"There is no creature alive that does not fear its mother's wrath," the Beast added without a trace of humor.
"And now Magda's dead," Ganelon said, recalling the rumors they'd heard at the mine. "That makes Inza the Wanderers' raunie. She can do what she wants."
"Bright boy!" The Beast got to his feet, and the madman he'd been perched upon crawled away along the hedge maze's border. The thicket eventually opened and swallowed him as it had Bratu.
"Actually," said the Beast as he came to Ganelon's side, "you and the gypsy make a fine pair. You're both worse Oathbreakers than anyone here. You just haven't been caught-yet."
The White Rose dismissed the loathsome crea ture with the wave of her gloved hand. "See to the cauldrons," she said. "It's getting dark."
The Beast loped off along the maze's perimeter. Every few steps, he lifted his gory necklace to his lips and spoke into one of the ears. Ganelon could scarcely imagine what it was that the Beast said. He was certain, though, that he never wanted to hear for himself.
Twilight had settled upon the hills, and the cries of the madmen wandering the maze had taken on a singsong quality. For all its discord, the sound had an underlying motif. It was a chant, Ganelon realized. The lunatics were passing the song between them. Each uttered a few words before letting it pass to the next.
The White Rose turned toward the hedge, and the wall of green opened wide to admit her. She took Ganelon by the arm. "Come," she said and led him toward the break.
He hesitated, the Rose's earlier comments about the maze still fresh in his mind. "No fear," she said. "You are safe from the labyrinth's magic so long as you stay with me." After a slight pause, she added, "Or perhaps you are already mad, and the maze will welcome you."
Ganelon sputtered a reply, but the Rose's gentle laughter drowned it out. "My apologies," she said lightly. "Too much time in the Beast's company has tainted my sense of humor. You may trust me when I say that you are safe in my company."
The hedgerow closed behind them the moment they passed through. Ganelon felt a powerful wave of vertigo wash over him as the thick bushes knit together. He looked back at the seamless wall of greenery. There was no trace of the gap where they had entered. He wasn't even certain he was facing the right direction to retrace his steps.
The hedges were thick with roses, both black and white. The flowers' fragrance was overwhelming, even stronger than in the bower. Ganelon's disorientation grew more profound. He could only keep moving if he focused on the White Rose, her firm hand on his arm and the soothing lilt to her voice.
"We are agents of a justice older than Sithicus, older even than Soth," she began. "We are here to remind the Knight of the Black Rose that such justice reaches even into those places hidden from the gods."
"I don't see what I can do to help you," Ganelon said. "I don't really understand any of this."
"That is no surprise. You've been drawn into this struggle in ways not even we could have predicted." The Rose plucked a white bloom from the hedgerow. When she spoke again, that immeasurable sadness had returned to her voice. "Epic events, like blind giants, will trample upon even the innocent unlucky enough to stumble beneath their tread."
A pale glow suffused the path ahead. It reached above the tall hedges to drive back the lowering night. As Ganelon and the Rose walked on, the air grew close. Swells of heat washed over them. A thin sheen of sweat formed on Ganelon's brow, and his lungs ached from gasping in the superheated air.
At last they turned a final corner and saw the source of the strange light and the awful heat.
There, at the labyrinth's heart, stood a pair of mammoth cauldrons. They were five times a man's height, as wide around as a mine shaft. Scaffolding surrounded them both, the ramps and platforms concealed behind an ornate latticework of gorgeous metal flowers. Even as Ganelon watched, wild elves bustled up the scaffolding of the nearest cauldron, sacks of white roses upon their backs. They emptied the bags into the pot and hurried back down. All the while, the chatter of the madmen in the maze wove together as a chant that underscored the weird rite.
The second cauldron was the root of the blasting heat. A roaring fire raged within the huge iron pot. On the ground surrounding it lay a few sacks of roses-not white or black, but red. Such flowers were impossible to grow in Sithicus. Even blooms smuggled in from Invidia or Barovia blackened within a day or two.
The White Rose gestured toward the rare blossoms. "That is how you can aid us, Ganelon," she said. "The second cauldron has been purified and stands ready. We only need flowers enough to fill it."
At the puzzled look on Ganelon's face, the White Rose merely held up the pale bloom she had plucked from the hedge. The flower merged with the white moon overhead. "We've already brought Solinari to the heavens. When Lunitari shines its crimson light upon Sithicus, Soth will stand ready to receive our sentence. But we must hurry. As we speak, soldiers from Invidia are on the march, moving into place to besiege Nedragaard Keep."
"Even if I knew where to find enough red roses to fill the pot, I couldn't carry them back here by myself." Ganelon slapped his leg brace. "I can't ride, and I'm not even certain I could walk very far."
"Oh, boo hoo," whispered a voice in his ear. The smell of the Beast's breath struck him an instant later. "Always sniveling about yourself. Well, don't think twice about it, little boy. You stay home and play with your brace. I'll take care of Helain."
Ganelon lashed out with a spinning backhand. The Beast didn't move or flinch. Casually he caught the young man's fist in one grimy paw, then pulled him close. The two were face to face as the Beast said, "It's about time." He held Ganelon there for an instant longer, orange-filmed eyes glittering with perverse delight. "Maybe you can help us after all."
The Beast shoved Ganelon away. "The deal is this," he said, stroking the food-crusted hair on his chin. "You bring us red roses, and I lift the madness from Helain's mind. You'll find a field of crimson beauties just over the Invidian border. They're a bit livelier than most flora, but you'll manage."
"Cure her first," Ganelon said. "I'll do whatever you want if you cure her first."
"You must prove yourself before we can reward you," the White Rose answered coldly.
"We traffic in justice here," the Beast chimed in, "not mercy."
"I'm not leaving here without her."
"We did not intend for you to do so," said the Rose, though the Beast seemed surprised at the news. "You will take Helain, and as many of the Beast's wards as you wish, when you make your journey. They can carry the bundles back."
"What about the elves? At least they can follow orders."
"The wild elves who tend the cauldrons are the only ones left. The rest have already taken up the quest," the White Rose said. "You have heard our offer, Ganelon. What is your answer?"
Ganelon slumped onto the ground. "What choice do I have?"
"There is always a choice," the White Rose said. For the first time, anger had crept into her voice. It was a terrible thing to hear. "You walk the path of honor or you do not."
The Beast cowered, hands covering his hideous face. A chill swept over Ganelon, not a sensation born of fear, but a palpable cold that radiated from the White Rose. It damped even the heat of the cauldron's blaze.
The anger in the Rose's voice, the fear it inspired in the Beast, did not sway Ganelon to the quest. It was love of Helain that prompted him to accept. "I'll storm Nedragaard Keep if that's what it takes to save her," he said at last.