Presently the discussion wound down and the other men left. Quaren sat quietly, lost in thought, Oriana walked over and sat next to him.
"Quaren?" He didn't seem to hear her. "Quaren!" Now he looked puzzled, as if he could hear a faint sound but could see nothing that could have made it.
Am I fading away? Oriana wondered anxiously. Maybe I'm just invisible in direct sunlight the boy was in shadow and still had trouble seeing me.
She took one of her extra veils and draped it over his head. Yes, now he seemed to be able to see something when he looked at her. She added the other veil.
He blinked and looked at her. "Do I know you?"
Oriana found herself grinding her teeth. This was not the welcome she had envisioned. After all the effort she had gone through to come find him, he ought to least to remember her. "I'm your wife," she said. She took his right hand and placed it on top of her left hand, with the dagger held between their palms.
It worked; his face cleared. "Oriana." Then he frowned. "But you're not dead. What are you doing here?"
"I came to find you," she explained, "and take you back."
"Oh." Quaren didn't seem to feel any particular enthusiasm for the idea; in fact, he looked rather blank and dazed.
Probably due to the veils, Oriana thought. Best get him out of here as quickly as possible. The legends hint at all sorts of things that can go wrong now. She tugged at his hand, and he rose obediently and allowed her to lead him back toward the shore.
This time there was no one in the woods. The walk was silent except for the rustling of their veils. It wasn't until they reached the shore that Quaren spoke.
"Of course. The river. I don't remember coming this way before, but then I'm sure I'm not supposed to."
"I remember it," Oriana said. "It's cold!"
He chuckled softly. "When you're dead, you don't feel it. By the way, how did I die? I don't remember that part either."
"Your horse fell on you. It all happened very quickly."
"Poor Oriana." He patted her shoulder gently. "It must have been a dreadful shock for you."
Oriana found that her eyes were suddenly full of tears and her throat was tight. "It was awful! I can't live without you!"
"Your heart will suddenly stop beating perhaps?" he chided gently. Oriana knew the tone well; it was the one he always used when she made a statement not fully supported by verifiable fact. He sighed. "I must not have taught you as well as I thought."
"Of course you taught me well!" Oriana protested. "How do you think I got here? Do other men's wives come here seeking them? Do you think it was easy?"
"No," he said sadly. "Not easy. Easier."
"Easier than what?" Why did he sound disappointed in her? You'd think he'd be pleased that she loved him enough to come seek him in the Shadowlands and that she had the courage and determination to find him.
"Easier than your alternatives."
"Well," Oriana mused aloud, "it probably would have been easier to stab myself but that wouldn't have brought me here, would it?"
"No!" he said quickly. "Killing yourself would leave you still bound to the world until the time you should have died." He put his other hand over hers. "Don't do that, Oriana."
Oriana thought of the spirits in the rock tunnel and shuddered. "I won't," she said definitely. "Not ever." She clung to his hand. "But I don't want to live without you!"
He smiled at that. "That's better."
"What?" Oriana realized what she had said. Don't want to instead of can't. "So my choices now are to take you back with me I can do that, can't I?"
"Yes," he said flatly. "You can. Even against my will."
"or to leave you here and go back alone." She felt her stomach clench at that thought, but forced herself to think it through. The incredibly cold river that numbs the mind, and beyond that the tunnel, and those awful spirits and I can well imagine what they'll say if I come back alone .
She contemplated the water in front of her. It was clearer here than it had been on the other side, and it glistened jewellike in the sun. The grass was a purer green than anyone alive could imagine, and each blade of it seemed to be full of energy. Oriana suddenly felt out of place, like a smudge on the page of a book, a dark spot on the landscape. The veils she wore seemed intolerably heavy and dark.
She remembered the boy she had met in the woods, and his matter-of-fact acceptance of his state. He'd rather be dead than alive did everyone in the Shadowlands feel that way?
She turned to face Quaren squarely. "You'd rather stay here than go back to life again." It was a statement, not a question, but he nodded anyway.
"Wouldn't you?"
Oriana looked at the trees, glittering brightly green in the pure otherwordly sunlight. She knew exactly what he meant; more than she had ever wanted anything in her life she wanted to stay in this bright land. But she was only a shadow here, and the light, for all its beauty, was painful to her. "I wish I could see it all properly. Why do they call it the Shadowlands when it's so bright here?"
"You'll be able to see it in time."
Oriana nodded, choking back the sob caught in her throat. "When my time comes." Even through her veils she could see rainbows as the sun caught her tears. "But that could be years and years!" she protested.
Quaren's reply was no comfort. "Yes. It could be."
"And I'd have to go through it all alone I don't want to do that!"
"Would you rather drag me back, so that I can die again, possibly of some long lingering illness which would have both of us wishing I'd stayed dead?"
"You're just afraid to go back!" she accused him.
"Not afraid," he said calmly. "I know what's back there and what's here. I died, Oriana. My place is here now. You can take me back to the outer world with you, but, now that I've been here, part of me will always remain here."
Oriana burst into tears, knowing now that what he said was true. She could take him home with her, but for the rest of their lives together she would be living with a husband who wished to be elsewhere. It certainly cast a new light on the legends. Perhaps Orfeo's loss of his wife on their journey back to the land of the living had not been a mistake after all.
It would be hard enough for her to live contentedly in the world now that she knew what lay beyond: for Quaren, knowing that he truly didn't belong among the living, it would be worse. Unhappy as she would be without him, she couldn't take him back against his wish.
"You're right," she sighed. "It's not the act of a loving spouse to drag you back." Her fingers clung convulsively to his. "But oh, I'll miss you."
"You'll know where to find me."
She forced a smile. "On the terrace, debating philosophy." She reached out with a shaking hand to pull her veils off him. "Just remember that I love you." She leaned forward to hug him convulsively with her free arm, then deliberately released him and lifted the dagger out of his hand. For a moment he glowed, even more brightly than the sun.
Then everything was gone.
It was dark, and cold, and the stone under her was hard. Gradually, as her eyes adjusted, Oriana made out her surroundings. She lay on the floor of the chapel, across the room from the bier which still held Quaren's body. Her face was wet with tears, her veils were scattered about the room as if blown by a strong wind, and Quaren's dagger was gripped tightly in her hand.
She sat up, mopped her wet face with her skirt, and walked over to the bier. Was it her imagination, or was there a peace on Quaren's face that had not been there before? She looked at the dagger she still held. Two parts of the braid around the hilt were brown; the third was a brilliant silver-blue. She smiled as she placed it between his clasped hands. Then she gathered up her veils and unlocked the door of the chapel. The priest would need to get in to prepare for the funeral.