Chronicles of Efia: Dawn of the Desert King

Chapter Twenty-Two

"Oh your maj--" Liamei exclaimed.

"Shhh!" Rahnka vehemently hissed as she tried to tend to Fulbright's bloody nose. "Not one word of this to your mother."

"And what word is that?" Odessa asked, quietly assessing the situation.

Rahnka jumped. "Aye--I mean onec dalla, Odessa-kan!"

Odessa glanced over at Fulbright and narrowed her umber, cat-like eyes at him. Fulbright kept his hand over his nose as an excuse to hide his face. Like a bored feline, she turned her attention back to her daughter and Rahnka. The two looked back at Odessa, exchanging nervous glances. "Liamei, escort Rahnka to your quarters and find her something of yours to wear while she gets cleaned up. And do be quick about it."

The two made a quick curtsey. "Yes, ma'am."

"As for you, what was your name again?" Odessa asked, turning her attention again to Fulbright.

"Fai-sahl," Fulbright stammered through his pinched nasal cavity.

"We Orendans take pride in being punctual," Odessa peered at Fulbright with scrutiny. "You will find showers and suitable clothing in the parlor."

Fulbright bowed nervously at Odessa and then hurried quickly into the parlor. When he was no longer facing her, Fulbright let go of his nose. The blood had stopped flowing; Fulbright checked to see how much blood he had lost. He wiped his hand across his upper lip, smearing the blood onto his fingertips. It was enough to saturate his skin with a deep crimson tone. Staring at his blood stained fingers, Fulbright remembered his dream with the bleeding tree, his hands covered in warm blood. He balled his hands into a fist, dismissing the thought.

Immediately, Fulbright was greeted with the sweet smell of jasmine floating in a water basin that an attendant held near the doorway. The attendant looked down at Fulbright's shoes and pointed for him to remove them. Fulbright unwound the wide straps from around the lower part of his calf before slipping the sole off of his feet. With a towel draped over the attendant's arm, he knelt down and placed the basin next to Fulbright's pale, dusty feet. Fulbright placed one foot into the basin while the attendant washed his foot.

It was the first time in a week that Fulbright had been waited on by a servant, and he did not miss the feeling. The ritual seemed highly unnecessary since he was about to plunge himself into a shower. He squirmed as the attendant lifted his foot out of the water and dried it with the towel before placing it on the floor. He tapped Fulbright's other foot to signal that it was time to switch. Fulbright sighed as he placed his other foot in the basin. The attendant quickly washed his foot as Fulbright watched the water quickly turn to a sooty brown.

When was the last time he bathed? Had it really been a week since his last decent bath? Fulbright shook his head in disbelief. The attendant carefully placed Fulbright's foot back on the ground. Satisfied with the condition of Fulbright's feet, the attendant extended his hands toward the center of the parlor, ushering Fulbright inward. The parlor room lacked the extravagance of the foyer and hallways. The floor and half of the walls were planked with dense ironwood. The rest of the walls were covered with whitewashed plaster. In the center of the room was a plush, circular bench, the only sign of refinery in the room.

On the perimeter of the room were shower stalls made of honed limestone and several wardrobes made of the same ironwood. Fulbright walked over to one of the wardrobes and found a stack of towels folded inside. He grabbed one and headed into one of the stalls before removing his clothing and goggles, which were still on his face, and placing the pile of dirty clothes on a stool outside.

Fulbright searched his stall for a water spout, but there was nothing that resembled one. As he ran his hands over the wall, he felt a piece of limestone protruding out from it. Curious, Fulbright pressed against it. There was a clicking noise as the stone receded into the wall. Lukewarm droplets trickled out of small holes in the ceiling, the flow increasing as the stone disappeared from view. Droplets cascaded down Fulbright's face and body, revealing his now tawny skin that had been covered in a week's worth of grime, sweat, and sand. Refreshed by the coolness of the water, Fulbright excitedly scrubbed water into his hair and over his face, a stark contrast to the impenetrable desert heat that blistered his skin.