There were several bath houses located throughout the city of Deynaport. Konn walked with Sarka, carrying a bundle under one arm. As they made their way through the city, he pointed out landmarks and things of interest: the market, a park, the barracks of the city guard. Sarka made noncommittal responses when they seemed to be expected, otherwise keeping her silence.

She wondered what Konn wanted from her. She wondered why he'd left Kogoren and what had called him to serve a foreign god.

When they came upon the sprawling stone building that housed the baths, Konn pressed his bundle into Sarka's arms. "Here. Something for you to wear."

Sarka unrolled the bundle with a frown. It was a coarse brown robe and a length of plain rope, the twin of Konn's robe.

"Lovely," she said.

Konn chuckled. "The height of fashion, I assure you. I hope you do not think me presumptuous, Sarka, but I could not help but notice that your clothes are in very poor shape."

Sarka glanced up at his face and, despite herself, the corner of her mouth twitched. "Thank you, Konn," she said.

"I will avail myself of the facilities as well. Take your time, Sarka. I will wait for you near the fountain and walk back with you."

"Alright."

Sarka paid her copper. In exchange, she was given a towel and a sliver of soap. Inside the bath house, tiled paths cut through deep pools of heated water. Steam rising from the baths made the air humid. Women in various stages of undress milled about or soaked in the pools, many of them helping one another to comb their hair. Here and there, a white-robed attendant could be seen bringing a fresh towel or brushing water and soap suds off the walkways with a long, wide-headed broom.

Sarka laid the robe Konn had given her aside on a bench. She stripped off her filthy jacket and scarf. As she shed her dress, the fabric peeled away from her body like a skin. She stepped out of her boots and into one of the pools.

The water was almost unbearably hot to her sensitive, unaccustomed skin. Crossing her arms over her body to cover herself as her flesh prickled with the heat, she waded into the pool until the water lapped at her navel. The scars on her thigh were concealed, but her mangled shoulder was plain to see. She had expected to be stared at, but to her relief, everyone was focused on their own ablutions; no one had attention to spare for her.

Several minutes of industrious scrubbing later, Sarka's skin was buzzing with the effects of the bath. Her clean nails and the pink tinge to her dusky skin made her own hands look unfamiliar. Sarka closed her eyes and submerged her head. The hot water ran through her hair like fingers, soothing her irritated scalp. She came up for air and began to scrub her hair with a vengeance.

"Excuse me," someone said. Sarka opened her eyes, squinting against the sting of soap, and saw an attendant offering her a comb. The girl appeared to be grasping for something polite to say. She ended up with, "You need this."

Sarka sank back against the side of the pool and began to comb through the rat's nest of her hair. It seemed to take an hour, but it was a meditative exercise; the water lapping at her breastbone soothed her and concealed her nakedness from the others who came and went.

Finally, wringing the water from her hair, Sarka got out of the pool. She scrubbed her skin dry with the same aggression she had used for the bath, rubbed her hair with the towel until it was half-dry and frazzled, and slipped the brown robe over her head. She cinched the robe at the waist with the rope. She was lucky that she and Konn were of a similar height.

For a moment, Sarka hesitated over the pile of her old clothes. The filth from her dress had leached into the puddles on the floor. The sight of the battered walking boots divorced from her feet was surreal. She looked down at her toes, which were still red and pinched and sore.

It did not take her long to decide. She left everything behind.