Men of Anderas II: Dak the Protector by Cheryl Johnson Page B

presence was
realized.
    "Whatch’ya want?” Asked the man seated at
the small table in the middle of the dirt floor.
    "I'll require a bath for myself and my
companion--with fresh water, of course."
    Pausing long enough to spit a wad of
brownish liquid into the dirt, the man gave her body an insulting
appraisal. "Ain't got but one tub big enough for the both of ya.
It'll cost extra. Fresh water's extra, too."
    "Separate baths, if you please.” She fought
the blush she felt coloring her face. The man was crude and
unpleasant but she refused to let him see how upsetting his
comments were. She could feel Dak's burning gaze and struggled with
the need to turn and look at him.
    "Suit yaself. Me, I like a little company
when I wash. Cost ya ten silver coins--each--and a gold coin fer
clean water."
    "What?!” Kierin sputtered in outrage. "I
didn't spend that much for a week's worth of food! Your sign
outside states the price of a bath at five silver coins and I
…."
    The foul-smelling man lunged up from behind
the table, forcing her to take a step back in order to breathe--and
right into Dak's arms. The warmth of his hands lightly gripping her
arms spread a comforting blanket of security all around her.
Refusing to question this feeling, but drawing strength from it,
she straightened.
    "Ya want a bath; ya pay the price I say. Ya
don't want no bath, get on outta here. I got others waitin'."
    "How dare …."
    Before she could finish her sentence, Dak
had shifted her to the side, his arm still securely around her
shoulders. He now faced the obnoxious clerk.
    "The lady said she wants a bath and I know
you'll do everything in your power to see that her wishes are
carried out. Won’t you?"
    Kierin didn't have to look at Dak to
understand why the other man dropped back into his chair, several
shades paler than he was just minutes earlier. She'd been the
recipient of that laser-beam glare more times than she could count.
His quiet voice made the underlying threat of his words even more
deadly. She and Dak were the only ones who knew he couldn't follow
through with what his tone implied.
    “Boy!” The bellow brought a scrawny lad
hardly old enough to be away from his mother running from the back.
“Get that first tub emptied an’ filled fresh. An’ don’ ye take all
day about it.”
    “Ten silver coins fer two fresh baths.” Ya happy now?”
    “Not particularly,” Dak drawled, “but you’ll
be the first one to know if my mood changes. How long before the
lady’s bath is ready?”
    “Ten minutes. My place ain’t no rat hole.
Got the hottest water in town straight from one of them underground
spouts. If them brats ain’t careful wit’ the release valve, it’ll
blow the whole tent away. Behind ‘at first curtain.”
    Dak lead Kierin in the direction indicated,
grateful--again--that his true feelings were controlled. Even the
rats back on Safe Haven would turn up their noses at this hovel.
His first impression of the tent dropped to a record low when the
young boy motioned them forward past the faded, threadbare rag that
offered little security from anyone passing to the other tubs. The
room, lightened only by the sunlight through the stained canvas,
was ten feet square. A three-legged stool beside the tub and a
cracked mirror hanging from the log framework of the tent were the
only other furnishings. The dirt floor around the large, wooden tub
was at least six inches deep in mud and the sides of the tub
glistened with phosphorescent algae.
    “That lousy bastard!” Dak blocked Kierin’s
entrance to the small room. “You are not getting in that filthy
tub.”
    Kierin’s small hand against his chest
stopped him from going after the pig out front.
    “It’s fine,” she assured him after a quick
look around the room. “Really. That species of algae only grows in
the mineral-rich waters from the sub-surface volcanic pools. It’s
very healthy and invigorating.”
    “Pond scum is pond scum, I don’t care where
it comes