15. Office (Patreon)

Aloe blinked, steam occluding her sight. A grumble had awakened her. Her head was dizzy, and it took her a monumental effort to make coherent thoughts. She looked down at her body, her hands extremely wrinkly by the water. Her stomach grumbled once more in protest.

That snapped her out of her trance.

“How much time have I spent in the pool!” Aloe jumped out, her body splashing water everywhere as she stood up.

She blushed once she became aware she had shouted, but as she swayed her head from side to side praying on occlusion from the steamy environment, she noticed she was thankfully alone in the bath.

That didn’t stop her from becoming overly conscious of her outburst, Aloe put an arm before her chest as she left the hot bath, eager to run away in shame even if she had the place to herself.

Unfortunately, or fortunately, she remembered that she hadn’t washed her hair, let alone soaked it.

Aloe groaned as she grabbed a wooden bucket hanging from one of the decorated stone walls of the bath. Stone was rare in Ydaz, let alone Sadina. Most houses were made of sandstone or mud, only rich people or public buildings like this one could afford such luxuries.

The naked girl tiptoed in the cold tiling of the floor, quite gracious with their floral motifs though she could only now frown in annoyance at the temperature dissonance, then knelt down before the warm and scented water pool and downed the bucket inside.

She heaved the bucket all the way to the across and cold-water cleaning pool and then dropped the contents of the bucket on top of her head. The perfumed water washed through her sweaty and dusty hair, though she was far from over.

Going back to the warm bath, Aloe filled the bucket again but now grabbed her towel and bath products. Firstly, she grabbed a bar of soap, slightly soaking it into the bucket, and then rubbed it in her hands to make some foam.

She put the bar aside and scrubbed her hair with passion, not wanting to leave a strand unwashed. Once satisfied with her thorough cleaning, Aloe dropped the bucket once more on top of her, the warm water washing away the soap.

“Ah~” Aloe groaned in satisfaction. “I fill alive once more.”

Her hair didn’t usually get dirty but considering how much she had worked out the previous days and the thrashing stray sands of the desert infiltrating her clothes, her scalp had gotten rather itchy. Scrubbing her hair was an understatement as Aloe proceeded to hack her scalp like a madwoman.

“I shouldn’t have thought about the itch.” She gritted her teeth. “I can’t stop feeling it now!” And then put more vigor into her assault.

Once the irritation of her head had been satiated, Aloe grabbed the soap bar and made some foam again. Instead of washing her hair now, she led her foam-covered hands along the edges of her body. The scented water had done an excellent job, especially after staying inside as long as she did, but it was better to be preventive and scrubbed her body. Aloe’s soft pink palms traced along her dark skin until the white foam stretched out too far to be seen.

She rinsed her head and body once more to wash the soap away and then vaguely dried her hair with the towel (with her short hair and the thrashing sunlight there was no real need to even dry it in the first place). Satisfied with the bath, Aloe covered herself with the towel and went back to the changing room.

Her paranoia was harder to satisfy as she looked at the corners and doors of the room for any prying eyes, Aloe checked the fajats she had stored away. She only breathed once she secured that they still remained in their respective positions. No one had neither disturbed her clothing. She knew she was being abusive, there were no reports of someone stealing anything in the public bath changing rooms, certainly not in the ones with a price tag, but that didn’t scratch the itch in her head.

Cautiousness was good.

Donning her clothes back was a bit cumbersome as her wrinkly skin was quite irritated, but she powered through the feeling and sighed in relief once she made it out of the changing rooms with her clean set of clothing.

The bath had been refreshing but the instant her wet hair met the outside air, that was when she was truly refreshed. She had forgotten how hot it was inside the bath, even the desert midday seemed cold in comparison.

“Oh no!” Aloe cried in realization. “It’s midday!”

The wet sound of the Aloe’s sandals splashed around, the leather becoming soft and musty with the water, but she wasn’t worried about that. Aloe rushed through the streets in an awkward trot as she went home.

The windows were still closed, her mother hadn’t bothered to open them in the morning. The only light in the whole house came from the single opened window in the kitchen. Shahrazad wasn’t there. No kitchen utensils had been used either.

Aloe frowned and went to the second floor of her father’s office. At least her mother had the conscience of mind of opening the window instead of lighting a lamp as she wrote in the parchments.

“Still working?” Aloe lay her back on the office’s doorframe, hiding the exhaustion and short breath from her rush.

Shahrazad raised her eyes from the papers, they looked tired. “Still wet?” She pointed with her feather at Aloe’s hair.

“No need to be this aggressive, I made an honest question.” Aloe walked into the office and dropped her body lazily unto her father’s favorite sofa.

The piece of furniture was probably the most expensive in the whole house. The red pillows were etched with complex patterns and filled with feathers, clearly not a commoner’s resting place.

“Sorry,” Shahrazad sighed, “I shouldn’t have left all this work for the last moment.” She put the feather aside and put the cork on the ink pot.

“You were mourning,” Aloe added, “they are not paying you enough to bear with this.” Then corrected herself. “You shouldn’t be dealing with this.”

Her mother just gave her a slightly tired smile and clapped her hands. “Have you eaten yet?”

“I have not.” The daughter admitted. “Though I guess it’s a bit late to make something, don’t you think?” Her eyes pointed through the window hole at the lowering sun.

“Nonsense!” Shahrazad stood abruptly from the chair, her motherly instincts kicking in. “It’s never late enough for a meal!”

Aloe, even as she held the mask her father had taught her to use, couldn’t help to smile at her mother’s sudden energies.

“I’m glad you are motivated but remember that we are having dinner at Jafar’s. And you know that Mirah won’t do anything short of a feast.”

“Oh, you are right.” The enthusiasm vanished from her mother’s visage. “Well, we still have a lot of soup from yesterday in the cauldron. We should eat it now before it gets spoiled.”

“Let me light the fire then, you finish your business here.” Aloe offered.

“No, please let me do that.” Shahrazad walked away from the office desk. “I need to do something besides letters and numbers.”

“Yes, and it’s called ‘rest’.” Aloe stood up from the sofa and put her hands on her mother’s shoulders. Looking at her closer, it was obvious how the death of Karaim still weighed her down.

“Aloe.” Her mother looked at her directly in the eyes. Unlike Aloe’s green, almost aloe-like eyes, Shahrazad had an almond-brown color. And they wouldn’t take a no for an answer.

“Mother.” She smiled at her with a cunning grin.

Bankers were suited devils, or so Aloe’s father liked to tell her when she was still a child. Her father didn’t embellish the job, most times even downright insulted it, but somehow, she found herself following his steps and using his tactics.

Shahrazad held her breath as her daughter’s smile and gaze penetrated through her thoughts, the older woman deflated. She now looked infinitely smaller.

“You don’t play fair.” The scribe looked down at the floor, her brown eyes becoming vaguely glassy.

“I never do.” And the apprentice’s smile grew ever-so-devilish. “Rest.” The order was short and shallowly spoken, but Shahrazad obeyed as she lay down on the sofa.

“Wake me up when the food’s done,” Shahrazad whispered, an arm on top of her hiding her eyes.

“Of course.” Aloe nodded, though before she even left the room her mother had already passed to the land of the dreams. Heavens, she’s exhausted.

Aloe herself didn’t fare any better, but her exhaustion was physical, and that was easier to cope with. Though she wouldn’t deny the prospects of the coming hard labor she had before her didn’t weigh down on her. She wasn’t lazy, but nobody enjoyed using their muscles until they screamed.

Nobody sane.

With a melancholic smile, Aloe went to the floor below and lit up the hearth in the kitchen. Soup sounded rather delicious now.