Page 38

She had vexed the Abscess, who remarked, ulceratively, that she looked like a lost water diviner with her stupid stick, before leading the way towards the baths.

Aurienne studied the scars that bisected his back amid lean muscle.Harm to noneaside, if one were to add to the tapestry, most of the lines required to spellTWATwere already there; it wanted only two diagonals.

The baths consisted of five pools scattered among natural rock formations. The area was lit with sputtering gas lamps. Steam hovered over the water, accompanied by a whiff of sulphur. The air was hard to breathe; Aurienne’s lungs felt as though they were filling with moisture. Her hair, pinned into its usual bun, came to life and sprang curious tendrils out to palpate the atmosphere.

Here and there, through the steam, she could make out the heads of other patrons, bobbing in the water.

An attendant pointed at a sign as they walked in:

NO SEX IN THE BATHS.

Please keep your secretions to yourself.

As they passed the sign, Aurienne saw a handwritten addition below it, which someone had attempted to scrub out. It remained faintly legible:No one wants to swim in your jizz, Scrope.

Then, below that:Too late.

Aurienne shuddered.

Mordaunt led the way to one of the farthest pools, empty save for a couple at one end, having a cuddle under an attendant’s watchful eye.

“Right,” said Mordaunt, “this’ll do.”

Without further warning, he removed his towel. Aurienne was able to look away before receiving yet another eyeful of unsolicited penis. Aurienne enjoyed penises and vulvas equally, but penises seemed, as a general rule, more prone to unasked-for exposures, which was too bad, because they weren’t as pretty as vulvas—except, perhaps, for the glossy candied ones in the shop upstairs.

Mordaunt splashed into the water and said, “Fuck me, that’s hot.”

Between the Fyren, the heat, and Scrope’s sperm, Aurienne didn’twish to make such a wholehearted plunge. She opted to sit on the edge of the bath, Modesty Towel held firmly around the important bits, and test the water with a tentative foot.

“Aren’t you coming in?” asked Mordaunt, from somewhere behind a cloud of steam.

“This is boiling,” said Aurienne.

“Don’t be a coward,” said Mordaunt.

“I’ll faint.”

“Was the healer in the water with the healee in the ballad?”

“The account didn’t specify; it merely indicated that the waters were curative at the March full moon. And even if it did specify, I wouldn’t get in. I don’t want to swim in Scrope’s semen. Enjoy your little marinade in the pathogen soup.”

“Coward.”

“The water is unusually milky; you must concede that.”

“Surely you aren’t suggesting that Scrope’s loads are so vast, he’s filled five pools with them?”

“Did youseethe Clydesdale? Anything is possible.”

Mordaunt made a strangled sound of aggravation. He disappeared into the steam for a while, apparently doing a few laps to work off his irritation.

When he came back, he asked, “Does this feel like a thin place to you?”

“No,” said Aurienne. “I’ve literally never breathed so thick an atmosphere.”

“Me neither,” said Mordaunt. “Give it a go anyway.”

He rose out of the water and backed towards Aurienne until he was within her reach. He positioned himself strategically so that she was out of view of the attendant and the other couple in the pool.