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planking of the bathhouse floor. She loved the Ollfoss bathhouse with its smell of
lime and minerals, its high, airy space, and the huge stone tubs that descended in
height and water temperature from near the ceiling to close to the floor and were
worn smooth by generations of use.
Two women she vaguely recognized, Bejuoen and Terle of Ette s family, were
wringing out a coverlet. Only one more garment floated lumpily in the rinse pool;
they would be gone soon. She nodded at them, and pumped vigorously at the
wooden lever that forced hot water up from the spring and through stone pipes.
When the water was flowing, she slid the wooden stream dam over to the left and
watched while water began to flow into a shallow basin set at ankle height. She
plugged the hole in its bottom with a stopper and began stripping off her clothes,
filthy with the rich garden mud. When the basin was half-full, she pumped up some
cold water, setting the flow dam to direct it into the basin. She dropped her clothes
into the water, piece by piece, and climbed in after them.
She enjoyed trampling the heavy clothes in lukewarm water, feeling mud slide out
from between her toes. When the water began to turn reddish brown, she leaned
down and pulled the stopper free. Filling the basin again, she resumed her trampling.
She nodded good-bye to Bejuoen and Terle.
When the water stayed clear, and she could feel the fibers beneath her feet again
instead of slippery mud, she climbed out of the basin, took out the stopper, and
reset the wooden dams near the pumps. The larger basins began to fill while she
wrung out her clothes and transferred them to the laundry basin proper, to soak in
the cold, biting mineral water that seeped up from the ground beneath Ollfoss. She
would not need to use soap.
The big tub was full. Marghe diverted the hot water to a lower tub and climbed up
the short ladder toward the steam. She lowered herself in inch by inch, sighing as the
heat slid over her skin and enveloped her aching muscles.
You sound like you need that.
Marghe peered over the edge: Thenike, holding a bowl of the foul medicinal tea.
Do you want company? I could just leave this down here.
No, come on up.
After a moment Thenike came up the ladder naked, holding the bowl. She had
pinned her braid up on top of her head, and the ladder rungs threw shadows over the
tight stomach and lean slabs of muscle over her ribs. Hard muscle, soft skin, taut
sinew. Marghe wondered how that would feel. Thenike handed her the bowl. Marghe
sighed and drank it down in one long swallow. It was bitter, but it warmed her from
the inside as the bath did from the outside.
Thenijce slid into the water opposite Marghe, near the wooden tray that held soap
cakes and brushes. Ah, that feels good. She splashed hot water over her
shoulders. Marghe watched the play of muscle and shadow. I see that someone has
been digging over the south gardens. Your work?
Marghe nodded. And I ache all over to prove it.
The viajera picked up the hand brush, the one with soft bristles. If you ll come
over here, I ll rub your back. Ease some of those muscles.
Marghe sat in front of Thenike, as if they were playing the drums. Only this time,
Thenike s legs were naked alongside hers; this time, she felt Thenike s breasts
touching the skin just below her shoulder blades. This time, there was no mistaking
the slow, heavy wave of desire that rose and sank through her guts. She could not
help arching a little as Thenike stroked the brush over the small of her back. One of
Thenike s hands lay loosely on Marghe s hips, and she could feel every palm line,
every whorl, at the tips of those strong, lean fingers. Desire wrapped its arms around
her and held her still, helpless, able only to breathe.
There. You can do mine now. Thenike put both palms on Marghe s lower back
and pushed her away, through the water. Marghe s breath caught.
She made a slow turn, felt the warm water rise up over her belly and breasts. She
took the brush. Thenike was studying her.
Marghe. The vaccine you took, the poisons, the adjuvants, they would have kept
away, pushed down, your need for sex. She nodded at the empty wooden bowl.
As this gets rid of the poisons, so your need for sex returns. Marghe watched her.
The viajera s lips were very red, very soft. But I don t think you should make sex
with anyone. Not yet. Your body and your mind need to be clear, uncluttered, for
what lies ahead. Marghe? Do you understand?
Marghe felt embarrassed, stupid. She knew she was flushing. This was Thenike s
way of saying she was not interested. She nodded. I understand.
Thenike sighed. I wonder.
Chapter Twelve
« ^ »
MARGHE PUSHED THE stick into the dirt, dropped in a seed from her left hand,
and smoothed the dirt over the hole. She sneezed. She jabbed another hole, dropped
in a seed. Her hands were cold; the wind had been from the north for the last two
days and was bitter, dragging with it heavy gray cloud that shrouded the sun. At least
it was not raining.
She made another hole, dropped a seed. It missed. She put down the stick,
intending to poke the seed into the hole with her finger. Her hands were stiff and
aching; she must be colder than she thought. She sneezed again, which set her head
thumping.
Fear stabbed under her ribs. She tried to breathe steadily, and coughed. No, she
thought, it cannot possibly be. Not yet. It s only the last third of the Moon of Aches.
It should be days yet.
Not if she had not taken that missing softgel.
The pain in her head was getting worse. She levered herself to her feet. Her knees
hurt. What was it Lu Wai had said? My joints ached, knees and hips mostly& and
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