The grass curtain falls back into place behind you. You have stepped onto a cool, smooth stone floor. The air is comfortably warm and smells of green growing things and clean salt air. It's quiet except for the soft ragged sound of somebody breathing, close by. It is almost completely dark, here -- too dark to make out the walls or the size of the room. The only light comes from a few dimly glowing coals in a firepit a little way ahead. By their slight flicker you can make out only two things -- one, that there is a large cauldron sitting directly over the firepit, and two, that there is a figure kneeling in front of that cauldron, his face bowed over it, his hands pressed to its sides.