Chương 26: Vol 1. Scrubba Dub Dub Time: Part 1

Once Tahir finished the last of his food, he began to lick greedily at the meat juices that coated the fur of his paws—then he froze. He looked himself up and down: mud clung to the fur of his legs, crumbs littered his lap, and grease had soaked deep into his fur. He looked at Morton.

"Sir Christian."

"Yeah?"

"We are going to the bathhouse now."

"I thought ya' wanted to see that bookshop over there?" Morton said with a slight grin. Tahir gave him a look that silently said, Seriously? They got up and crossed the street to the public bathhouse. When they entered, the air was balmy and dank; steam swirled about. The stone floor was damp beneath their feet. Water dripped steadily—drip, drip, drip, drip—from beyond the inner chambers, accompanied by distant splashing and muffled colloquy.

The walls were decorated with faded mosaics depicting winding rivers, blooming flowers, and sinewy women pouring water over sensually reclined men. Wooden shelves lined one wall, crowded with folded towels, clay bottles, brushes, combs, bars of soap, and little jars of scented oils. Tahir inspected the establishment in a silent and dignified manner. The towels looked to be made of coarse goat fur. The tiles had been repaired with mismatched stone. One of the mosaics was cracked and chipped, missing half a face.

And yet, there was a bath, so no matter how rundown it looked, it was the greatest place in the world to him in that moment. Behind the front counter sat an elderly Kharani man, clad in a tight formal dress, half asleep and snorting with his chin resting upon one paw. Tahir went up to him, lifting his head above the countertop.

"Pardon, sir," Tahir said courteously. The older man's eyes fluttered fully open. He looked down at Tahir, realized he was a patron, then straightened himself and said,"What can I do for you?"

"Two baths, please. And do you potentially have some soap I can purchase?" Tahir slipped some coins across the counter.

"Of course," the elderly man said, taking the coins and placing them in a pouch situated on his hip. His eyes narrowed as he noticed Morton.

"Is it one man and one woman?"

"Two men," Tahir replied matter-of-factly. The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. The attendant continued to look Morton up and down in slight bewilderment, his face scrunched.

"Are… are you both men?" Morton tipped his hat and gave the older man a wry smirk.

"Last I checked."

"Huh. For a moment there, I thought you two were in some type of…" he waved one arm around, "exotic marriage—you see them every now and again these days since the orcs forced the Urta tribe southward. Unless…" The attendant's eyes darted back and forth between Morton and Tahir. His face seemed to go sour.

"Are you two, um, perhaps…" Tahir's ears shot upright.

"Absolutely not," he said incredulously.

"I don't know what he's askin'," Morton said, whispering to Tahir. Tahir's tail went rigid, and his heart pounded heavily.

"Don't worry about it," he quietly snapped.

"Whatever you say," Morton said. The older man scoffed.

"Oh, forget it. Give me a moment." He forced himself up, then headed behind the wall at the back of the counter, grabbing a bunch of soaps and placing them down in front of Tahir.

"Are any of these to your liking?" Tahir inspected them. He had to admit that he was not particularly a fan of soaps made from animal fats. For the most part, his household used only imported floral oils, especially those made from crushed lavender and white rose, as well as vegetable-based oils such as olive oil. His father would go to the market around this time of year, during spring festivities, and buy entire crates that would last them into the next spring. Tahir sniffed one of the bars. His muzzle recoiled.

It smelled faintly of goat fat with little traces of pine resin. Ugh, how dreadful. It was still soap, though. Morton picked up a dark green bar and sniffed it.

"This one smells pretty good," he said. Tahir's muzzle writhed into a snarl, one filled with the disappointment of someone betrayed by a loved one.

"Sir Christian, that smells like rotted and infested bark after a thunderstorm." Morton sniffed again.

"I don't know, smells like it will get ya' clean."

"It smells like an agricultural byproduct," Tahir retorted.

"Ah, all soap is the same, kid." Tahir pierced his very soul with his golden eyes for a good long moment, then said,"You are very lucky I look upon you so highly, Sir Christian." Tahir turned to the elderly man and said, "These will work quite well." The older man looked at them blankly. He sighed, then said, "Alright, two hours maximum." He grabbed some towels and threw them in their direction.

"No fighting, no shaving directly in the water, and no entering the opposite sex's area. If you come across someone of the opposite sex, no courting. And if either of you sheds excessively, please, for Seroth's sake, use the drain baskets." Morton looked at Tahir with a cheeky grin.

"Do NOT start," Tahir growled lowly.