“Wash, Charlie,” Gully said. He extended a hand to one of the buckets. For reasons I didn’t understand, Eris was duck-walking along the shelf and running her hands along its underside. “Go ahead. Clean yourself up.”
“Hair, too,” Eye said. And when I hesitated: “It’s all right. They need to see. So do I.” Then he added: “I apologize for saying that about feeding you a mouthful of dirt.”
I told him no offense had been taken, not bothering to add that I’d heard plenty of trash-talk in my life. It wasn’t just a sports thing; it was a guy thing.
I went to one of the buckets and wrung out the rag floating in it. I washed my face, neck, pits, and belly. I was very aware, excruciatingly so, that I had an audience watching me clean myself. When I’d finished everything I could reach, Jaya told me to turn around. I did so, and she washed my back. She was gentle around the slash where Aaron had hit me for skinning the cat on the rings, but I still winced.
“Nah, nah,” she said. Her voice was gentle. “Be still, Charlie. I need to get the dirt out of the woundy so it don’t fester up.”
When she was done, she pointed at one of the buckets that hadn’t been used. Then she brushed at my hair, but only for a second before pulling back, as if she’d touched something hot.
I looked at Iota to be positive. He nodded. With no further ado I grabbed the bucket and dumped it over my head. The water was cold enough to make me gasp, but it felt good. I ran my hands through my hair, getting out a load of old dirt and grit. The water that puddled around my feet was filthy. I finger-combed back as much as I could. Getting long, I thought. Probably look like a hippie.
They were staring at me, all thirty of them. Some were actually gaping. All were round-eyed. Eye put the heel of his hand to his forehead and dropped to his knee. The others followed suit. To say I was flabbergasted doesn’t cover it.
“Get up,” I said. “I’m not who you think I am.”
Only I wasn’t sure that was true.
They got to their feet. Eye came to me and grabbed a hank of hair that had fallen over my ear. He yanked it out—ouch—and showed me his palm. The lock of hair, even wet, shone bright in the light of the gas-jets. Almost as bright as Mr. Bowditch’s gold pellets.
“What about my eyes?” I asked. “What color are my eyes?”
Iota squinted, going almost nose to nose with me. “Still hazel. But they may still be changing. You need to keep them cast down as much as you can.”
“The bastards like that, anyway,” said Stooks.
“Love it,” added Fremmy.
“They’ll come for us anytime,” Eris said. “Let me… sorry, Prince Charlie, but I have to—”
“Don’t call him that!” Tom said. “Not ever! Do you want to get him killed? Charlie, always damn Charlie!”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, “and sorry to do this, but I have to.”
She had collected a lot of black gluck from under the shelf—a mixture of old grease and dirt.
“Bend to me. You’re very tall.”
Of course I am, I thought. Tall, Caucasian, now blond, and maybe blue-eyed all too soon. A dashing prince right out of a Disney animated feature. Not that I felt much like dashing anywhere, and the whole thing was absurd. What Disney prince had ever smeared shit on a windshield or blown up a mailbox with a cherry bomb?
I bent. Very gently, she ran her fingers through my hair, dirtying it up again, darkening it. But I won’t say the feel of her fingers on my scalp didn’t give me a small frisson. From the way the color bloomed in Eris’s cheeks, I wasn’t the only one.
A fist hammered on the door. One of the night soldiers shouted, “Playtime’s over! Get out! Hump, hump! Don’t make me tell you twice, kiddies!”
Eris stepped back. She looked up at me, then at Eye, Jaya, and Hamey.
“I think he’s all right,” Jaya said, low. I hoped I was. I had no desire to visit the Lord High’s apartments again.
Or the torture chamber. If taken there, I would be urged to tell everything… and eventually, I would. Where I came from, to start with. Who had helped me on my way and where they lived. Then who my fellow prisoners thought I was. What I was.
Their fucking savior.
4
We returned to Deep Maleen. The cell doors slammed shut and locked at the outstretched arms of the night soldiers. It was a neat trick. I wondered what other ones they had. Besides administering electric jolts at will, that was.
Hamey was staring at me with big eyes from his side of the cell—as far away from me as he could get. I told him to quit staring at me, it was making me nervous. He said, “I apologize, Pr—Charlie.”