Page 30 of Paladin's Faith

“Do they dislike servants here?” asked Shane dryly. “Or just employ the double-jointed?”

“That was very close to a joke.” She peered around him into the narrow space. “These are for a maid-of-all-work and a footman. They assume your valet or your lady’s maid will stay in your room with you.”

Shane digested this. “I fear that I would make a poor lady’s maid. I will stay in one of these.”

Marguerite’s lips twitched. “They didn’t teach you to style hair at the temple?”

He was fairly certain that this was also a joke, but he had an actual answer. “I can braid hair in several ways,” he said. “It is useful for tucking under a helmet so that the enemy cannot grab your hair and use it as a handle.”

Her dark eyes searched his face, perhaps looking for falsehood. Shane wondered if she knew many people who lied about being able to braid hair. What a peculiar thing to lie about. But spies are complex people, and perhaps there is a reason.

“You are a man of unexpected talents,” she said finally. He bowed his head, accepting this praise.

“And now,” Marguerite said, once they had unpacked the trunks that had been brought up, “I am going to do something decadent. Wren, you’re coming with me. Shane, you’re not.”

“I am?”

“I’m not?”

“Yes.” She draped a dressing gown over her arm. “We’re going to take advantage of the single best feature of the Court of Smoke. Natural hot springs. C’mon, Wren, let’s go soak.”

“Oh, hell yes.”

“You’re sure it’s safe?” asked Shane.

“The walk to and from the bath is the most dangerous part. That’s why Wren’s coming with me. And at least this way, if they kill me, I’ll die a lot less sore.” She grinned up at him. “There’s a men’s side, you don’t have to suffer alone.”

Shane contemplated the value of mortification of the flesh, and then decided that hot water trumped spiritual development and went to find a towel.

Marguerite leaned back in the hot water and felt her muscles slowly unknot. The smell of mineral salts filled her nostrils and her skin soaked it up with intense delight.

Her mind, alas, was a little less willing to relax. You’re here. You’re finally here, and the Sail definitely has operatives here and you don’t know if they’re from a branch that wants you dead. An assassin could come through that door at any second—

Stop that, she told herself firmly. That’s why I’ve got bodyguards.

One of those bodyguards was currently sitting on the other side of the stone bench, up to her neck in water, with an expression of intense bliss. The baths had both an open general area and a series of enclosed bays for those who preferred privacy. Both women’s clothes lay piled up on the floor just inside the door of the bay. For the first time since they’d met, Marguerite was sure that Wren did not have any weapons currently on her.

Fairly sure.

Her paranoia twinged again.

Stop. You’ve got a paladin berserker with you. You are as safe as it is humanly possible to be. Still, after two years of evading the Sail’s clutches, it was difficult to set the anxiety aside completely.

“Wren?”

“Mmm?”

“If an assassin came through the door right now, what would you do?”

Wren turned to study the door. It lasted for so long that Marguerite would normally have wondered if she’d forgotten the question, but finally, in an almost dreamy voice, the paladin said, “If she had a blade, pick up that wooden bathing stool and catch the edge between the legs. A good twist and she’ll likely either drop it or the blade will snap. If she holds on too long, assuming she’s right-handed, her arm will twist too, and it’s easier to snap the elbow backward at that angle. If she drops it, then go in fast with a blow to the throat, knock her down and hold her head underwater.”

Marguerite felt a chill despite the heat of the water. Aren’t you glad you asked?

Isn’t this exactly what you wanted, anyway?

Wren coughed and her eyes, which had been worryingly distant, focused again. “It, err, gets a little more complicated if she’s left-handed or unarmed.”

“That’s…uh…comforting?” Marguerite blinked steam out of her eyes. “You keep saying ‘she.’”