. Not open places.» «You're not in Neath proper yet, Kelandris. When you get inside, you'll see the corridors.» Kelandris stopped. «Then where are we going?» «To the River of Memory.» «What are we going to do there?» «Who knows?» said Aunt cryptically. Kelandris swore, but continued to follow Aunt along the bank of the rivulet. In time, she heard a roaring sound. Probably waterfalls, she decided. And indeed they were. As Kelandris and Aunt slipped through a narrow place in the ravine, they came face-to-face with a thundering dark waterfall that was lit from within by blue-black light. The spray of the water dampened Kel's hair. The falls themselves were comparatively low—perhaps no more than ten feet in height. Kelandris frowned. How could such low falls make so much noise? She asked Aunt. «When souls fall over the edge, they fall a great distance—morally speaking. Hence the sound.» «When what souls fall over—» «Watch,» directed Aunt, her voice crisp. The Jinnjirri healer pointed toward something bobbing up and down in the swiftly moving water. Squinting, Kelandris suddenly realized she was watching someone's head bobbing in the water. The man fell over the edge, his body lifeless. When he hit the pool below, he sank and did not rise. «What happened?» asked Kelandris, wondering if she should dive in after him. Aunt held her back. «That soul's future is of no concern to you.» «Maybe. Maybe not,» snapped Kelandris. «I'm not going to stand on this bank and quibble over my responsibility or lack of it while someone drowns.» She pulled away from Aunt. «Stop!» commanded Aunt with such force that Kelandris came to a dead halt. Aunt pointed again to the waterfall. Another head bobbed up and down. This time it was a woman. She flailed helplessly and fell over the edge as the man before had done. Unlike her predecessor, the woman did not sink. She continued to float downstream. «At least she can swim,» muttered Kelandris. «One's ability to swim is of no consequence in this river. The reason the woman did not sink is this: someone has forgiven her the thing that has made her forget herself. Someone has forgiven her the thing that has made her fall off the edge. No one has forgiven the man.» Kelandris stiffened. «That wasn't Cobeth, was it?» Aunt shook her head. «No. But Cobeth will be along.» Kelandris stared at Aunt. «What do you mean he'll be along? Where?» «There,» said Aunt, pointing to the river again. «He falls off the edge several times a day. We can wait here and watch. Kelandris said nothing. She saw what Aunt was doing; she saw only too clearly. And it angered her. If what the Jinnjirri shade said was true, then Cobeth would fall over the waterfall—and sink. It would be up to Kelandris to save him or not. Not that it really mattered, she reminded herself. After all, Cobeth was already dead. Drowning several times a day was simply anticlimactic. It was nothing to worry about. Of course, said Kelandris to herself, Cobeth had always had a terrible fear of water. Always. Kelandris winced. She turned to Aunt and asked, «What happens if don't stay and watch?» «Nothing. I go back to creating my next body and you return home to the Kaleidicopia.» «Without Zendrak.» Aunt nodded. «Can't be helped, I'm afraid. You can't save Zendrak without speaking directly to Troth and Phebene. True love is one of the few ways death can be overcome in this world.» Aunt shrugged. «You see the situation, I think.» Kelandris crossed her arms over her chest. «I don't want to forgive Cobeth for what he did.» «Fine. Don't forgive him. I don't care. You can save his life without forgiving the bastard. You can save it not because he's Cobeth, but because he's a two-legged in trouble. You nearly did that for a stranger only moments ago.» Kelandris shrugged. «Cobeth's no stranger.» «But he is a two-legged. One who is lost and drowning—» Aunt broke off. Pointing, she added, «Here he comes now.» Kelandris swallowed, anger in her throat. Cobeth was screaming for help, his terror of the water surrounding him evident. Kelandris covered her ears. Cobeth's yells penetrated her fingers. «Shit,» she said. «Shit.» Unable to ignore Cobeth's pain, Greatkin Kelandris jumped into the River of Memory as Cobeth went over the edge of the falls. Water filled her mouth, she began to cough. In horror, she realized her long robe was pulling her down. She fought for her own life as Cobeth came crashing down on top of her. As is the habit of most drowning persons, Cobeth latched on to Kelandris with a stranglehold. Kelandris started to kick him off her. She could not dislodge the Jinnjirri actor. Panic shot through her body. Unlike Cobeth, she was not dead. Summoning her will to live—the very will that Cobeth had tried to extinguish sixteen years ago—Kelandris thrashed toward the bank of the river, Cobeth clinging to her back like a barnacle. Coughing and gasping, Kelandris threw herself toward the muddy bank. Hands reached down to help her. They belonged to Troth and Phebene. Looking up, Kelandris muttered, «I've hardly saved his life, my dears. All I've really done is save my own. Surely I can't have passed the test.» Phebene laughed merrily. «Come, come, Kelandris. You could've thrown him off if you had wanted to do so. You're a Greatkin. Your strength far outstrips his. Remember, we're Greatkin, too. So you saved his soul—whether or not you want to admit it.» Troth grinned. «She's been living with two-leggeds so long, she thinks we're thick like them. How amusing.» Kelandris shut her eyes and lay in an exhausted heap on the riverbank. Cobeth crawled away from her, his mind suddenly filled with memories of his previous life. After a few moments, he said, «Where in Neath am I? What is this creepy place?» Troth's laughter boomed out across the water. Aunt, who stood on the opposite bank, joined him with laughter of her own. Kelandris was still wet when she was taken to Zendrak. Trickster's emissary stood up. He was no longer wearing green. Now he wore black, the color of the shades of Neath. She became unexpectedly shy upon seeing him. She wondered if he was angry with her that she had come to fetch him from Neath. Maybe he wanted to die, she thought suddenly. After all, he was over five centuries old. Before Kelandris could think about it further, she heard Zendrak's voice inside her head. Of course, I didn't want to die, Kel. Why would I want to leave you? Akindo had slipped into my heart, that's all. He got me once, but he won't get me again. I am indebted to you, sweetheart. So's the world. What you've done here took more courage than anyone will ever know. Now we must return to the lands of light and finish the shuffling bastard. Even now, he sucks hope and all other good things from the city. So we must hurry and save our hellos and kisses for tonight. We will attack Akindo and Hennin on the morrow. I must rest my body—assuming Troth gives me a new one. He extended his hands toward Kelandris. Kelandris took them hesitantly, expecting his fingers to be cold like the grave. To her great surprise, Zendrak's fingers and palms were warm. «How can this be?» she whispered. «Weren't you dead?» «Your love for me has brought some warmth to my veins.» He smiled reassuringly. «I know it sounds trite. But love often is on the surface. Really, nothing could be simpler than love. The desire of the heart is the strongest remedy there is. Nothing can block it. Not even Death.» «And not Mattermat!» cackled a familiar voice. It was Rimble come to join them. He looked insufferably pleased himself. Clapping Kelandris on the lower back— because that was as far as he could reach—Trickster congratulated Kelandris on passing Aunt's test. Kelandris rolled her eyes and reiterated the fact that she had not wanted to save Cobeth. She just hadn't been able to make herself throw him back into the river. «Where's the heroism in that?» she demanded. Zendrak extended his arm. As he did so, Cobeth walked into the room. This was the real article. The Jinnjirri regarded Kelandris thoughtfully. Licking his lips, he said, «I can't believe you saved my soul.» «Me neither,» she snapped, wanting to conclude her business in Neath, wanting to put her arms around Zendrak and cover him with kisses. «I appreciate it,» said Cobeth humbly. «Who cares?» «No—I really do appreciate it.» Kelandris said nothing, oddly moved by Cobeth's gratitude. She shifted her weight, hoping she wasn't losing her edge. Or her intelligence. The last thing she wanted to feel was generosity toward the man who had ruined her life in Suxonli. Cobeth regarded Kelandris steadily. «You still don't trust me, do you?» «Nope.» He shrugged. «Can't say as I blame you. I fucked things up for you pretty royally.» Before she could retort, Cobeth added, «You sure took on a lot for us in Suxonli, Kelandris. I could never have done what you did. It's a good thing you turned instead of me.» Kelandris snorted. «Now he tells me! After sixteen years!» Cobeth shrugged. «Maybe I didn't see it to tell you before now. So I'm slow, okay?» Kelandris shook her head, her expression furious. «This apology is supposed to make everything all better?» she asked Zendrak. «Do you accept this muck he's speaking?» Zendrak reached over and pulled a wet strand of dark hair out of Kel's face. Then he said, «You don't have to love who Cobeth was. You just have to let him be sorry for what he did. That's his healing, Kelandris. Surely you can grant him that.» Kelandris took a deep breath. «I don't want him doing this kind of thing again—when he next incarnates. Who will stop him if he starts to do so? Who will protect the innocent?» Rimble spoke now. «Well, actually we don't have someone to do that job. Unless you want to take it, of course,» he added, giving his daughter a bored look. Kelandris studied Trickster. «Meaning what?» Rimble shrugged. «Nah. It was a dumb idea—» «What was?» Kelandris demanded. Rimble sneered at her. «To let you be the Patron of Innocence and Purity. For one thing you've taken to wearing black again. Like you're dead or something. For Another, you don't believe in your own innocence—» «But I wasn't innocent in Suxonli!» she shouted, tears irting to her eyes. «I killed eight people. I spoke the Mythrrim called The Turn of Trickster's Daughter. I know,» added with more emotion than she wanted anyone to see or hear. «Shit!» she muttered and averted her face, tears coming to her eyes. «Perhaps you would repeat that particular verse for us, Kelandris,» said Troth, who had been standing unseen in the shadows. «Leave me alone!» she replied, her voice hoarse. Zendrak touched the back of her shoulder. «Speak it, Kel. You might discover something worth knowing.» Kelandris swore. Then she shut her eyes, turning herself over to the Mythrrim consciousness in her being. Time fell away. Words rose in her mind. She coughed and cleared her throat. Finally, Kelandris said: «Stumbling, the he lost control of Rimble's line; Eight were too few to ground Yonneth's rage. 'Twas a bad beginning for Rimble's first nine. As the minds of his circle began to cook and burn, All Suxonli was swept into the searing rogue turn Of Trickster's injured daughter.» There was a long silence. Finally, Troth said, «I don't see anywhere in that verse where it says you intentionally killed eight people, Kel.» «I was supposed to hold the line!» she cried. «The draw got away from me.» Cobeth started laughing. Kelandris stared at him. «I ought to slap your face!» Cobeth immediately sobered. «I was laughing because you're being so stupid for a Greatkin. You still don't get it, do you? You still don't understand that the draw of Suxonli was under Elder Hennin's control even at that time. What happened in Suxonli was political, Kelandris. Hennin needed you to break the rhythm of the draw so she could get it under her control. When the power got loose and pandemonium erupted at Revel Rock, Hennin was ready for it. While everyone was blaming you, she grabbed the draw. No one noticed. I didn't find out myself until the following year. Of course, I played into it by discovering you had turned on your menses. Even if you hadn't gotten your bloodcycle that night, you would've lost control of the power. It was all rigged. You didn't have a chance. You were guilty with or without a trial, Kelandris. Hennin wanted power. She knew you had an overabundant supply. She used yours to secure her own.» Cobeth shrugged. «So you see it's really stupid for you to keep thinking you killed all those people. You did—but only superficially. It was Hennin's will that caused the draw to run wild like that. You were young and untrained—she had seen to that. I know because she told me in later years when I used to go and apprentice with her in the summer. Despite the fact that you were a Greatkin, it was a fairly easy matter for her—a trained Mayanabi Nomad—to wrest control of the draw away from you.» Kelandris said nothing, her mind scrambling to make sense of all Cobeth had said. She rubbed her eyes tiredly and said, «You're saying I killed eight people, but I'm not to blame.» «He's saying it was an accident,» replied Troth. «Your part, that is. Hennin's part was deliberate, of course.» «So I'm not a murderess?» Rimble shrugged. «Not as far as the Greatkin are concerned. Especially us folks in Neath. Suxonli? Well, village laws are slow to change. And village justice is slow in coming. If I were you, daughter, I'd forget about the judgment at Suxonli.» Kelandris met Trickster's eyes evenly. «That's all very well, but you're forgetting one thing, aren't you? You're forgetting the eight people who died. Surely they would rather have lived. Surely they can't have forgiven my part in this.» Troth grinned. «Give a little, get a little.» «What?» «Let's ask them, shall we?» said the Greatkin of Death, going to stand in the shadows. He made a swift gesture with his hand several times as if he were drawing something up from the ground. In moments, the eight villagers who had participated in the fateful turn sixteen years ago in Suxonli arrived. Recognizing their faces, Kelandris stepped backward, her expression horrified. She expected them to accuse her anew of her crime. Instead, one of the dead handed her a written scroll. Kelandris took it gingerly. She opened it and stared at the words, her face paling with shock. «What's it say?» asked Zendrak. «It says that I am pardoned. In big letters,» she added. Cobeth smiled. «I'm glad, Kel. I'm really glad. It was a stupid business all the way around. Mostly you were an okay sister to have. You deserved better than what happened in Suxonli.» Zendrak tousled Kel's dark, damp hair. «How does it feel?» «How does what feel?» «To be pardoned?» Kelandris shrugged. «I don't know. I'll have to get used to it, I guess.» She paused. «It's a little like going into a wardrobe and finding out that all the clothes one wears most often have suddenly fallen apart at the seams—with no hope of repair. Makes me feel a little naked,» she added, her posture clearly uncomfortable with the idea. Zendrak smiled at her, his dark eyes kind. Kelandris turned toward the eight shades who were still standing around her in silence. Gazing at each of them, Kelandris said, «Thank you.» The shades bowed to Greatkin Kelandris and departed. There was a long silence. After a few moments, Kel asked Zendrak if he was alive or not. And if he wasn't going to get a new body, she added to Troth, would it be possible for her to remain in Neath, too? Rimble answered Kelandris. «He's about as dead as he's ever going to be. And about as alive as he's ever going to be. By this, I mean, Zendrak is mostly Greatkin. Being mostly Greatkin, Zendrak can decide if he wishes to incarnate again and in what form. And at what age.» Rimble gestured at his son. «It's up to you, see. You want to go back with Kelandris?» Zendrak nodded. «There's this little inn I know…» He wig-wagged his eyebrows. Kelandris, who had been living like a celibate for the past six months, stiffened. «Uh—are you sure? Maybe it's too soon—» Zendrak glared at Trickster's daughter. «You want me to stay in Neath? Without you?» «Well, no, but I—» Watching this exchange, Rimble broke into peals of laughter. *18* Dressed in his usual greens and Kel still in black, Zendrak and Kelandris rode back toward Speakinghast in silence. They had traveled the distance between the plane of Neath and the land of Saambolin in a matter of a few minutes. Further walked slowly in the moonlit open road that would eventually lead to the North Gate of Speakinghast, the mare's coat shining in the silver light from above the two riders. Zendrak rode with his arms snugly wrapped around Kel's waist. Feeling weary from the physical shock of having gone swimming in