The Cogsmith's Daughter (Desertera #1)(29)
“Hey, cheer up.” Dellwyn winked. “Who knows? Maybe you’ll find a nice nobleman to bed. You know, for fun instead of money.”
Aya blushed, placing her hand over her chest to hide her flush. She had not told Dellwyn about Willem yet. For now, he was Aya’s alone. “Maybe,” Aya whispered. “Maybe.”
*
The next morning, Aya awoke to the sound of knocking. When she answered the hovel door, Lord Varick’s gray-haired guard stood before her. The guard placed his fist over his chest and bowed. “Good morning, Miss Aya.”
“Good morning.” Aya glanced around to see if any of her neighbors had noticed a palace guard at the dwelling of two ladies of the Rudder. The sun had just begun to rise, and as far as Aya could see, the inhabitants of Sternville remained in their hovels.
“Do not worry, Miss Aya.” The guard smiled. “If anyone questions my presence here, I shall simply tell them I am delivering a message from my lord to Miss Dellwyn.”
Aya raised her chin, not entirely reassured. “And what is your true purpose here?”
“Lord Varick has scheduled an appointment for you at the bathing house. It begins when the sun reaches the starboard railing of the palace.” The guard pointed toward Starboardshire. “The bathing house is just beyond—”
“I know where it is,” Aya snapped then blushed at her rudeness. “Forgive me. I have been there before, but thank you for your assistance.”
“Of course.” The guard bowed again. “Have a nice day, Miss Aya.”
Aya smiled. “Same to you.”
When Aya shut the door, she leaned back against it and let her smile widen to stretch across her entire face. Even though one of her rare trips to the bathing house usually meant being crammed into a tub filled with already soiled, lukewarm water and at least three other women, Aya nearly skipped at the prospect of being clean.
In Desertera, it didn’t take long to get dirty. The wind carried a layer of dust that crept into every nook and cranny the body had to offer, whether covered by clothing or not. Aya routinely found dust balled up in the corner of her eyes, nestled in the folds of her armpits, and gooped up between her toes. Her hair was the worst. Luckily, being brown, her hair did not show dirt the way it did for the black-haired or blond women at the Rudder. However, whenever she scratched her scalp, thick clumps of congealed dirt and body oil gathered under her fingernails. But today, the dirt—and everything that came with it—would be washed away. Today, she would be clean.
*
Aya’s excitement carried through the morning, and even as she walked to the bathing house a few hours later, her body still hummed with delight. However, when the building finally came into view, Aya’s grin faltered. A small crowd—judging by their varied clothing, a mixture of Starboardshire nobles and Sternville peasants—stood outside the bathing house, surrounding a man. The man perched atop something, making him taller than his onlookers, and he shouted and shook his fist at them.
He wore a loose black shirt and tight black pants, affixed with leather belts that held canteens and tools. On his head rested a flat black cap with a pair of farmers’ goggles strapped around its base. All farmers wore goggles to keep the dirt out of their eyes while tending to their plants and animals. Aya had never seen a farmer near the bathing house before. Farming kept them perpetually dirty, and other than their wedding nights, they never bothered with bathing.
The farmer paused in his speech, his chest heaving. He glowered at the crowd with wild, bulging eyes, and Aya noticed that they did not match—one eye was green, the other gray.
“The great rain is coming!” the farmer cried. “I’m telling you the truth! The Benevolent Queen sent me a vision. Any day now, She will send Her torrential showers upon us and drown us for our sins! She says we must repent! She says we must be loyal lovers to our partners and devoted servants to our Divine Royals!”
Some of the people from Sternville clapped, but every Starboardshire resident stared up at the man with scorn. Aya had seen these fundamentalists from time to time when she lived in Portside. They would stand up tall and preach about the rain, but it would never come. Every now and then, they would excite some lower merchants to close their shops for a day to stand outside the palace and demand propriety and a greater share of the water, but mostly, they simply rambled on before stumbling off their boxes and disappearing in a cloud of dust. Once, Aya had believed in them as prophets, believed in the Gods and the salvation rain, but now, she only believed in what she could see: dirt, murky wells, and a murderous king.
“Please, listen to me!” the farmer pleaded. “I have been given the divine sight from the Benevolent Queen! The salvation rain is coming! If you do not repent, if you do not live well, you will drown! She told me to save you!”
A worker came out of the bathhouse and threw a small bucket of soiled water on the farmer prophet. “There is your rain! Now be gone!”
The crowd erupted into laughter. The farmer stepped down from his perch and began to walk away, but he kept shouting warnings over his shoulder. “You must not waste the water! She expects gratitude for the gifts She gives! The rains are coming. I’m telling you, She told me! Our new queen will bring the rains!”
Aya watched the farmer prophet wander away, wondering about his claims. Typically, prophets predicted doom and howled at their audiences, but she had never heard one claim that a mortal monarch would save them. How did he expect Queen Zedara to bring the rains? Surely he was not so delusional as to think that Queen Zedara would survive long enough to prove her fidelity to the Benevolent Queen—not when every other woman paired with King Archon fell victim to adultery, real or invented.