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Come on down stop on by
Hop a carpet and fly
To another Arabian night ~
Chapter 52
"Dear Sophie,
Today we finally reached a proper town where I hope I can get a hold of a messenger to send all my letters back to you. I know you must be worried and I am truly sorry for my silence. The journey had its challenges up to this point which constantly stopped me from sending word to you.
But I and Quiet are fine, if a bit tired from travelling. Despite my occasional problem with my feelings I wrote to you about in another letter, we have managed to preserve a kind of peace and dare I say it, understanding between ourselves. I am doing my best to keep it up.
But by Anu, I just have to tell you about Lut Bahada! …"
Lut Bahada was a normal city close to the Tamoe Mountinas, situated on the banks of a bigger lake. It watched over major routes that weaved across the land of Aranoch, providing protection, accommodation and adequate business opportunities with its massive markets to travelers and traders. Its buildings were the color of sand, with the most important or richer ones adorned with white-red ochre stripes along their rampants, arches or window frames. There were quite a number of streets that were framed by smaller palm trees and bushes in giant vases, and had rows of almost painfully colorful flags and banners hanging between houses. These decorations painted the cobblestone streets with their shadows whenever the sun's rays passed through them. All in all, it was an ordinary well-suited town in Aranoch.
That is exactly why Tyrael spent a good hour staring at the buildings, the streets, the colorfully dressed people and even the plants, making absolutely damn sure with his vision that none of it was an illusion. Of course he had heard about Lut Bahada, even passed by it a couple of times before. Still, Tyrael thought it best to check. Thankfully, his eyes did not reveal any sort of deception, other than a few wares at vendors' stalls that were equipped with a bit of glamour to make them more appealing. Scummy? Yes. Dangerous? Only for purses.
He did however spot those tell-tale flickers of sheer black smudge at the edge of his sight, indicating that the necromancer demon was not far off. It was more than likely that surviving a fortress collapsing right on top of you required considerable amounts of energy, so for now, Tyrael and Quiet were safe from him, even if not from his stare.
That notion was only slightly less disturbing but Tyrael reckoned they could still count themselves lucky.
The married couple they had managed to scare senseless with their "sliding rock" entrance had been kind enough to bring them here, and even show them to a surprisingly well-kept inn. Lut Bahada took good care of its visitors, it seemed. The rundown pubs filled with bedbugs, mice and constructs barely qualifying as "beds" of the west were nowhere to be found here. Instead, the inn they stayed at, the Burosa Shelter, was clearly on the cheaper side of accommodations, yet still maintained a well-kept and tidy appearance. It was a bit narrow building of four floors, edged between two larger houses, with the almost obligatory sandy yellow and white-red ochre striped look. Only a single somewhat worn wooden sign set it apart from the others which proclaimed its name proudly, and a much smaller board hanging from it from the side that said WELCOME.
- Ooohh, smells nice! – Quiet exclaimed happily as they entered the double doors.
Tyrael almost got a bit woozy from the amount of incense that filled the air. Instead of a regular pub, the Burosa Shelter had a modest but welcoming hall as its ground floor, with thick carpets of deep red and gold on the floor, a few tables of three seats where a handful of guests were drinking tea and discussing the latest gossip and business models of the market. Merchants, probably all of them for Aranoch, here for an annual event, no doubt. On the far end of the room stood a long counter, the only richly adorned furniture in the place – it had golden waves and swirls of vines on its front, almost like stylized angel wings, with small shapes of countless birds hiding among them, carved from all manners of gems. Quiet ooh-ed and aah-ed as they approached the counter and even Tyrael couldn't help but admire the masterful craftsmanship. The guests turned and stared at the small child, some more subtly than others, but they all seemed bewildered by what they saw. Behind the counter the wall was lined with cupboards and shelves that were on the brink of collapsing from the truly impressive collection of herbs, spices and tea sets of earthly colors, and before them stood an incredibly fat local man, busy dusting off some of his beloved cups with his back turned to them.
He wore a typical small turban of blue and green with small flakes of silver hanging from its folds. His clothes followed the same color scheme, with silver edges and buttons on the chest. The vest over the robes had these silver lines wave and twist around the man's form, converging into two points on the back of the cloth. That pattern alone seemed a bit unconventional for the Aranoch style, but these people loved their shinies, so they probably put a little personal flare into their appearances from time to time. The man also had an out-of-place bright red ribbon twisted around his faded brown belt.
- Blessings come your way, good sir! – Tyrael called out as they reached the counter, using an Aranoch greeting. He had a bit difficult time tearing his gaze away from the decoration, while Quiet failed altogether.
To this, the fat man turned around and smiled at them. He had a perfectly shaved face with smooth skin and dazzlingly white teeth. What gave Tyrael a bit of a pause were the man's irises. The golden, almost mystically shimmering irises.
- Ah, greetings! Blessings to you as well, traveler – the innkeeper laughed, closing his eyes for a second. – Welcome to the Burosa Shelter, my name is Utho. What can I get you? Some spicy tea, or perhaps a room?
- Uuhm… – Tyrael noted very thoughtfully, his mind still stuck on those irises.
- We wan—would like to sleep here! – Quiet happily exclaimed, pulling himself up a little on the counter. – You have very nice table, by the way!
- Why, thank you, little one! – Utho smiled at him with those perfect teeth. – And you have wondrous golden hair, I see!
Golden hair, what—? Tyrael needed a few moments to unfreeze his brain and recall that Quiet indeed had an unconsciously-woven illusion around himself, to fool everyday people of his true nature. This detail was easy to forget, especially if one already saw through it, and especially if one had been on the road without much human contact for a while.
- Right, yes. My apologies – Tyrael shook himself. – I am Tyrael, and—
Utho dropped the cup he was cleaning but quickly bent down for it. Thankfully it hadn't shattered to pieces due to the thick soft rug.
- I'm sorry – the man laughed nervously, straightening. – You were saying?
- Yes, right. So we would like to seek accommodations here.
- Do you have a certain business in Lut Bahada?
- No, just passing through. We will probably only need a room for one night. Two, at most – Tyrael shrugged, shaking off his awkwardness slowly.
This trip made him paranoid, he chided himself. Getting hung up on mere eye colors, really? Sanctuary gave home to all manners of people, some had truly strange appearances. Golden eyes were probably the least extraordinary thing he had seen in these two years. Rare, surely, but barely note-worthy.
He turned his attention back to the innkeeper whose features seemed even softer than before. The man quickly rummaged through his side of the counter, before pulling out an impressive stack of scrolls and unrolling a few of them. Tyrael sneezed at the emerging dust cloud, to which Utho smiled apologetically at him.
- Let me see, good sir – he quickly ran through the content of his papers. – Ah yes, we do have some free rooms for travelers. Unless you require larger spaces for your equipment?
- No, we don't.
- I like big spaces – Quiet chimed in, still completely enthralled by the counter's decorative front.
- No. We don't. How much would a smaller room cost? – Tyrael quickly emphasized.
It wasn't like they were short on money, they had no opportunity up to this point to spend any. Still, the mortal angel thought it best not to start throwing coins in every direction.
- Twelve gold per night, if that's agreeable? – Utho glanced up to him.
A bit pricey but manageable, Tyrael thought. He reckoned the tidiness and insane amount of incense had its cost, so he nodded.
- Excellent! – Utho quickly scribbled down something onto the scroll with his quill. – Follow the stairs on my right to the rooms. I will alert my wife, she will be your guide. If you have questions of the city and its customs, or require a refreshment, feel free to seek me. I am usually here most of the day.
- Right. Thank you.
Utho let out a shrill whistle to the floor above them. Tyrael had to clamp down on his own mouth before answering to it with his own trill. The instinct was incredibly strong. Nobody seemed bothered by the sight, after they had their fill with Quiet's appearance, they turned back to their drinks and discussions. The awkwardness returned with backup, and Tyrael quickly herded the annoyed Quiet towards the stairs, sparing one last glance at Utho.
A dozen or so creaky wooden steps later, they ran into a woman standing in the middle of the carpeted corridor, smiling just as widely and sweetly as the innkeeper, but otherwise being the complete opposite. She was thin, tall and had very sharp features with almost pointy ears. Her fair skin almost glowed from the generally darker brownish colors of the house. The bright red and orange long dress she was wearing had the same hue as the ribbon on her husband's belt, and she too wore a green ribbon around her left wrist like a jewelry almost. Her hair was dark, and her eyes deep brown and warm despite her sharp face and bloodless lips.
- Blessings come your way, travelers! My name is Carala – she opened her arms a little, her voice a bit rough compared to her appearance, but still melodic in a way.
- Blessings to you as well – Tyrael nodded.
- My husband told me you require a room. Right this way! – the woman was already rushing to one end of the corridor.
- With—with that whistle? – Tyrael could barely keep up with her, he had to drag Quiet along.
- Why, yes! I know it is a bit unconventional, but also most practical, I assure you! – she laughed, waving the comment away.
Tyrael couldn't help but wonder why that particular whistle sounded almost exactly like the signal whistles angelic scouts and assassins used to keep in contact with each other, without traceable magic. Granted one could come up with so many short melodies, but still…
He really needed a break, he decided tiredly.
The room they were given was on the very end of the corridor and the mortal angel was fully prepared to have a dark little hole to sleep in. That's why upon entering, his eyes stung and teared up from the sunlight that washed over him. On the opposite wall, an absolutely massive window, equipped with glass and heavy curtains even, was letting in the afternoon world. It jumped out of the wall's plane a bit, creating a cozy little bay with a bench and pillows to just relax and enjoy the view. As it turned out, behind the tightly built row of houses a smaller park was hidden, kept lush and green by an admittedly genius system of fountains and tiled trenches. Locals milled about among the plants, benches and tables, slowly returning to the public spaces as the sun's heat subsided. On either side of the window bay stood a wooden bed covered in comfortable and colorful blankets and pillows. The heavy carpeted floor found its way even inside here, so their steps basically made no noise.
Twelve gold for this was a steal, Tyrael thought in true awe.
Oh, he just had to bring Sophie here one day! This was a town he wouldn't have to worry that she would get hurt or threatened. Tyrael was already making plans to chart out the city for sights. Sophie had always wanted to go see the world but the furthest she had ever gotten was Bramwell, to some relatives. Tyrael had long since planned to take her to somewhere… unfortunately Sanctuary was not exactly the safest of places, especially not after the havoc the Reapers have wrought.
For a few precious moments, Tyrael forgot about every last bit of problem and dangers he was aware of in the world, and imagined the two of them just wandering in that park down there, talking, holding hands…
- Excuse me?
Tyrael snapped out of it and blinked dumbfounded at the patiently waiting Carala as if he just noticed her for the first time.
- Y—yes?
- I asked if this room will be satisfactory for you?
- Pretttyyyy – Quiet stared at the window, invisible mouth no doubt wide open.
- It's… wonderful – Tyrael looked around once more. – Thank you, it will be excellent.
- I'm honored to hear that – Carala smiled. – Should you need anything, me or one of the servants are happy to oblige! And one more thing—
Here she pulled out two small envelopes and handed them to her guests:
- These are verification letters written by my husband that you are indeed travelers to Lut Bahada. The city has a policy that the public baths, the huruman offer one discounted entry to all those who can verify, usually with the help of the inn they stay at, that they are visitors to the city with a long road behind them. If you wish to try it, the nearest bath house is just on the other side of this park. You can't miss it.
- Oh, I… thank you! We will make sure to visit that place! – Tyrael took the envelope gingerly.
- I will leave you now – Carala slightly bowed than fluttered out of the room.
The East loved their bath houses, Tyrael knew that well. Unfortunately during his travels he never had had the luxury before to try at least one out, always having much more pressing matters to attend to – like tracking down a Lesser Evil. A thought in the back of his head reminded him that even now he had more important things to deal with. Then he thought about just how much damn longer they still had to travel to, how much he actually wanted to discover this city, and how much insane danger they had already been through up to this point.
"We need opportunities to get away from our duties, to experience something different and just let go of our worries for a while."
Lyndon's words echoed truer than ever in his head now. Tyrael forced himself to think through this journey as objectively as he possibly could, while he sat down on one of the beds, and Quiet rushed to the window to gawk out on. Travelling across Sanctuary always had its dangers, but usually it was much much less eventful than anyone ever anticipates. The lands were simply too big for random meetings to happen all that often. And yet still, this one trip has been nothing sort of a disaster up to this point, starting from that demon-possessed Waypoint (Tyrael now had a fairly strong guess as to who was behind it). Or maybe it started from the moment he realized Quiet was a pickpocket prodigy…
Right, he would need to keep an eye on that here.
His confrontation with the Worldstone, the Beast ride, being turned into a chicken then into a pig, those days spent with bickering and trying to get Quiet to walk faster, Bramwell… just Bramwell as a whole gave Tyrael a headache. He would pretty much never again be able to show his face in that town, and to be honest, he could not really blame the people. Honoring the dead was a large part of all of Sanctuary's cultures, a fact he had to learn after his angelic life was over. But he understood it now… perhaps a bit too well, if he recalled Cain and Leah and Thomas and all the Horadrim he had lost to Malthael and his Reapers. At least the days spent with Ashava, Adenah and Izba were peaceful, although that opening fight with Perendi had not been needed in the slightest. Splitting up with them was still a surprisingly somber memory and Tyrael couldn't help but wonder how he had managed to make friends with demons.
And of course the big one. The Eastgate Keep. Tyrael frowned at the idea of just how huge of an obstacle the collapsed fort would mean for future travelers. They might have inadvertently dealt a massive blow to international trading, and there had been honestly nothing they could have done otherwise. That humanoid demon was out of his mind completely, and without Zaim's aid, they wouldn't have escaped, Tyrael knew well. Again, those Rathmian symbols the monster was wearing gave the angel a pause. He would have liked to blame the semi-darkness for them, but unfortunately his eyesight was better than most humans and he could see rather well in darkness too. Those were runes and circles Zayl and his kin used, no doubt about it. It was rare to see a demon so whole-heartedly embrace a human culture, although not unheard of.
Or… it was a corrupted necromancer. Zayl had told him such thing could very easily happen, he himself had a run-in with one before who damn near unleashed a spider demon onto the Kingdom of Westmarch. But why would a corrupted necromancer be this obsessed with just the two of them? And since when can they turn into clouds of darkness, create foggy illusions or somehow stalk their target indefinitely in a shrouded state that only dark glimpses can be occasionally seen? Not to mention take on the form of a giant lizard thing? No, no, the demon theory sounded more plausible as of right now.
Then Tyrael quickly mused through the rest of the journey that still lied ahead of them. Assuming that everything went smoothly from now on (which he understood was wishful thinking at best), they still had to cross the Aranoch desert somehow, catch a ship to Gea Kul across the Twin Seas, get past the den of absolute scum that was Kurast, and preferably not get lost in the jungles on their way to the Cathedral – which itself was more than likely long since swallowed up by the foliage at this point. At the very least they wouldn't have to deal with most of the chaotic fractured land of Kehjistan. But all of that, with a moody child by his side and an obsessed lunatic demon on their heels.
Tyrael already felt overwhelmed by the prospect of this. He had "Black Soulstone Heist" flashbacks and that was not a time he wanted to revisit.
"This is not laziness, it is a chance to regain our vigor and determination, so when we return to the task at hand, we can be efficient at it again."
He definitely needed a day or two here, he decided. The little voice egging him to leave as soon as possible fell silent immediately. Tyrael resurfaced from his mind, only to see Quiet jumping up and down on his bed, enjoying the blankets and pillows.
- Teeriel, what is a bath house? – he asked once he realized the mortal angel was back in reality again.
- Well, Quiet… how about we find out together? – Tyrael smiled, holding up the envelope.
oooOOOooo
Quiet wondered if he should tell Teeriel that the happy fat green man and the happy thin red lady of this house were not humans. Utho felt like Amaniel and Carala felt like Adenah to him. But Teeriel seemed okay with everything, and they quickly left for the city once Teeriel stopped staring before himself, and they put their stuff away in the very nice and very comfortable room. So Quiet figured Teeriel knew it already.
He really liked this house. It smelled nice, it was colorful and the floor was soft and silent, and it tickled his feet through the thin sandals he was wearing. He also liked the town, it was very brown and many other colors, not grey and green like those cities he had been to with Leendonn. The bad magic he had felt in the ground in Westmarch, made by the bad angel Maltael, was nowhere to be found here and that made him happy. It probably meant that those ugly Reeepperz didn't come here to hurt people. That was good! Also, just the city with all of its people doing all of this stuff made him happy and energetic. He missed this feeling!
Quiet practically had to drag Teeriel along because he was too slow (and he said that Quiet was slow, ha!) as they walked along the street. People here dressed very colorfully, like those funny flags above the streets, and they were chatting and more and more came out of the houses, because the air was getting cooler. Quiet could feel a huge crowd a bit deeper in the city, and he knew he would check that out later. Also, he kept an eye out and saw lots and lots of purses he could take easily, just like Leendonn did all the time. He did not really buy Teeriel's stupid explanation that his friend did bad things. Leendonn taught Quiet how to be good, he couldn't do bad things! It all looked like a game, honestly, and Quiet knew Teeriel wasn't really a funny man who played many games. Of course he would think it's a bad thing.
- Come oooon! – Quiet whined, trying to get Teeriel to move faster.
He was very heavy, pulling him was no fun at all!
- Quiet, do you even know where we are going?
- To have fun!
- To check out the bath house, first and foremost. This way – Teeriel said then he started pulling Quiet, just when the little angel was about to snatch his first purse in this city.
Quiet sighed and followed Teeriel dutifully. Were bath houses even fun? If Teeriel liked them, they may not be, but he said he did not know either. Quiet kind of wished Leendonn was here with him – he could make everything fun!
Like taking purses!
The bath house looked strange. It was very simple looking, although it had a very very wide but not very tall tower sticking out from its roof, and that tower had a funny half-ball roof. Thankfully it wasn't pointy like all those bad tower-buildings in those bad stone gardens where everything always goes wrong. The wall facing the street had no windows, only a big wide open door, but it was painted white and blue and grey waves were on it, made out of small flat painted rocks.
Through the big door there was a small room with nice smelling air and soft floor like in the inn. There was a long table in the middle too, but it wasn't as nice as in the inn, just a simple yellow stone one. Behind it sat two humans dressed colorfully, one woman and one man.
- Welcome to Unpua Huruman! How can we help you? – said the lady cheerfully.
- Greetings – Teeriel walked up to them with Quiet. – We would like to try out the services of this bath house, and I believe we have—
- We are visitors! – Quiet happily exclaimed, jumping up and smacking his own envelope down on the table. – The nice red lady Carala said so!
Teeriel stared at him angrily but he too gave the envelope to the nice people.
- Too slow – Quiet stated simply to the big man.
- Ah yes, Lady Carala and Lord Utho are great patrons of bath culture, and the city in general – the lady smiled, passing the letters to her friend to check. – They have proposed many reforms that helped our home flooreesh greatly since their arrival.
- They aren't from here originally? – Teeriel asked.
- Oh no no, they came here some—Oh dear how many years? – the nice lady stared blankly before herself for a second before shaking her head. – Ten?
- I think it's twenty already – the man chimed in as he handed the papers back. – They have been a cornerstone of the city koounseel for a while now.
- Hm, maybe you are right – the woman waved and the smile returned. – Anyway, with this certification, our usual session is only forty gold each.
- Forty?! – Teeriel repeated with a funny surprised face.
- We have many! – Quiet happily put his latest catch onto the table, a simple but heavy brown leather purse.
He had no idea how much forty was, but he knew it was a big number. The adults could count it if they wanted to. Teeriel's hand squeezed his so Quiet looked up. The big man's yellow eyes sparkled angrily at him, but he just shrugged. The nice lady and the man patiently counted the coins, they didn't look angry at all.
- Alright, eayhty gold for admission into the bath house! Please go through the door behind us and follow the series of chamber for the full experience. If you are ever unsure of what to do in a given room, you can ask any of our servants for help – the woman smiled and gestured behind her back.
- Thank youuuu! – Quiet sang, then began pulling Teeriel by his hand towards the brown door, contently clicking his tongue.
- Quuuiieett – Teeriel hissed at him in a low voice.
- It's a game – Quiet stuck his tongue out at him.
- Stealing is akrime!
- Leendonn doesn't do bad things!
- Yes, he does!
- No, he doesn't! – Quiet angrily yanked on Teeriel's hand as they walked through the door.
They arrived into a very big room with a flat but colorful ceiling. It was completely open, but it had thin nice wooden wall-like things that formed smaller rooms so nobody could see inside. The floor tiles were nice and white and warm. A human with a funny-looking tall shoe on his feet rushed there, smiling. Everyone was smiling in this town. The shoes had wooden bottoms but there were two planks sticking out of it, making the human taller.
- Right this way, good sirs! That dressing cabin over there is empty! – he called out, pointing at a small room behind him.
- Dressing cabin? – Teeriel asked, immediately dropping the soft angry voice.
- Do not worry, your belongings will be well-guarded – the human said happily, walking them to the small room. – You will find linen towels to cover yourselves and some wooden slippers. We recommend wearing these because of the floor heating. I will bring proper sized shoes for your son in a moment.
- I am no—! – Quiet tried to shout angrily, but Teeriel quickly squeezed his hand.
- Wonderful, thank you – the big man nodded quickly.
The funny-shoe wearing human rushed out and Teeriel stared down at the floor while slowly taking off his torn cloak.
- Floor heating? – he wondered loudly.
- There is a hole under us – Quiet said after reaching out with his mind for a moment. – It is filled with fire and hot air. Why is that?
-… Ingeenius!
- What?
- They keep this place warm not by making fires in the rooms, but by heating up the floor and allow that to keep the air warm – Teeriel said, sounding very excited.
- Ooohh… But it is warm outside too.
- Yes, but I reckon they want to make the air even hotter inside here for some reason.
Teeriel took of his many many clothes (why did he have so many clothes?) and twisted a towel around his hip. He grimaced at the pile that was his clothes and murmured something about "buying new ones". Quiet also undressed (his clothes were dirty and full of holes as well) and masterfully twisted his big towel around his entire body. It smelled like those nice pink and red roses for some reason.
- I hope your skin will not shine through your illusion – Teeriel said.
- Why don't you have shiny skin if you are an angel? – Quiet asked.
Honestly, he had thought only Teeriel's head and hands were this dark brown, just like Quiet's own head was black. But now that he saw the man without the many clothes, he got confused.
- Because I am a mortal angel.
- What is mortal?
- I'm basically a human.
- Ah. Why?
- I… that is a story for another time, Quiet.
Quiet wanted to argue that stories could be told at any time, really, but then the funny-shoe wearing human came back with some small slippers for him and gently guided them towards the next big door.
- The next chamber is the lukewarm pool – the human explained. – We recommend that you stay in the water until you have warmed up comfortably, before moving onto the hot chamber. Also, servants will offer soap, oils and creams for the body, as well as spring- and rose water to stay hiidrayted throughout the building.
It sounded very confusing. Quiet thought that a bath house would have many bathtubs in it, to take baths in, but what were all these oils and stuff for? He glanced up at Teeriel who seemed confused as well but nodded anyway. So Quiet just shrugged and followed the grown-ups, his slippers knocking on the floor and his cocoon making a swooshy-swooshy noise. They probably knew better, anyway.
oooOOOooo
The High Heavens officially had competition. Tyrael never would have believed he would think these blasphemous thoughts, but Anu help him, it was true.
Of course he had seen breath-taking beauty in Caldeum before, but he had been mostly focused on saving the city from Belial. He had not truly stopped to just appreciate his surroundings, especially not when random green flaming rocks had been raining from the sky. Thankfully now there were no Belial or falling rocks, so Tyrael could appreciate the building fully.
The first chamber had been fine enough. The floor was covered with light beige colored stone tiles, the walls and pillars were white with a minimal grey mosaic decoration of lines and waves. The ceiling was also white, blue and red streaks joined the grey mosaics in the slightly more detailed, but still strictly geometric pattern. The air was warm and a bit steamy, but nothing overwhelming yet. Right in the middle of the chamber there was a rectangle-shaped pool that had a more colorfully tiled bottom and rows of stone seats at its edges and in its center. Only the three of them were in the chamber.
- Most of our guests have already had their usual session – the servant answered his silent query. – The sun's heat renders the city silent and deserted for hours, that is when most come here. In fact, we have full house during the middle of the day. You have timed your arrival quite well, good sir.
He gently placed new linen towels onto a bench close to the door leading into the next chamber.
- After you are done with the lukewarm pool, rub yourselves dry with your first towels, then proceed to the next chamber with the second – he explained. – I will be right back, to bring you refreshments. Would you like spring or rose water?
- I reckon—
- Rose water! – Quiet shouted from next to him.
Tyrael glared at him, to which the little angel quickly shrank back and added:
- Please?
- Right away, good sirs! Do enjoy your stay! – the servant smiled and quickly rushed out through a side door.
It was a mystery how he could be so fast in those weird elevated slippers.
- Why rose water? – Tyrael asked tiredly as he left his towel on the floor and waddled into the comfortably warm water.
- Cuz it sounded funny! – Quiet chuckled and with noble simplicity jumped straight into the middle of the pool.
Tyrael uselessly tried to dodge the incoming splash and it hit him square in the face.
- Could you not, please? – he spat the strange-tasting water out of his mouth, shaking his head.
- You should have jumped too, it's fun! – Quiet surfaced, not even treading water.
Either he was floating due to his non-existent weight, or he had the water hold him up, Tyrael would not have been surprised by either explanation.
- We are here to get cleaned, not to make a mess.
- You no fun – Quiet puffed up his cheeks which was only visible because his white wet hair stuck to his face. – Leendonn would have fun here too!
- Lyndon usually does not respect basic etiquette, that doesn't count – Tyrael shook his head, sinking into the water up to his neck.
- Etikett sucks! – Quiet whined, floating across the water on his back.
- You do not even know what that word means.
- It means "no fun", so it sucks!
Tyrael sighed, massaging his forehead. He was fairly certain a bath house was supposed to be a place of tranquility, considering the silence. It is a shame that goal was unobtainable with a moody lightling angel for company. Thankfully just then the servant returned with two ceramic cups of slightly pinkish water with cloves of lemon floating in it. Tyrael eyed the strange beverage for a second but Quiet was already slurping it down with great gusto, declaring it to be "yummy!" Upon actually tasting it, the mortal angel had to agree – it had a bit sweet, bit sour aftertaste, the two flavors working surprisingly well together.
They swam around a bit in the pool, Tyrael trying to recall all the movements Lyndon had taught him (of course a Kingsport-born would know how to swim…), and pass that knowledge onto Quiet.
- But I can swim – the little angel argued.
- No, you are floating. That's different.
- But it's still good.
- You may never know when you will need these techniques. Just try it, Quiet, it won't kill you.
Quiet mumbled something about "fun ruiner" but he tried to mimic Tyrael's swimming nonetheless.
That had been the lukewarm chamber. After rubbing themselves dry with the first towel, Tyrael noted with slight surprise that he smelled like roses. Maybe that was a bit of an overkill as far as cleaning went, but then again, the East tended to go overboard in this regard. So with the new, this time around lavender-scented, towels around their bodies, Tyrael and Quiet moved on.
Stepping through the door, the first thing Tyrael noted was the steam that practically smacked him across the face.
With slight daze, he needed a few moments to assess the new sight. They arrived to a much larger chamber of a massive octagonal pool in the center, with a heavily mosaic-decorated bottom, depicting all manners of water creatures and beasts. There were a handful of guests here, all male, most of them in the pool, happily floating and chatting away the time, while others sat on stone benches, busily rubbing themselves with oils and creams, or shaving their body hair into bowls with the help of servants. The walls and pillars were more richly adorned as well, but still the white-beige color dominated, so it did not feel overwhelming. But the ceiling…
Tyrael was vaguely aware his mouth hang open as he stared upwards, but he couldn't find the strength to close it.
Above the chamber, a dome of massive dimensions yet with an almost weightless appearance floated, allowing in a mystical stream of light from the scorching sun outside through lance side windows, with closed sashes that resembled the finest laces of the richest noblewomen in the West. In the afternoon light, it looked like the dome was a giant star, or a sunflower embracing the chamber. White paint provided the backdrop, while golden, brown and finally blue tear-shaped "seeds" radiated out from the bright red-and-gold center, each holding a complex geometric pattern inside it. The small painted stones reflected the light, they glimmered and dazzled in a way that almost seemed alive. Even the white background paint held some mild glitter. The whole dome seemed to slowly and majestically rotate and wave as the sunlight and the steam played tricks on the eyes.
- So preeetttyyy – Quiet breathed, and Tyrael nodded along, unable to find the words himself.
It was just beautiful, a competitor to any dome or arch found within the Silver City. The subtle variation of color gave it a vibrancy the white-gold aesthetics of the High Heavens simply did not possess.
If my siblings could see this, Tyrael thought, still captivated.
It was a universal misconception among angels that mortals were incapable of creating beauty and grandiosity. Their half-demonic origin seemingly backed this claim. Most angels did not care either way, others felt pity for their "shallow world", and still others used this as even more reason to look down on them with scorn and disgust. Of course not a single one of these seraphim had ever actually seen Sanctuary first-hand, but that did not stop the speculations. Tyrael suddenly felt an immense amount of regret wash over him, for never really stopping and paying attention to his surroundings, especially not in Caldeum. He could not imagine the wonder and awe the Caldeum Palace's main dome must have commanded, before it got destroyed by Belial… and later Malthael.
So many beautiful things in the world, and he just walked right past them because of his tunnel visioned sense of duty. That would not remain so, he vowed to himself.
Another servant, who was just beaming with pride upon their reaction to the dome, kindly shepherded them into an empty side chamber for a more private bathing, when it became clear that neither Tyrael nor Quiet felt like mingling in the crowd. The servant quickly brought a wooden tray chuck full of creams and oils in fancy bottles, as well as bars of soap in all manners of colors and almost dizzying scent, before rushing out for another round of rose water. This private bath also sported a wonderful mosaic ceiling and pool floor, but Tyrael could barely stop himself from wandering out just to stare at the dome again.
A splash of hot water on his feet made him jump and almost fell over in his slippers. Quiet jumped into the pool yet again, and quickly surfaced, letting out a "pth-th-th-th" noise at him.
- Did you just stuck your tongue out at me?! – Tyrael demanded, stomping to the edge of the pool.
- You no fun! – Quiet retorted almost proudly.
- No fun, huh? – the mortal angel echoed before a devious smile crept up onto his face.
Casually kicking off the slippers and towel, Tyrael jumped and landed squarely in the middle, causing a much larger splash than the little lightling ever could. Quiet was swept away, shrieking and clamoring to somehow avoid the tsunami, but failed nonetheless.
- How about now? – Tyrael surfaced, grinning from ear to ear.
A small wave splashed into his face, accompanied by a defiant battle cry. The Splash War to end all Splash Wars broke out between the two, punctuated by giggling and laughing. Quiet had the magic on his side, but Tyrael had the tactical thinking of diving and circling around his opponent. He used his larger body and weight to initiate bigger attacks, while Quiet focused on staying small but fast and more precise. This "vicious" battle for the prestigious Lord of the Pool title lasted for at least half an hour, before the heat and the swimming finally tired them out, and they ended up floating on their backs, still giggling to themselves.
- Why you no laugh more? You have a nice laugh – Quiet asked, straightening out again.
-… I reckon it is not every day I can just relax and have fun – Tyrael sighed, drawing close to the pool's edge.
- Leendonn rarely laughs too, and he has a nice laugh. Is this an adult thing?
-… Maybe. Then again, Sophie laughs often, so I think it is more related to personality.
- Leendonn is a personality?
- No, "personality" is a collection of traits, and everyone has one, even you – Tyrael shook his head. – It basically means what kind of a person you are. For example I have a serious personality, I don't laugh or have fun often and I tend to be interested in important things.
- I like sweet things! – Quiet stated.
- That is… not a personality trait.
- Awww.
Tyrael chuckled, then turned around assessing their surroundings. He realized with slight dread that they had managed to drench almost the entire room with their game, and now even the walls had long splash marks across them. Thankfully the bench with the trays of cosmetics and rose water somehow survived.
- Oh dear, we need to clean this up – Tyrael grimaced.
- Why? – Quiet pouted.
- Because we made this mess, so we are responsible for it, Quiet.
The little angel sighed dramatically, swam to the edge of the pool and slapped the tiles rhythmically with his palms. The water from the floor and the wall started streaming back into the pool, not leaving a single drop behind.
- There! Now for yummy water! – Quiet nodded contently, climbing out.
Tyrael rolled his eyes but followed the little one to the beverage. He figured he could count it as a victory that Quiet listened to him without much fuss, even if he clearly cared little for the task itself. Whether or not a child with such godlike powers could even learn the value of hard work remained an interesting question, but one that Tyrael suspected he would not be able to answer. At least not for now.
As he drank the rose water, he finally noticed the two copper bath tubs in the corner of the room, safely separated from the pool itself by a folding screen of excellent craftsmanship. With a bit of encouraging (nagging) he managed to get Quiet into one so they could finally properly clean themselves with all the soap, oil and cream in the world. The amount of grime Tyrael had managed to scrape off of themselves with brushes could have filled a smaller bucket. By the end of it, the mortal angel felt like a new man, as he took his time to rub his body a cooling mint cream he found in the collection. Quiet was more occupied with poking at sniffing all the cosmetics, his shiny skin quickly dissolved any substance Tyrael tried to rub onto. Finally they dried themselves with the scented towels again, and with a bit of reluctance from Quiet, they left the private chamber.
The center pool held a few more men by then, most of them carefreely chatting the time away about their day in the market. A servant guided Tyrael and Quiet through the exit corridor that led back to the dressing hall.
- Did you enjoy our services, good sirs? – the servant asked politely.
- Yes! The rose water was very yummy – Quiet nodded with all the conviction in the world.
- Yes, it was excellent, from start to finish – Tyrael agreed. – But I am wondering, can women use this house as well?
- Ah yes, of course! Three days of the week, the huruman is only open for women and girls, with all the same services.
- I see. Thank you – Tyrael nodded.
Dressing up was an almost uncomfortable experience. Just like during undressing, Tyrael couldn't help but gawk at the miserable state their gear was in. His leather armor, although it had served him well up to this point, looked like only Anu himself was keeping it together – slashes criss-crossed the material, a few straps were straight up missing, cut or torn off by numberless assaults. His beloved travelling cloak, that had survived a yank from Perendi himself, was practically gone, a good two thirds of it was missing, the shredded edges pitifully dangled below. At least his boots were still in one piece, Tyrael sighed.
Of course Quiet could more than likely fix their clothing without problem, yet the idea made the mortal angel uneasy. Relying too much on magic, this kind of magic could backfire, he suspected. How, why, he could not really explain, but he felt this way. Maybe the unnerving ability to manipulate matter put him at unease. Maybe he simply felt more comfortable with the traditional ways of dealing with a problem. Or maybe he just did not want to use Quiet as a repair kit. Regardless, they needed new clothes and armor, especially the kind that was meant for the desert. Both Aranoch and Kehjistan had scorching weather, and while their planned journey (hopefully) would skirt around the Kehjistan desert, it was still best to prepare for those unholy conditions.
With a sigh of defeat, Tyrael only put on his trousers, his boots and the padded undergarment of the leather armor, while carrying the rest under his arm back to the hotel. Quiet had no trouble dressing back up into his worn clothing, but Tyrael decided he would buy new pieces for him as well tomorrow at the market.
Yes, that sounded like a good program. Tyrael stretched out contently, he had forgotten how it felt to be fully relaxed. A part of him knew it was hopeless and perhaps selfish thinking, but he wished it would happen more in his life. Sanctuary wasn't the most peaceful or safest of places but it had its hidden paradises like this one. Maybe one day, when he is older… perhaps he could settle here with Sophie.
With a slight smile Tyrael shook the idea out of his head. That was too far into the future, no one could tell what would happen until then. Instead he gently took Quiet's hand as they left the house.
- No more purse stealing, Quiet – he whispered to him on the street.
- M'kay – the little angel grumbled then tilted his head back, no doubt yawning widely.
It was late, Tyrael noted with slight surprise. The lanterns on the streets were all lit, and a loud crowd could be heard some distance away, no doubt where the market was held. Quiet rubbed his eye with his free hand, and even Tyrael could finally feel the exhaustion in his body. Instead of going towards the crowd, the two of them wandered down the empty streets, back towards the Burosa Shelter.
Music flew above the buildings as Lut Bahada woke up for the night.
2020.07.25.
Who doesn't love a wellness weekend, cupcakes? Hell, even I like them, and I'm anything but a "sit in a pool / the sea all day" type.
Honesty I just got blown away when I researched medieval Turkish bath houses (hamam) for this chapter. They were so sophisticated, almost on par with the modern standards! I knew the Middle Eastern cultures had been the real life equivalent of the Waterbenders in the old days, but damn, this is impressive! :D I hope I gave this bath house justice in this chapter! Islamic architecture is a favorite topic of mine, not gonna lie.
As always, thank you for reading, liking and commenting! See you back here in August!
Lore & Trivia Corner
- Lut Bahada: a made-up town in Aranoch, courtesy of yours truly. While around 99% of the country is an infamously harsh desert (that apparently cannot even kill a single malnourished thin old man with no equipment whatsoever – looking at you, Diablo 2…) where only nomads and lacuni can survive, Lut Gholein is very much a thing. So I speculated that other trading towns could have formed at the edges of the desert helping the flow of trade and travel between the East and the West.
- The Moon of the Spider: also known as "The Misadventures of Zayl and Humbart Take 2". A legendary but also lunatic necromancer Karybdus and the equally dumbass nobel Lord Aldric Jitan had the brilliant idea of waking up a goddamn spider demon right under Westmarch just 'cause, and it is up to Zayl and his friends to somehow stop those two morons from committing the biggest mistake in the history of mistakes. If for some reason you do not already hate spiders, you will after this book.
- Unpua Huruman: Based heavily on medieval Turkish baths, the chamber system is modelled after a smaller bath house, the Emir Sultan Hamam in Bursa, Turkey, while the dome itself was partially based on the Sheikh Lotfollah Mosque dome in Isfahan, Iran.
- The Spine… again: alright, soo.,.. when I looked up Aranoch for some extra information… it turned out the goddamn mountain range that separates it from Khanduras does have a name. It's Tamoe Mountains. Just… why not put it on the map, people? Now I have a glaring mistake in my previous chapters that I had to go rewrite! As a lore-junkie, I take personal offense to that! D:
