The Witch's Tower by Tamara Grantham (uplifting novels .txt) 📖

infatuation until he found a more suitable Outlander girl.

It did no good to worry about it, so I attempted to put Raj from my mind. Several women entered the room carrying buckets with steam rising from their surfaces. They gave me polite smiles as they held the buckets and crossed to the opposite chamber. Sounds of pouring water came from the room.

Gritty sand coated my skin and clothes, and I only hoped I got the opportunity to burn my gown and breeches at the earliest opportunity. After the women left, I pushed up from the pallet, my muscles weak and protesting. I managed to sit upright, then stand, and walk across the room.

As I moved, the exertion helped clear the fog from my head. I lifted the flap leading to the next chamber, and stepped into a warm space, where a copper tub sat amidst stacks of folded drying cloths. Shelves sat around the room’s perimeter, their timbers lined with jars of soap pearls that shone iridescent in the firelight coming from a fire pit opposite the tub. The honeyed, smoky odor of incense hung heavy in the air.

I searched the stacks of soap pearls, testing each one, some smelled like spice, others like flowers. I settled on a bottle of blue-colored pearls that smelled of jasmine, then turned to the tub.

Removing my clothing was more of a chore than I’d anticipated, and I winced at every movement. Although my wound no longer ached, my sore abdominal muscles felt as if they’d been torn apart.

After tossing aside my last shred of clothing, I stepped into the tub and sank to the bottom, the water level with my chin. I wasn’t sure if anything in my life had ever felt so heavenly.

I soaked until my fingertips turned wrinkly, and then decided I’d better wash before the water went cold. Picking up the glass of soap pearls, I poured a handful into the water, then worked them into my hair until I created a lather.

The dirt and grime of the past week of traveling sloughed off—and I imagined letting all my past pains go—my insecurities at leaving Rapunzel, my fear from losing my mother, my vain hopes of having Raj be a part of my life. I let them go and simply enjoyed the moment.

When I felt ready, I left the tub and dried off. Wrapping a drying cloth around me, I entered the opposite room and spotted a stack of shimmery fabric folded atop my pallet.

As I lifted the cloth, I wasn’t sure I’d ever felt fabric so silky and light. What was it made from? The blue robes were trimmed in silver brocade with crystals worked into the pattern.

Turning the robes around, I wasn’t sure how I was supposed to put them on. Did I wrap them around me? Were there fasteners of some sort? And what were the smaller pieces for? Were they undergarments?

I shifted the fabric around, putting pieces together atop the pallet until I arranged them to look like some semblance of clothing, with the smaller, form fitting pieces beneath the larger robes.

I pulled on the top piece first, then the bottom, then the smaller robe that fell to my knees. The final piece—the larger robe, was the only clothing that remained. I lifted it, turning it from front to back, then threaded my arms through the long, dramatic sleeves. Its hem swept the ground.

A brush also sat on my pallet, and I picked it up, then combed through my long strands, working through the tangles until my hair shone.

“Are you ready?” Anahita’s voice came from outside the tent.

“I think so,” I called to her.

She entered, carrying a handful of jeweled necklaces and bracelets that glinted in the candlelight. She placed them on the pallet, then straightened to look at me.

“Have I put them on correctly?” I asked.

She smiled. “Almost. The re’hushka is backwards. Here, let me help you.” She removed the larger robe, then the smaller one, turned it around, and put it on me again.

“There,” she said, standing back. “Perfect. I’ve brought a few things for you. See what you think?” She picked up the handful of jewels and held them out for my inspection.

“They’re lovely, but I can’t wear any of these. They must cost a fortune.”

“They’re of little value to anyone anymore. Outlander jewels have grown out of fashion everywhere but here. What about this one?”

She picked up a piece that could have been a necklace, yet it was too complicated, with long golden strands and turquoise jewels that formed two points, holding all the strands together, almost like a spider web.

“This goes on your head. Like this.” She lifted it up and placed it on my head, then straightened one of the jeweled pieces to fit at the center of my forehead, with the golden strands looping behind me, and the other jeweled piece resting at the back of my head.

“Beautiful,” she said. “I’ve a mirror somewhere.” She searched through the stacks on the shelves until she pulled out a mirror of polished copper. I took it from her and looked into it. Gasping, I hardly recognized myself. Turquoise crystals glinted from my headpiece, matching my hair and eyes. I glanced down at my dress that flowed around my feet, rustling as I moved, the silver brocade shimmering. The bodice hugged my waist and chest, and the V neckline, embroidered with the same silver thread, plunged to just above my breasts—not enough to be revealing, but more formal and daring than anything I’d worn before.

“I should let you know,” Anahita said, “Raj is with his family now, but they’re celebrating in our village gathering place. Your other friends are with him. Shall I take you there?”

“Yes, except I think we’ve forgot one thing. I have no shoes.”

She waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. “You’ve no need of shoes here. But I have brought this.” Searching through her pile of jewels, she held up a band that looked like a bracelet. Small silver discs jangled as she held it up.

“Do you dance?” she asked.

“Dance? No. Not really.”

“I think you should like to try. Everyone dances here. Would you like to wear this?”

“Okay.” I held out my arm, but she chuckled quietly, then knelt and attached the bracelet to my ankle, looped a leather strand through my toes, then attached it to the piece around my ankle.

“There,” she said, standing. “I believe you’re ready. Follow me.” She turned and exited the tent. I followed, feeling a bit foolish for wearing so much jewelry and sweeping, colorful robes. I’d never been so decorated in my life, and I felt a bit like a jester in a costume.

The ankle jewelry jangled with every footstep as I left the tent and entered the village. The sights and smells barraged my senses from every direction. As evening descended over the village, I realized I was finally getting my chance to experience the city of Al-Maar.

People and children talked and laughed, crowding around their tents or fires, wearing robes of all colors. Purples, oranges, and blues jumped out at me. A gentle breeze carried the spiced scent of curry. The peppery aroma seemed to come from everywhere, not only from the cooking pots sitting atop the fires, but from the air, the sand, the clothing, and oilskin tents. It was as if the spice had infused with the culture, flavoring it with its brilliant burst of life.

Lazy rays of orange sunlight stretched across the sky, lengthening from one end to the other, not rushing to set as I followed Anahita through the tents, and then to an area that led into the old city.

Not much remained of the towers and spires that had once risen over the city. Most lay in ruins, piles of rubble that Anahita deftly moved around, her hips swishing back and forth. I followed slowly, still feeling weak, although none of the pain lingered. I had that to be grateful for.

Sand shifted beneath my bare feet as we entered an area that could have once been a town square. Skeletal buildings rose into the air, their windows empty as they stared down over the small crowd of people. Music played on unfamiliar string and wind instruments, and those gathered danced to the lively tune.

I spotted Drekken and the wolf standing on the edge of the crowd. Anahita and I approached them, and the elf gave me a charming smile.

“You had us all worried,” he said. “I’m glad to see you’ve recovered.”

“Thank you. Have you seen Raj?”

“No, but I’m sure he’s in the crowd somewhere.”

The wolf gave a playful bark, and I scratched his head. With his tongue lolling, he looked happier than I’d seen him in a long time. Al-Maar had a way of getting into your blood and making you feel at home.

Anahita stood beside me. “Raj is most likely in his family’s chambers. It’s one of the only remaining structures in the city. Come, I will take you to him.”

She started walking toward the crowd, but my nervousness kept me rooted to the spot. Was I ready to see Raj again? And his family?

Of course I was. I would do it because Raj was a friend, and nothing more, and I had no reason to expect anything else.

We moved through the crowd. I reached up to pull a cowl over my head and cover my hair, but remembering I had none, I balled my fists instead. In this place, I would have to get used to being without my protection.

I followed Anahita to the other end of the square where we stepped onto a road paved in cobblestones that led toward a semicircle of two-and three-story sandstone buildings. Only a few piles of rubble blocked our path as we made our way to the tallest one.

In the evening light, the mosaic of colorful tiles decorating the structure’s façade shone with brilliant gemstone colors—emerald, ruby, and opal. The square-shaped tower