Just after dawn on December 12, 1E9253, five hundred thirty-three days after Arin had had her vision, again the seven set out from the Cloister of Ilsitt, and once more women wept to see all of them go, but especially at Burel's leaving, for when he was gone, it truly would become a nunnery where no man trod, an unwelcome state for several within. Even so, these last two weeks, Burel had not pleasured any of those who had yet to speak their abstemious vows.
The demon, said some, took his desire away.
But others looked at the regard he paid to the yellow warrior and nodded to one another knowingly.
And amid tears and kisses and anguished good-byes, through the tunnel they fared-Aiko in the lead, her armor repaired, Burel following after, then Egil, Delon, Ferret, and Arin.
Once they were clear of the tunnel-and nothing untoward had occurred-then led by acolytes the camels came next: seven saddled for riding, four bearing supplies. As if remembering past terror, the animals balked at entering the confining way again, yet the handlers were adamant, and grumbling and protesting, the beasts finally went through the narrow passage.
When those also reached the far side-again with nothing of note coming to pass-then and only then did Alos venture into the dark strait, Mayam at his side, the old man moaning about his cracked ribs, though the abbess knew his words were impelled by fright. At the distant end, he peered out cautiously, trembling, and finally stepped forth, ready to bolt inward at the slightest need. But nothing appeared and so, grudgingly, Alos trudged to his camel.
Mayam stepped to each of them and murmured, "May Ilsitt favor you with her protecting hand."
She embraced Burel and kissed him one last time, then stepped back as they mounted, the camels hronking and grumbling as they stood, their long legs awkwardly levering them and their burdens upward.
When they were erect and ready to go, Mayam called out, "Each and every one of you are welcome to return as you will. Fare you well."
And amid growls of camels and cries of good-bye, the small caravan set off down the deep slot in the towering crimson stone.
CHAPTER 5 7
As they set about cleaning up the camel dung, Burel said, "I have always known that the demon and I would meet someday, for it was written. What I did not know is that Lady Aiko would be there as well." The big man smiled over at the Ryodoan, receiving a smile in return.
Ferret cocked an eyebrow. "It was written?"
Basking in Aiko's grin, Burel swung his gaze to Ferret and nodded.
"What do you mean, 'it was written'?"
"Something my mother told me before she died," replied Burel.
"Oh," said Aiko, her voice all but unheard, her smile fading.
"What is it, my Lady?" asked Burel, turning his attention again to her.
Aiko sighed. "I was hoping your mother yet lived."
"No. She died of fever when I was but ten or so."
Aiko looked down at the red stone. "My own died giving birth to me."
Burel dropped the bag he was carrying and stepped to the Ryodoan and embraced her. "I at least have my memories," he rumbled, "whereas you have none."
His arms around her, Aiko looked up at Burel as if studying his face. At long last she said, "I've never told anyone this, Bureclass="underline" I never knew my mother, but even so, I miss her."
He looked at her and wanly smiled. "As do I, Aiko. As do I."
Aiko's heart suddenly leapt, for it was the first time he had addressed her in the familiar.
"My mother is dead, too," said Ferret. "And my father. Murdered both."
She gazed back at the campsite where the others readied for the day's travel. "I wonder if any of us have parents alive."
They walked and rode all that day, pausing to take up old camel droppings they had left behind on the way in, as well as taking up any new; too, they cleaned up their own excrement old and new as well, leaving nothing behind to point to the temple in the maze. At sunset as they made camp they heard the demon horn howl, and Alos jumped and spat oaths. It sounded at midnight as well, startling the old man awake once more. "I've heard that cursed thing twice a night for the last, um, twenty, thirty days. Is it to plague me the rest of my life?" In spite of his ire, he fell instantly asleep again.
As they fared for the second day through the twisting rock canyons carved deep in the scarlet maze, the talk did turn to parents, and only Arin of them all had a dam and sire who yet lived, though not upon Mithgar but Adonar instead. All the others had died of illness or in battle or of natural causes, or had been murdered, or, in the case of Aiko, her father had died broken and disgraced, denied even the honor of committing seppuku when his daughter had been unmasked.
Upon learning this, when next they led the camels, Burel slipped an arm about Aiko and they walked along in silence.
"Well then," said Delon, after a while, striding alongside Ferai, "we'll just have to become our own family, though I'll consider you, my sweet, as but a remote tenth cousin."
Ferret looked up at him. 'Tenth cousin? But why?"
"I would not have you be close kin, for then I couldn't do this." And he paused and took her face in his hands and kissed her long and gently.
Their camels, disturbed at being stopped, emitted loud hronks.
Alos, following, broke out in a cackle.
Ferai, her heart pounding, her face reddening, drew back from the bard. But he threw his arms wide and broke out in song.
Together they tugged on their camels, the beasts growling in dismay for now, of all things, they were being asked to move again, when they had just barely gotten stopped.
And down the canyon they continued, Delon singing a heartfelt refrain shared by two other men deeply enamored, each of them oblivious to the fears of those they loved: Dara Arin, who dreaded what the oncoming decades would do to her mortal lover and how he might react; fierce Aiko, who could but barely acknowledge that she had room for love in her warrior heart; and untrusting Ferai, who'd been raped as a child.
That night, as a distant demon howl echoed through the scarlet maze, they made camp on the Island in the Sky. While they waited for the water to boil above the charcoal fire, Ferret glanced across at Burel and said, "Tell me more about these things which you say are, um, written. Just exactly what do you mean by that?"
Burel did not look up from the fire. "I will ask you this, Ferai: do you believe that you can choose your paths in life?"
Ferret poked her riding stick at the charcoal, nudging a lump to where it would catch fire. "Yes, Burel, I am totally free to do anything I so choose."
Burel shifted his ice-blue eyes away from the glow and toward her. She shivered as if from a sudden chill, but she did not look away. For a moment his gaze held hers, then he looked to the eastern night sky and pointed at the full moon shining aglance o'er the crimson maze. "If you so desired, could you step to the moon?"
Her own gaze followed his, and for a long while she did not answer. But at last she said, "Perhaps. But it would take long training in the ways of Magekind." She glanced at Burel's sword, then added, "Or in the ways of Dwarven crafting to make a ship that can sail the skies above."
Burel grunted, then said, "But you cannot step there now merely by wishing it so."
Ferret grinned and shook her head. "Alas, I cannot."
"Then there are limits to your totally free choices, eh? You cannot step to the moon, cannot fly, cannot change into a fish, cannot do countless things. They are beyond your means. That is, merely oft what you may desire is not a choice at all."
"True, Burel. Nevertheless, my will is entirely free. Of all those things within my power, I can pick and choose which to do."