As the morning dragged into a blistering afternoon, the physical toll of the pillory began to mount to agonizing levels.
The rusted iron collar rubbed the sensitive skin of Hei's neck completely raw, leaving a ring of bleeding blisters. The muscles in his shoulders burned from holding his arms suspended for hours.
The midday sun beat down upon them mercilessly, baking the cobblestones and cooking Hei in his torn tunic.
Without his hands free to move, he couldn't wipe the stinging sweat pouring into his eyes, nor could he swat away the persistent flies drawn to the dried blood and deep bruises on his face.
Beside him, Bai was faring no better. He was swaying slightly in his restraints, his face pale, his eyes closed in a grimace of pain.
"The iron... the iron binds the frail flesh," Bai murmured weakly, in a papery rasp. "But it cannot... it cannot bind the boundless mind. I am not here. I am a cloud. I am a gentle breeze over a mountain peak."
