The first sight Catrin saw when she woke was a hooded figure leaning over her, and she squeaked in surprise. The figure backed off quickly and waved a silent apology while Catrin tried to figure out where she was. Her mind muddled, the stone bath confused her, but somewhere between sleep and wakefulness, it all rushed back. She shook her head to clear the last of the drowsiness then climbed from the basin.
As she stood too quickly, the blood seemed to rush from her head. Dizziness overwhelmed her, and the monk lent support while she regained her balance. Catrin thanked the woman and drank three mugs of water while she waited for the spell to pass. Slowly she began to feel better. Supporting herself again, Catrin gave a nod, and the monk led her back to the hall and opened the third door in. Catrin followed, whimsically wondering how they could top the previous days, and she tried to prepare herself for the unexpected.
Inside stood another stone table next to a bubbling pool of murky brown mud that shifted and moved. Tiny specks of something shiny caught the light as they shifted, giving the pool an even more mystical appearance. Another female monk waited inside, and Catrin marveled at how adept she had become at gender identification; it had become almost effortless.
Once Catrin was supine on the table, the women coated her with a thick layer of the sparkling mud that almost immediately began to dry. When she was thoroughly coated, they left her to dry in silence. The drying mud pulled at her skin as it shriveled and cracked, and in some places it itched terribly, but she endured, not wanting to move. It was not long, though, before the women returned. They peeled the husk from Catrin, and the feeling of cool air on the newly exposed skin was intense. They wiped away the rest of the mud with a damp cloth, and the entire process was repeated, consuming the rest of the day.
Fierce winds drove the sleet, turning it into stinging projectiles that immediately froze on whatever it struck. Borga Jahn walked with his head down, each step a trial as he had to stomp through the thick layer of ice that coated the snow; to walk on top of the ice was impossible.
'We should turn back,' Enit said. 'We'll die long before we ever reach Ohmahold.'
'You knew what you were getting into when you accepted this assignment. Keep walking.' Both knew this was a mission from which they would not return; they also knew they had to succeed. General Dempsy would keep his word, which meant there was no turning back. He did not know what deal Enit struck, and he did not care to know. For Borga, success was the only option. To fail was to send his daughter, Bella, to her death, and that he could not even think about.
Bella was a good girl; too kind and sweet to be in an army. Borga could not blame her for deserting, and with his final act, he was determined to set her free. This task would be completed even if he had to do it alone, and given Enit's whining, that was beginning to seem increasingly likely.
Borga looked around and said, 'We need to make shelter for the night, or we'll freeze to death.'
'Make a shelter out of what? Snow and ice?'
'Precisely. Now dig. We need to form a pocket of air beneath the snow; that'll keep us warm.'
'Warm?'
'Warmer than we would be exposed to this wind. Shut up and dig,' Borga said, tempted to just kill Enit now and go on by himself, but he knew that together they had a better chance of succeeding. He would tolerate Enit for Bella's sake.
When they had a shelter large enough to hold them both, they settled in for what would be a long night.
'I thought you said it would be warmer in here.'
'Shut up, Enit.'
Catrin woke in a strange room that was moderately furnished, but she did not recall how she had come to be there. It was an uneasy way to start her day, but she still looked forward to whatever adventure it would bring. When the monks arrived, she discerned one male and one female. The male was obvious due to his height and girth, but she confirmed her visual assessment with her other senses.
When the monks selected a door, Catrin was almost certain she had been through that one before, but the room beyond was nearly empty. Lamps hung on the walls, and a thin layer of cloth lined the floor. The cloth was tightly woven and appeared to have been treated with some sort of sealant. When Catrin stepped into the room, the cloth gave way, cushioning her foot. She followed the trail of footprints left by the monks and amused herself by walking in the man's large footprints. By the feel, she guessed that the floor had been covered in a layer of sand before the cloth had been laid. Intrigued, she wondered what its purpose could be.
The male monk approached her and nodded a bow that Catrin respectfully returned. She steeled herself as he moved behind her. Using his hands, he began to manipulate her, stretching her stiff muscles, and she felt like a clay doll in his powerful grip. Some of the stretches and contortions were painful, but others felt wonderful as they released pent-up tension.
Bones occasionally popped and shifted as she stretched, and it felt glorious. She was surprised, though, when the man contorted her body, seemingly for the sole purpose of producing loud pops. The positions were not all that uncomfortable, and the releases felt good, but she couldn't shake the impression she was being attacked by a bear. When he grabbed her head, swiveling it back and forth, she prayed he did not underestimate his strength and twist it right off her neck.
A sudden jerk of his hands was accompanied by an alarmingly loud series of crunches, and for an instant she feared he had snapped her neck. When he removed his hands from her head, she moved her neck tentatively and not only found it still attached, but discovered the knot in her neck was gone, and she hadn't even realized her neck was sore until after the relief of tension.
He gestured for her to lie on the floor, and Catrin wondered what he would do to her next. He rolled her to one side, manipulating her low back in ways she would have never imagined. The pops and cracks were not as loud or as plentiful, but those that occurred felt massive. Rolling her onto her stomach, he placed his hands on her head for a moment then departed.
The female monk approached, and Catrin was a bit shocked when the woman stepped on her, and she was even more surprised when the second foot followed. More loud pops and cracks accompanied the woman's footsteps as she worked Catrin's flesh with her toes. Catrin was glad the female monk was performing this part of the ritual; the man would have crushed her.
When the treatment was completed, she was led back to the room with the stone-filled basin. The energy of the stones beckoned to her, and she rushed to finish drinking her water, anxious to immerse herself in the rainbow of energy textures.
'Do you think Catrin is purified yet?' Osbourne asked over the evening meal.
'With as much manure as she shoveled over the years, they've got a lot of purifying to do,' Strom said, laughing.
'Do you really think they'll make Cat cut her hair?' Chase asked.
'There's a good chance,' Benjin said. 'I only told you it was a possibility so you would not be surprised. She may not be very happy about it.'
'I can't imagine Cat without any hair.'
'It'll grow back,' Benjin said softly, and he looked around the common room. Tables were beginning to fill up. They had agreed to keep Catrin's activities to themselves, and he did not wish to be overheard. The murmur of many voices filled the air, but still he kept his voice low. 'Just keep doing what you are doing, and everything will be fine.'
'I know,' Osbourne said. 'I'm sorry. I just keep thinking about what they might be doing to Cat, and it gives me the crawls.'
