The minotaurs had left a tin cup for dipping and drinking. Rhys gave Atta water and then drank himself. The water was brackish but slaked his thirst. He glanced at the food sack, but the smell was rank and he decided he wasn’t that hungry. He hobbled back to his place against the wall and sat down.
Atta stood over him, staring at him. She nudged him with her nose.
“Sorry, girl,” Rhys said, reaching out to fondle her ears. He showed her his manacled wrists, though he knew she couldn’t understand. “I’m afraid—”
Nightshade woke with a terrified yelp. He sat bolt upright, staring around wildly. “We’re sinking!” he cried. “We’re all going to drown!”
“Nightshade,” said Rhys firmly. “You’re safe. We’re not on the ship anymore.”
It took Nightshade a while for this to penetrate. He peered about the grotto in perplexity, then looked down at his hands. He felt the weight of the manacles and heard the clank of the chains, and he let out a glad sigh.
“Whew! Prison! That’s a relief!”
Rhys could not help but smile. “Why is prison a relief?”
“It’s secure and it’s on solid ground,” said Nightshade, and he gave the stone floor a grateful pat. “Where are we?”
Rhys paused a moment, wondering how to put this, then decided the best way was just to be blunt. “I think we’re on the coast of the Blood Sea.”
Nightshade gaped at him. “The Blood Sea.”
“I think so,” said Rhys. “I can’t be sure, of course.”
“The Blood Sea,” repeated the kender. “The one on the other side of the continent?” He laid emphasis on this.
“Are there two Blood Seas?” Rhys asked.
“There might be,” said Nightshade. “You never know. Red water, the color of blood, and—”
“—the sun rising up out of it,” Rhys concluded. “All of which leads me to believe we are on the eastern coastline of Ansalon.”
“Well, I’ll be a dirty yellow dog,” breathed Nightshade. “No offense,” he added, patting Atta. He spent a few moments letting this sink in, then, sniffing the air, he saw the sack and brightened. “At least, they’re not going to starve us. Let’s see what’s for breakfast.”
He stood up, and very quickly and inadvertently sat back down. “Heavy!” he grumbled, meaning the manacles.
He tried again, standing up carefully and then sliding his feet forward, jerking at his arms to drag the iron chains along with him. He managed to reach the sack, but the effort cost him, and he had to stop to rest once he got there. Opening the sack, he peered inside.
“Salt pork.” He grimaced, adding sadly, “I hope that’s not my neighbor—the pig in the next crate. She and Atta and I got kind of friendly.” He started to reach in his hand. “Still, bacon is a pig’s destiny, I guess. Are you hungry, Rhys?”
Before he could respond, Atta began to bark.
“Someone’s out there,” warned Rhys. “Perhaps you should sit back down.”
“But they left us food to eat,” Nightshade argued. “They might be hurt if we didn’t.”
“Nightshade, please .. .”
“Oh, all right.” The kender shuffled his way back to his place by the wall and squatted down.
“Atta, quiet!” Rhys ordered. “To me!”
The dog swallowed her barks and came back to lie down beside him. She remained alert, her ears pricked, her body tensed to spring.
Mina entered the cave.
Rhys didn’t know what he had expected—Zeboim, the minotaur captain, one of the Beloved. Anything but this. He stared at her in astonishment.
She, in turn, stared at him. The light inside the small chamber had grown increasingly brighter with the rising of the sun, but still it took a while for her eyes to adjust to the grotto’s shadowy interior.
After a few moments, Mina walked over and stood gazing down at Rhys. Amber eyes regarded him intently, and she frowned.
“You are different,” she said accusingly.
Rhys shook his head. His brain was numb with exhaustion, his thought process as stumbling as the chained-up kender.
“I am afraid I do not know what you mean, Mistress—”
“Yes, you do!” Mina was angry. “Your robes are different! You were wearing orange robes decorated with roses when I saw you at that tavern, and now your robes are a dirty green. And your eyes are different.”
“My eyes are my eyes, Mistress,” said Rhys, baffled. He wondered where she’d dredged up that image of him as he had been, not as he was. “I cannot very well change them. And my robes are the robes I was wearing when we met—”
“Don’t lie to me!” Mina slapped him across the face.
“Atta, no!” Rhys seized hold of the furious dog by the ruff and dragged her bodily back from the attack.
“Do something with that mutt,” said Mina coldly, “or I’ll break its neck.”
Rhys’s cheek stung. His cheekbone ached. He held fast to the outraged dog. “Atta, go to Nightshade.”
Atta looked at him to make certain he meant it, then, her head down and her tail drooping, she slunk off to lie down beside the kender.
“I am telling you the truth, Mistress,” Rhys said quietly. “I do not lie.”
“Of course you lie,” Mina said scornfully. “Everyone lies. Gods lie. Men lie. We lie to ourselves, if there is no one else to lie to. The last time I saw you, you were wearing orange robes and you recognized me. You looked at me and I could see in your eyes that you knew all about me.”
“Mistress,” said Rhys helplessly, “that was the first time I ever saw you in my life.”
“That look isn’t in your eyes now, but it was there when we met before.” Mina’s fist clenched, her nails dug into her palms. “Tell me what you know about me!”
“All I know is you took my brother’s life and made him one of your slaves—”
“Not my slave!” Mina cried with unexpected vehemence. She glanced around guiltily, as though fearing someone might be listening. “He is not my slave. None of them are my slaves. They are followers of my lord Chemosh. Stop that blubbering, kender! What’s wrong with you? You were sniveling like that the last time I saw you!”
She rounded on Nightshade, who crouched on the floor, his eyes brimming with tears that trickled down his cheeks. He was trying to be quiet. His lips were clamped shut, but every so often a whimper would escape him.
“I can’t help it, ma’am.” Nightshade wiped his sleeve across his nose. “It’s so sad.”
“What’s so sad? If you don’t quit that, I will give you something to cry about.”
“You already have,” said Nightshade. “It’s you. You’re so sad.”
Mina laughed. “Don’t be ridiculous! I am not sad. I have everything I want. I have my lord’s love and trust, and I have power . . .”
She fell silent. Her laughter died away, and she clutched the shawl more closely around her. The air in the grotto was chill, after being out in the warmth of the sunshine. “I am not sad.”
“I don’t mean you are sad,” Nightshade faltered. He glanced at Rhys, seeking his help.
Rhys had none to give. He had no idea what the kender was talking about.
“When I look at you, I feel sad.”
“You should,” Mina said ominously. She turned back to Rhys. “Tell me, monk. Tell me the answer to the riddle.”
“What is the riddle, Mistress?” Rhys asked wearily.
Mina thought back. “The dragon seemed surprised to see me. She was not angry or furious. She was surprised. She said, ‘Who are you? Where did you come from?’ ”
Mina knelt down in front of Rhys to meet him at eye level. “That is the riddle. I cannot answer it, but you can. You know who I am.”
Rhys tried his best to explain. “Mistress, the dragon asked you the eternal riddle—the riddle all mankind asks and which none can answer. ‘Who am I? Where do I come from?’ We strive throughout our lives to understand—