Dragon-Ridden (3 page)

While on ship, with the breeze a
fairly constant companion that whisked body smells away, she hadn’t really
noticed how awful she smelled. Her nose had grown accustomed to the smell even,
but being in the city around better-bathed folks had made her stink more
noticeable. It was a wonder she’d been rented a room at all. Her skin felt
scummy, and her scalp itched from not being washed for a week. The guys weren’t
the only ones who hadn’t had a proper bath in a while.

With a gleeful sense of excitement,
she grabbed her soap and washcloth along with a change of clothes and headed to
the baths. Anticipation of being clean ran through her. She didn’t even mind
the walk and enjoyed the sites and sounds of this new city. Color was
everywhere. From the clothes people wore to the painted doors on some of the
houses. They’d even strung lines with brightly colored cloth sewn to it between
buildings and across streets.

The communal bath was in a stone
building with a large stone slab outside that had three squiggly lines carved
into it that signified water. The building had the same symbols and design that
all the communal baths in the empire used. Even communal baths outside the
empire had them. Some things were just universal and getting clean was one of
them. Thank the Saviors.

It was mid-morning, and thankfully
the bath didn’t look too crowded. Although public baths were common in most
places, she’d never gotten used to bathing in front of strangers. It made her
uncomfortable having someone else look at and possibly judge her naked body. That,
coupled with the fear she was going to step over some unspoken cultural rule,
kept her from truly enjoying her time in the water. She’d had to get used to it
as only the very wealthy could afford the exorbitant expense of plumbing. The
rest of the city made do with the many bathhouses.

She paid a man handing out towels
two rostry, one for the bath and another for a locker. He handed over a towel
and a key with a bored expression.

She didn’t let his surly silence
bother her and gave him a nod of thanks. It didn’t bother her one bit. In fact,
she couldn’t help but feel a little grateful for the lack of attention.

Tate was the only one using the
changing room, a large room with a row of lockers on one side and two long
benches in the middle. She picked the closest locker to the bath’s entrance to
store her belongings.

With a sigh of relief, Tate peeled
off her clothes and set them on the bench. Once wrapped in her towel she
carried her discarded clothes and her soap into the bathing area. Steam rose
from the water in wispy snakes that lost form as they rose in the air. Small
strands of hair started curling from the combination of heat and humidity. She
blew one away from her mouth. It wouldn’t be long before her hair became an
untamable mane and not in a good way.

Blue tile lined the lip of the
sunken area of the bath and decorated the walls in complex patterns. The bath
itself was done in a light cream with the soft shine of glow lights giving the
entire area a faint air of romance and mystique.

Tate stopped and stared in awe.
Impressive. It was by far the nicest bathhouse Tate had ever visited.

Little beads of sweat popped up on
her forehead as the heat enveloped her. Gingerly, she tested the water with one
hand. With a groan of relief she sank into piping hot water that rose to her
hips. She dunked her head and wiped the water from her eyes when she came up
before turning to where she’d set her clothes on the floor next to the pool.
Never one to waste an opportunity, she wet her clothes thoroughly before lathering
them with soap. She hummed under her breath as she scrubbed.

The constant circulation of the
water carried any dirt away making sure the water stayed fresh. She held her
shirt up for scrutiny. Was that a sweat stain or was it a shadow from the light?
She couldn’t tell. She dunked it again and gave it another scrubbing. Washing
them in the bath wasn’t as good as having a washerwoman scrub them, but until
she got settled money was going to be tight. Once finished she wrung out her
clothes and set them on the floor to dry.

With her clothes taken care of, she
sank back onto the underwater bench and leaned her head back. This was heaven.
She luxuriated in the feel of the water clasping her gently in its heated
embrace and the complete absence of dirt and sweat after weeks of inadequate
sponge baths.

Her lips curled in pleasure. There
wasn’t anything quite like the first time you were completely clean after a
long stint at sea. She didn’t mind the ship, but there were definitely times
when she missed the comfort of civilization.

Absentmindedly, she scratched at
her arm. The skin under the tattoo on the left arm had started to tingle.
Again. The tattoo was of a sleeping dragon, intricate and beautiful. The
beast’s snout rested on Tate’s bicep with one leg draped so that it curled
under her arm and around to lightly clasp her elbow. Its tail wrapped around
her wrist, the tip of it coming to a stop in the web between her thumb and
forefinger.

The tattoo was so lifelike, that if
she held her arm just right, it looked like she was cradling a baby dragon. A
few people on ship had asked where she’d gotten it, but like so many other
things in her life, the dragon was just one more mystery yet to be solved. She
had no memory of how it came to be or why she had wanted it.

The tingling of the skin under the
tattoo increased and she scratched harder. No matter how hard she scratched it
wouldn’t stop. She could take a knife to it and the skin the tattoo covered
would remain numb except for those annoying prickles.

“Saviors take it!” If scratching
wouldn’t work. She eyed the lip of the bath. Perhaps.

She banged her arm against the
bath, then dragged her arm down its stone lip. She cursed, letting loose a
string of words she’d learned from sailors. It’d make most men’s ears burn, but
it didn’t make a difference with the tingling. She sighed and sank deeper so
the water reached her nose and blew bubbles.

She’d give anything to make the
tingling stop. For eight months she’d had to live with it, it came and went and
then came again. She was sick and tired of having an itch she couldn’t scratch.

She blew more bubbles and watched
them pop. Her skin began to wrinkle, but she wasn’t ready to get out yet.

Voices carried in from the changing
room, and Tate grimaced knowing that she’d soon have company. With a grumble at
the interruption, she reached for her soap and began to work the lather into
her skin. It would’ve been nice if she’d been able to keep the bath to herself
for a while longer.

Tate had climbed out and was drying
off by the time the two ladies gossiping in the next room exited wearing
similar towels.

Avoiding eye contact, she scooped
up her still wet clothes and slipped by them into the changing room. They eyed
her suspiciously as she passed before sliding into the piping hot pool she’d
left behind.

“Did you hear about that creature
they found at the docks today?” Tate paused just inside the changing room,
straining her ears to catch the women’s gossip. “My nephew was there, and he
couldn’t believe what they found. He said it looked like something out of the
old texts. You know— the ones with pictures of the monsters the ancients
imprisoned. He said it was as blue as the sky on a summer day and had two extra
arms.”

“My word.” The other woman sounded
scandalized at her friend’s description. “This is the third one they’ve found
this month. Something is wrong. The Black Order had better do something. It
just disgusts me to think of them just standing by, while we are terrorized by
these creatures. We pay the monthly tithes for protection, but when we need
protecting they’re nowhere around.”

“Shameless,” the first woman
agreed.

Tate lost interest in the
conversation as the women began to talk of a celebration that night. She moved
away from the door deep in thought. Perhaps the creature they spoke of was the
‘body’ she’d seen being dragged up in the fishing nets that morning. It had
been blue— maybe even the blue of the sky.

What was the Black Order, though?
Were they some kind of police force? If so, why did they collect money? With a
mental shrug Tate resolved to ask Danny some of her questions when she met up
with the men later.

Tate pulled on the change of
clothes she’d brought and tied her wet hair back. The water from her hair
quickly dampened the back of her tunic. After slamming the locker shut, she
left before the women finished their bath.

She was still pondering what she
had learned half a block later.

Too preoccupied to pay attention to
where she was going, she jerked away when her arm was grabbed from behind.
Without thinking, she twisted, pulling her attacker forward. Her knee was
already flying towards his groin when he let go and stepped back.

“Ryu,” his name slipped from her as
her eyes narrowed threateningly. The inner presence she had begun to refer to as
‘dragon’ after the tattoo on her arm became more attentive.

“Such violence,” Ryu said mildly
with a raised eyebrow.

The presence inside her mind perked
up at the sound of his voice and shook itself gleefully. Tate’s eye twitched at
the feeling. That was what always happened when she was near Ryu. It was one of
the many reasons she avoided him. She already felt crazy enough without some
niggling mind thing struggling to get his attention.

The quirk of his lips said he’d
known exactly what he was doing when he’d grabbed her. Tate struggled to keep
her temper in check. For some reason he found it funny to catch her off guard.
She didn’t.

Ryu wasn’t handsome as society
would define it, not being pretty or chiseled, but having rugged features. He
had a confidence and charisma that drew people to him, especially females. His
very blue eyes twinkled merrily at her. There was a slight bump in his nose and
a light scar bisecting one eyebrow. His black hair had gotten a little shaggy
in the past few weeks and now touched his collar. His chin was smooth shaven as
usual. Tate didn’t think she’d ever seen him with face hair. He was dressed
simply in brown leather pants and a long sleeved tunic.

“What’re you doing here?” she asked
after regaining a little calm and forcing her ‘other half’ back a little.

“The same thing you are, darlin’.
Trying to obtain lodging,” he said, pointing at the inn they stood in front of.

Tate blinked. The weathered sign of
the Crow’s Nest was not what she had expected to see. She would have walked
past it if he hadn’t grabbed her. She wouldn’t tell him that, though. No need
to let him know he’d done her a favor.

“You can’t,” she blurted when she
realized what he’d said.

“And why not?”

“You don’t usually stay with us
when we reach shore.”

Although Ryu was a member of Jost’s
crew, he wore his breeding as another wears a coat. He’d shown up two months
ago but according to the crew had been a member longer than most of them. He
would disappear for a while and then reappear at will, and Jost never said a
word about it. He was one of the few who seemed to come and go at will. Tate
really would have liked to find out exactly how he was able to do that, but it
would have meant spending much more time with Ryu and asking dangerous
questions. No, thank you. She’d keep her own council.

Since rejoining Jost, it felt like
Ryu was always watching Tate. At first she’d thought she was being paranoid,
but every time she turned around, there he was. It felt as if he was weighing
her, trying to find all of her secrets. As a result she was twice as guarded
and twice as combative whenever she spoke to him.

“The Crow’s Nest is one of the
finest inn’s in the city. There’s good food and–“

“Mattresses without flees,” Tate
finished, rolling her eyes. “I know. Danny gave me the run down earlier.”

“Then there’s no reason why I
shouldn’t stay here. Unless you have a problem with it?”

Tate bit her tongue on her response
and stomped into the Crow’s Nest. He caught up within two of her strides and
rested his hand on the small of her back. A sharp zing shot through her and her
entire focus spun down to the weight of his hand resting against her.

“No touching,” she said, shoving
his arm away. A part of her protested, but she shoved that down as firmly as
she’d shoved his arm away. One of the first rules she’d formed was nobody was
to touch her. Not crew, not city folks, and most definitely
not
Ryu. If
one person got to touch her, then others felt they had a right. She had enough
trouble as it was.

She didn’t know what his game was
or what he hoped to find out. Her secrets were hidden, even from her. There was
nothing that made her think he was attracted to her. She wasn’t exactly
beautiful, but neither was she ugly. Her hair was nice enough. When the sun hit
it just right, it looked like melted gold with flecks of a darker copper spun
in along with blonde highlights. Her skin was pale and her eyes a bright green.
At 5’6 she was neither short nor tall, just average for a female.

“Ryu,” Trent yelled from a table in
the corner. “Over here.”

With a lingering look at Tate, Ryu
headed over to the three at the table. Gritting her teeth, Tate followed. As
much as she disliked him, she wouldn’t let him chase her off from spending time
with her friends before they headed back out to sea.

Riply was quick to pull up two
extra chairs for the newcomers while Danny flagged down a waitress for more
beer. With only one chair left unoccupied, Tate was left with no choice but to
take a seat next to Ryu.

Stop being a ninny, she told
herself sternly. He’d be leaving with the rest of the crew once the week was
out, and she wouldn’t have to see him again. She could be civil to him for that
length of time. It wasn’t as if he’d really done anything. He just made her
uneasy.