“Hush, Chester.”
The room had a bed of modest size and what seemed to be an empty sideboard. There was no bath.
“Ah, bath, pour yourself,” Dennis ordered. One of the beige walls quivered. Water gurgled beyond it.
Dennis whisked aside what turned out to be drapery rather than a solid surface like the other three sides. A tub shaped in the gentle curves of a half clamshell was filling, apparently by osmosis through its glistening body.
The tub was full by the time the youth had stripped off his clothes to get in. Not much in the way of clothing had survived the weeks since he left home, he admitted ruefully. He supposed he could wear leaves or bark… something, at any rate… if he were to spend the rest of his life in the jungle.
The water was hot but not quite uncomfortable. It had a slight scent and astringence which suggested that it already contained some sort of cleansing agent. He wished he had a proper bath sponge, but the multiple scabs and scrapes he could reach with his bare hands softened pleasantly as he rubbed them.
“Chester,” he said. “Should I stay here? Or should I go back to Emath now?”
“The one who asks foolish questions wearies those around him,” said the robot, his outline blurred by the steam rising from Dennis’ bath. “Who but yourself knows where your heart is?”
“I can’t see—spending all my life in the jungle,” the youth went on. “This place is—very wonderful, in some ways… But there’s something about it I don’t like. And back home, well, I was right to leave and I don’t think I want to go back just yet.
“I think—” Dennis closed his eyes and rested his head and arms on the edge of the tub for a moment, luxuriating in the warm cleanliness. “—that we’ll stay in Rakastava for a while and learn a little more about it. And then we can go on if we want to.”
“If you ask for clothing, it will appear in the cabinet, Dennis,” Chester said.
Dennis rose in the tub and stepped out. The level of the water began to drop immediately. “Clothes, appear,” he said tentatively.
A set of bright yellow garments rose from—through—the bottom of what he had thought was an empty sideboard.
“Wow!” he breathed aloud. “Ah, and a towel?”
When the towel—dark beige like the room’s walls—appeared, he realized that he should have asked for a sponge before he got into the bath.
The garments were slippers, a tunic and loose trousers—all of a soft, slick fabric that was similar to silk; but not silk, and not any textile with which Dennis was familiar.
“Do you suppose all the rooms in Rakastava are like this, Chester?” he asked as he slid the tunic over his head.
“All the rooms are like this, Dennis,” the robot replied. “Except that they may be finer.”
The slippers fit perfectly. “That’s amazing,” Dennis said. “And none of it costs anything.”
He looked at the blank wall and said, “Door, open!”
Behind Dennis as they strolled toward the assembly hall, Chester said quietly, “It would indeed be amazing if there were no costs, Dennis.”
CHAPTER 28
Dennis hadn’t known what to expect in the assembly hall. When the hall door opened for him, he found that tables were arranged in a circle large enough to seat the entire population of the community—well over a thousand faces staring at the newcomers.
The table closest to the door was bright with the polished metalwork of Conall’s honor guard. Between the king himself and his daughter, both of them turning to greet Dennis, was an empty chair.
So far as Dennis could see, it was the only vacant seat in the assembly. The thrones and carpet had disappeared. It made him somewhat uneasy to realize that the tables had probably risen from—and the thrones had vanished into—the floor, much as the clothes he wore had coalesced through a solid surface.
“Well, come sit down, silly,” Aria directed with a wave of her hand toward the empty chair.
Gannon glared at Dennis from the other side of the king. That was a human sort of dislike and therefore less disconcerting than many other things about Rakastava. He sat down and felt Chester creep past to lie curled and comforting at his feet.