Chapter 9

I shut the curtain and return my attention to the pool, stepping closer to get a better look. The liquid is so clean that I can see the stone floor at the bottom without any trouble. All the heat and dryness of a thousand days in the Wasteland hits me at once, and I resist the urge to jump right in. I sit down on the bench to remove my boots. There are a few large towels folded neatly under the seat. The rest of my clothes come off next, including the fresh bandage. Guess we should have taken care of that after the bath, but I was too distracted by everything in the palace to think about it. Trace must have been pretty distracted, too. I figure a little water won't hurt, though, especially water this clean.

I sit on the edge of the pool and slowly dip my legs in. It's heaven. Seconds later, I slide off the edge and submerge myself in the beautiful, beautiful water. My feet touch the bottom, and I straighten my legs. It's shallow enough for me to stand in - a good thing, considering I have no idea how to swim. My leg wound stings a bit, but I hardly notice. The water is for bathing, but that doesn't stop me from scooping up a few handfuls and drinking. Water is water, and it would be a waste not to use it to its full potential.

I gaze at the pile of dirty clothes lying beside the pool. I don't want to put them on again after getting clean, but I don't have anything else to wear. After a moment of thought, I shrug and pull them into the water. If I have to wear wet clothes to dinner, so be it. I take a while trying to get most of the dirt and blood out of them, especially the pants. It doesn't all come out, of course, but at least there's a bit of a visible improvement. Once that's done, wring out the pieces of clothing and toss them onto the bench to dry for a bit while I finish bathing.

I don't know exactly how long I spend in the pool, trying to wash off what seems like a lifetime's worth of grime. The stone floor slowly disappears from sight as the water gets murkier and murkier. At last, when my skin is red from scrubbing off the dirt, I climb out of the pool. The air feels very cold now, and I wonder if it's dark outside yet. I wring out my clothes again before patting them down with one of the towels. Not satisfied, I resort to whipping them back and forth through the air. In the end, they're still fairly damp, but at least they look a little better. Probably smell better, too, but I stopped being able to notice a long time ago.

My body is pretty much dry by the time I finish with the clothes, but my hair is still dripping. I keep having to brush it out of my eyes. I wish I had my knife so I could shave the damn stubble off my face, too. Then I'd really feel clean. I rub the towel over my hair a couple times before taking a seat on the bench. I carefully wrap the still fairly clean bandage around my thigh, glad I can finally put it under my pants this time. I feel wide awake and refreshed, like I could go do Anuket's job right now and be back with energy to spare. And yet, at the same time, I kind of just want to collapse on that bed and sleep for days. Then I remember that there's food waiting for me down the hall, and I pull on my clothes in a heartbeat.

I head for the doorway. As I open the curtain, I give the pool one last, longing glance. It's full of filth now, but it's still more water than I've had access to in a very long time. With a sigh, I start walking down the hall. As I round the corner to the right, a smell hits me. Something cooking. It gets stronger and stronger with each step. I don't see any guards, servants, or guests in the hall. Is it really just Anuket and the Handmaidens living here? It's no wonder Trace seems so lonely and bored. I still don't know exactly why I agreed to let her teach me how to read, but I guess there's really no harm in learning a new skill. Just something to pass the time, that's all.

I follow the smell to a large chamber with a high ceiling and several electric lights. A Handmaiden, the one with the red hair and freckled skin, stands attentively on the far side of the room, gazing at nothing in particular. There is no furniture except for a round, wooden table in the center surrounded by stools. On the table is a small variety of different foods: carrots, corn, potatoes, and some kind of leafy green I'm unfamiliar with. There are no spices. At the table are Three and Chuckles, sitting a few stools apart. Chuckles has his back to the Handmaiden while Three has chosen a spot that lets him keep an eye on her and the doorway. Each man has a small glass of milk and plate loaded full of vegetables. A third spot is set opposite Three with a glass of milk, a plate, and a fork.. Chuckles is eating voraciously, shoveling more food onto his plate and into his mouth before he can even finish chewing anything. Three absentmindedly stabs at the carrots on his plate, nodding at me as I enter. With all the dirt gone from his face, he looks even older. I can see more wrinkles around mouth, and the purple under his eye looks like a fresh bruise. Chuckles, on the other hand, looks younger than ever now that the rest of his facepaint is gone. He's really just a kid.

"Hey, how was your bath?" After listening to Trace's soft and comforting voice, Three's harsh speech feels like sandpaper in my ear.

"Mmph?" grunts Chuckles, stopping his feast to glance irritatedly up at Three.

"I was talking to Roman."

Without another sound, Chuckles goes right back to eating corn like a machine.

"Best thing that's happened to me in ages," I say, taking a seat at the table. "Besides you and your die saving my skin, of course." I get the urge to smile at Three as I say that, but I manage to hold it back. Being in a good mood is strange.

I begin scooping food onto my plate, taking some of each of the vegetables. I don't quite shovel it in like Chuckles, but I'm a lot more eager about it than Three. Everything tastes amazing, so I slow down a bit in order to make it last.

"How about you? Enjoying your stay?" I ask before taking another bite of potato. The fact that I actually feel like talking is strange, too. I guess I have Trace to blame for that.

"This isn't a hotel, Roman," Three lectures, putting down his fork and scowling at me. "We aren't 'staying' here. Lady Anuket has her Handmaidens put on a song and dance for us to lower our guard in case she needs to do something. We are just as much in enemy territory as we are out in the Wastes."

Chuckles stops chewing and stares at the Cyclops, mouth agape. Bits of corn fall from his teeth onto the table. His usual, forced frown is replaced with a look of horror.

"Don't look at me like that, Chuckles," Three sputters aggressively. "You are a Road Warrior now. You need to learn to never ever let your guard down. Not even around the woman you revere so much. She dangerous, and so is this one." He nods his head towards the redheaded Handmaiden.

Chuckles tries to speak, but he can't seem to form sounds. His lips move silently, knocking loose more corn.

"You need to learn that, too, Roman," Three continues, turning to me again. "You're too happy, too relaxed. You have already let your guard down. What if Anuket decided she didn't like the way she spoke to you, so had your milk poisoned? Or had the Handmaiden slice a major artery in your leg?" He stands up and points at his covered eye. "Don't get comfortable or secure, ever."

I sit in stunned silence as Three leaves the room, stomping down the hall. Chuckles puts his fork down and stares sullenly at his plate. I sigh audibly and rub my eyes with my hands. My good mood is all but gone now, and all I want to do is sleep. I rest my arms on the table and look at Chuckles.

"He's right," I say quietly, half to the young Road Warrior and half to myself. "Didn't have to say it like that, but he's right. We should be more careful."

Chuckles doesn't reply. Instead, he glances behind him at the Handmaiden with a look of concern. She is on the verge of tears - whether it's from sadness or fear, I can't tell. She doesn't budge from her post or look at us.

I stifle a yawn. Despite what Three said about getting comfortable, I don't think I'll be able to stop myself from falling asleep. Maybe Trace will see how tired I am and leave me alone. I was kind of looking forward to our lesson, but now… Three has been here before - he knows a lot more about this place than I do. I was a fool for getting so carried away. I should know better by now. I told her myself not to trust anyone, didn't I? Stupid.

"Have the rest of mine if you want," I offer, sliding my half-empty plate towards the former Blackthumb. "Don't worry, I think I'd know by now if it were poisoned."

"Thanks," Chuckles mutters, slowly putting his frown back on as he scrapes my remains onto his plate. "But, hey, Blonde One. Don't worry about him. The Cyclops is a bitter, angry, old man. He doesn't like Our Lady too much. But we tolerate him here because he is one of the best, and the other two don't come here much."

He sets down the plate and turns around on his stool to address the Handmaiden.

"And, ma'am, I know you couldn't hurt a fly. We have legends about the infinite kindness of Handmaidens. He is just upset that he was caught sleeping with one."

The Handmaiden doesn't move or respond. The tears in her eyes are already dry. Chuckles turns back to me.

"You rest easy here, friend," Chuckles concludes. "We are under the Great Lady's protection, the only safe place in the Wastes outside of the Caesar's Palace."

"Sure," I say, unconvinced. Three seems to hate everything about this place, but Chuckles feels right at home. I don't know what to think. I stand up slowly, yawning and rolling my shoulders back. "Guess I'll get some sleep. Big day tomorrow, yeah?"

Chuckles just grunts, already digging into the remains of my dinner. I turn and walk out of the room, glancing suspiciously at the Handmaiden as I go. She doesn't meet my eyes, continuing to look ahead with that innocent, glazed-over stare. Song and dance, Three said. I head down the hall, glancing into the bathing rooms as I pass by. Empty. The pools that seemed so inviting are now eerily still and cold. The passage feels like it's getting smaller as I go. Closing in on me. I hate hallways. How did I ever think I could relax here?

I finally make it back to the room where Trace fixed up my leg. I take off my damp scarf and jacket and throw them on one of the tables. Then I sit on the bed and remove my boots, tossing them aside in frustration. I miss my car. I miss being able to go where I want to go, provided I have the fuel for it. This place is suffocating, and yet I feel exposed. I put my head in my hands again, trying to relax. I'm so tired, but I can't bring myself to lie down. I wish this room had a door. Anuket could stroll in and shoot me in my sleep. Or Three could roll his die and decide I'm not worth having around anymore. He thinks I'm young and stupid. He's right. I let myself start to trust someone because she smiled at me. I'm no better than Chuckles.

I hear a light tapping on the wall. Whipping my head up, I see Trace standing in the doorway. She is dressed in an oversized purple flannel shirt that goes halfway to her knees.

"Hi, Roman," she attempts to whisper. Her excitement makes her voice much louder than intended, startling her a little. She gives up on that and continues at a normal volume. "You ready for your first lesson? I'm going to teach you to write your name!"

She holds up a clipboard with a pencil and sheets of blank paper. Her big, goofy grin looks so out of place after spending time with the two scowling Road Warriors. I look up at her, standing there and seeming so happy. Song and dance. Nothing but an act.

"Why are you doing this?" I ask, sitting forward and studying her smiling face. "What's the point? I might die tomorrow. Or get executed for letting that Blackthumb die. Hell, I might even kill him myself if things get really bad. Who cares if I know how to write my name, huh?"

Trace lowers the clipboard. The grin vanishes from her face, replaced by confusion and sadness. I narrow my eyes.

"What do you mean? Don't you want to learn? You were in a good mood - what happened? Did Three get to you?" She rushes through the questions, not giving me time to answer. Her voice is flustered, like she doesn't know what to say or when to stop. "You won't die out there. You have proven you can handle yourself, and you'll be with a veteran. Don't say things like that!"

"What am I supposed to say?" I spit out, interrupting her stream of consciousness. My voice "I'd be dead right now if Three hadn't saved me. He's a veteran, all right. He's been here before; he knows things. Am I supposed to just ignore what he says about this place? About Anuket? About you?"

Trace looks at her feet, avoiding my eyes as I go silent. A rolls down her cheek and falls from her chin. The room is so quiet I can hear the drop of liquid slap the stone floor. The Handmaiden raises the clipboard and begins scribbling something.

"I guess I thought you were different," she replies at last.

She tears the paper free from the board and sets it on the nearest table. Then she steps back. Her eyes are nearly dry, and her expression is placid.

"I will let you sleep. You have a big day tomorrow, Road Warrior." Her voice is calm and distant again, and she says the title with reverence.

She turns and walks through the doorway. Before heading down the hall, she pauses.

"If you ever change your mind, I'll be here," she says without looking back. Then she's done.

I almost tell her to wait. The word is on my lips, but I don't let it slip out. This is for the best. She already knows more about me than anyone. That's dangerous. What she knows, Anuket knows. I can't let her get any closer. I can't be her friend. I can't trust her. I can't.

I sigh, rubbing my sore eyes. Then I stand and go to the table by the doorway. The piece of paper is lying facedown on the wooden surface. I pick it up and turn it over, blinking the weariness from my eyes so I can get a better look at the thing.

Words. No numbers or pictures. Complete nonsense to me. It could be anything: angry insults, my name, or nothing at all. Maybe she's taunting me with scribbles she knows I can't understand. I stare at the symbols, waiting for them to suddenly make sense, but I know they never will. I clench my teeth, frustrated. I don't know who else can read around here. Probably not Chuckles. Maybe Three, but he'd just give me another lecture about Handmaidens. Anuket's out of the question. The other Handmaidens might be able to read, but what if it says something horrible about me? Something that could get me killed if Anuket found out? The only person I know who can safely read it is… Trace. But it's too late for that. Besides, it could be a trick. A way for me to fall back into her snare. Make me come crawling back.

I stare at the paper blankly for a few more seconds, wishing Simon were here. Then again, if Simon were here, he'd probably tell me to go apologize to Trace right now. He was always the more naive between the two of us. It doesn't matter, anyway. He's not here. I'm on my own.

I fold up the paper and tuck it into a pocket in my pants. With any luck, I'll forget about it by morning. I force myself to lie down on the bed. I need some rest if I'm going to be in fighting shape tomorrow. I lie on my side, keeping an eye on the doorway, listening for footsteps in the hall that never come. As my eyelids grow heavier, the events of the day replay in my mind. Talked back to a goddess, got a bath, and ate two different meals. A long day. A good day, too, by Wasteland standards. Why don't I feel good about it, then? I start thinking about what tomorrow might be like instead. It'll probably be a tough fight if Anuket is sending three Road Warriors to take care of it. I don't know how much help Chuckles will be, though. Just as long as he doesn't get himself killed…