Yatzir picks up Netil and shuffles behind Vuhtzev into the sauna. Irāvah dangles a fish over Seol’s head as he clings to her towel. Seol’s wet golden hair sticks against his tawny skin. He lifts onto his toes, then stretches an arm out. His fingertips almost reach her elbow.

  Seol pinches Irāvah’s arm. “Let me have it!”

  Irāvah’s brow twitches and her fist tightens around the towel. “No clothes, no fish!” She tilts her head back, then stuffs the fish into her mouth. “Mmm-mmm! So yummy!” She strains a smug look.

  Seol hisses and bites her wrist. Irāvah hollers and whacks him on his head. He crawls on top of her, then she puts him in a headlock.

  Vuhtzev chuckles and shakes his head. “Now, you’ve done it!”

  Seol claws at the ground. “I’ll eat—” He drags forward with Irāvah flexing around his neck. “—every last fish!”

  Irāvah grits her teeth and squeezes. “Not if I can help it!”

  Yatzir’s eyes widen. “And…” He watches Seol's head drop. “He's out.”

  Irāvah stands and fixes her towel. “Let that be a lesson.” Her eyes flick to Vuhtzev. “Mess with me and it'll be the last mess you ever make.” She struts into the mist.

  Vuhtzev kneels and pokes Seol. “Is he all right?”

  Yatzir shrugs, then steps over him. “They always play like that.” He tilts his head. “Seol, stop pretending to be dead!”

  Seol twitches face-down on the green tiles.

  Vuhtzev snorts, then steps over him. “Your friends are…”

  Yatzir sneers at Seol. “Dramatic?”

  Vuhtzev smiles. “I was going to say fun.”

  Yatzir pauses. “Oh, that too."

  They walk across a grate and enter a thinly shrouded area with a long yellow bench that wraps around the dome. One long orange cushion swallows the seat. The glass dome shows a huge portion of the lagoon. Yatzir follows the trail of kelp, which hides rows of glowing red eyes, and slender silhouettes.

  Vuhtzev drops onto the cushion, spreading his legs open, and resting his arms on the back of the bench. He shuts his eyes and huffs. Yatzir's gaze bounces around Vuhtzev's body. Vuhtzev has a thick red pelt covering every inch of him. Yatzir’s pulse races. Vuhtzev's biceps bulge, his chest is wide, and his shoulders are round. Beneath his towel, yet fully exposed, is his thick bush and hung penis.

  Heat swells in Yatzir’s cheeks. He races to the furthest edge of the bench, where he plops down and tugs his robe over his crotch. His heart smacks into his ribcage. The throbbing between his thighs makes him squirm. He clenches his legs together and bites the inside of his cheek.

  Evox places a table beside Yatzir. “Bogenach?”

  Yatzir shakes. “Yes?” He wipes the sweat from his brow.

  Evox gestures to the table. “Would you like a drink?” He pours wine into a glass, then passes it to Yatzir.

  The wine has a salty, fermented scent. Flakes of fruit swirl in the bottle. Yatzir covers his mouth. “No!” He gags. “I'm fine.”

  Evox bows, then replaces the glass and offers a bowl of oysters. “Perhaps you'd like to try one of our delicacies!”

  The salty scent turns sour in Yatzir’s nostrils. He holds his stomach and leans away. “No, thank you!”

  Evox nods. “Very well.” He sets the bowl down, then picks up a jar and a brush. “This is an exfoliating gel.” He swipes the bristles through the jar. “I'll apply it to your face. You'll notice a cooling sensation followed by heat. Once it tightens, I will peel it off.”

  Yatzir swallows, then sits back and closes his eyes. The brush tickles his cheeks and lips. A muddy smell lingers under his nose. He pushes his hands deeper between his thighs. His erection bobs against his knuckles.

  Evox sets his equipment down and opens a new jar. “This is oil for your hands. It softens the skin so we can trim your cuticles and file your nails. Another Uchimach will help me administer this Tzorun.” He pours the oil into his hand, then smears it between his palms. “May I have your hand?”

  Yatzir offers his right hand to Evox. Evox massages the oil into Yatzir’s skin, working it into every pore, and taking his time at Yatzir’s fingertips. Yatzir’s shoulders drop as he leans into the sensation.

  The second Uchimach approaches, her black braids fall over her shoulders as she bows. “Greetings, Bogenach.” Her dark eyes scan him. “My name is Unah, Uchimach of Niruchah, and Evox’s intern. It is a pleasure to serve you.”

  Yatzir nods to her.

  Unah sits on Yatzir’s left side, then brushes her orange robe under her knees and pours oil into her palm. “May I have your hand?”

  Yatzir keeps his knees together and extends his left hand. Together the Uchimach coat Yatzir’s hands in the Tzorun until his skin is completely smooth. They pull tiny instruments off the table and trim his cuticles.

  Neu guides Merketz to Yatzir. “This part of the ritual maximizes poremit. By massaging the hands and fingers, the increase in blood flow allows for tziremach to cast rem in a larger radius. This effect will last for an hour, which can be extended if the individual continues this ritual throughout the day. Clipping the nails and trimming the cuticles allows tziremach to cast more accurately. This effect is observed for several days, then slowly wears off if the ritual is not maintained.”

  Merketz hums and nods to Yatzir, then they walk over to Vuhtzev.

  Yatzir watches several Uchimach service Vuhtzev. Two at his hands and two at his feet. Their eyes flick around his body with blushes beaming on their cheeks. Vuhtzev’s eyes are closed, yet a sly grin curls on his lips.

  Netil scratches at Yatzir’s leg. A third Uchimach jogs towards them with a bowl of slimy plants. Her white hair flaps in a braid behind her. She huffs and puffs. “Netil?” She sets the bowl down, then picks him up. “I told you to wait for me!”

  Evox smiles at her. “Mavah, this is the Bogenach we told you about.”

  Mavah holds Netil above her head, then furrows her brows. “This turtle?” Her dim purple eyes peer at him. “He’s hardly what I’d call an heir.”

  Netil hides in his shell.

  Mavah chuckles, then lowers him and strokes his shell. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. I’m sure you’d make an excellent heir.”

  Evox’s brow twitches and Unah’s smile cracks.

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Evox points at Yatzir. “This is the Bogenach.” He points to Netil. “That’s his companion.”

  Mavah covers her mouth, then bows. “My apologies, Bogenach!” She places Netil beside Yatzir. “I didn’t realize you were with this adorable creature! Turtles tend to get eaten if they come to the lagoon, so I was curious as to how he ended up in Niruchah. He said he was with his guardian. I offered him something to eat and told him to stay put, but he wandered out here.” She touches her chin. “Although, I’m not sure how he accessed the control panel.”

  Evox squints and nods at the bowl. “Perhaps you could feed the Bogenach’s turtle and give him a deep clean in silence.”

  Mavah sucks in her lips, then bows and pulls out a small toolkit from her orange robe. She places the bowl on the bench, kneels beside Unah, and uses a little brush to scrub Netil’s shell as he feasts on the plants.

  Yatzir raises a brow. “You said he talked to you?”

  Mavah glances at Yatzir, then to Evox and nods.

  Yatzir hums and eyes Netil. “I didn’t know he could speak.”

  Mavah opens her mouth, but Evox speaks for her. “Uchimach can communicate with all creatures through the use of Seftzin. Even creatures like your companion, Netil, can speak to us through their thoughts.”

  Yatzir looks at Netil. “That makes sense!” He smiles. “When I talk to Netil, he speaks to me, too.”

  Evox trembles. “Huh?” He drops his instrument. “You can use Seftzin?”

  Yatzir laughs and shakes his head. “No, it’s just that when I talk to Netil, I know he understands me. I’ve raised him since he hatched. He’s my oldest friend.”

  Evox strokes his chin. “I wonder if we might be able to use that connection to bring forth your tzirem.”

  Yatzir tilts his head. “You can do that?”

  Evox picks up his instrument and smiles. “We’ve never tried it before, but given the need you have for remit—I’d say it’s worth a shot!”

  Unah changes tools, then files Yatzir’s nails. “Imartzah said that you’re unlike the other tziremach.”

  Yatzir frowns. “Oh…”

  Evox glares at Unah. “What she meant to say is that you’re a unique case and that requires special…permissions.”

  Yatzir stares at the floor. “I’ve heard that before.” He shuts his eyes. “Everyone in my village thinks there’s something wrong with me.”

  Vuhtzev peeks over at Yatzir.

  Yatzir yanks his hands from the Uchimach. “But I’m fine!” He stands and stomps towards the private lounge. His fingers beat on the glass. “How do I work this thing?” Lights turn on and off. The steam stops blowing. He growls and lifts his fist.

  Evox blocks Yatzir’s strike. “Allow me, Bogenach.” He lowers Yatzir’s arm, then presses an icon. “This is the correct button.”

  The glass slides open and Yatzir storms off.

  Vuhtzev purses his lips. “I'll be back.” He moves through the mist. “Irāvah?” His pace is slow. “Seol?” He finds the print from where Seol laid, but no sign of where he went. Vuhtzev sighs and chases after Yatzir.

  Yatzir sits on the floor in his suite, hugging his knees. The crème-colored floor absorbs his sweat and fish linger across from him. The in-floor lights pulse green, then change to blue and deepen to the color of his hair.

  Vuhtzev stands in the entryway and stares at Yatzir. He swallows, then walks to the copper rack and pulls off a thick orange robe. He drops his towel and ties the robe around his waist. Vuhtzev’s eyes stay fixed on Yatzir, trailing the cerulean highlights dashing over his pale skin, and leering at the dark curls on his neck.

  Vuhtzev moves closer. “You all right?” He stops at the edge of Yatzir's bed.

  Yatzir buries his head between his knees. “I don't belong here.”

  Vuhtzev raises a brow. “As in…?”

  Yatzir’s nails dig into his shoulders. “This place… The Yarbil…”

  Vuhtzev sits next to him. “Sure you do!” He bumps Yatzir's shoulder. “You just need more time to become whoever you're supposed to be.”

  Yatzir flinches. “Easy for you to say!” He lifts his head and glares at Vuhtzev. “All you have to do is speak and a rem forms.”

  Vuhtzev scratches his head. “There's more to it than that!”

  Yatzir squeezes his legs. “Is there? Because from where I'm sitting it seems effortless.” He peers into the lagoon. “All I do is try and fail. No one believes in me.” His eyes narrow. “I’ve stopped believing in myself, too.”

  Vuhtzev hums and faces the lagoon. “I get it.”

  Yatzir raises a brow. “What?”

  Vuhtzev fidgets with the strap of his robe. “Why you looked horrified when we left Yavima.” His eyes lower to the kelp. “You saw yourself in their position.”

  Yatzir jerks. “It’s not just that.” He shakes his head. “They looked at me like it was my fault! Like I’m the one who put them there!”

  Vuhtzev grunts and crosses his legs. “You’re being paranoid!” He grins. “Some people want to be victims.”

  Yatzir grimaces. “And what about me?” He rises. “What about everything I can’t do?” He clenches his fists. “Am I pretending to be a victim?”

  Vuhtzev leans back. His eyes flick up to Yatzir's face, then down to Yatzir’s pale feet. Vuhtzev sighs and stands. “You’re not pretending.” He peers into Yatzir’s eyes. “You are a victim.” He embraces Yatzir.

  Yatzir’s heart stops and his skin runs cold. He stares at the mossy stones lining the ceiling. His fists shake at his sides.

  Vuhtzev’s arms tighten around him. “You don’t have to say it.” His voice cracks. “I know she’s gone…and it hurts.”

  Yatzir’s heart picks up speed and his eyes flick around the room.

  Vuhtzev releases, steps back, and wipes his eyes. “Imazet was a great mentor.”

  Yatzir’s legs wobble.

  Vuhtzev smiles at him. “I wish I could’ve seen her one last time.”

  Tears splatter on the floor. Yatzir’s lips quiver. His nostrils flare and he opens his mouth, then hisses and bows his head. “Excuse me.” He walks into the bathroom.

  Vuhtzev’s head hangs and he touches the tattoo under his eyelid. “Goodbye, Imazet.”

  Yatzir sits on the rim of the tub with his feet kicking beneath the water. His eyes chase the reflection of a woman. “Mom?” He waits. She smiles. He reaches for her. “Are you really gone?” The woman fades and Yatzir’s reflection returns. He lays on his back. “Where are you?” A cluster of fish circle overhead. “How do I find you?”

  Vuhtzev leaves the suite and spots Merketz stumbling into the lounge with a half-empty glass of wine. He rushes to her side and walks her to the master suit. Merketz falls onto the bed, laughing as her wine splashes onto her robe.

  She wipes at the spot, then polishes off what's left of the glass. "That's some good wine!" She hands the glass to Vuhtzev. "Fetch me a bottle, would you?"

  Vuhtzev takes the glass. "Haven't you had enough?"

  Merketz chuckles and rubs her chest. "Hardly!" She lays down. "I could get used to this place."

  Vuhtzev sets the glass on a table, then stares at her. "Yatzir doesn't like it."

  Merketz sits up. "Really?" She gestures to the room. "Look around... We're royalty!"

  Vuhtzev nods. "That's what bothers him."

  Merketz sighs and stretches her neck. "Everything bothers that boy!" She hiccups. "I thought he'd loosen up!"

  Vuhtzev kicks at the floor. "What can you tell me about Imazet?"

  Merketz stiffens and her eyes lock on the stain soaking into her robe.

  Vuhtzev steps toward her. "I know something happened, but Yatzir... He can't talk about it."

  Merketz pulls her robe closed. "How could he?" Her fingers grasp at the seams. "He saw the whole thing."

  Vuhtzev's eyes widen. "He saw?"

  Merketz touches her lips. "It wasn't that long ago. Not to him. Not to me."

  Vuhtzev leans in. "What happened to her?"

  Merketz looks up at him. "I don't know." She trembles. "No one does except him...and he hasn't said a word about it to anyone."

  Vuhtzev shakes his head. "But, for someone that important... There must have been an investigation."

  Merketz gulps. "There was." She scoots onto the edge of the bed. "Her disappearance called for the highest ranking officials to investigate. Tziremach from all over searched day and night—turning up with nothing." Merketz hugs her arms. "Six dreadful years of unexplainable absence."

  Vuhtzev's eyes shift around the room. "And Yatzir?"

  Merketz covers her mouth. "Distant."

  Vuhtzev takes a big breath and crosses his arms. "Was bringing him here the right call?"

  Merketz lowers her hand. "What should I have done?" She shrugs. "Told him no? He'd wind up here sooner or later." Her hands fold in her lap. "If he came here on his own, do you think he'd be rational enough to ask questions?"

  Vuhtzev tilts his head. "Maybe not, but we shouldn't interfere in his life."

  Merketz purses her lips. "You're right." She stands and steadies herself against the bed. "We shouldn't force it upon him, but we're running out of time."

  Vuhtzev flinches. "You're saying that..." He holds his stomach. "The... It's..." He gasps for air.

  Merketz grabs his shoulder. "The heat will return.” Her expression is cold. “Whether we're ready to face it or not."

  Merketz…Bound by truth