As the thick doors clicked to behind them, Antonia and Mitzi were filled with relief. Now they were indoors, they could talk and move freely.
They explored, looking for a room further back that they could use: the front room looked down onto the village, but all the other bathhouses were hidden from this angle.
“Here will work,” Antonia said, stepping into the second-largest room. Moonlight spilled in from the glass wall on one side of the room, but beyond that was just forest: the room was lit, but hidden.
The air was hot and humid, and it smelled of fresh florals and herbs from the soapy baths. Large mirrors sat on some of the walls, and Antonia and Mitzi caught themselves in one of these. Mitzi waved at their reflections.
In the daytime, the smooth stone that constituted the rooms was a warm cream, highlighted by turquoise tiles that lined the pools and doorways. It was easy to imagine the bath workers weaving around the round pools, walking the lengths of the straight ones, carrying fluffy towels and toiletries piled high on trollies to the bathing patrons. One such trolley had been left at the side of a pool and Antonia pawed through the soaps, delighted.
Mitzi joined her. “See if there’s anything rose-scented in there.”
“I’m sure I wouldn’t be able to tell,” Antonia replied. “They all just smell like flowers to me.”
Mitzi pulled out the box of soap. Some were still wrapped in wax paper, but several had been opened. She began to smell them, handing each to Antonia afterward.
“Lavender.
Orange.
Thyme.
Rose.
Not sure about this one – but I like it a lot.”
Antonia was enjoying watching Mitzi, and took her at her word. The soaps smelled better once she could imagine the flowers it came from.
Each holding a pale bar of the mysterious final soap – which I can tell you happened to be Edelweiss – Antonia rose to her feet, considering the room.
The half of the room nearest to the glass wall was lit with moonlight, draping the stones with silvery blue. Where this cut off, the room became very dark, and the pools toward the back edge were almost invisible. Antonia liked the look of them.
“Ok,” she said. “While we’ve got soap here, you should wash your clothes.”
“But I’ve not got any spares to wear!” Mitzi looked down at herself.
“I’ve been thinking about this. I know it’s not ideal, but if you wring them out now and hang them up, you can put them on as we leave. We can spend a few hours here now we’re safely inside.”
“Luxurious!”
Antonia began to walk toward the further pools. “I’m going to wash my clothes over here. You go… somewhere else.”
Mitzi stood uneasily. “But – it’s dark over there!”
“I’ve made my choice. You wash your clothes in the light, d’accord?”
Shit. Mitzi had to fess up.
“… How do I wash my clothes?”
This stopped Antonia in her tracks.
“You’ve never washed your own clothes? … I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised.” She sighed. “Fine. I’ll show you.”
Side-by-side, the two girls stripped down. Antonia had a spare shirt, so stayed in the shirt she was wearing. Mitzi stripped down to her underclothes, which Antonia noticed were of fine, expensive looking silk. She had almost forgotten that Mitzi would usually be dressed as Royalty, and looked to the side, blushing.
They knelt at one of the round pools and washed their clothes. Antonia wet the fabric and scrubbed it with soap, paying attention to the collar, cuffs and patches of dirt. Mitzi watched her hands carefully and copied her.
“Normally, you wouldn’t use soap like this, but it’s all we have.”
The splashing of the pool’s disturbed surface kept the girls from sitting in silence, for which Antonia was thankful. She concentrated hard on her clothes, trying her best to ignore the half-naked girl kneeling next to her and watching her.
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Once the shirts were wrung out and hung up, Mitzi couldn’t stop Antonia from drifting back to the darkest pool to wash the last of her clothes. Mitzi wouldn’t be able to see her from the light, and she suspected that this was on purpose.
Mitzi, however, had no such reservations. She took off her underclothes in order to wash them, kneeling naked by the pool in full moonlight. From the darkness, she heard a voice.
“P–Princess!”
“Not embarrassed, are you?”
In response, she saw Antonia’s silhouette dip entirely underwater, and Mitzi laughed. She stood and started to head toward Antonia’s pool, but a voice rung in her head.
Leave her be, Mitzi. It was Whackus Bonkus.
“What? Why?” She said into the air, but received no reply. Really, she could guess why Antonia was being so furtive.
When she had met Antonia, her face had been made up to be feminine, and Mitzi had not thought twice about her being a girl. But after a few days of travel, Antonia had given up on it: finding still water to use as a mirror was annoying, and washing it off again was difficult. Although she had said nothing to Mitzi, it had become apparent that Antonia’s status as female was one she had chosen for herself.
Antonia’s lack of control over her appearance while travelling rough was bringing her down considerably. She hated going without her routines, and making up and painting her face was her way of presenting herself to the world.
Although Mitzi couldn’t tell all of this, it was clear at least that Antonia was bothered by it all. Conceding, Mitzi knelt back down and left Antonia alone as she resurfaced.
“You know, I would never dress without at least two or three maids in attendance,” Mitzi said as she washed her clothes.
“Is that so?” Antonia seemed happier now she was in the water.
“That’s right. I was bathed by maids, more often than not. I’ve never had any worries about being naked in front of other women. But that does probably put me in the minority.”
“I’ll say.”
Mitzi stood, hung her underclothes up, and stretched at full length. She enjoyed the warmth of the baths and looked out to the moon, cutting a black silhouette out of the treeline. The light falling around her reminded her of one of the only spells she knew, and she felt powerful in view of the night sky.
She noticed at length that the pool behind her had become silent. Turning, she tried to pick Antonia out in the blackness and could see her faintly, watching her.
“Like what you see?”
Antonia didn’t miss a beat. “I happen to be looking at 2,000 gold pieces. So… I suppose I do like it.”
“Pfft.” At this, Mitzi took a few steps and dove into the largest of the pools, swimming some length underwater and surfacing about halfway down.
“It’s warm!” She shouted gleefully, before going under again. After going for a month washing up in streams and puddles, to take a civilised bath was a treat. She splashed about, sending ripples to all four sides of the pool. She whooped and blew bubbles and played at holding her breath underwater.
Quietly, in the shadows, Antonia washed herself more thoroughly than she’d ever washed in her life. When Mitzi was looking away, Antonia watched her. Once all the layers of dirt were gone, Antonia saw for the first time the girl from the MISSING posters: the princess.
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“I wish I were joking when I say – the towels weren’t even this nice at the Palace.”
Mitzi lay herself down lazily on a wooden bench near Antonia, who had settled herself on a reclined chair. On a raised platform in the darkness of the main bathing room lay a sort of spectator’s area: a space for patrons who were finished bathing, but not yet ready to get dressed and leave. Scattered about it was smooth wooden furniture and in the centre was an unlit fire, above which was a basin full of rocks. It seemed that this was used in the daytime to create steam and keep the air hot in the bathhouse. But it was high summer, and the girls were perfectly warm.
They had been elated, too, to find a box of tiny syrupy pastries (not dissimilar to baklava) in one of the cabinets against the wall. They reclined like Kings and, between them, worked their way through the box as they chatted.
“You’re joking. Does the Stellarian Palace not stock towels made from the finest… what are towels made of? Cotton?”
“You know, I have no idea.” Mitzi rested her head on her hands and tried to focus on Antonia in the darkness. “Do they have good cotton and bad cotton? Do cotton qualities differ?”
Antonia chuckled, holding her towel up as she reached for another pastry. “If they don’t teach you about magic, and they don’t teach you about cotton, then what do they teach you at Princess School?”
“Hey! They taught me a little magic.”
“Then what have I been doing, breaking my back pulling all the weight?”
“The magic I got taught was less useful. It was ceremonial.” Mitzi shrugged. “They assumed I would never need to do anything for myself, so they focused on spells that needed to get passed down, things to cast at the Coronation, at important occasions. Light tricks.”
Antonia’s curiosity was piqued. “Can you show me?”
“I – I suppose. But it’s… not as consistent as your spells. I’m out of practice.”
“I’ve yet to meet anyone who’s spells are as consistent as mine.” This was a brag, and also fact. “Show me whatever you’ve got.”
Mitzi picked herself up and sat down on the chair next to Antonia. She lifted her hands, and spoke.
“Isil elenye… Yal-n pice-lle … Tana inde”
(Moon and Stars… I Call Upon Thee… Show Yourselves)
The air in front of them, that had hung dark and thick, melted in front of Antonia’s eyes. She gasped as before her lay constellations layered upon constellations; tiny pinpricks of light layering across the air like a three-dimensional map of the Milky Way. Where there was empty space now lay tints of shimmering purple and navy nebula.
Antonia sat in silent awe for a moment. She leant forward and reached out to touch one of the stars, and as she did, Mitzi’s head turned to look at Antonia.
Her eyes were shining, reflecting the hundreds of tiny lights caused by Mitzi’s magic trick. Now that her face and hair was clean, she looked more herself. Mitzi saw her face, fall, however, as the lights dimmed and flickered out: Mitzi had lost concentration, and the spell had broken.
Antonia pulled her hand back as if she had touched something hot.
“Ah. I forget you’re not supposed to touch illusions. Sorry to interfere.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Mitzi was glad of the excuse. “What did you think?”
“Utterly incredible. But – what was that language? I’ve heard Techo casting complicated spells, but the words never sounded like that.”
“Did they not?” Mitzi seemed content to leave it as a pleasant mystery, but a familiar voice sounded in her head.
She listened, and then responded.
“… Oh, really?”
“What?” Antonia was confused.
“But I’ve never met an elf in my life. I didn’t know they ever lived here.”
Antonia watched as Mitzi cast her eye to Whackus Bonkus. Ah. It was always pleasant to know that her charge wasn’t going completely crazy.
“…Huh!”
“What did he say?” Antonia asked.
“Whackus Bonkus says that the language of that spell is Elvish. He says that hundreds of years ago, when the Kingdom was more powerful and magical, Elves would pass through here.”
“That explains why the spell felt so different.”
Mitzi was quiet for another moment.
“Whackus also wants to know – where you studied magic. I’m curious too. Making an inanimate glove move like a hand is inside it – I haven’t ever seen that before.”
Antonia smiled. “Where does a Laundress’ daughter go to study magic?”
“That sounds like a riddle.”
“It is.”
“Whackus, do you have any idea?” Mitzi listened, then shook her head.
“She doesn’t.” Antonia clicked her fingers, lifting her glove up from next to her, and flexing it impressively. “A Laundress’ daughter picks up a simple levitation spell from the street, and practices it for hours every day. One day, she finds that if she concentrates hard enough, she can manipulate a soft object from two points.”
To illustrate her point, Antonia made the glove fold in half.
“After that revelation, it was simply practice. I’ve never seen anyone else cast two cantrips at once – of the same spell, or different.
“The glove thing is illusory: an act. I worked that up by identifying all the joints on the fingers, and making them move together to resemble a hand movement. Give it an hour every day for five years, and they can play the piano.”
Antonia bent the fingers on the glove unnaturally, as if the fingers within might be breaking backward at all angles. Mitzi flinched.
“Exactly! Making it look organic is the hardest part. A glove is just fabric. But I’ll say something: until you came along, I had never thought to use it outside of a performance before.”
Mitzi paused before nodding at her sword. “In all your years, Whackus? Truly, I’m not surprised either. Sounds like it would take a lunatic to put that much work into an act.”
Antonia tried in vain to conceal her pride.
“Now, no more from me, or I shall start sweating and have to get back in the pool again. Can you do any other magic?”
“I’ve got one more spell worth showing you. It’s a moonbeam visually, but works best when cast on another person. It’s the only useful spell I have, in a sense: when I cast it on someone, I get a sense of them. Something about them – something they really care about, or something concealed. Something about their soul. Come over here.”
Antonia leaned back defensively. “Whoa! Whoa. I don’t think it would do for you to be casting that sort of thing on your captor. Mystery is one of my biggest assets.”
Inwardly, Mitzi was disappointed. She had been pondering Antonia in all her depth over the last few days, and had hoped to get a sense of her using the spell. But it had to be consensual, or Antonia would need to be tied down, and that wasn’t looking likely.
“I can cast it without a target, if you just want the light show.”
“See? You must know me well enough to have figured that out.”
Mitzi sat reluctantly back down on her own bench before speaking.
“Ithil; tana-ye I naitie; nassea iluvea-ye; moe tercenima-ye.”
(Moon; Show me the Truth; Natural and Unchanged; Soft and Clear.)
From past the stone roof, a round ray of moonlight fell into the room and illuminated the floor between Mitzi and Antonia. The air around it seemed to darken in comparison to the shimmering stillness of the blue light.
In it, Antonia swore she could see every dust mote, every wisp of steam left over from the fires of the day. This time, she did not touch: simply watched until the beam slowly faded. Mitzi was becoming tired. At least it was a lighter spell to cast when there was no target.
“Wonderful.” Antonia had a newfound respect for Mitzi: the spells were gorgeous. “They’re unlike anything I’ve ever seen before. They almost taste different. But magic aside, then.” She leaned forward. “What else do they teach you in the Palace?”
“You ask too many questions.” Mitzi smiled, pleased at the opportunity to give too many answers. “Mostly diplomatic things. How to run a Kingdom. All very abstract. How and when to order executions. You’re in for it when I get back there.”
Antonia snorted.
“You wouldn’t order my execution, Mitzi. I doubt any prisoner has been treated better than you. A princess of prisoners, even. You’re in a spa, for god’s sake.”
Silence.
“Maybe just an ear then.”
“Oh, I cannot wait to be rid of you, you wretch.”
Mitzi’s ear cocked as Whackus’ voice sounded: be nice to her, Mitzi.
“And who asked you, all of a sudden?” She addressed the sword. “She’s taking me back to the castle! Let’s not forget the three weeks we spent getting AWAY from the castle.”
Whackus spoke again.
Take each day as it comes. I’ve been around for long enough to know that things can surprise you, or turn out in mysterious ways.
“Oh, so you’re a philosopher now? Let me meditate my way out of the forced marriage and get back to you.”
I like Antonia.
Mitzi sighed in despair and turned to Antonia, who was amused at Mitzi’s one-sided tangent. “Great. Now he’s on your side.”
Antonia smiled widely. “Now, Mr. Bonkus, don’t tell her everything I said.”
“And Mr Bonkus, don’t forget whose royal blood you’re obligated to serve, either.”
Both girls broke into giggles. It was time to dry up and get dressed.
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SEASIDE ILLUSTRATION 