"I realize that," replied Delon, "but so what? I mean, why not be dishonorable? Seize whatever we covet? Do as we will? If dead is dead, then in the long run it won't matter."

"Aye, in the long run it may not," said Aiko. "But in the short run it does. Honorable people may at times fear the acts of the dishonorable. Dishonorable people not only fear the acts of their own kind, but they also fear just retribution. If we all lived in dishonor, then we would all live in fear. But if all would live in honor and respect one another then all could live together in comfort, free from fear."

Delon raised a finger. "Isn't that true for the most part? I mean, we all live fairly free from fear and in reasonable comfort under the justice of the king."

"Ha!" barked Ferret. "I have no love for the king's justice."

Delon looked at her.

"I was innocent," she declared.

"Mistakes are made, luv. What I meant to say is that for the most part is it not so that people live free from fear and in comfort under the rule of kings?"

Arin set down her cup and said, "No, Delon, it is not so: remember Gudrun: was her justice free from fear? Did all live in reasonable comfort? If so, what of the thralls? Recall, she sanctions slavery, as do many rnonarchs. Indeed, I am afraid that much injustice exists in the world, kings or no. Yet that does not excuse acts of wanton selfishness. Aiko is right: we could all live in comfort and free from fear if all peoples would respect the rights of individuals, not only in the short run but in the long run as well."

"The long run?"

"Indeed, Delon. Recall, I am a Dylvana-an Elf-and age has no hold o'er me and my kind. Barring death by accident, war, disease, poison, malice, or ill fortune, eternity lies before us. And so, no matter how many seasons pass, we will always be at the beginning of our lives. Hence, looking at things in the long run is our natural bent."

"Oh, my," exclaimed Burel.

All eyes turned to him.

He shrugged. "It's just that I was thinking, if what Aiko told us of souls and rebirth is true, and if Elves live forever-barring accidents, or death from disease, or poison, or combat and such-then death and rebirth is beyond your grasp. How will you ever reach Paradise?"

Arin smiled. "Indeed, Burel, if it is true what the Ryodoan priests claim, then Elvenkind will simply have to evolve into higher states without the benefit of death."

Egil took Arin by the hand and kissed her fingers. "The evolution has already begun, love."

"Indeed it has, but how did you know?"

"It was you, love, who spoke of one who began lifting Elvenkind out of madness simply by saying, 'Let it begin with me.' "

Now Arin raised his hand to her lips and returned the kiss.

Delon sighed and looked at Aiko. "Perhaps these countrymen of yours are right, Aiko; perhaps how we live our current life will affect in what form we are reborn. If so, then I've a lot to do ere I go to my grave. -Oh, not that I've done anything truly bad, but neither have I done anything truly good."

Delon looked across at Ferret and smiled, but she did not meet his gaze.

After breakfast, while Burel and Aiko returned to their swordplay, Jasmine took the rest on a tour of the sheer-walled basin, where most of the land which wasn't rock was given over to fields and gardens-over to the growing of crops-the soil irrigated by sweet well water and enriched by worked-in dung.

"So this is why you wanted our camel droppings," said Alos. "Manure for your soil."

"Oh, did they tell you that?" asked Jasmine. "Regardless, it is true, though most of the dung we provide ourselves."

"My, my," said Delon. "Food grown in priestess droppings. Skat of the gods, I would say."

Ferret shot him a look of disgust, but smiled behind her hand.

"What do you do for meat?" asked Egil.

"We rarely have it," said Jasmine. "Over there is a pen containing fowl, mostly for their eggs, but occasionally for their meat. Wheels of cheese are more to our taste, brought in by the adherents from outside."

"I don't think I could live this way," hissed Delon to Ferret as they followed Jasmine toward the living quarters carved in the walls of stone. "I mean, I need a good roast joint now and again-a haunch of venison or beef-and a jack of rich foaming ale. And sweetmeats, oh, my, yes, sweetmeats especially. And gravies, we can't leave out the gravies. Breads, oh, yes. And…"

With Delon waxing rhapsodic about delectable foods, they walked through sparse chambers and brief corridors carved in the red rock.

"I wonder if the Drimma made this?" said Arin, as Jasmine led her and her companions sidling past cooks and helpers through a kitchen of red stone as they prepared the noon board, the largest meal of the day.

Jasmine cocked her head to one side. "Drimma?"

"Dwarves," replied the Dara.

"I think not," said Egil. "It seems sized to fit humans, not Dwarves."

"Perhaps they fashioned it to order," said Alos. "Hired by someone long past."

Jasmine shrugged and led them onward through chambers carved by unknown hands in the scarlet stone.

"Who set the charm upon the way?"

Mayam looked at Arin, puzzlement in her eyes. "Charm?"

Arin nodded. "At the Island in the Sky the start of the pathway leading here is hidden by a charm. Too, the path itself seems enspelled; with my ‹sight› I could dimly make it out."

Mayam laid down her knife and spoon. "I did not know."

Egil glanced up from his food. "If you did not know, then how is it that the Order of Ilsitt found the temple in the first place?"

The abbess turned up her hands. "Again, I do not know. Some say those fleeing were guided by the Lady Herself." Mayam tapped forefingers to thumbs, as did Burel.

"Then how does anyone else find this place?" asked Ferret. "Those who bring you supplies, for instance."

Mayam glanced at Burel, then said, "They follow the secret signs."

Now Arin looked at the abbess in puzzlement. "Secret signs?"

"Yes. Marking the way here."

"We did not see them," said Arin.

"It seems we have both learned something today," replied Mayam.

They ate in silence for long moments. But then Aiko, freshly bathed after her sword drill, said, "It is well and good to speak of these things, but we came here to find a cursed keeper of faith in a maze. If Burel is indeed such, then I would hear why you believe it to be true."

Mayam turned to Burel. The big man, also freshly bathed, swabbed a chunk of bread 'round his trencher and popped it into his mouth. He chewed a moment and then swallowed. As an acolyte replenished his cup of tea, he said, "This is the tale my mother told:

"My father was a knight in the service of the High King. As always, the realm was beset by trouble and my father had much to do. Yet in the summer season of IE9216, some thirty-seven years past, it seemed those troubles increased tenfold. Many were sent out to discover why, my father among them. Alone and in secret he went to the Isle of Kistan, his skin stained with oil of walnut-"

"What about his eyes?" asked Egil.

"His eyes?"

"Were they blue like yours? Ice-blue?"

Burel turned to Mayam. She nodded and said, "As I recall, they were indeed blue."

"Then didn't it look somewhat suspicious that someone claiming to be a Kistanian had eyes of blue?"

Delon shook his head. "No, Egil. The Rovers often take captives, women among them, whom they rape and who bear their children. Among these half-breeds, there are many Kistanians with light skin or blue eyes or both."

"Half-breed," murmured Arin. "That seems an ugly term."

"Indeed," said Burel, glowering at Delon. "I am, as you say, a half-breed myself: my dam, Eruth, was Sarainese; my sire, Sir Ulry, a Gelender."