In the foyer, minstrels played while attendants rushed around with linens and floral-scented soap, serving teas and sweet cakes. In the alcoves, Froi could see lively discussions between patrons while others played board games or disappeared into the rooms that housed the sacred baths.
In one of the nooks where they waited for the Provincara to make her appearance, Gargarin spoke about the springs. Froi pretended not to listen and Quintana walked away to look in the different rooms. Lirah listened, though. Froi thought of her prison with its books and her drawings. Who would Lirah have been if they hadn’t sold her to the palace at the age of thirteen? Perhaps not a rich man’s wife, but certainly the wife of a smart man. Gargarin sketched her a diagram, his twisted hands precise, and Froi had his first glimpse of how things would have been between the two of them. Lirah liked facts and Gargarin enjoyed explaining them. For this time alone they seemed to forget their troubled history. Despite his pretence, Froi learnt how rainwater fell on the hills outside the province walls hundreds of years ago.
‘It seeped through the stone thousands of feet beneath us where natural heat raised the temperature and the heated water rose to the surface crevices and cracks, and then up through the stone,’ Gargarin explained. Any talk of water excited Gargarin.
‘De Lancey brought me here when I was released from the Citavita,’ he continued. ‘Soaking in that water, it was as though I died and went to the heavens.’
‘Did he make believe you were me?’ Arjuro sneered.
There was a strained silence.
‘You’re speaking out of line, brother,’ Gargarin warned quietly.
‘Are we not copies of each other? It would matter little to those who take us as lovers.’
‘It would have mattered to me,’ Lirah said. Any truce between the two had disappeared during Arjuro’s mood of the last days.
‘I wouldn’t have thought any lover in your bed made a difference to you, Lirah.’
Lirah stared at him with hatred in her eyes. ‘Not my bed. Never my bed. I don’t own one, Priestling. I’ve not owned one all my life.’
‘You would never have told us apart in those days, I tell you,’ Arjuro said. ‘You could have shared my bed and not known the difference, Lirah.’
‘Enough,’ Gargarin said and Froi saw fury. ‘We no longer live in those days. You and I don’t have the same bruises and broken bones, Arjuro. They are all mine.’
There was much left unsaid in Gargarin’s words. All mine but meant for you, Froi imagined him saying.
Arjuro walked towards one of the smaller shrine rooms.
‘You cannot present yourself to the gods in that state with such a stench,’ Gargarin called out after him.
Arjuro dismissed him with a wave of his hand. ‘No soak can cleanse the filth from our hearts and minds, can it, Gargarin?’
There were no more lessons after that. Just a strained silence until a godshouse guardian approached and led Quintana and Lirah to the women’s baths and Gargarin and Froi to those of the men. Froi was cautious. Quintana hadn’t been out of his sight since his return to the caves and he trusted her with no one. More than anything, the godshouse guardians seemed more like the Provincara’s Guard.
‘She’ll be safe enough,’ Gargarin said. ‘It’s a sacred place and if there is one thing the Jidians won’t do it’s sacrifice the peace they have enjoyed here for centuries.’
Froi paid his coin and followed Gargarin into the bath house. It was hazy with steam, its walls carpeted with moss and ferns. Gargarin stepped into the hot water and Froi followed, shocked at the state of Gargarin’s body, his rib cage and shoulderblades protruding. Faded bruises from his beating at the hands of the street lords adorned his back and chest. Froi saw the strange twist in his arm where two bones had poorly mended years before.
Settling beside him, Froi couldn’t help comparing himself to this man who was his father. Even in good health there would have been little resemblance between them.
‘Those from Serker resembled bull terriers,’ Gargarin said, turning to Froi as if he could read his mind.
Froi looked away. ‘How come Lirah doesn’t?’
‘Because when the gods made Lirah, they broke the mould.’
Gargarin closed his eyes, surrendering to the water.
‘If the water is so comforting, why not settle in Jidia?’ Froi asked.
Gargarin opened one eye. ‘Orlanda likes to own those who answer to her, body and soul. It would tire me out.’
Froi found himself grinning and Gargarin flinched. Could Froi not even own his gestures without reminding the brothers of their barbaric father?
Suddenly there was a shout and a commotion and a scream or two. Gargarin and Froi exchanged a look.
‘You don’t think –’
‘Whore!’
Froi quickly clambered out of the water and grabbed a cloth from an attendant, wrapping it around his waist before slipping and sliding across the wet floor towards the female bath house. Screams of outrage accompanied his entry and he stepped back outside, waiting. By the time Gargarin caught up, trying to secure his cloth, Lirah was being dragged out by a guard with Quintana in tow. Both were still fully dressed. Behind them, Froi recognised the Provincara Orlanda hissing with fury and being fussed over by her attendants. When she saw Gargarin she instantly regained her composure.
‘Gargarin, dear friend,’ she managed to say through gritted teeth.
‘Orlanda.’ Gargarin stared from Lirah to Quintana. ‘Has there been an issue?’
‘There’s been issue indeed,’ Orlanda seethed. ‘Follow.’
Lirah shrugged free of the guard viciously and they followed the Provincara and Gargarin to a small private praying room.
The Provincara dismissed her guard and attendant and closed the door behind them.
‘There is a stable beside the inn, close to the wall gates. You would have passed it on your way here. It’s where you are to shelter for the night.’
‘A stable?’ Gargarin questioned. ‘Orlanda, I’m travelling with Quintana of Charyn.’
‘And why would I not know that?’ she continued, almost spitting out the words. ‘I will not have her sanctioned by my house.’
Arjuro was shoved into the room by another set of attendants, cursing at the top of his voice.
‘We warned her, Sir Gargarin,’ Quintana said. ‘Twice. Three times.’
Orlanda stared at Quintana with contempt. She pointed to a doorway behind the altar. ‘That will lead you to the town square. Make sure you’re discreet and travel straight to the stable. In my own time I will call for you.’
The Provincara walked out.
‘Dressed like this?’ Froi called out, looking down at his cloth. ‘I want my weapons!’
Moments later, unfamiliar clothing was thrown into the room.
‘Why would we want to draw attention to ourselves?’ Gargarin demanded of Lirah. ‘What happened to being discreet?’
‘It was the Provincara, Sir Gargarin,’ Quintana said, turning the other way as the men dressed. Froi waited for Lirah to turn. He wasn’t usually so bashful about presenting a bare body to the world, but this was Lirah. She humoured him and looked away while Quintana continued to explain.
‘She took us to a private room and said she wanted us gone from her sight. “From my province,” ’ she shrilled, mimicking the Provincara’s outrage.