Gods & Thieves

31. Heat and Water

༄༄༄

Ignoring the faces, eyeing us as if by the way in the alleys, we make our way through Tik'al's streets, through the typical lanterns' glow and evening breeze, toward one of the smaller temples somewhere on the western part of the shaman city. The breeze is hotter here, and merry voices ring in the night, coming from behind the columns supporting the stone roof and its corridors.

I hesitate by the entrance, but Loretto waves faer hand for me to follow faer inside, striding past the front hallways and shamans wandering in small cheerful groups, toward the main hall that, as I can note from around the corner, is like a collection of huge baths made of stones and moss, merged into warm steam and surrounded by the temple's walls to make it look safe and cozy.

For some stupid reason, I realize I haven't thought of trunks or any swimwear only when we enter the small anteroom where everyone's clothes and clean, folded towels are piled on the benches and shelves.

I'm about to admit I need something to swim in, but as my eyes linger on the silhouettes in the hall plunged to steam and focus a little, I stop short. "They're naked." My mouth goes dry.

Loretto's fingers unlacing faer robe halt.

They're naked. All of them! My eyes dart to Loretto and back to the hall, heat billowing into my face, in a desperate attempt to convince myself I've hallucinated. I haven't. Over several dozens of shamans, young and old, handsome and...not very so, casually sitting in the hot pools, walking amidst them, talking to one another, drinking wine, laughing, and smiling. Skin, skin, skin...no clothes.

"Wasn't it obvious?" Confusion etches upon Loretto's face. "When you're about to soak in water, you leave the clothes behind unless you want to soak it as well. You don't bathe dressed up, do you?" Before I can reply, fae purses faer lips, apparently remembering as I sank into faer bath in my clothes once. "Right. Don't answer that."

"This is different!" I stumble away from the hall's entrance, my hands automatically grasping the front of my shirt, though nobody tried to yank it off so far. "I'm not taking my clothes off in front of everyone, Loretto." Now it occurs to me that except for faer informal robe, my mentor must also be wearing nothing. Loretto came to my apartments without faer underwear. Was sitting on my couch without faer underwear. Whimsical, whimsical shamans...

After a frustrated moment, Loretto shrugs and continues to unlace faer robe. The long lace is held in place with numerous tiny hooks, which take forever my moms to sew yet look very exquisite. I've never found it practical, though I can't disagree they're harder to ruin than a zip or buttons, but Loretto is clearly experienced at unlacing those, because faer fingers are fast and graceful, making no excess motion.

"I don't see what's the big deal, Eli," fae says calmly. "Some people might see you undressed, so what? It's not like it's a shock that you have a body."

"The deal is that my body is private." I should probably just turn around and leave, but something makes me linger. Maybe it's my stubborn desire to dissuade my mentor, maybe my sick curiosity about how far it might lead me, or maybe I just don't want people to stare at Loretto's undressed body either. My mentor is a mystery. They can't see the mystery. "And this is unhealthy and vulgar."

"Your soul is private. And what is unhealthy and vulgar are people's prejudice."

"We wear clothes for a reason, Loretto."

"Sure, mostly for the reason of keeping ourselves warm and clean. But it's already warm and clean in there."

"Still no. I'm not striding naked."

"Okay. But if you stay clothed and stride in there, you'll draw more attention." The lace falls from the last several hooks on Loretto's robe, and I spin around before the robe flies open. I've seen Loretto walking around faer room undressed, of course, but this is different. It's public, it's inappropriate. And Loretto's my teacher, after all--I'm not supposed to see my teacher undressed at all! People might see me looking, people might think...oh, they might think so many things.