When I arrived at the back door of the Whispering Sisters not much later, carrying a glazed pastry, I had a blunt silver and eighteen coppers still in my bag. The baker hadn’t fussed about making change for a high silver, apparently having plenty of his own.
The guard at the door nodded and held the door for me to enter. I smiled and went inside, the smoke swamping my head almost immediately. However, Ila was waiting in the hallway with a cup of tea.
“How did you know I was coming?” I asked, after draining it.
“We watch from our windows. Another sister spotted you and let me know.”
I delivered the pastry to my very surprised father who asked to speak with me in the hallway. Ila excused herself and stepped inside to speak with one of her sisters.
“I would prefer—”
I stopped him with a raised hand.
“You’ve raised me, taught me, and uprooted our family to protect me. Let me bring you breakfast when you forget to eat.”
His shoulders slumped in defeat, and he nodded.
“I like the sisters,” I said so softly that he had to lean forward to hear. “But you should rest easy when I’m here. Their life does not call to me.”
He met my eyes with relief and gave me a brief hug to which the population of the room softly aw’ed, embarrassing him. I smiled at him as Ila joined me and closed the door. We retreated to the bathing room by an unspoken agreement.
“I can see the questions running through your mind,” she said as we descended.
“Yes, but they aren’t necessarily about the sisters,” I admitted. “We’ve touched a little on the mood of men. What do you do with an angry man?”
“You want to know what we do, or would like advice regarding how you should handle an angry man?” Aryana asked, rising from the water in one of the tubs. She stepped over the edge and motioned to the back room.
Absently, I licked the glaze from my fingers as we moved. I didn’t want anyone knowing about the beast nor did I want their questions if I admitted to having to deal with an angry man.
“What you would do.”
Ila waved Gen from the room as she stepped into the trough and gave Aryana a concerned look. Aryana sluiced water over Ila and handed her soap without acknowledging the look.
“When our clients leave the baths, some choose to follow us upstairs for muscle relief.” They worked together to lather Ila’s body, using languid strokes. I would have felt uncomfortable, but neither seemed aware of the other’s touch as they remained focused on me.
“Many who visit us do physical labor that leaves them sore and strained,” Aryana continued, absently smoothing her hand over Ila’s right breast and leaving a soap trail. “A man with pain is more likely quick to temper. We can show you our techniques, but you must promise never to use them.”
I eagerly agreed. The beast didn’t seem to do physical labor, so I didn’t think the information would benefit him, but I always sought to learn new things. Learning this could lead to other things that might eventually lead to knowledge that could help control the beast’s temper.
Ila frowned while sliding her hand between her legs to wash her lower parts.
“Are you sure that’s wise?”
Aryana helped her rinse.
“Better to have understanding of a room in the light before trying to walk about it in the dark.”
Ila nodded and took a moment to stand before the stove to dry.
Aryana’s remark made sense. What they had to teach probably bordered on inappropriate, but knowledge made choices easier. If I knew what obstacles to watch for, I wouldn’t trip on them.
Aryana led the way upstairs to a room where Gen lounged on a flat sofa with no back. He didn’t seem surprised when we entered.
“Gen, would you mind being our display for a skin and muscle touch?”
The adolescent, around my age, shrugged and nodded, but remained sitting.
Ila took me by the hand and led me back into the hall where we waited. “There are many aspects to a man. For you to fully understand them, we need to show you some of the dangers you might innocently overlook.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, confused.
Aryana called softly from within the room, and Ila smiled.
“You will see.”
When we walked back in, Gen lay on the sofa on his stomach with a light sheet over his head. Aryana caught my curious look.
“Just as we veil our faces to keep the focus on our bodies and our clients’ needs, we must cover Gen’s face to keep our focus on his body and our explanation. Gen’s body, not his face, will tell us his needs.”
Interesting, I thought, stepping closer. Gen still had the thin wiry muscles of youth, and I enjoyed looking at him.