Gatebound

Chapter IX

After an endless moment, the door swings open with a puff of warm, perfumed air. A girl stands in front of us in a very sheer robe. Her wavy brown hair is piled on her head messily, and she would be pretty if she didn't have a bad case of acne. I try to pretend I can't see her nipples and say, "Hello." I just want inside, out of the damp and cold.

She stares blankly at us. Alex tries--"Cor Amel sent us here?"--but nothing in her expression changes.

At last, the girl turns and calls something down the hallway behind her, abruptly reminding me that my translator gives me a meaning but not an understanding of the language. I know she says, "There are two people here. I think they're who you've been talking with that guy about all evening," but at the same time, I'm also aware that the words coming out of her mouth are very different.

At that, a fat middle-aged man comes scurrying out of a hidden doorway and down the hall toward us. He's draped in velvety red robes that swing as he walks, hanging off his hunched back.

The man tucks a palmful of lightly glowing stones into the girl's hand and says, "There you go, dear. Be off now," before turning to us.

"Hello," I say again rotely.

"I'm terribly sorry about that," he says. "She doesn't have a translator."

I wonder if she has a name--or a brain, for that matter--but it seems impolite to ask. "Cor Amel sent us," I say, echoing Alex's earlier words.

"Yes, yes, of course. You must be Emmeline and Alex. Do come in out of that dreadful rain. My goodness, you look terrible."

My spirits sink even further to hear it from an outside source, and the incense or perfume inside immediately gives me a headache.

Our new host is named Sarif, and he has a housekeeper. She doesn't say a word, but she does manage to show me to a guest room and bundle me into a fluffy brown robe in near record time, and for that I think I might love her. Alex must get the same treatment, because he's wearing the same kind of robe when she leads me back downstairs (down a spiral ramp, actually) to some kind of living room setup and I see him sitting there.

I take my seat next to him on burgundy leather, and we sit expectantly awaiting Sarif. The man finally appears, rubbing plump, beringed fingers through thinning grey-blond hair.

"Let's have a chat, shall we?" he says. "I'm sure you're hoping to figure out your plans for the next while."

All this is true, so I just wait quietly for him to inform us.

"As I hear my friend the cor informed you, those clothes are simply not going to do," he says. He laughs at this--or giggles, rather, in a way that makes me want to punch him. "So that will come first. I'll direct you to a place to buy clothing with the money our friend has been generous enough to give you. Afterward, return here, and I'll give you directions for the first step of the help I need."

Shopping I can manage. The rest sounds a little intimidating, but I'll worry about that when we get there. I'm eager to wear something that will make me feel a little less hideous. But wait--speaking of feeling hideous, I can't go shopping in this bathrobe.

"We really appreciate this," I say. "When were you thinking we should go for clothes?"

"Right now, of course!" answers Sarif thoughtlessly.

Alex looks down at his fuzzy robe and then at me with a look of obvious amusement. "Uh, is it appropriate for us to wear these outside of the house?"

Our host's look of dismay is comical. "Oh dear. Oh dear." He sighs deeply, biting at his fingernails, and at last holds one freshly gnawed digit up. "Aha! You'll owe me, but I shall do you yet another favor. I'll send a servant to bring back a selection for you to choose from, that way you can stay here in my home at your ease."