"You really need to refrain from speaking with such vulgar language."
I raised both my hands up and flipped them towards him, showing him both sides.
"I applied a healing balm on your wound." He said nonchalantly.
"A healing balm?" I asked incredulously, "There doesn't exist such a thing. Nothing can completely heal without a scar. I've scoured the web and even reached out to scientists in the skincare industry to find anything that would remove acne scarring from my teenage years. They're gone now, but after spending a lot of money on cosmetic procedures and lasers. Not because of some magical 'healing balm.'"
Who did these people have working for them?
"It might not exist in your homeland, but it does in ours. Wait, did you say web and lasers?"
I ignored his question as I was now on my feet.
"Show me." I was now standing right in front of him. Shocked by my intensity and proximity, he reached into his pants pocket and produced a small black tin container. I quickly removed the lid and studied the white gel-like substance inside. It smelled medicinal and herbal, with no synthetic scent. This couldn't possibly be what he had used on me.
"Now you explain, you said …" There was a knock on the front door that stopped him midsentence. Tomlin opened the door, and Belmont entered. His gaze flickered between Kael and me and our proximity. And he smirked, one that upset me for some reason, as he gave Kael a knowing look.
"I need you to come with me to look at something," Belmont told Kael.
"Be right there," he answered, looking somewhat reluctant. Then turned to me and whispered, "You will tell me more about where you came from tomorrow."
Then, much louder, he added, "Tomlin has offered to house you for the night, as a thank you for saving his son. I will be back for you at first light, so don't get too comfortable." With that, he left, leaving the tin with me.
"If you really like that, I can bring you another one from the city tomorrow." Jean was now standing next to me.
"There's more of this. Who makes it? What is made out of?" I asked, my enthusiasm overwhelming the young man.
"Several apothecaries carry them. The efficacy varies depending on your needs and budget. I imagine that one," he pointed to the tin still in my hand, "is one of the more expensive ones if a Ducal Knight had it with him."
"So he's playing a knight," I muttered, but Jean heard me.
"He is with Lord Aster, so he must be one of their knights. And I don't think he is playing at anything. Knights must train..." Jean began to explain.
"Who is Lord Aster?" I asked, cutting him. Afraid to get trapped in another endless ramble.
"The gentleman with the red hair who was just here."
"Oh, Belmont. So he's the Duke?"
"We don't refer to nobles by their first name, Miss Mara," Jean explained, "And no, he isn't the Duke. He is the Duke's younger brother in charge of the knights."
Right, there must be some hierarchy in the game, I thought, but what kind of game has a product that can heal wounds? I stared at my right palm again. The skin wasn't just healed, it looked to be smoother than before it got injured.
"What time are you going into the city tomorrow?" I turned to look at Jean.
"Before dawn." He answered with a smile.
That was before the first light, I thought. I didn't have the time or patience to keep playing the game. I needed to find the strange men, get them to take me home, and maybe even reveal the ingredients to the balm.
It had taken less convincing than I had imagined when I approached Tomlin and Jean about my desire to go into the city. They had heard that Kael would be back in the morning, yet they agreed to sneak me out. They both felt it was their duty to help me, seeing as I had jumped in to save Cyril from the river.
"Several like you have been seen in the city." Tomlin's voice was soft as he cradled his daughter, who I now knew was named Adelia.
"What do you mean by that?" I asked, could it be more scientists?
"Xoltecans," Jean answered.
I'm dealing with non-unionized actors. I looked around the room, eyeing the corners and any spot small enough to hide a mic or camera.
"Are they constantly monitoring you guys?" I whispered, "Wink with your right eye for yes." I waited, but they exchanged confused glances with each other as if they had no idea what I was talking about. They were good.
"How do you know that they are 'Xoltecans'?" I inquired, seeking confirmation that this was indeed how they referred to the people who paid for this 'experience.'
"Because they look like you." Jean went on, "They have the same dark hair, and dark eyes, and your complexion…and they're all very beautiful." He added with a shy smile.
So not another scientist, at least not from my lab.
"So they're all women?" That didn't seem right.
"No, there are also men." Jean continued, "They have been seen around Dampshaw, that's the darker side of Aeloria," he explained further. "That's why no one in the city trusts them, that and the rumors surrounding them."
I was beginning to tune him out, formulating a plan to find the paid participants from the actors once in the city. But when I glanced at their faces, it was easy to read that they wanted to share with me.
"What rumors?" I asked, and made a mental note to actually listen to what they were about to say.
"They say that Xoltecans have amazing magical ability, but that it is used for dark magic," Jean explained as he leaned in. "And that they still practice blood sacrifices to their gods."
They both looked at me as if I were to confirm those rumors, but I had no idea what these Xoltecans did or didn't do. But I had a feeling they were being portrayed as the 'baddies' in this script.
"The dark magic is false," I answered.
I might not know about Xoltecans, but I learned about my ancestors, and blood sacrifices got a much too negative rep thanks to the scewing of history by the colonizers. "And the sacrifices are voluntary, unless it's an enemy of war, then all's fair," I added.
"Still, even if it is voluntary, what kind of god demands that their devotees take a life?" Jean asked, innocently and ignorantly.
"Does your goddess not ask for sacrifices?" I asked, a lot faster than I had intended.
"Not blood sacrifices," Jean answered defensively.
"Uh-huh. So, no holy wars have ever been fought in the name of your goddess, Elysarra? Not even to rid the world of the non-believers, heretics, blasphemers?" I pushed, though I knew the answer. I had studied enough history to know.
"It isn't the sa…" Jean didn't finish his sentence. My look must have intimidated him. I had heard several scientists tell me the same thing: that I could come across as unapproachable.
I softened my look, not wanting them to regret agreeing to sneak me out.
Both men had shifted in their chairs uncomfortably before Tomlin rose, cradling Adelia in his arms.
"Jean will be sleeping with Adelia and Cyril so that you can stay in his room. The washroom is down the hall and the second door to your right if you wish to bathe." He explained before walking away, leaving me alone with his eldest.
"I will wake you up as soon as I am up. And we will be out of here before sunrise, long gone before they realize." He reassured, as he too got up and headed to the bedroom.
"You all sleep here?" I asked, hoping he would say that there were actually trailers or actor cabins somewhere. But he just smiled and looked confused by my question.
"Where else would we sleep?" He asked back.
"Right, sorry, lack of sleep has made me a bit loopy," I answered with a chuckle. He laughed with me, out of pity, I was sure, and then he was gone.
My body felt heavy as I walked to the bedroom.
Neatly folded atop the bed was a nightdress, thin and made of cotton, and underneath it was a towel. The suggestion of a bath seemed more than a mere suggestion. I hadn't looked at my reflection at all, but I imagined I didn't look my best. My mind flashed back to Kael's comment about being kidnapped for my magic, not my beauty, and the fire returned to my veins.
I'm not a knockout beauty, but I'm not unattractive either. I thought as I made my way to the washroom.
There was an oil lantern hanging on the door, the light inside barely aflame. I opened the door, and it was completely dark inside. It didn't take me long to realize that the oil lantern was not only a guide to find the washroom but also to use once inside.
I turned the flame knob on the lantern, and the room illuminated. It was a decent-sized washroom, entirely made of wood like the rest of the house. It looked like a sauna.
There was a wardrobe immediately to the right when you walked in. Next to that was a small basin with a metal faucet over it, and above was what appeared to be a mirror, but it wasn't made of glass. Across the room was a claw-foot wooden tub that seemed to have been carved from a tree trunk. There was a small bucket inside it.
But there was no toilet.
God, I hope it's in another room, and not separate from the house, I thought as I pictured the outhouses I had come across on road trips in college.
I went over to the sink, curious as to what my reflection would show me. It was worse than I had imagined, made uglier because I immediately broke down. I watched as hot tears ran down my face, almost unrecognizable.
My eyes were sunken, and my cheeks gaunt; my hair was matted and tangled in various places, and dirt was smeared across my face and neck. I looked like I was barely alive.
I turned away from my reflection, not wanting to gaze at the transformation that had occurred over the past two days.
I turned to the tub and undressed, wanting nothing more than to wash away the distress that I had seen in the mirror. There was only one faucet and one knob on the tub. I wasn't one for baths; sitting in my own dirt stew never appealed to me. But when in Rome.
Five minutes passed, and the water was still cold. If there was a way to warm it up, I was too tired to figure it out at the moment.
Shivers ran down my spine, and my skin turned to goosebumps as I got into the tub.
It was the quickest bath I have taken in my life. I focused on the necessary areas and tried, but gave up on getting the knots out of my hair.
I was back, dressed and clean-ish, in bed shortly after. The sound of the curtain blowing in the wind lulled me, and I was starting to doze off when I heard the door to the bedroom open and footsteps approach the bed.