The terrible things they'd seen had left their mark upon them both. When these cuts were mended, they would serve to make the marriage stronger, but now the arguments were growing bitter, had inflicted wounds that were still tender and sore to the touch.
"It's midafternoon," she said abruptly. "We don't have much time if we're going to make use of the daylight to aid our search. Which way do we go?"
He heard the chill in her voice, knew what she was thinking as well as if she'd said it.
"Straight ahead. We will come to a large well and, beyond that, the Temple of Mishakal."
"If it's still standing…"
"It must be," said Michael firmly. "There we will find the answers to your questions and to mine."
The remnants of what once had been a broad street took them to an open, paved courtyard. To the east stood four tall, free-standing columns that supported nothing; the building lay in ruins around them. A circular stone wall, rising four feet above the ground, had once been a well. Nikol stopped, peered down, and shrugged. She could see nothing but darkness. Michael ran his hand over the low wall.
"We used to come out of temple classes and sit on this wall and talk of our plans — how we would go forth and, with the help of the gods, change the world for the better."
"Obviously, the gods weren't listening." Nikol gazed around. "Is that the temple?" She pointed.
Now it was Michael who bit his lips on the words that would have precipitated yet another quarrel.
"Yes," he said instead. "That is the temple."
"I see IT escaped the destruction unscathed," Nikol stated, her tone bitter.
Michael walked toward the building that was so familiar — its beautiful white stone shining pure and cold — and, at the same time, so alien. Perhaps that was because he missed the sight of the other buildings, now lying in rubble; missed the crowds of people strolling about the courtyard, meeting at the well to exchange the latest news. He ascended the stairs, approached the large, ornate double doors that led into the temple. Made of gold, the doors gleamed coldly in the winter sun. Michael pushed on them.
They did not open.
He pushed again, harder. The doors remained shut fast. Stepping backward, he stared at them in perplexity.
"What's wrong?" Nikol called from her place, guarding the foot of the stairs.
The doors won't open," Michael answered.
They're barred, then. Keep a look out, will you?" Nikol climbed the stairs, studied the doors. "But they should be easy to pry apart — "
They're not barred. They couldn't be. They had no locks on them. The temple was always open… "
This is ridiculous. There must be a way inside."
Nikol shoved at the doors, leaned her shoulder against them. The temple doors did not move.
Nikol stared at them, frustrated, angry. "We have to get inside! Is there another way?"
This was the only entrance."
"I will enter, theni" She drew her sword, was about to thrust it between the doors.
Michael laid his hand upon her arm. "No, Nikol. I forbid it."
"You forbid it!" Nikol rounded on him in fury. I'm the daughter of a Knight of Solamnia! You dare to give me orders, you who are nothing but a — "
"Cleric," finished Michael. "And now not even that." He touched the holy medallion around his neck, the symbol of the goddess. He looked at the temple sadly. "She will not open her doors to me."
"Now is not the time," came a voice.
Nikol drew her sword. "Who's there?" she demanded.
"Put your weapon away, Knight's Daughter," said the voice meekly. "I mean you no harm."
A middle-aged woman dad in threadbare clothing sat at the foot of the stairs. She sat very still; the dark shadow of a broken column had hidden her from view. Perhaps that was why neither Michael nor Nikol had noticed her until now. Nikol sheathed her sword but kept her hand on the hilt. The Cataclysm had not destroyed magic-users, or so rumor had it. This seemingly harmless woman might be a wizardess in disguise.
They both descended the stairs, walking slowly, warily. Nearing her, Nikol saw the woman's face more clearly. The sorrow etched on the aged and wrinkled skin was heartbreaking. Nikol's hand slipped from her sword's hilt. Tears came to her eyes, though she had not cried in all the long months of weary journeying.
"Who are you, Mistress?" Michael asked gently, kneeling beside the woman, who had not moved from where she sat. "What is your name?"
"I have no name," said the woman quietly. "I am a mother, that is all"
Her clothes were thin. She had no cloak and was shivering in the chill twilight. Michael took his own cloak from his shoulders, wrapped it around the woman.
"You cannot stay here, Mistress," he said. "Night is coming."
"Oh, but I must stay here." She did not seem to notice the cloak. "Otherwise, how will my children know where to find me?"
Nikol knelt. Her voice, which had been so strident when she was arguing with Michael, was now soft and low and filled with compassion. "Where are your children? We'll take you to them."
There," said the woman, and she nodded toward the destroyed city.
Nikol caught her breath, looked at Michael. "She's gone mad!" she mouthed.
"How long have you been waiting here,A Mistress?" he asked.
"Since that day," she answered, and they had no need to ask which day she meant. "I have never left them. They left me, you know. They were supposed to meet me here, but they didn't come. I'll keep waiting. Someday, they will return."
Nikol brushed her hand across her eyes. Michael gazed at the woman. He was at a loss to know what to do. He couldn't leave this poor, mad creature here. She would surely die. But it was obvious that she would not go without a struggle, and the shock of that might well kill her. Perhaps, if he could draw her thoughts away from her tragedy…
"Mistress, I am a cleric of Mishakal. I have returned to the temple in search of the disks that were kept here. You said that now is not the time to enter. When will the golden doors open?"
"When the evil comes out of the well. When the blue crystal staff shines. When dark wings spread over the land. Then my children will come. Then the doors will open." The woman spoke in a dreamy voice.
"When will that be?"
"Long… long." The woman blinked dazedly. The mists of madness parted, and she seemed to return to reality. "You seek the disks? They are not in there."
"Where, then?" Michael asked eagerly.
"Some say… Palanthas," the woman murmured. "Astinus. The great library. Go to Palanthas. There you will find the answer you seek."
"Palanthas!" Michael sat back on his heels, appalled. The thought of more months of traveling, of venturing back out into the savage land, came close to driving him to the pathetic state of this pitiable woman.
But Nikol's eyes shone. "Palanthas! The High Clerist's Tower, strong bastion of the Solamnic Knights. Yes, THAT is where we will find answers. Come, Michael," she said, rising briskly to her feet. "We can get in an hour's journeying before sunset."
Michael stood reluctantly. "Are you sure you won't come with us, Mistress?"
"This is my place," she said to him, fingering the cloak. "How will they know where to find me otherwise? Thank you for this wrap, though. I will be warm now, as I wait."
He started to go, felt a strong tugging at his heart. Turning, he stared at her. Suddenly, she seemed very familiar. Perhaps he'd known her — a friend, a neighbor.
"How can I leave you?"
She smiled, a strange, sad smile. "Go with my blessing, child. Someday, you, too, will return. And when you do, I will be waiting."