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In a moment, John realized that the man had just fitted together a pair of scissors.
    He combed and trimmed John’s beard, then went after Bill’s.
    The old man at last seemed to have worked the goo into a huge white frothy mass. It looked almost exactly like shaving cream. Then, still frothing with the brush, he spilled a little of the red powder into it and then the wood shavings. John frowned.
    The old man stepped up next to him and smiled widely.
    John smiled back and the old man shoved the now pink woodchip-infused foam into his mouth. A flavor like stale cinnamon seeped over John’s gums. The old man began scrubbing the foam against John’s teeth with another of the brushes.
    While the old man brushed John’s teeth, another man went to work on his toenails and fingernails. Then the man began to trim away at the hair on John’s body. John remained as still as he could, listening the clink and click of sharp implements far too close to his most tender areas.
    He glanced over to Bill to see how he was managing. Bill looked like a cat being given an enema. John almost laughed.
    After everything else, the shaving was quick, painless, and simple. The last tin, the one full of white powder, was worked into a lather and the sharp silver blade was used. Then it was done. The four servants packed up their tools and left Bill and him sitting there gleaming, naked, and dazed. It reminded John of stories of how people were found after alien abductions.
    John thought of telling this to Bill, but he couldn’t figure out how to say alien in Basawar. And Bill wouldn’t have understood him anyway.
    Bill opened his mouth as if to say something but then didn’t.
    A few moments later there was another knock. John called for the person to enter, though this time he was a little more hesitant. The servant boy who had brought them the towels poked his head in. He bowed slightly before fully entering the room. John closed the door behind the servant boy, since his arms looked too full to do it for himself.
    “These are for you, sirs.” The boy laid the stack of clothes down on the bench beside Bill.
    Every garment was a shade of muted green, ranging between olive and sage. Beyond the color they bore little resemblance to the stiff, formal clothes that the house servants wore. These rustic garments were simple: pullover shirts, long underwear, and heavy pants. None of them had holes but they felt soft and worn in. Probably donations or secondhand goods. Most of the clothes were slightly too short for John and too big for Bill, but they were all warm and clean.
    When the servant boy stepped out of the room to retrieve their boots, Bill leaned close to John and whispered, “We look like the Jolly Green Giant and his little buddy Sprout in these getups.”
    “Vass’hi Basawar, Behr,” John whispered back.
    “Du, du.” Bill scowled at the reminder.
    Once they had their boots on, the servant boy led them out of the bath and through the house. Aside from his own bed, John had seen very little of the place earlier.
    The tapestry-insulated walls and stone archways seemed medieval and out-of-date when compared with the piping and mirrors in the bathroom. John noticed that there were sconces on the walls for torches. Iron chandeliers filled with unlit candles hung from the ceilings of the larger rooms. The strong smell of burning wood pervaded the building, and with it came the scent of animals, oil, tallow, and lard.
    They ascended a narrow stone staircase, which brought them into a surprisingly small room. John had been half expecting some large feast hall full of rough-hewn tables, rush mats, and tankards of beer. He guessed the image had come to him from some half-remembered Robin Hood movie.
    Aside from the drab tapestries on the walls and floor, the chamber was nothing like what he had expected. A small fire flickered and snapped behind a decorated screen. At the far end of the room, sharp morning light poured in through tall