"Where now?" asked Benito, looking at the three trails.
Erik took one look. "The narrow one. The hardest one. Mortals are not supposed to pass."
"It would be," said Manfred with a groan. Climbing a steep path in armor was pure misery.
Upward and ever upward the trail wound. Eventually they came out at a misty gray plain.
"Do we have any idea where we're going next?" asked Manfred.
"To look for the dead, I suppose," said Benito.
"We're already among them," said Erik slowly.
Benito realized that the gray mist around them was full of shifting forms, almost seen . . .
Out of the corner of his eye he could see faces. He could also see the expression of eagerness on Erik's face.
Benito took out a small crock sealed with wax from the bag he'd carried with him. He opened it and poured the contents into a dish.
"What's that?"
"Colyva. Taki insisted I bring it. He said it feeds the souls of the dead and they'd be more likely to leave us in peace." Taki had had no trouble in believing they were coming to visit the dead. The captain had stayed sober the whole trip and Benito had seen him crossing himself and fingering an amulet repeatedly.
"What is it?" Manfred looked curious and hungry enough to steal morsels off the plate set for the dead.
"Wheat, pine nuts, almonds and raisins. And pomegranate seeds. I had the merry devil getting hold of those. All soaked together in honey. Each part of it has some significance, but Taki was pretty vague about it. It's as old as Greece, he said."
"If the dead don't want it, I could use it," grumbled Manfred.
But the dead did. Kin came first. And then friends.
* * *
Erik looked for Svanhild. But she wasn't there.
He peered forward, into the distance.
Manfred looked oddly at his friend. "Erik. You remember you said you'd never leave her?"
Erik nodded. "My vow. I wish . . . I wish I had not broken it. I will doubtless go to the place of oathbreakers."
Manfred shook his head. "No," he said solemnly. "You won't. She promised the same, didn't she?"
"I think so. In her dying breath."
Manfred took a deep breath. "I think you've been looking in the wrong place. I don't think she'd come here; this place is for the people that believe in it. She's gone somewhere else. And she's waiting for you. But I think—" he added, warningly: "That if you try to get there too soon, she's going to have some sharp words for you."
* * *
"The Lord of the Dead has sent me to fetch you into his presence," said one of the shades. "But only you may come into the presence of the living Embodiment of the great Goddess. She wishes to see you, and Aidoneus cannot refuse her."
"I want to see her, too. But what about Manfred and Erik?"
"They must remain here. No harm will come to them. No harm can."
* * *
Benito walked through shadows. At length, he came to a great hall. In the middle of it, in a patch of sunlight, stood an almond tree in full blossom.
And standing in front of it were two people. Not the insubstantial shade-people of this place, but real people. One of them was Maria. Benito gave a glad cry and would have run forward, seeing her there. But something stopped him.
"I can put unimaginable distances between us should you even take one step further forward," said the stern-faced man at her side. "The avatar of the Mother, the great Goddess, She who is the earth of Corcyra wants to speak with you. Speech I will permit. Nothing more."
"I've come to fetch her. She doesn't belong here in this prison."
The Lord of the Dead shook his head. "She came willingly. She has to honor her bargain."
"Did you, Maria?" asked Benito calmly.
She nodded. "I thought you were dead, Benito. Alessia was dying. I thought I could save her and the island."
Benito grinned. "You told me I wasn't allowed to die without your permission. You think I'd dare disobey? Seriously, Maria. They tricked you into this on false pretenses. That's no bargain. A bargain takes honor on both sides, Lord of the Dead."
Maria turned to Aidoneus. "You knew he wasn't dead."
Aidoneus nodded reluctantly. "Yes. I told you: I number the living and the dead. I can see the ends of the threads of destiny. I can see his end and I can see yours. Yours is far. Further than earthly time would allow. You must be remaining here in the underworld. Our time passes differently, and does not wear out the flesh as fast."
Maria's eyes narrowed. "But when you asked if I was a willing bride, I told you that was why: Because Benito was dead. You deceived me. You cheated!"
Aidoneus was silent for a long time. Finally he spoke. "Yes. I do cheat, but only by allowing people to cheat themselves. I wanted you. Your spirit is bright and strong. Many of the brides who have come were barely able to sustain themselves, never mind sun and light and flourishing life."
"The compact is for a willing bride," said Maria. "You told me that. You asked me if I was willing. Twice! You knew that you were deceiving me. That's why you tried to stop me seeing Benito in the shadows."
The Lord of the Dead held up a hand. "You gave me three reasons for being willing." Aidoneus pointed to Benito. "He was dead. Your baby was dying. And the siege was killing your friends."
Benito's eyes narrowed. "You know that Maria is destined to live for many years. Just exactly when is Alessia's time?"
"It is some time into the future," said Aidoneus calmly. "I may not tell mortals the exact time or place of their dying. I also may not lie."
"So you cheated a second time," accused Benito.
Aidoneus nodded. "But the third reason would have been true. The weave of fates was altered by her coming here."
"So does one third of a compact make it valid?"
Maria pursed her lips. Then, rubbed her square chin. "I don't cheat, Benito. It makes it one third valid. Because I was willing for that reason."
Benito sighed. "Agreed. But that still makes you mine for one third, 'Lessi's for another. Doesn't that outweigh the other?"
Maria sat silent for a while. She looked from Benito to Aidoneus, biting her lip. "Benito. You've just come all the way to the Kingdom of the Dead for me. No one else could do something like that. But fair is fair. One third of my life is Aidoneus'. He—and Corfu—need me."
The Lord of the Dead looked at her with eyes of longing, and sadness. "I'll accept that," he said quietly. "I did cheat. But I also gave fair return."
Maria nodded. "You did. But can you accept it, Benito?"
He started to reply immediately. Always the quick-witted one, Benito was. But then—perhaps for the first time in his life—stopped to think first. Really think.
* * *
He thought for quite some time.
In the end, it was the quietly sad, longing face of Aidoneus that gave Benito his decision—and, perhaps most important, allowed him to accept it calmly. For all that the two didn't look at all similar, there was something about Aidoneus that reminded Benito of Umberto Verrier. Lonely men in middle age—insofar as that term could be applied to someone like Aidoneus—who always did their duty. Including, when the need arose, sheltering and caring for a woman that a younger and more flamboyant man had not been able to do. Or willing to do.