Page 92 of Escape Velocity

“It was either that or hide from him for the rest of my life.” She dragged in a breath and let it out. “But it’s not just about me. It makes me sick to think what he’s done and what he will do in the future if he’s not stopped.”

Camille gave her a respectful look. “I admire your determination. I will be waiting outside when you finish.”

“Thanks.” Amber eyed the shower. “How do you use it?”

Camille walked to the spray device and pulled on a cord. Water came from a metal circle in the ceiling.

“The water has been warmed by the sun. When you’ve washed, change into the fresh clothes I’ll set there.” This time she pointed to a small table just inside the door.

Again, she thanked the woman. When Camille had left, Amber turned to a long mirror propped against the wall. She might have washed last night after her adventure in the sucking sand, but she still looked like she’d spent the night sleeping with livestock.

Pulling off her grungy clothes, she dropped them in a pile near the door and headed for the shower.

It felt wonderful to wash her hair and body, although it was a little awkward. She found you had to leave one hand on the pull cord to keep the water flowing, so she alternated between soaping herself and rinsing, luxuriated under the warmth flowing down on her and luxuriated in how good it felt to be doing something normal.

Not wanting to use up the water supply, she finished as quickly as possible. As she dried off, she eyed the clothing that had been laid out for her.

Camille or one of the other women had given her back a dress from the collection the “traders” had brought.

It was a perfect fit and a good color for her hair and skin.

“Are you dressed?” the older woman called from outside the wash shed.

“Yes.”

“Let me help you dry your hair.” Her hostess came in with a towel of some soft material Amber didn’t recognize.

“Sit down.”

She sat in a chair facing a small table and a mirror, where Camille rubbed her hair vigorously with the towel.

Flushing slightly, she said, “I’m not used to having anyone do things for me.”

“Then just relax and enjoy the attention.”

She took the advice, closing her eyes and letting the rubbing of the towel relax her. And to her surprise, it took only a short while to dry her hair.

When she was finished, Camille reached into her pocket and brought out what looked like a hair ornament. “I have something for you—to pin it up,”

She displayed the slender shaft with a pointed tip and beads covering a bauble at the end. “It will keep your hair up. And it will do something else.”

As Amber looked at her inquiringly, the head man’s wife pulled on the beads at the top of the shaft. Underneath the cover was a thin and very wicked-looking knife.

Amber eyed it in surprise. “A secret weapon?”

“You may need this if you get close to Tudor,” Camille said.

The words made Amber shiver. “That wasn’t exactly the plan.”

“Keep it with you—as an insurance policy.”

Camille showed her how to arrange her long tresses on the top of her head, then use the sheathed knife and a few more pins to hold the knot in place.

“Why do you have such a weapon?” Amber asked.

“There are women here who . . . need protection from the dangerous attentions of a man. But this weapon would only be used in extreme cases.”

“Yes. Thank you.”

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