Next, he saw the pinkish glow of their burning incense. Their chanting was so low in tone, so bass, that it felt like a vibration in the stones he tread upon rather than the voices of men. Nadja led the way. Both crept upon their bellies to a high bulge of cairn stones. Gruum smelled sweat, intoxicating incense and dust. He peeked out over the stones and saw a surprising sight. A dozen men lay prostrate upon the stones. With their bodies they encircled something Gruum had not expected to see here. A pool of inky black water. As he watched, the priests continued to drone with their humanly deep voices. They quaked, their muscles taut with strain. It was as if every one of them were being stretched upon the rack. Each man was bare to the waist. Red flowing robes covered their lower bodies, and their heads were plucked clean. They lay prone with arms outstretched toward the watery hole in their midst. Frowning, Gruum dared lift his head higher for a better view. None of the men were looking toward him and they seemed preoccupied.
