The Adorned by John Tristan Read Free Book Online Page B

teeth I’d ever seen, like the ivory keys of a harmonium.
    Tallisk came to a halt in front of them, and I stood beside him, my head lowered. “This is Etan,” he said. “We’re full up now. Make him comfortable.”
    With that pronouncement, he bounded back up the stairs; Doiran cleared his throat and he paused a moment, turning back, eyebrows raised.
    “Will you be joining us for supper, sir?” he asked. “I only ask because Isadel will return today.”
    He inclined his head. “Already? All right, most likely I will then. But send Yana to pick up supper from the Broken Keys when Isadel comes. I want you to get him,” this with a gesture at me, “cleaned up and settled in, not fuss about in the kitchen.”
    Doiran inclined his head in a sort of bow. “Of course.”
    “Anything else you want picked up, sir?” Yana asked him. “If I’m to go out.”
    He seemed irritated to be twice stopped, and shook his head. “No. That will be all.”
    They watched him ascend, waiting. Then the door of his atelier slammed closed. They both let out a long-held breath. Doiran was the first to look at me. His eyes were huge as his teeth; he seemed all over too large for his height. “Welcome!”
    I bowed to him, clumsily. “Thank you. I am—well, you know, I am Etan.” I laughed, spurred by nerves.
    “I am Doiran Teinne, housekeeper to Master Tallisk.” His accent twisted the tails of his sentences into a sing-song rhythm. “This is Yana Keel, who is key-master and groom.”
    Yana first delivered a bow that was almost military, then grinned, the formality dropping from her manner. “Welcome to the household. Doiran,” she said, “you’d best get him settled in before Isadel comes home.”
    He clapped his hands together. “Well, come then, Etan my lad, let us get you scrubbed up to Master Tallisk’s standards, shall we?”
    I followed Doiran down another set of stairs, down below the streets, into the cellar. It was dark, but Doiran lit lamps as we descended. A damp warmth pervaded the air; this was like no cellar I had known. It was all marble, with a massive square tub against the wall. In a huge cabinet, nestled in the walls themselves, plush towels and uncountable bottles were arranged. I gaped at it all.
    Doiran caught my eye and smiled. “It’s the hot springs, below the city. They feed the house, like in the public baths, then the water drains into the sewers. The real cellar is in below the garden. You couldn’t keep wine in here. ”
    “I suppose you could not,” I said weakly.
    He pulled a chain above the tub. A stream of warm, bubbling water gurgled in through a tube. A deep, mineral smell pervaded the room; a loamy scent, like old earth. When the bathtub was full, he pulled the chain once more, and the stream of water came to a trickling end. He retrieved some bottles from the cabinet and poured them into the steaming water. Sharp, rich floral scents, like gardens pickled in wine, laid themselves over the undertone of loamy earth. “You’ll need to wait a few moments, while the water cools. I will leave you to bathe a while, and fetch some clothes.”
    “Thank you,” I said.
    Submerged in the warm water, I felt a kind of deep exhaustion. My nerves had carried me for too long; I had lived on an edge, these past few weeks. I had stepped off that edge, now, landing on one side or the other, and marked my choice in a hasty scrawl of ink. That choice, I knew, would be recorded on me forever. Whatever happened here in Tallisk’s household would be indelibly inscribed upon my skin.
    I shuddered and sank deep into the water, letting it close over my shoulders. It cradled me like a subtle embrace. Suddenly, I found that my face was wet with tears. They dripped down my chin and into the water. I lifted my hand to my face, touching my wet cheek wonderingly. The tears had refused to come when my father had died, when I’d been turned out of the house I was born in. Now they rolled down my cheeks in slow