7. Sirin #3
''Well, I would love to meet him. If it turns out I am staying, as you say, that is…
'' She thought of what it would look like to stay in this place.
How would her life change from what she'd planned?
Would it be so terrible? She tugged on her braid as she tried to make it work in her head, only to realize her hair was stiff with dried blood.
She recoiled in disgust. Across from her Berne chuckled and rose.
''You might want a bath, if you don't mind me suggesting it,'' he said.
''Are you trying to tell me I smell?'' she joked, mouth agape in feigned affront.
Berne chuckled, ''Not as such, no, but if my hair made me make a face like that, I'd be wanting one, so I would.''
''Well…I suppose you're probably right,'' she said, grimacing as she picked some dried blood flakes out of her braid. ''A bath would be lovely, thank you.''
''Oh thank the Lady, I wasn't about to dunk you in if you said no, but it would be a close one,'' he smiled cheekily and grabbed a large pot off the stove. He disappeared behind a screen next to the fire and Sirin heard the sound of water pouring into a tub.
''You might need to stir it up a bit, to get the water evenly heated, but I've left you soap and a towel.'' Stepping from behind the screen, he gestured to a door on the other side of the fire and rubbed a hand behind his neck.
''Sure, an' I'm just going to…ah, I mean, I need to check the—'' He flushed a deep pink and turned to leave. ''Just yowl if you need me then? I'll be outside so I'll be able to hear you holler.''
The door shut softly behind him and Sirin found herself alone in his cabin.
It was cozy and she liked how the light scent of his bear suffused the place, comforting her with its familiarity.
She stood, stretching her muscles and rolling her head.
She was fully healed, but the rapid nature of healing with lunula always left a dull ache and a burn similar to sore muscles7.
She shed her traveling clothes, piling them next to her bag, noticing that her sledge was parked just out the window as she stood.
She gasped at the lack of snow as she peered out.
The ground was covered in grasses and bright wildflowers, and Berne's house was surrounded by trees.
How very odd. Perhaps there was geothermal activity in the area warming the soil?
She couldn't wait to explore but that bath called like a siren's song.
From her pack, she retrieved her last remaining set of clean clothes.
She hadn't had any use for them on her trip as they were not well-suited to travel.
She'd only packed them in case she settled somewhere or ran into people.
The rest of her everyday clothes were rolled tightly into a large bundle on her sledge.
She hoped this set wouldn't be too heavy, she'd packed for the extreme north and it didn't seem too chilly here.
She grabbed a pair of stockings, her stays, petticoat, and shirt along with the brown tweed skirt and matching vest. It was a simple outfit, versatile and functional.
She was glad it was what she'd kept handy, knowing it would make her feel more put together and confident if forced to make difficult decisions for her future.
Becoming aware that she'd been lingering in a virtual stranger's house naked, she ducked behind the folding screen.
A standalone copper tub steamed in front of a window that overlooked his garden and a pair of beehives.
She stirred the water with her hand and sank down into the deep tub inhaling the steam in pleasure.
The warm heat loosened her muscles and soothed her nerves.
The gentle lapping of the water dampened some of her worries and allowed her to relax.
For the briefest moment, Sirin floated in peace, but the silence quickly caused her emotions to rush to the forefront of her mind.
She'd always been one to rush in, to go headlong for a goal, consequences be damned.
She'd paid for it repeatedly, but when she was the only one who suffered for it, she had never much cared.
Her goal had always been finding the source, but her methods of inquiry had varied wildly over the years.
To some extent, her status as a lunologist had gotten her out of more scrapes than she'd like to admit.
Here, that didn't seem to matter one bit, and it wasn't likely to help her.
She'd been in tight spots before, but this felt different.
She could likely escape, speed up her reactions, and bulk up her muscles and she'd be out of there in a trice.
But after that, she wasn't sure. She didn't fancy the idea of wandering the tundra trying to avoid their guards.
And that was if she could even find her way out of wherever they were.
The urge to explore made her stomach bubble.
Excitement or nerves, or both, danced inside her.
''Lady damn me for a fool,'' she growled, rubbing her hands down her face, ''why did I think that this was a good idea? Will I never stop rushing in? Is this just who I am, single-minded to the point of recklessness?''
She'd thought she knew what to expect when she'd left.
Death had been a possibility, of course, but execution had never been a consideration.
She was facing capital punishment for what could be argued wasn't even a crime but an inconvenience.
She could feel her panic coursing through her, but it warred with anger, vying to control the manifestations of her emotions.
The quick pace of her heart. The sweat beading her brow.
The tightness in her face. Each feeling heightened the others until they tumbled into a mass that threatened to whip her into a frenzy.
She was terrified and for what? An arbitrary line on a map drawn by xenophobic isolationists?
Her emotions bubbled up until she felt them threatening to spill out of her.
She sucked in a harried breath and steadied herself.
As pressing as the agitation was, she knew it wasn't going to aid her in finding a solution at present.
She needed practicality, and this disquiet would only get in the way of logic.
The mindfulness training at the Citadel allowed her to work through her emotions more swiftly, and right then, she was grateful it had been a required course.
She acknowledged that her fear had kept her alive and that it had allowed her to react to dangerous situations.
But now she needed to use her wits to get out of this mess.
She dunked under the water imagining her fear dissipating into the bath, allowing the tension to pass away from her.
She floated underwater for as long as she could, using a bit of lunula to give her extra time.
Sensory deprivation had always helped her think, and she certainly wasn't about to dampen her actual senses with lunula in a strange place, no matter how friendly Berne seemed.
Surfacing with a gasp, Sirin felt steady enough to dig for the next emotion.
As she scrubbed with Berne's soap, Sirin was only mildly surprised when she felt curiosity mingled with gratitude.
She hadn't felt any fear from these people about her being an outsider, so they weren't actually xenophobic exactly.
There had to be a reason why they were so insular, one they wanted to keep from her.
Sirin had never been able to abide such secrets and she looked forward to ferreting theirs out.
Berne had even implied if she stayed she might find what she was looking for, which made her veins buzz with excitement.
Ever an optimist, Sirin considered the advantages: not only was she close to her answers but she wouldn't have to find some way to build a homestead in a vast wasteland, she'd have civilization within arm's reach.
The last of her tension now gone, she hummed with happy determination as she worked shampoo through her hair.
This was good. Instead of living in a tent shivering at night, she was luxuriating in a fire-warmed tub in a cozy cabin.She could make this work to her advantage.
After rinsing out the shampoo, she found some conditioner and ran it through the ends of her hair as she worked to identify the next emotion.
Determination. The council assumed her goal was to leave, so she'd use that as a bargaining chip.
She agreed with Berne, the best course of action seemed to be to stay here, but she could easily make that seem like a concession during her coming interrogation.
Meeting? Arraignment? Trial? It didn't matter, her goals were the same.
She swished the lengths of her hair through the water, loving how it flowed around her.
She would find the source and study it. The council assumed she'd be arguing to leave, but she wanted to stay.
That gave her room for negotiation, which she hoped might include accommodations of some sort.
Perhaps she could even get the council to grant her research assistants!
Sure, they would likely think of them as minders, spies to keep an eye on her, but if they could help with her research, she didn't really care if they reported her doings.
If, on the other hand, they decided to make an example of her and execute her, she would fight back.
She could be extremely quick using her lunula and maybe she could even get Berne to help her escape if it came to that.