I turned to Sabrina. It was almost a plea for help.
"I am afraid," I said.
She stroked my arm. "You regret your bargain with our Master?"
I was unable to reply directly. "I regret the circumstances which have put us both in His power," I said. "But if it is so, I nave little choice but to do what He asks of me."
"He suggested that something you had agreed with Him would be of significance to me." She spoke carelessly, but I think she was eager to hear what had been agreed. "The bargain you struck?"
"I am attempting to regain your soul as well as my own," I said. "If I find this…this Grail, we are both free."
At first she looked at me with hope and then, almost immediately, with despair. "My soul is sold, Ulrica."
"He has promised to restore it to you. If I am successful in my Quest."
"I am moved," she said, "that you should think of me."
"I believe that I love you," I said.
She nodded. I understood from her expression that she also loved me. She said: "He has commissioned you, has He not, to seek the Cure for the World's Pain?"
"Just so."
"And the chances of your success are poor. Perhaps that Cure does not exist. Perhaps Lucifer is as desperate as we are." She paused, almost whispering: "Could Lucifer be mad?"
"Possibly," I said. "But mad or not, He owns our souls. And if there is even a little hope, I must follow it."
"I shall forget hope, for my own part." She came towards me. "I cannot afford to hope, Ulrich."
I took her in my arms. "I cannot afford not to hope," I told her. "I must take action. It is in my nature."
She accepted this.
I kissed her. My love for her was growing by the moment. I had become increasingly reluctant to leave. Yet Lucifer, sane or insane, had convinced me that our only chance to be truly together lay in my fulfilling the terms of our bargain.
I drew away from her. I contained my emotions. I looked down at the desk.
"Show me what these things are," I said to her.
She could hardly speak. Her hand trembled as she picked up the map-case and gave it to me.
"The maps are of the world, both known and unknown. There are certain areas marked on them which are not marked on ordinary maps. These are the lands which exist between Earth and Heaven, between Heaven and Hell.
"This"…she picked up a box from the desk…"is a compass, as you can see. It will lead you through the natural world as surely as any good compass can. And it will point towards the entrances and exits of those supernatural lands."
She put down the compass and pointed to the brass flask. "That contains a liquid which will restore you to energy and help heal any wounds you might sustain. The books are grimoires, so that you may summon aid if you need it. They are to be used judiciously."
"And the ring?" I asked.
She took it from the desk and placed it carefully on the second finger of my right hand.
"That is my gift to you," she said. Then she kissed the hand.
I was moved. "I have no gift for you, Sabrina."
"You must bring yourself safely back," she said. "For surely if you are dutiful in your Quest, even if you fail, our Master win allow us some time together in Hell."
She was afraid of hope. I understood her.
There were tears in her eyes. I realised that I, too, was weeping. I forced control on myself again and said unsteadily:
"The parchment? You have not told me what it is." 'The parchment is to be opened if you succeed." Her voice, too, was trembling. "It informs you how you may return to the castle. But you must not open it before you find the Cure for the World's Pain."
She leaned down and picked up a pouch from the floor. "There are provisions in this," she said, "as well as money for your journey. Your horse will carry more provisions and will await you in the courtyard when you are ready to leave."
She began to pack the maps and the other objects into the pouch. She buckled it carefully and gave it into my hands.
"What next?" I asked her.
Her smile was no longer bold, no longer challenging. It was almost shy. I smelted roses again. I touched her hair, the soft skin of her cheek.
"We have until the morning," she said.
Chapter IV
MY MOOD, UPON awakening the next morning, was peculiar. All kinds of conflicting feelings stirred within me. My love for Sabrina was coloured by the knowledge that she had helped to trap me, though I knew, too, that I had not really been trapped. Lucifer had, after all, offered me the opportunity of redeeming my immortal soul. My impressions of my brief visit to Hell were if anything stronger, and I believed almost without question that I had indeed encountered the Prince of Darkness and had accompanied Him to His domain. I had always claimed to welcome the truth; yet now, in common with most of us, I was resentful of the truth because it called upon me to take an unwelcome course of action. I longed for the grim innocence I had so recently lost.
Sabrina was still sleeping. Outside, a mist of light rain obscured the forest. I brooded upon the conversations which had taken place between myself and Sabrina, between myself and Lucifer. I sought for some saving logic, some means of questioning the import of what I had heard, and could find none. This castle, alone, convinced me. The previous night Sabrina had said: "You see the surface translated by your mortal eye. Your mortal mind could not, in normality, accept the truth. There is nothing to do in Helclass="underline" no fulfilment, no future, no hope at all. No faith in anything. Those souls who dwell there also had faith only in their own survival. And now they have lost that, also."
I had not answered her, after this. I had become absorbed hi feelings which were impossible to put into thoughts, let alone words. At one tune I had been flooded with anger and had said: "Sabrina, if all this is a deception, an enchantment in which you have conspired, I will surely return to kill you."
But my anger had disappeared even as I spoke. I knew that she did not wish me ill. My threat had been made from a habit of attitude and action which was virtually meaningless now.
I knew for certain that she loved me. And I knew that I loved her. We were like-minded in so many ways; we were equals. I could not tolerate the notion that I might lose her.
I returned to draw back the curtains and sit on the edge of the bed, looking down on Sabrina's sleeping face. She started suddenly, crying out, reaching her hand to where I had lain. I touched her cheek. "I am here."
She turned and smiled at me. Then her eyes clouded. "You are leaving?"
"I suppose that I must. Soon."
"Yes," she said, "for it is morning." She began to sit up. She sighed. "When I made my bargain with Lucifer I thought that I was resisting circumstance, taking my fate into my own hands. But circumstance continues to affect us. Can it even affect who we are? Is there any proof beyond ourselves that we are unique?"
"We feel ourselves to be unique," I said. "But a cynic sees only familiarity and similarity and would say that we are all pretty much the same."
"Is it because a cynic does not possess the imagination to distinguish those subtle differences in which you and I believe?"
"I am a cynic," I said to her. "A cynic refuses to allow distinctions of motive or of temperament."
"Oh, but you are not!" She came into my arms. "Or you would not be here."
I held her closely. "I am what I have to be at this moment," I said. "For my own sake."