, with the intent of cleaning myself, I hear someone enter the room dragging a chair. I open my eyes only later, when the heat completely pervades me. I pick up the air with my nostril. The heat runs through my veins. I catch one of my Sisters intent on lifting the hood from the ground, except to lay it on a stool before approaching.

"Disturbing?" asks Meroll, as she sits in front of me.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

I start soaping me up again. "You, never."

Meroll brings her hands together and crosses them on her thighs. "The host wants to know if you like the water. I guess I'll have to say yes," her eyebrows relaxed. The lips embellished with wrinkles, curved in a barely hinted smile.

I lift a cup of water with my hands collected. "I'm so happy I could enlist him." I turn my palms over my hair. The eyelids clenched and the chin up. Warmth flowing on the scalp is an unexpected but pleasant caress. Is there anything more beautiful?

"I'm glad to see you relaxed," Meroll replies.

I close my eyes. "I won't be completely until we leave Ras Alhague."

Meroll adds with a sweet tone. "I can imagine why" and moves to get closer.

What she means is all too clear, so I have to stop her before it continues. "That was a long time ago!" I sink back into the hot water. Neither of us should add anything else to the conversation: it is a painful memory, which still strikes and torments me up till now. But I stay under only for a while, so that, as soon as I gather all the strength I can, I emerge with a decisive tone and correct myself: "True, we have been here in the past. But it's not that it gets better just because of that. Besides, I'll never get used to seeing people living like rats."

And I assume Meroll knows all too well how much I love the countryside and the outdoors. We both spent a lot of time in military camps, so I have no doubt that you will agree with me.

Luckly, that's the way it goes. "I suppose I can't blame you," Meroll replies, feeling the water with her fingers. "Anyway, I think it's time to get out: the bathroom is getting cold!"

I glance at her. "Do I really have to?"

"You have to. The Beggar's Princes have done a lot to meet you and I'm afraid it's not kind to make them wait any longer," she replies, her head and shoulders lowered, as she lifts herself from the chair. Her braids fall from her shoulders and dangle, as she extends a hand in my direction.

I accept the invitation and let myself be lifted.

Meroll gives me a quick glance. "Better if you cover up. We certainly don't want them to see..." She touches the profile of my dark hips with her fingertips, until she reach my neck, where the wounds of the curse have disfigured me since the day I became a Daughter of Tzaarat. "I'm sure you understand how important it is not to let others know about your condition."

I move with an abrupt gesture. "I know!"

I set foot out of the tub and move towards the clean bandages, the ones Meroll must have brought with her. I guess I should thank her, but for a brief moment it is only the annoyance that dominates me and, on the other hand, is this not one of her tasks?

I wrap the bandages around the neck, on the inside of the thighs and on the chest. I wear underwear with moderate speed. My shame is now hidden and the few that still disfigure my skin will soon be.

"You don't need to repeat it to me every time," I add in an annoyed tone. I clean myself quickly, now that the refreshment of hot water is fading.

I turn around to see Meroll shaking her head.

"You know what I meant," and her voice has that tone of excuse that's little narrow and dull.

I dress carefully to avoid any eye contact. Of course, it was not my intention to be so harsh. It's just her voice! I hate that tone of her, as if I'm about to get scolded again. Cursed be the Moon, I'm not a child!

I only stare at her when I know what to say. "You don't have to worry about that now. I take care of that as I always did", and I try with all my heart to imitate a confident voice. As my father did to those who he found to be insubordinate.

I grab what remains of my clothing and finish putting them on. There is a stupid silence between us. And it becomes unbearable very soon, so much so that I feel I have to approach my Sister. I grab her by the shoulders and mirror myself in her eyes.

"I need you to be focused," I add with a smile as wide as it is fake. And I pray with all my heart that no one can see beyond this fake expression. But, as soon as she looks at me, I notice a certain light in the curve of her smile. It almost blinds me. "I appreciate you worrying about me, you know. But that's not what will help me right now. I need you for the mission. There is too much at stake to think about anything else. So, please, can we talk about the Curse later?"

"Yes, of course. Excuse me," she replies in a broken voice. I know her pain well. She has already lost a daughter in the past. And I'm sure that, more than anything, he doesn't want to lose me either. However, I need her to be secure, strong, like a pillar, the one that holds my fragile determination. She is everything I will never be and I cannot allow her to collapse. To collapse on me. Not now.

When I notice that her eyes seems to be holding her tears, I shake her. "We will succeed. I will do everything to make it so!"

And, again, my words are poison, but a poison that tastes like lies. Because if I have to lie, even to those I love the most, it is good that I do it with conviction. It will hurt me more than it hurts her, anyway. Because I have no margin for error, nor for failure. I have to do it. What happens next, I don't care. On the other hand, if we are lucky, in a distant and future Note we will think back to all of this and laugh.

Meroll lets out a sigh. "I know you'll succeed," and strokes my shoulders. Now I know that, at the right time, she will do exactly what it takes. Because I am everything to her, as she is everything to me. Like a mother...

If I ever really had one.

I touch her cheek. "I'll be fine!" And I believe it with all my heart, so that I sound convincing. Hesitation is defeated, my father said.

"Then I better go." Meroll touches my forehead with hers. Her earrings jingle. All that remains of her wedding dowry, as a testimony, with her braids, of a wedding that took place who knows how many Solar Dances ago.

We embrace each other. "I'll be soon after you."

Meroll leaves me with a faint and barely hinted smile, before reuniting with the other Sisters. They are waiting for us below and, like them, the Beggar's Princes are waiting to receive me. I grab the leather armor and tighten the laces around the hips, until the chest is well crushed and the shapes flattened. Breath to test the straps. I feel the limbs compressed, but I'm used to it. The hood is the last thing I squeeze around my shoulders.

Only when I feel ready I grab my sheathed sword. "You are your weapon and your weapon is you," I repeat, in a precise tone and punctuating the words. "You will never see any wedding before you, nor will you give children to anyone, and like the Sisters before you, you are now devoted soul and body to God only. As a sword of sacred light pervaded."

And I draw the symbol of the Sun God on my chest with precise move of my fingertips, in triumphant conclusion I add:

"God have mercy on me!"