Chapter 2 - Part 12

Ois tightened the lid on the chamber pot, twisting its seal into place. As she set the pot into a slight depression under her bunk, she admired its craftsmanship. Many chamber pots were made to seal away the smell of waste, but few fit so perfectly, even those in Ghallanda inns.

She stood and turned to the mirror that she had found. It had been in the drawers, and was now propped up on a ledge that probably had been meant to serve as a desk.

She picked up a small sponge and dipped it into a pitcher of scented water. She did not know if Delegado had used his House’s powers to find these things or if they came with the cabin, but she thanked the Flame for them. She had not had anything near a proper grooming since the Festering Holt, and she had not bathed in any fashion since she’d passed through Varna. Her race’s ability to shapeshift helped with grooming, but only somewhat. Accumulated sweat was accumulated sweat, and the cosmetic malleability of her flesh could only cover ragged hair, not even it out in truth.

She stared at her reflection briefly. She was nude, holding the dripping sponge as she studied her grayish-whitish skin. Her form was her own now, and she could see the darker gray spots that were bruises, and thin white lines that were scars. She had healed much in the previous two days of sleep, but the infiltration of the demonic city and the escape from it had left many a mark on her.

And of course she had the scar on her face from Droaam. She tried not to think about that, afraid that she would again project bitterness onto Delegado.

“It wasn’t his fault,” she told herself in the mirror as she began rubbing the sponge on her neck, her arms, and her breasts. “I cannot blame him.”

Memories came to her as she bathed while standing upright. All changelings practiced with mirrors when they were young, using them to master their abilities. After she had passed through a difficult adolescence she had used her abilities to give herself a more attractive form.

Delegado had wanted to see her true form. He had refused to make love to her until she had shown him.

I want to make love to him again, she thought, a tear flowing quietly from one eye as she washed herself. Surely the pleasures of the flesh are not evil, even with a non-believer. And he may even believe a little bit. And anyway, I have confounded the fiends, beaten them in their own city. Surely I am entitled to some happiness?

She set her teeth, and walked to the cabin door. Still unclothed she cracked the door open, just slightly. Now when he came to the door he would ‘accidentally’ see her.

Smiling a bit, she returned to bathing, only now careful to hold her posture so that she was no longer slouching, so that her form best attracted.

Surely I am entitled to some joy.