Chapter 17
“Is it possible,” Sister Agatha began slowly after she’d opened the convent’s door/window combo, “that you look even more terrible than the last time I saw you?”
Katherine and her group huddled sheepishly at the bottom of the stairs, under Katherine’s umbrella to some extent, but more so under the generous canopy of the sympathetic Todd, who’d met them again on the path and draped his bough-like arms above them while they waited.
Mouser mewled plaintively, his patchy fur dripping on the wet ground.
“And you have a new companion,” the nun said, “who appears to be shivering despite a dragon’s help.” Ember nudged a bit closer to Mouser but still seemed to be accomplishing very little to warm him. “Come in, then.” Once again, the nun turned on her heel and disappeared.
“Thank you, Todd,” Katherine told the nymph huskily. He kept his arms above them until they were fully up the ramp and then set off again to tend his garden, quite content to keep working in the nourishing rain.
This time, Sister Agatha led Katherine’s troupe directly to a corridor lined with large, tiled bathrooms, each equipped with handrails conveniently positioned at every turn.
A massive claw-footed tub stood near the window of each, beside stately copper tanks adorned with ceramic faucets in the shapes of frolicking dragons.
“You may bathe here,” the nun said, “and your clothes will be laundered while you wash.” At her words, a pair of ruddy-faced but cheerful-looking nuns emerged from seemingly nowhere and nodded reassuringly.
“Why, thank you, Sister Agatha,” Katherine said, astounded by the woman’s impassive generosity. “You really didn’t—”
“It is our ministry,” Sister Agatha said. “Saint Percival would want it so.”
What about us? said Mr. Scruffles.
“There’s a hearth in a sitting room just along the hall,” Sister Agatha continued, “where I’m sure these creatures can find some respite. I’ll see that they’re fed.”
“Again, thank you,” Katherine managed.
Food?? Mr. Scruffles began to trot away. Let’s go.
Ember looked to Katherine for a confirming nod, then gathered up Tilly and Mouser to follow.
“We really are grateful, Sister,” said Mrs. Chrysler. “And we’ve been making some progress, we promise. We want to tell you about it.”
“Not now. Get warm. Get washed. We’ll talk later.”
With that, she was gone, and Katherine and Mrs. Chrysler exchanged glances. “Do you need any help, Ruben?” Mrs. Chrysler asked the dumbfounded man beside her.
“Er, no, I should be all right,” he said with an embarrassed smile. “Quite all right.”
“There are clean robes and towels inside,” the shorter of the two helper nuns said kindly. “Just leave your things by the door when you’re ready, and we’ll fetch them.”
Katherine had forgotten how truly restorative a nice soak in a bath of dragon-heated water could be, and she indulged herself in a fairly long one.
Looking about her as she lounged in the tub, she noticed the delicate details of the room’s stone walls, meticulously engraved with dragons of all shapes and sizes.
The bathmat, robe, and towels too were adorned with dragons in multicolored embroidery.
Even the soap was carved like a chubby little dragon with oversized wings, and she felt a little bad smoothing out its precious shape as she used it.
After a while, Tilly pushed her way into the room and settled down to loaf on the bathmat.
“Hello, darling,” Katherine said, offering her bubbly fingers for a sniff. Tilly slow-blinked her eyes and tucked her paws up underneath herself.
“What a couple of days this has been, hasn’t it?”
You’re telling me.
“I thought we had her. I really did.”
Well, you still might.
“We still might, though. I’m not giving up. Not yet.”
Yes, that’s what I thought.
Tilly began to purr, and Katherine listened blissfully to the rich sound reverberate among the piping.
“You’re such a sweet little girl.”
Yes, I know.
Katherine remained in the tub until the water began to cool and her fingers were completely pruny.
But after such a pleasant soak, she felt like a whole new woman.
She worked her way around Tilly, who began rolling around on the wet mat in that odd way that some cats have, and, finding her clothes not yet returned, she bundled herself up in the provided plush robe and rubber-soled slippers.
She met Mrs. Chrysler coming out of the next room wearing her own robe, with a terrycloth towel piled high on her head, wrapped around her hair. “Nothing like a nice wash, huh, Katty?” she said. “Did you have lavender bubbles in yours?”
They looked in the next bathroom to see if Ruben was still in his bath, but he wasn’t. Instead, Katherine spied a wet set of footprints and matching cane spots wending down the hall, so they followed the trail, and Tilly trotted along behind.
Presently they reached the sitting room Sister Agatha had mentioned, following the low hum of chatting voices and the cheerful crackle of a fire, as well as the alluring perfume of spiced hot cider and cocoa.
The first thing Katherine saw when they rounded the corner was a large braided rug in front of the hearth, crowded somewhat with the carefree lounging forms of Mr. Scruffles, Mouser, Ember, and the retriever-sized blue fluffy dragon they’d seen earlier whose collar read “August,” all lying on their backs, bellies to the fire and paws in the air.
A small woman with a beaming face and cheerful squint was rubbing the blue dragon’s paws and brushing its fur, and looked up at them with a welcoming grin as they entered. Tilly peeled off from Katherine’s trajectory and rejoined her friends on the rug.
So, tell me again, my dear, Mr. Scruffles was saying now, as Tilly squeezed herself next to Ember and settled down with her head on her paws.
August and you have the same grandmother but not the same grandfather…
and you hatched in separate clutches but were raised in the same crèche, so in dragon circles that makes him your… quarter-brother?
Yes, my love, Ember said. See? You’ve got it. It’s like cats, in a way. We have different lineages but were in the same litter, if you like. And you’ll notice Auggie has wings, she added proudly.
Yes, I do! the blue dragon said, flipping over to showcase the small leathery appendages to better effect.
He fluttered them rapidly, sending an energetic draft over his companions, and the old woman simply waited for him to stop before resuming her brushing.
I’m not a strong flier, August went on. Can’t stay in the air for more than a few minutes or so.
But I can take off without a running start, and that’s something the big dragons can’t do.
Fascinating, Mr. Scruffles said rapturously.
He stretched his neck to give the wings a tentative sniff, but August misread the gesture and licked the black cat’s face happily before tossing himself back onto his rear and angling his furry behind toward the hearth.
Tilly tittered quietly, and Mouser shuffled closer to her, while Mr. Scruffles turned slowly to Ember with a stricken expression, and, with a quiet chuckle, she cleaned the slobber from his sullied face.
The old woman rubbed the friendly blue dragon’s belly fondly, and his tail thumped happily against the floor.
A handful of other elderly people were in the room, variously chatting or playing board games, seated on a sturdy-looking sofa or plush armchairs.
Ruben was among them, clad in his new robe, listening politely to someone who was talking animatedly with her hands.
His eye caught Katherine’s as she and Mrs. Chrysler entered the room and he excused himself to shamble over.
“Nice place, this,” he said, waving his cane about. “Much better than the… other place. I feel positively youthful here by comparison.”
“That’ll be the dragon-water,” Katherine said distractedly, but she too had to admit that the cozy air of the sitting room was very inviting, and she could probably be quite happy spending some time in this place.
The woman Ruben had been chatting with was stealing glances at him now, and Katherine smiled politely at her.
Was there some jealousy in those glances?
Katherine chuckled inwardly. The old man was probably a catch in a place like this, his arthritis and cane notwithstanding.
And, she thought, he could probably fit in quite easily here, more comfortably than he seemed to be following her and Mrs. Chrysler on their current wild goose chase.
Perhaps Katherine wasn’t quite ready for a life without adventure after all, but it didn’t seem to be a life that Ruben was made for…
“Here, let’s grab a few of those seats,” Mrs. Chrysler said, indicating a set of high-backed chairs in a corner near the fireplace.
Grateful for the distraction, Katherine took her offered place, and Mrs. Chrysler had just thumped her yarn bag down on the floor next to her chair and was settling back into its deep cushions when they both caught sight of Sister Agatha entering the room.
Mrs. Chrysler tried, with little success, to rebound quickly back to a respectful stance.
Sister Agatha waved her hand benignly to indicate that she needn’t bother.
“Sit, sit,” she said quietly as she strode over.
She was trailed closely by another nun, who reverently held in her arms a stack of dry and folded clothes.
Katherine noticed that even the battle poncho had been cleaned, starched, and pressed.
“Your vestments, when you’re ready for them. ”
“Oh, thank you, ma’am,” Ruben said, self-consciously closing his bathrobe more tightly across his chest and crossing his legs in his seat.
“There’s no rush.” She nodded to the other sister. “Put those in the bathroom cubbies.” And the woman scurried away to oblige.