“I must see that she is safe.”
The guide’s glance was honed like a weapon, cutting and sharp. “This to me she says you will ask. She already goes to Two Fingers. I shall show this to you, from her, to mark she is safe.” He opened a hand to display one of Adica’s copper bracelets. “The dogs also came safely to our halls. Now, we go.” He turned and walked away down the tunnel.
Ceramic bowls had been placed just far enough apart along the tunnel that the last glow of light from one faded into the first share of light from the next as they walked. In this way, they never quite walked in darkness and yet only at intervals in anything resembling brightness. The rock fastness smelled faintly of anise. Alain shed sand at every step. Probably he would never be rid of it all.
The tunnel emptied onto a large chamber fitted with tents of animal skins stretched over taut ropes. The chamber lay empty. A goldworker had been interrupted in the midst of her task: her tools lay spread out on a flat rock next to a necklace of surpassing fineness, a pectoral formed out of faience and shaped into two falcons, facing each other. Two looms sat unattended; one of the weavings, almost finished, boasted alternating stripes of gold, blue, black, and red. A leather worker had left half-cut work draped over a stool. A child’s wheeled cart lay discarded on the ground; a wheel had fallen off, and the toy cart listed to one side.
His guide waited patiently while Alain stared about the chamber, but at last the man indicated the mouth of a smaller tunnel. “If it pleases you.”
This second tunnel, shorter and better lit, opened into a circular chamber divided by a curtain. The guide drew the curtain aside and gestured toward a pool. He wasn’t one bit shy. He watched with interest as Alain stripped, tested the waters, and found them gloriously warm. With a sigh, Alain ducked his head completely under. Sand swirled up all around him before pouring away in a current that led out under the rock.
“You are the Hallowed One’s husband,” said the man as he handed a coarse sponge to Alain. “Are you not afraid of her fate eating you?”
“I am not afraid. I will protect her.”
The man had a complexion as dark as Liath’s, and bold, expressive eyebrows, raised now in an attitude of skepticism. “Fate is already woven. When the Shaman’s Headdress crowns the heavens, then the seven will weave. No thing can stop what befalls them then.” He touched a finger to his own lips as if to seal himself to silence. “That we may not speak of. The Cursed Ones hear all things.”
“Nothing will befall Adica,” said Alain stubbornly.