She thanked him, turned to the stairs and then tried to lift the wooden blocks her legs had become up the steps. Her toes dragged as she made her feet move and she was grateful for the carpeting which saved the wooden stairs from her spikes. But then this place was for runners, shoes, spikes and all.
`Fourth door,’ she murmured to herself and pushed against a portal which opened into the most spacious bathing room she’d ever seen. And pungent with something pleasantly astringic. Nothing as grand as this even at Keroon Hold. Five tubs ranged along the back wall with curtains to separate them if one needed privacy. There were two massage tables, sturdy, padded, with shelves of oils and salves underneath. They would account for the nice smells. The room was hot and she began to sweat again, a sweat that made her nicks and scratches itch. There were changing cubicles, too, to the right of the door . . . and behind her she found over-sized towels in stacks higher than her head, and she wasn’t short. There were other cubbies holding runner pants and shirts for all weathers and the thick anklets that cushioned and warmed weary feet. She took a towel, her fingers feeling the thick, soft nap. It was as big as a blanket.
In the cubicle nearest the tubs, she shucked off her garments, automatically folding them into a neat pile. Then, looping the towel over the hook set by the side of the tub for that purpose, she eased herself into the warm water. The tub was taller than she was and she let herself down to touch a floor, a full hand of water above her head when she did. Amazing!
This was sheer luxury. She wondered how often she could draw a run to Fort Hold. The water made her scratches sting but that was nothing to the comfort it was giving her tired muscles. Swishing around in the large square tub, her hand connected with a ledge, sort of curved, a few inches below the surface. With a grin she realized that she could rest her head on it and be able to float safely. Which was exactly what she did, arms out to her sides, legs dangling. She hadn’t known bathing could be so . . . so splendid. She let every muscle in her body go limp. And lay suspended in the water.
‘Tenna?’ a woman’s voice called gently, as if not to startle the lone bather. ‘I’m Penda, Torlo’s mate. He sent me up. I’ve some herbs for the bath that’ll help those scratches. Wrong time of the Turn to fall into sticklebush.’
‘I know,’ Tenna agreed dourly. `Be glad of any help.’ Tenna didn’t really want to open her eyes or move but she politely swished herself across the water to the edge of the tub.
‘Lemme see them cuts so’s I can see didja get any punctures like. That’d be no good with the sap rising,’ Penda said. She walked quickly to the tub with a odd sideways gait, so whatever had injured her hip had happened a long time ago and she had learned to cope with it. She grinned at Tenna. ‘Pretty runner girl, you are. You give Haligon what-for next time you see him.’
‘How’ll I know him?’ Tenna asked acerbically, though she dearly wished a confrontation with the rider. ‘And why is “pretty” a help?’
‘Haligon likes pretty girls,’ and Penda gave an exaggerated wink. `We’ll see you stay about long enough to give him what-for. You might do some good.’
Tenna laughed and, at Penda’s gesture, held out her hands and turned her left arm where Penda could see it.
‘Hmmm. Mostly surface but there’s punctures on the heels of both hands,’ and she ran oddly soft fingers across Tenna’s hands, catching on three silvers so that Tenna shivered with the unpleasant sensation. ‘Soaking’ll do the most good. Loosen them up in your skin. Prolly clean ’em all out. Stickle’s a clever bush, harming you so, but this’ll help,’ she said and took a collection of bottles from the deep pocket in her apron and selected one. `Got to leave nothing to chance, ya know,’ she added as she deftly splashed about twenty drops into the tub water. ‘Don’t worry about emptying the tub, either. It’ll run clear and’ll be fresh water by the time someone else climbs in. I’ll take out the slivers when you’ve soaked. You want a rub then? Or would you rather sleep first?’