Emil took a deep breath, reminded himself that he was not the one who should feel embarrassed, here, and approached the breakfast table.
“Good morning!” said Sigrun with a grin, while Mikkel nodded at him pleasantly, and Onni grunted. Just like always! Seriously! Had they no shame? Emil huffed. The, he started buttering rolls, and piling them onto his plate, in grim silence.
“Are you feeling quite alright?” asked Mikkel. “You look a little… flushed.”
“Am I feeling– And flushed? Me?” No, it was too much to bear. Emil would speak, embarrassment be damned. “You’re the one who should be flushed! With shame! And also because, as you told me, people with, how did you put it, ‘solid builds like ours’ should ‘avoid additional exertion while in the sauna’! If you can’t bring yourself to look ashamed, you should at least look… exerted!”
“To be fair,” said Mikkel serenely, “I was not the one exerting myself. It was–”
“I know! I saw! Everything!” Those few seconds after he had opened the sauna door, but before he had remembered that he could shut it, would be engraved on Emil’s memory forever.
“You did?” Sigrun looked up from her eggs, then turned to her left. “See, Mikkel, I told you that my right hand-warrior is observant! Well done,” she continued, turning towards Emil. “I hope you learned something.”
“Wha–?”
Sigrun grinned at him. “I know I did. Sauna’s new to me. Those benches are pretty useful, I must say.”
“But…” Emil forced himself to meet her eye. “How can you– I mean, you’re the one who’s always telling me that we are not in an army barracks and that we should be careful and make sure that none of the locals walk in on us… displaying affection.”
“Affection? That doesn’t sound like a word I would use.”
“Okay, right, the word you use is, well… ‘banging’.”
“That is a word I use, yes. But I am pretty sure I have never said…” Sigrun waved a dismissive hand. “Any of what you said. It just doesn’t sound like me. Can you picture it: me, advising discretion? Pah!”
“But…” Emil gave up and went back to filling his rolls with meat. At least, until he heard Mikkel speak to Onni, and saw him wave an arm in Emil’s direction, while Onni nodded, solemnly. But not shamefully.
“Wait a moment, Onni.” Constructing the Finnish phrases took some time; Emil was glad of it. “You told me that the sauna is… sacred to Finns, and especially to Finnish mages. As a place, and as an activity. You said that touching a mage in the sauna is an insult. You must feel horribly insulted, this morning.”
“I don’t.” Onni blinked at him. “Anyway, we were not in the sauna. We were in the changing room.”
“So touching mages in the changing room is okay?”
Onni thought about this. “No.”
Emil was about to continue this argument–unlike with Mikkel and Sigrun, he thought that he had a decent chance of winning–when his thoughts were interrupted by a loud, “Hello, everyone.”
“Morning, Reynir,” said Mikkel, while Sigrun nodded, her mouth full, and Onni grunted. “You look cheerful. Big plans for the day?”
“Yes! I thought I might go sledding. Anyone want to join?”
The response around the table was enthusiastic. Even Onni’s “maybe” had a hopeful tone to it. And, Emil had to admit, sledding didn’t sound too bad. Maybe he should forgive all these assorted liars and hypocrites, and join them.
“Also, afterwards,” Reynir continued, pouring himself a tea, “I thought we could all hit the sauna. Together!”
What? Him too? Emil couldn’t take it anymore. He picked up his plate, and hurried back to the inn. Maybe Lalli, at least, would understand his outrage.
