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The FRIENDLY SPIRIT of the BATHHOUSE
“SALVE, BATHER!” I bow theatrically to the man with pristine sandals who has entered the bathhouse alone. “I’m Honestus Justus, guardian spirit of clothing. You can trust your clothes with me. I’m honest but cheap.”
As I straighten, his gaze lingers on my hair that I’ve bleached as white as a winter rabbit’s. My piercing blue eyes no doubt startle him, too.
“Perhaps you’ve heard of me?” I prompt hopefully.
The man twitches a smile. “H’m. The ghost boy who haunts the baths.”
“Kind spirit,” I amend, rubbing the locket around my neck that I made to ward off evil spirits.
“How much?”
“It’s free to use the cubby, but it’s a gamble whether your clothes will be there when you return. I ask for one copper to watch your clothes. Two coppers if you’d like assistance. I can be as quiet as a spirit.”
“You’ve done a lot of talking already. I’ll pay two coppers, if you can keep as quiet as you say. I prefer that gamble.”
Without another word, I grin and place a solemn finger to my lips. He hands me his linen tunic
