She harrumphed. "Planning to hang around a long while then?"
Badru nodded. "As long as I need to." He held out a hand to K'lrsa. "Ready?"
"Ready." She took his hand and they walked over to the arch.
Vedhe joined them and they stepped through, hand-in-hand.
Chapter 78
There was a flash of white light as they crossed the threshold.
And then pain. More pain than K'lrsa had ever felt before.
She screamed, clutching at her temples. It was like a white-hot knife had been poked through each eye, like someone was taking her head and squeezing it between their hands until it was ready to burst, like they were shoving slivers of wood under every fingernail.
She couldn't see, could barely breathe.
"Stop!" she cried. "Please, make it stop!"
She was vaguely aware of Vedhe screaming somewhere nearby and Badru whispering comforting words as he rubbed her back, but all she cared about was the pain. She curled in on herself, rocking back and forth, the agony too much to bear.
It pulsed through her body from her head to her toes to her fingertips until there wasn't a part of her that didn't hurt. Even her hair hurt.
She whimpered, her throat too raw to scream as the pain went on and on and on.
Finally, just when she'd decided she'd rather die than endure another moment, it ended.
She lay there, gasping, her sides heaving as Vedhe continued to scream.
Every part of her throbbed with the memory of agony as she slowly pushed herself to her feet, tensed for the pain to return.
Vedhe's screams ended so suddenly K'lrsa fell forward as if she'd been pushing against some thick wall and it was suddenly gone. She knelt down by Vedhe and pulled the trembling woman into her arms, rocking her and crooning some lullaby she hadn't realized she still knew.
She looked around, trying to identify what it was that had attacked them.
They were in a small circular room with one archway before them and one behind with hallways leading off to either side. White stone everywhere—the floor, the ceiling, the walls. Full of light even though there were no windows or torches.
The Lady Moon watched them impassively from the entrance to one of the hallways.
"Why are you here?" K'lrsa asked.
But even as she asked the question, she knew the answer. Just like she knew that they were in the heart of the labyrinth, at last, and that the archway on the other side of the room led to the Promised Plains.
And she now knew the source of her pain. Knowledge, shoving its way into a mind too small to grasp it. Her "reward" for completing the labyrinth.
Images and words flashed through her mind so fast she couldn't capture them; everything was a jumble, appearing and disappearing too fast to be of any use.
She took a deep breath and turned her attention inward, searching for the hunter's version of the Core where she could center herself and put aside fear and all these unnecessary thoughts. She had to shut out images of how the Core had come to be and what the major practitioners of it had meant by the mantras and all sorts of other information that pushed forward, demanding her attention.
She didn't care about that. Not now. Maybe not ever.
She anchored her thoughts on the Lady Moon. On why she was there and what the place was and why it existed.
The Lady's daughter, the Dawn Maiden, goddess of first kisses and hope, of the eternal promise of love, had created the Hidden City—or at least its precursor—in response to the plea of a young woman, much like F'lia, who had lost the one she loved to tragedy, never able to tell him how much she cared.
The girl begged the goddess to let her see her love just one last time. To let her tell him in death what she'd never told him in life. The Maiden, foolishly, took pity on the girl and created a bridge between the world of the living and the Promised Plains.
It was a city now, but once it had been just a small clearing with a single tent.
The Maiden didn't realize what a terrible mistake she'd made until it was too late.
The young woman came, saw her love, and then refused to leave.
And why should she? When her love seemed as real and alive as he'd ever been? When they could be together day and night like she'd always wanted them to be?
The girl stayed. For days. And then weeks. And then months.
For years.
And she was happy at first. To have her love at last.
But the dead don't age.
And they can't have children.
Each year the girl grew older while her love stayed young.
She pined for the life they could never have, for children and grandchildren, to live in more than just a small clearing. The Maiden turned the tent into a city, but it still wasn't enough for the lovers. They wanted more.
The Maiden tried to fully bridge the two worlds. She, a child of immortality, couldn't see the need for death and separation. But the other gods did.
And they stopped her. Banished her to a cold, dark place, never to return.
But they couldn't undo what she'd already done. The City remained.
Eventually the woman's lover moved on to the Promised Plains. He did it to free her, to let her live the rest of her life. Instead, she chose to join him in death.
It should have ended there, but it didn't.
Others came, somehow aware of what the place was.
The dead came, waiting for the loves they'd lost too soon.
The living came, desperate for another night, another day.
Over and over again they came.
And each time it ended in tragedy.
Years of life wasted.
Those left behind by the living—children, spouses, friends—forgotten.
The pain of one death spread outward by the wounds of loss kept open for too long.
Rare were those who could come, see their loved one, and leave to face the loneliness and emptiness of living alone.
The Lady Moon watched and mourned. For her lost daughter and all the lives frozen in time, unable to move forward.
She moved the City. Hid it away in the middle of the desert and blurred all memory of its existence. Her son created the barren lands. They recruited the poorest of the Daliphana to form the tribes and protect their secrets.
As the gods discovered the mistakes they'd made in answering men's and women's wishes, they placed those weapons and powers and secrets that they couldn't destroy in the Hidden City, at the center of the labyrinth.
Only the wise ones of the tribes knew it existed. Those and the scholars who studied the ancient writings.
Or men like Aran, obsessed with power and eternal life.
K'lrsa shuddered as she turned to Badru.
He'd said he'd wait for her. That she could come back to him. That they could still be together.
But now she knew the truth of that lie. Had seen it play out a thousand times.
She wouldn't do that. She couldn’t.
She took his hand, so real, so strong. She stroked his golden-brown cheek and stared into his beautiful blue eyes.
"K'lrsa? Is everything okay?"
She turned away. "Yes. Just a lot to take in." She looked at the Lady, saw the understanding and compassion in her eyes, and hated her anyway. "I could use food. And water."
The Lady nodded, accepting K'lrsa's anger as her due. "Follow me. I can provide both."
K'lrsa took Badru's hand in hers as the Lady led them down the nearest hallway, Vedhe trailing behind.
They stepped into a room with colorful cushions arranged in a circle, much like the sitting area in her room in the Daliphate. Now she understood why. Because once the barren lands hadn't existed and the tribes and the people of the Daliphana had been one.
She shoved the new knowledge that threatened to overwhelm her away. That and her own thoughts and worries.
She didn't want to think anymore.
All she wanted was to eat.
And maybe take
a nap.
To sit next to Badru, his foot touching hers, for just a little while.
For as long as she could before duty woke her to her purpose once more.
She'd think again. Later.
Much later.
Chapter 79
They ate a delicious meal of meats swimming in gravies, cradled in hot discs of bread. K'lrsa knew to avoid the bright red one, but Vedhe made the mistake of trying it and coughed so hard everyone had to laugh. There were also soft cheeses and fresh fruits.
So many spices. Such delicious flavors.
K'lrsa hated the Daliphana, but she had to admit their food was certainly better than the plain fare of the tribes.
But not worth the cost.
She shoved the thought away as knowledge about people who'd lived so long ago no one remembered their names threatened to overwhelm her. She didn't want to think about trade and how men thought and what they valued and what they fought and died for.
"How do I make it go away?" K'lrsa asked, breathing through her nose as the knowledge pushed for her attention.
"What?" Badru asked.
"All this information." She glared at the Lady. "How do I make it go away?"
"Forever? But you just received it. How do you know you don't want it anymore?"
Vedhe shook her head. "You can't give it back. It's too valuable."
K'lrsa stared at her, her mouth hanging open in surprise. "Vedhe. How did you do that?"
"What?"
"Speak my language like you've always known it?
She tapped her skull. "It's all in here now. I can understand everything you say and tell you anything I want and not sound like a fool." She tilted her head to the side. "Your language is weird. All clicks and clacks. But now I understand. Knowledge. And you can speak my language."
K'lrsa shook her head. "No I can't."
"Yes, you can. Do you understand this?"
K'lrsa gasped. "Yes. How is that possible?"
The Lady chuckled. "Language is just another subject of study. Another form of knowledge."
"But there are things I don't know still. Aren't there?"
"Of course. You didn't last very long. Vedhe lasted longer, so she'll know more. But neither of you will keep all of it. It's too much. The longer you go without using it, the more it will fade."
"So over time we'll forget."
"Yes. Just like I'm sure you've forgotten much of what you learned as a child."
"So what's the point? Why did we go through all that if we're just going to lose it?"
The Lady stared her down with the look of a disappointed mother. "I said you'd lose most of it. Not all of it. You'll keep what you truly need. Like Vedhe." She nodded towards her. "She'll keep your language. And if you practice with her, you'll keep hers."
Vedhe smiled. "Yes. We'll practice every day."
K'lrsa tried to hide her lack of excitement at the idea. "So is that it? Is knowledge the weapon Herin brought us here to find?"
But even as she asked the question, she knew it wasn't.
Somewhere was a room. And in that room were all the weapons the gods had ever created for men that men couldn't handle. Swords that gave the bearer the power to defeat ten men at once. Stones that threw fire. Even a staff that brought water wherever it was driven into the ground.
All of these, the gods had once given men.
And all of them, men had eventually misused.
Not usually the original bearer. But at some point some man (or more rarely, woman) had turned the weapon to evil, to making the world a worse place than it had been before the weapon existed.
"When?"
The Lady shook her head. "In time."
"But how much time do we have? The tribes are surrounded. And it'll take us days to get back to them."
"You have time still."
K'lrsa glared at her. "My father said that, too. But he was a lie. I'm sure his words were as well."
"The man you saw was not your father, but he wasn't a lie. And neither was what he said."
K'lrsa looked away.
She didn't want to think about her father. About how close she'd come to seeing him again.
And then it occurred to her. "My father. Is he…Is he here somewhere? Can…Can I see him?"
But as soon as she asked the question, she wasn't sure she wanted to.
She loved her father. More than anything.
But…This would actually be her father. A man with his own opinions.
A man who might be disappointed with the choices she'd made.
Could she face that?
Could she bear to see him and know he didn't support her completely? That in his eyes she could and had made mistakes?
Before she could take it back, the Lady answered. "Yes. He wants to see you very much. But first there's another who wants to see you."
"My mother?"
"No."
"Then who?"
"You'll see."
K'lrsa set down the rest of the apple she'd been eating. She didn't have an appetite anymore.
Chapter 80
After the Lady left to get whomever it was that wanted to see her, K'lrsa started to pace the room. Who could it be?
Not her mother. Not her father.
Then, who?
G'van? Please, no.
K'var? Ugh.
Who else could it be?
The Lady returned and K'lrsa stared, trying to figure out who was behind her. She shifted to the side, but the man was shrouded in shadow.
The Lady stepped forward and revealed the man behind her.
L'ral.
K'lrsa turned away. "I don't want to speak to him."
"Please, K'lrsa. You have to listen to me."
"No. I don't."
He came to stand next to her, but she refused to look at him. "What do you want? Because I'm never going to forgive you for what you did."
"Your father already forgave me for that."
"What?" She turned to glare at him and he backed away, stumbling on a pillow.
"Your father's here. We've talked. Lots. He understands."
"Does he."
"Yes. I…" He took a deep breath, licking his lips nervously. He always had been nervous. She'd never really understood what F'lia saw in him.
She raised her chin. "You know, F'lia's pregnant."
He flinched. "Is she?"
"Mmhm."
"Who…?" He winced, trying to force the words out. "Who's the father?"
"Some older guy from the Black Horse Tribe. J'vin, I think it was."
He nodded, clearly upset.
She glared, glad she'd found a way to hurt him.
"She's why I did it, you know." He wrung his hands together.
"You killed my father for F'lia?"
He flinched. "I didn't kill him."
"Oh, I'm sorry. You led my father to his death because of F'lia?" Her words were like knives she flung at him.
He winced. "You didn't see how much she coveted those things, K'lrsa. The silks and salt. And there was this pigment—this blue color made from the shells of some sort of sea creature. She wanted it so bad. She tried to earn enough to buy it, but…It was so expensive."
"So what? You sold my dad for it?"
"No." He shook his head, no better with his words in death than he'd been in life. "I didn't know they'd kill him. I thought they just wanted to talk to him, to bring him 'round. They told me they'd give me the pigment at the annual gathering. All I had to do is let them know what people were saying."
"You did more than that."
"I know. When I told them that your father was campaigning to expel the Black Horse Tribe, they demanded I bring him to them."
"And you didn't think that was strange?"
"K'lrsa. Would you have? If you'd been me? Would you have really believed they would do that to him?"
She looked away.
"Will you please tell F'lia you saw me? And that I love her? That she could find me here if she wan
ts."
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because she's having a child, L'ral. She needs to look forward, not be stuck here with you."
His jaw worked as he looked at her, tears in his eyes. "Please, K'lrsa. I don't want to hold her here. I just want to say goodbye. Try to make her understand."
"That you brought about someone's death because she wanted pretty things? Spare her."
"Just think about it? Please."
"If I promise to think about it will you leave?"
He nodded.
"Fine. I'll think about it. Go."
He walked away, shoulders slumped.
She turned away, sick. She knew F'lia would want to know she'd seen L'ral, but she also knew that F'lia would want to see him herself. And if she did, she'd never be able to leave.
Chapter 81
K'lrsa squeezed Badru's hand so hard she knew it must hurt, but she couldn't help it and he didn't complain, as they followed the Lady down the hallway to another space, this one a grassy area with camp stools set in a circle with soft grass beneath and the sound of water running somewhere nearby like the pitter patter of children's feet. Tall trees and leafy green plants surrounded them.
She felt ill. It was too much like the place she'd been with the man who wasn't really her father. She started to leave, but when she turned around there he was, tall and proud, a soft smile on his face, his eyes more kind than she remembered.
"Dad!" She flung her arms around him, almost knocking them both over.
He laughed, the sound vibrating his chest as she clung to him, afraid to let go and lose him again.
"K'lrsa." He smiled down at her with all the pride and love she'd remembered.
"You don't hate me then?"
"Why would I hate you?"
"For lying to you about going after the Daliph."
He shook his head. "A bit disappointed that you didn't listen. But I could never hate you, K'lrsa."
She sniffed back tears. She hadn't realized until that moment how scared she'd been that he'd turn on her. She knew he'd always loved and supported her, that there'd been nothing she'd ever done that had shaken his love in her.
But in her darkest moments since he'd died, she'd wondered if he'd still feel that way if he'd known that she'd left her family behind to kill a man he'd told her not to kill.
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