Other travelers stepped aside for him and bowed. The driver of an oxcart brought it to a halt—no easy task, for the roadbed sloped steeply at that point. The guard at the north gateway saluted as the pilgrim passed through.
A few cottages stood to the right; a grove of trees to the left was clearly another of the wayfarers’ campsites. Several early bird groups were setting up tents and at least one hearth trickled smoke already. After the banquet he had eaten at noon, Edward did not expect to be hungry for several days, and his legs had found some sort of second wind—he could cheerfully have carried on walking—but the girl was flagging again and would appreciate a break. She must have come to that conclusion herself, because she turned off into the campground without hesitation.
He sensed no virtuality this time. This was not a node, but it was an attractive enough spot, well shaded and cool. Between the trees, massive flowering bushes shaped like giant puffballs displayed innumerable shades of red, from orange through almost to violet. Some of them were bigger than armchairs. Taking a second look, he wondered if each bush might be a single enormous blossom. Half a dozen moas were grazing off to the side, and he decided to go and take a look at those interesting...
A man shouted, “Eleal!” and came running forward.
Eleal screamed. She grabbed Edward's hand and hauled at him.
"Reaper!” she shrieked. “Reaper!"
Edward stayed where he was, ignoring her frantic tugging while he summed up the man who had provoked her terror. Seeing the effect he had produced, the stranger had halted, so he was no immediate danger. He was standing about twenty feet away, staring. There was nothing threatening about his appearance—he was taller than most and in his late twenties or early thirties, but he bore no visible weapon. There was a rawboned awkwardness even to the way he was standing. He wore a yellow tunic and loose pants down to his knees.
Eleal was babbling, “Reaper!” and trying to pull Edward away.
He could see no danger in the man. His expression was one of extreme distress—pain, perhaps, or fear, or any one of several things, but more suffering than any desire to cause suffering. Both ignorance of the language and the role he was playing prevented Edward from arguing with the girl, but he was much stronger than she was. Effortlessly towing her along beside him, he strode forward to take a closer look.
ACT V
ENSEMBLE
52
"IT IS THE WAY OF THE DAUGHTERS,” DOLM ACTOR SAID sadly. “Irepit is goddess of repentance."
The three of them were sitting on the ground around an empty hearth of blackened pebbles. It was a private corner of the campground, almost surrounded by cloud blossoms. Eleal was cuddling very close to D'ward, for she did not trust the former reaper.
Yet Dolm had obviously changed. His face was haggard, and he seemed much thinner than she remembered. There were gray streaks in his hair she did not recall either. His eyes were bloodshot and underlined with darkness.
"I thought you had died,” she muttered. “The sword moved by itself. I had both hands on it and Sister Ahn had one and yet it felt as if it moved by itself."
Dolm groaned and covered his face. “It did not touch me."
"I did not feel it touch you,” she admitted.
D'ward was listening intently, but she could not tell how much he understood. They were speaking Joalian, which was what she had been teaching him, and his bright blue eyes flickered back and forth as she and Dolm spoke, but he could not be catching very much of this, surely. He was still playing his pilgrim role, being very relaxed and confident. Whenever she looked at him he smiled at her reassuringly.
"Did you not hear what she said?” Dolm asked. “She took my sin upon herself and then I saw what..."
"Saw what?"
"Saw what I had become, what I had been doing."
"You really aren't a reaper anymore?"
He shook his head, not looking at her.
She glanced at D'ward. He nodded to show he understood.
"What happened at the festival?” she asked.
Dolm straightened, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.
"Disaster! Well, Uthiam won a rose for her solo."
"Praise to Tion!” Eleal clapped her hands.
"But she was the only one. I didn't get there in time, you see.” Dolm shook his head sorrowfully. “I had orders to go to Ruatvil."
"Orders?"
"Orders from Zath. When we arrived at Filoby, I left the group without telling anyone. Zath's orders override anything. I had been instructed to meet up with another ... with a colleague."
"That was the one the Kriiton man killed?"
He nodded, staring at the stones of the hearth. “I don't know his name. The next night I was at the Sacrarium. You know."
"But if you weren't killed,” she said, working it out, “then it must have been you who removed the bodies!"
Again he nodded. “I buried the nun—dug her grave with her sword and my bare hands. That seemed the least I could do. The others I dropped over the cliff. I looked for you, couldn't find you, and decided you had gone off somewhere with the Liberator.” He looked across at D'ward, who was frowning in exasperation.
"So then what happened?” Eleal demanded impatiently.
"I went to Suss,” Dolm said reluctantly. “I was too late. They presented the Varilian, because it's easier. K'linpor took my part and Golfren took his."
"Oh no!"
"Oh yes."
How awful! A yak could act better than Golfren, fine musician though he was. “So what are they doing now?"
Dolm picked up a thin twig and poked idly at the cold ashes. “Starving."
"Starving?"
"Almost. The priests in Narsh took all their money. They don't even have enough to get out of Sussvale, Eleal. And it's all my fault!"
This did not make any sense! “But you were back. Even if they didn't compete, or win, they can stage performances, surely? They're well-known in Suss! Surely people would—"
"I can't act anymore!” Dolm shouted. He put his face down on his knees, huddled in misery. “Trong fired me yesterday."
"Can't act?"
"No. I'm terrible! I forget my lines, I fall over my feet. It's all gone."
Again Eleal glanced at D'ward. He shrugged, obviously at a loss.
"So what are they doing?"
"Trying to hire a replacement for me,” Dolm said, speaking to the ground. “As soon as he's learned his lines, they'll stage the Varilian."
Eleal sighed. This was awful! “What does Yama—"
The immediate expression of agony on Dolm's face told her she was an unkind, blundering idiot.
"Do you really think I would tell her?” he said bitterly. “Or any of them?"
How strange!—she felt sorry for him now. This was a very different Dolm.
"What did you tell them?"
"That I went on a binge, drinking.” He laughed, a very hollow sound. “It's better to be thought a lush than a mass murderer."
"Oh. I won't tell them, Dolm. I know I'm nosy, but I can keep secrets if I want to."
"I know you can, Eleal. Thank you. Thank you very much. It doesn't really matter, because they won't see me again, but I'd feel happier ... Somehow."
The evening must be cooling, for she felt little goose bumps on her skin.
"Who won the gold rose?"
He shrugged. “Some pretty boy, of course."
"You didn't hear his name?"