Perplexing Petrification (Quill)

Over the next few minutes, the storm died down to a cold drizzle in the forest, but the damage had already been done. Everywhere she walked the plant-life was already soaked, so any chance of catching a break was practically gone. On top of the drizzle too, huge, fat drops fell from the tree leaves, landing on her head and practically freezing her where she stood as they slowly trickled down her back. Maybe the woods did feel like home, but it wasn't really in a good way. Grumbling all the while, she didn't even smile when she found the last plant on the list. Darkness was pressing in, now, and she blundered her way back through the forest, eventually finding the path to the cottage again.

As she walked down the little stone path that led to the building, Terrel resisted the urge to kick over several plants in the garden. Blast that old hag and her ridiculous grocery lists. Terrel would've rather she had just walked back to town and bought the stupid stuff rather than get sick in the rain out there. The nettles stings on her legs burned with a passion, and her hair was a mop of a thing, making her look like quite the miserable wreck. Slinging the bag over her shoulder, the woman roughly opened the door, wearing the storm on her face now.

"Here's your ruddy plants. Happy?" she grunted, immediately moving over to the fire to try and dry off.

"Ecstatic," the alchemist said dryly, taking the plants and putting several of them into the mortar. "Grind these up," she said to Marcus. Marcus nodded and set to work mashing and mixing them all into dust.

The old woman shuffled across to a cabinet beside the front door. She opened the small wooden door and reached inside, pulling out a small vial of red liquid.

"Here," she said, putting it beside Terrel. "It's made of Ember Seeds, among other things. Drink it and stop shivering." She turned and walked briskly back to the mortar and pestle. "Give me that," she said to Marcus, "there are too many plants, and I want this to go quickly." She grabbed the pestle from him and set to work, rapidly crushing the plants and grinding them into tiny pieces.

Marcus looked over at Terrel. "Are you hurt?" He had seen her wince as she had come in, and if the plants she had to collect were anything like the ones he had to, he wouldn't be surprised if something had tried to gnaw off her leg in the rain. "I'm a Healer," he said, "I can make it better."

Terrel closed her eyes to the fire, trying to tune out everything else besides the warmth that radiated over her now. She took her vest off, the outer layer that had been soaked the hardest, and quietly sat in front of the fire in her blouse and breeches, the legs of which stopped just past her knee, giving the nettles free access to her bare skin. It wasn't unbearable or agonizing, just irritating. Already her skin was inflamed from the bites of those nasty plants, and she resisted the urge to itch them already. It would only make it worse, from her experience. Terrel found herself uncomfortably aware that she was, in fact, quite good at making bad things go worse.

At least she'd gotten a song out of the whole excursion. She'd have to practice the tune sometime when she knew that old witch was out of the house for an extended period.

The woman handed her something that would probably melt her insides a moment later, made from Ember Seeds she had said. Terrel didn't know much about seeds or plants or potions, but she'd heard of a boy dying once when he fell out of a tree and landed in an Ember Tree. Nasty business, really. She supposed that if the witch wanted to kill her, though, she could probably think of more subtle ways to do it than with a fire potion. Uncorking the thing with her teeth, she pinched her nose and drained the concoction before her body could think to gag.

It certainly wanted to, a few seconds later. Everything inside her felt like it was on fire, but the shock of it dimmed down within a few more seconds, leaving behind only a very intense feeling of heat. It felt like her skin was going to dry her clothes out before the fire could manage to do so. Well, she did feel a bit better, thanks to that. Glaring into the fire, she murmured an inaudible thanks to the older woman. She certainly deserved a potion like that, after going out there. She deserved a medal, really!

Still bitter about the whole thing, when Marcus spoke she simply shrugged her shoulders stubbornly, continuing to stare at the hearth in front of her. He'd make it better, would he? Terrel couldn't help but roll her eyes at that one, responding with sarcasm that came easier than sincerity, "Yeah, why don't you come over here and kiss it, kid."

"That is not necessary," Marcus said. "Any skin-to-skin contact will suffice." He started to step towards her, then stopped. An idea struck him, an idea so daring that he nearly tossed it out before stopping to seriously consider it. He returned slowly to the table. Marcus raised both his hands and held them up to Terrel. He was acutely aware of the table beside him, the distance between him and Terrel, and the Alchemist, who had not paused in her mashing of the plants. He breathed deeply, clearing his mind and concentrating on his magic.

"I have seen magic bury the kingdom in snow and ice," he thought, "I have seen magic form great glittering wings of pure energy. I have seen creatures of the dead arise, animated purely by magic alone. I have seen the fabric of reality itself being torn in two by a mage's power. Magic is flexible, magic is strong. There is nothing that limits magic, and nothing that dictates that I must establish skin contact to work my magic."

A shimmering ball of light appeared between in front of his hands, and Marcus began to sweat at the effort. Healing magic, by its very nature, was pure energy. It could not be too specialized, because when it entered into the human body it was adapted by that body to do whatever needed to be done. Holding large amounts of pure energy together, without any physical container, was extremely difficult. Marcus could immediately tell why his instructors had taught him to cast this spell with direct skin contact. His resolve wavered, and the ball began to flicker. He shook his head, narrowing his eyes at the ball and re-asserting his will over it. He continued to pour energy into it, expending much more than he would have normally to keep it contained. His hands trembled, but he fought to keep them raised. He wasn't sure how much longer he could keep this up. Then he realized that Terrel was only scratched and that he didn't need that much healing magic. He made the executive decision that what he had already assembled would have to be enough. He pulled his arms back a few inches and pushed them forward, grunting as he sent the ball of light flying to Terrel.

Marcus sighed with relief and collapsed slightly into the table beside him. His arm was supporting him, keeping him upright, and he wished dearly that there was a chair to sit in.

The Alchemist had stopped grinding the plants together. For one amazing moment, he thought that she would compliment him on his achievement. He had just crossed the boundaries of what he had been previously conceived possible, he had broken what he had believed to be his limitations and went beyond them. And, on a more practical level, he had learned to heal from a distance. Based on the dangerous life he led, he knew that that would come in handy very quickly.

"Take these and squeeze their juices into the pot," the old woman said, handing a pair of plump plants to him. "Make sure the fluid passes through a woollen cloth," she pointed at another cupboard, "before it goes in." Marcus sighed, but did as she said. It was alright that she hadn't said anything. He doubted that she, or Terrel even, had understood the significance of that moment, partly because the importance was mostly on a personal level and also because the moment was deeply rooted in spell-casting, something he doubted either of them had real experience with. Now, if they were both mages, they would probably appreciate his moment more. That wasn't important, though; their understanding wasn't necessary to make this special to him. This was truly a day for the new. He had taken on a whole new discipline and he had expanded upon his base one. Marcus squeezed the plants into the pot and threw the cloth into a special basket. As the Alchemist explained, the dregs left in the cloth were extremely poisonous.

Terrel resisted the urge to bury her head in her hands as Marcus insisted on taking her seriously yet again. She was beginning to seriously consider that something might be wrong in the head with that one, but maybe it was all just from where he'd come from. Apparently the south bred kids who lived for the literal. Catching movement from the corner of her eye, she sighed and waited for him to show up and put a hand on her legs or something. When he didn't appear, Terrel simply assumed that she might've misunderstood what Marcus had said. Maybe the kid had actually taken the hint and decided to leave the thing alone. It wasn't that bad anyway.

She sighed, slouching forward and letting the flames from the fire dazzle her eyes. That warmth was already undoing some of the aches in her joints and knots in her muscles, and she almost closed her eyes to it again. What stopped her was something in the corner of her eye yet again. It seemed like a light, so she turned a bit to try and see where it was coming from. The woman almost fell over when she realized what was coming in her direction.

Before she could get out of the way, the little ball of light struck her in the abdomen region, and she felt the magic course through her body a second later. Terrel hadn't been the victim of many spells, but they were odd to say the least. You never really knew what one might do, and you'd try and avoid them if you could. Things you didn't really understand were often best avoided; she wouldn't have counted nettle stings as qualifying to be touched by magic, but the kid in his infinite wisdom had gone ahead anyway.

Already she could feel the cuts and scratches receding as her body worked overtime to try and make it happen, with the help of some extra energy. Blinking once, she shifted her shoulders a bit and curled her toes, making sure everything still worked as the tingling sensation quickly abated. "Huh," she said, still wiggling her toes, "thanks, kid, I guess." She glanced toward Marcus to offer him a nod, only to find that he looked like he needed the healing spell now. Well, his fault, she supposed; maybe it was always exhausting, casting the magics. Shrugging, she returned to the fire, hearing the work begin again behind her back.

The alchemist sighed. She had just dropped the last of the ingredients into the pot hanging over the fire and stirred for the final time. She smoothed her light blue apron with wrinkled hands and turned to address the two travellers. "It's done," she said. "Take this and pour it down their throats. It will turn the stone back to flesh and reanimate their bodies." She ladeled the lavender potion into vial after vial until there was barely any left in the pot. "This should be enough," she said.

Marcus thanked her, carefully wrapped the vials into a blanket, and placed the bundle into his pack. The vials seemed sturdy enough, and he hoped that the blanket would help keep them safe. He would have to be careful with his pack and not do anything stupid, like sit on it or throw it, but as long as he was smart it should be fine. "Terrel," he said, still bent over the pack, "what's the weather like?"

Just as Terrel had finally managed to get some warmth back into her toes, that woman was already telling them it was approaching time to go. She really just wanted to sit here for a while and warm her bones, but she couldn't say she minded getting out of this woman's house terribly. It still smelled a little bit like death, and Terrel hadn't forgiven her yet for making her go tromping out in the rain. Still she could hear it on the rooftop of the building, and she didn't really look forward at going back out there. Maybe she'd leave a nasty storm brewing for the hag on her way out, but that'd probably just leave her soaked again.

Grumbling under her breath, she stood up slowly and put her still damp vest back on over her blouse, shivering a bit as some of the water trickled down her back. Marcus' question was enough to make her roll her eyes, but she kept her tongue back at least for the time being. "I don't know, kid. Probably miserable," Terrel said, glancing out a window still covered in raindrops and sighing with regret that she'd have to go back out into it. But if it was going to happen, then they might as well get on with it. Walking to the door, she opened it and stepped outside, walking into the rain and yelling back at the alchemist, "Thanks for everything. I guess."

"Yeah," Marcus said, hoisting the bag over his shoulder and hurrying after Terrel, "thank you." The old woman grumbled something under her breath and waved her hand irritably.

"Hurry up and close the door, will you?" She said. "You're letting in all the cold."

"Sorry," Marcus shouted, "goodbye!" He shut the door, and ran out into the rain. Terrel was right; it was miserable. The rain fell thick and fast around him, but thankfully it was not so bad that he couldn't follow Terrel's back. The forest ground was reduced to so much mud, and Marcus slipped once or twice before learning to keep his eyes fixed on the running soil. "That way, right?" He asked, pointing. It had been easy to find the cottage; her cooking had produced a noticable stream of smoke. Finding their way back would be more difficult, especially in the rain. He wanted to be sure of their direction before they went too far.

Terrel was neither the brightest nor the wisest, but if there was one thing that she knew it was the woods. For years she'd lived in them; not these of course, but once you knew one you kind of knew all of the rest, really. Still in a bit of a sour mood, the woman resisted the urge to just grab Marcus' arm like he was a child and drag him along behind her. Instead, Terrel simply grunted and jabbed a finger toward where she knew the path would be, taking off the moment she heard the door shut. Already the feeling of dryness she had come to appreciate was vanishing as each huge drop hit her head, and she resisted the urge to kick at the ground harshly in her frustration. Thankfully she didn't have to make a complete fool of herself.

The weather reflected her mood, more or less, and the sun was quickly setting by now, which meant that the forest was already getting quite dark. Just one more thing to add to the list of grievances for the day. Terrel hoped that whoever was in charge of protecting the statues would let them get this over with by tonight, because if not then that would probably result in a few more wasted hours the next day. People seemed to drag their feet when they realized they had the whole day ahead of them.

Darkness nestled in now, and Terrel led the way in silence, her eyes straining to make out the way despite the quickly vanishing light. Just when things were almost too dark to continue, though, the foliage broke away and retreated quickly behind them. They'd made it back into the fields, and she found that the rain had been reduced to a drizzle. Regardless, the darkness was all but absolute and she was having a pretty tricky time even seeing where her feet were going in front of her now, despite the path.

She found a bit of relief being out of the forest, though, so she turned to Marcus with a slightly softened tone, "Hey kid, is there any way you can make a light or something?" If not, then she'd likely have to resort to singing until the sun came up.

Marcus nodded. He reached into his pack, sheltering its contents with his body, and pulled out a silvery candlestand. He quickly closed the bag, tightening it and protecting it from the drizzling water falling from the stormy clouds above. "I have this," he said, and with a burst of willpower, a blue candleflame rose up from the wick. Its cold fire burned unaffected by water or wind, and it illuminated the area around them with its icy blue light.

Terrel had guided them safely out of the woods, and now that they were out from its dark and twisted innards, it was much easier to progress to Hyrule Castle Town. The rain was slowly dwindling to a steady drizzle, and Marcus wished that the candle burned hot, not cold. The candle may have illuminated the ground and air around them, creating a harsh blue bubble in the shadows of the deepening twilight, but he stlil did not see the walls of the town until they were several scores of feet away from them.

"Just in time," Marcus said, "they haven't raised the drawbridge yet, thank Farore." Shivering at the thought of what would have happened if they had, he continued over the wooden bridge and into the town. He looked over at Terrel. "Now what?" The vials of potion clanked softly together as he moved, and he placed a steadying hand on the pack as he spoke. "We have the antidote; who should we take it to, the Guard?"

The rain had stopped by the time they made it back to Castle Town, thank the goddesses. If she glared hard enough, though, Terrel could see that thick clouds still covered the area they'd left because the stars had been extinguished in that direction. Still she was soaked to the bone, now, and that left her in no mood to be happy. But she couldn't spend all night being exasperated at the old woman or that weird guy who'd been singing that song. She almost growled under her breath just thinking about him, but she instead just settled with singing the tune inside of her head, making sure she didn't forget it. She'd have to write it down to remind her later or something.

Marcus was asking a question now, and she had to stop for a moment and think about it. It was hard to think when your clothes were so drenched with water that you wanted to just curl up next to a fire and sleep for the rest of your life, but she knew she couldn't do that. No, she had to think. The kid was right, though; the guards were really the only ones to talk to. She didn't really trust the blokes, but there probably wasn't anything to be done about that.

"Yeah I guess," she said, her voice laden with exhaustion right now. As much as she wanted to be done with this whole thing, she was tired and soaked and grumpy. If the guards wanted to cooperate at all, she'd probably end up scaring them off by screaming at someone on accident. She tended to get louder when she got tired. With a sigh, she asked Marcus, "Where are you staying anyway, kid? Maybe we should wrap this up tomorrow."

Marcus agreed. It was getting very late, and they were both exhausted. They could wait for the morning to come to deliver the vials to the guards. As logical as a rest was, though, his stomach twisted at the thought of waiting until tomorrow. The anxiety that came so close to victory was upon him, and he could not help but feel as if he was in some kind of competition with all the other people researching a cure. What if they woke up the next morning and found that some random wizard had finally discovered a counter-curse, and he and Terrel were no longer needed?

He looked over at his partner. She looked as if she was ready to drop; her eyes were strained, her voice was heavy, and the water stuck to her clothes in ways that could not be comfortable. They needed to sleep, they needed to rest. He reminded himself that the vials of potion weren't for their sake, but for the victims. If a mage had undid the countercurse before the sun rose, then all the better for them. Selfish worries were not enough to deprive Terrel (and himself) of much-needed, much-deserved rest.

"I'm pretty close to the Library," he said, "I wanted to keep commuting down as much as possible. How about you?"

Jeez. A shorter commute? To books? What was wrong with that kid! Terrel couldn't imagine planning her stay here around spending hours upon hours in that stuffy library with attendants peering over your shoulder at what you were doing. Besides, the only thing interesting about books was the fact if you jammed one under a person's nose for long enough, you guaranteed boring them to death and probably giving them a headache in the process. She couldn't really see the application in that. Well, at least she didn't have to be the one going in there. Left up to her, she'd probably never set foot in one of those places ever again.

Pushing those thoughts aside, Terrel answered his question, "Some crummy place closer to the Goron slums, I think. The Boar's Gut or something? I don't really remember. Is your place clean? I feel like I've killed at least a dozen spiders in my sheets every morning since getting here." Not a big deal, really; she'd become used to the creepy crawlies in the woods a while back, but by Din's flaming arms she wouldn't have minded a nice bath in a copper tub tonight. She didn't really trust the water where she was staying. Besides, even though she didn't care about commuting to books, she didn't completely trust the kid not to run off with the cure at the crack of dawn.

Marcus scratched his head, working his fingers through the strands of sopping hair and sending droplets flying into the already water-packed air. "I suppose," he said. "No spiders, but the pub downstairs is pretty loud." He pointed down a side-street, where tarp-covered barrels stood side-by-side along the brick walls. "It's that way," he said. "Do you want to come? I don't know if there are any rooms open, but at least there are no spiders."

A horn blew. Marcus looked around, startled, and saw that cast-iron chains were tugging the drawbridge up. It clanked shut with the inexorable finality of centuries' worth of unchanging tradition. Night had officially fallen, and the streets around him reflected the lateness of the hour. They were nearly deserted, save for a few drunken or harried stragglers hurrying (or in the drunks' cases, stumbling) off to their homes or inns. Marcus shivered; the combination of the cold and the wet was taking its toll on his body. He quickly compiled a list of the night's objectives; arrive at the inn, bid farewell to Terrel, throw off his wet clothes, take a hot bath, and sleep in a warm, dry bed. A warm bed! Marcus was ready to leave these damp, deserted streets. He was ready to get out of the cold and the wet, and he was ready to finally allow his mind to drift off into the relaxation of the dreamworld.

"Oh, that's the same direction mine is," Terrel said slowly at his gesture, adding a moment later, "I think." This city was so confusing most of the time, and if she didn't carry a map she'd probably be completely lost all the time when going through the streets. Thankfully, the place she'd stayed at was only a half hour's walk to the library in this massive place, so moving from one place to the other wouldn't be too bad. It'd mean spending an extra hour before finally getting to rest, but small price to pay for a bath at this point. Hopefully wherever Marcus was staying would have some space open without being terribly expensive.

"Well anyway, I guess I'll check it out. I'd probably be better off for it," she said at last, sighing and willing her legs to move again as she set off in the direction that Marcus had pointed down. It wasn't long before she found herself making conversation again, despite her exhaustion.

"What was that blue candle thing anyway? I've never seen anything like it."

"It's called a Blue Candle," Marcus said, walking alongside her through puddles and side-stepping a waterfall crashing off of the roof of a smithy. "It burns cold, and it's great for freezing drinks on a hot day." The rain continued to pour down from the gray sky, and Marcus wished that he knew a more straightforward route to the inn. He didn't tell Terrel, but he was retracing his walks back from when they first left the city. They passed the potionshop, and after a second's thought, Marcus set off down another street. The Library would be coming up soon, he thought, and then it would be easy to find his way to the warm beds where sleep awaited him. Them.

"I got it when I was in Southern Hyrule," he said, speaking a little more loudly than was normal because of a rain-barrel to their left. The water gushing off the roof and into the already full casket did't leave him much choice; it was either shout or go unheard. "It was actually an accident; I was only holding it for its owner when we were separated." He cleared his throat, never having actually talked about why he was so far from home. "We were scouting out a Skultula infestation- I don't know if you have those up here, they're basically enormous spiders- when we got surrounded by a whole nest of them. The cave roof collapsed and I was stuck with a poisoned mage besides a tunnel that led into the Deeps." He shivered, but this time, it wasn't because of the cold. "The tunnels there go deep underground, far below the Western Caves. Nobody knows what's down there, and no scouting parties have ever returned to talk about them. The only light was coming from the Blue Candle, and I believed with all my heart that I would have to drag my friend down into the earth and hope for a miracle." He exhaled. "Fortunately for the both of us, he had a spell that teleported us here, right outside Castle Town. I carried him to a hospital and," he grinned, "here I am!"

He cleared his throat and looked away from his colleague. "Sorry," he said, chuckling slightly, "you didn't ask for my life story. I just..." he stared at a broken gutter to his left. "Sorry," he repeated, "must be the rain. It's supposed to affect mood, you know."

Terrel had mixed feelings about what Marcus told her. Maybe she was just kind of miserable because she was tired and wet, but she felt a bit put-off by his story. It was kind of like hearing from your friend that his brother had hit a target at 300 yards with a bow.

You knew the people, so you weren't just going to say you didn't believe it, but at the same time there was some difficulty really taking it to heart. If they asked, you'd probably say you believed them, but it just seemed ridiculous. Marcus' story? Not too different. The kid talked about Skulltullas like they were just some sort of thing that it was unfortunate to run into, like discussing finding finding a worm in your apple. She'd seen them all right, and they were hideous, monstrous creatures that made her shudder to think about for too long. Could be that the kid was just really good at telling a story without relating the emotion in it, but teleporting? She wasn't even sure if that was possible.

The woman wasn't about to call the kid a liar or anything--he probably really was telling the truth. Tales of grandeur and fantasy just felt so far removed from her life, though. Today she had gotten talked down by some book-smartass, chased a stranger around Castle Town, gotten stuck in the rain on the request of a horrible old hag, and walked back in almost total darkness while still soaking wet. A song for the ages, sung by the bards until the sun stopped shining? Not quite.

"Yeah," she simply said, playing off her own tiredness, "I've heard the rain can do that to you."

They arrived at the inn. It was three stories tall, and its walls were brick and clean. The roof extended out around ten feet from each side of the inn, creating a dry strip of land incircling the building that Marcus gladly stepped onto. He shivered, happy to be out of the wet. The name of the inn, the Cat's Cradle, was etched onto a plaque above the door. He pushed the wooden door open and stepped inside. The moment his body passed through the entryway, his clothes and hair instantly dried. He touched his tunic in some astonishment.

"Just keeping it dry in here," a large woman said, bustling up to the two of them. Her hair was brown and curled in large ringlets, and her dress was clean and professional. She checked a wooden clipboard. "Name?" She asked.

"Marcus Heilari," he said.

The woman scanned her list and nodded. "This is your last night," she said. Marcus nodded. He would have to pay more rupees after tonight. She looked up at Terrel. "Name?"

Beautiful, blessed warmth. Terrel had never been one to much appreciate magic before, but this was all right with her. Looking around the inn, she immediately felt relaxation creep over her as she realized the place was, in fact, clean. While she'd never really been one who savored neatness and organization, there was definitely something calming about it. The large, heavyset woman approached them immediately, and instinctively Terrel shrank back a bit as they were confronted. Thanks to that spell, Marcus and Terrel were now dry, but she felt more than a little self-conscious about her cleanliness in a place like this, especially compared to the other patrons she could see.

Marcus rattled off his name, and Terrel did her best to remember his last name. Had he given it before, already? She'd already forgotten. According to the woman, though, this was the kid's last night. Was he leaving Castle Town after this, or something? It wasn't like she was overly attached to the munchkin or anything, but that thought disappointed her a bit. The city was huge, and knowing no one could put a damper on your experience. He probably wanted to get home, or something, and she couldn't blame him, but she wished he were staying longer. There wasn't much to be done about it.

A moment passed, and the woman turned to Terrel, giving her a look as if to appraise her where she stood. Trying not to look terribly unhelpful, Terrel adopted a somewhat sympathetic look, responding quickly to the question, "Sorry, I don't think I'll be on your list. I was actually wondering if you'd--"

"Have a room open," the other woman finished, shifting her weight slightly as if to say 'You think I don't recognize my guests?' Terrel's cheeks gained a touch of red, and the other woman simply repeated, "Name?"

Swallowing quickly, she responded with her first name, only adding her surname a moment later with a hint of reluctance, "Terrel Strong." If the other woman thought her last name odd, though, she made no indication of it, simply flipping a sheet of paper on her clipboard and making a quick note.

"The room across the way from Mr. Heilari is open, Miss Strong. Here's the key, come find me before you sleep and we'll talk about pricing," the woman responded smoothly, easily unclipping a key from her ring and pressing it into Terrel's hand. The room number was imprinted on the side of the thing, and she took it after a moment's hesitation. Price would be discussed later? Was that a good thing or a terrible thing? Well she'd come this far.

"Right," Terrel responded with a nod. "I've gotta grab my stuff from the other place, but I should be back in an hour or so." She paused for a moment and added with reluctance, as if she were asking for the most ridiculous thing all day, "Is there any chance for a bath when I get back?"

The woman simply nodded, continually unphased, "Of course. It'll be ready for when you return."

All but overjoyed at the prospect, Terrel offered a quick thanks and a farewell to both of them before stealing into the night once to retrieve her belongings from the previous inn.

Marcus tapped his finger against his leg as Terrel vanished into the drizzling darkness. She estimated that she would return in about an hour. That should be enough time to bathe.

"Excuse me," he said to the woman, "who should I talk to if I want a bath?"

"Me," she replied. "It'll be ready in ten minutes." She made another note on her clipboard. "Anything else?"

"Uh, no." He said. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," she replied. She bustled off to a table where a group of women were cackling over their soups. He walked to the bar at the far wall, listening to the women talk over one another to place their orders. He sat down at one of the stools and waited for the barman to approach him. He asked for a water, and the blonde man pushed a glass of clear liquid across the counter at him.

He sipped his glass slowly, taking his time. It was harder than usual, though; despite his rationalization, the worry that someone else would hand in a cure before he did was still worrying. It made it hard to sit still and enjoy his water. He finished off the glass and stood, thanking the barman. It should have been about ten minutes by now. He headed up the stairs, passing by a clean-suited maid on his way up. He nodded, and she nodded back. When he got to his room, he found that there was a large bason filled with steaming water waiting for him. He relaxed in the hot water, and it was only with regret that he set to work cleaning himself.

He headed downstairs, clean and feeling much better for it, and told the woman that he was finished. She nodded and turned to speak to the same maid that he had passed on the stairs. Marcus sat at a table and awaited Terrel's return. He was tired and wanted to go to bed, but he figured that it would be rude to not see his companion off to bed. She said that she would be back in about an hour, and that wasn't too far off. He wouldn't be waiting long.