The chill. He would have known the moment he touched her, for she had been far gone when she had talked to him. She must have sustained consciousness only with great effort, while trying to prepare him for a contest she only partly understood herself. Now that contest was over, her part was done, and she had stopped fighting.

Unless she had stopped fighting when she had seen the hvee die.

Aton kneeled for interminable moments beside her, his hand on hers, looking upon her quiet face. Was she never to know that he had not betrayed her that third time? The tears came to his own eyes as the cold crept from her hand to his, crept on into his spirit.

My love, he thought to her, my love for you is not less either. All of what you shared with the minionette before, belongs to you alone, now. My second love is greater than the first.

She lay still.

Aton bowed his head, defeated. “The price for freedom is too great,” he said.

There was an imperative knock on the door. “That’s Chthon,” Aton said to Benjamin, no longer caring whether his semi telepathy showed.

Bedside entered. He went immediately to the dying girl.

“Terminal,” he said.

Aton nodded. The last of Bedside’s riddles was becoming clear. It was Aton’s turn to make a sacrifice.

“I will pray to your god,” he said to Bedside, “if only she lives.”

Bedside nodded acceptance, “We must go immediately.”

Aton got up and slid his arms under Coquina’s numb form, lifting her into the air. He carried her to the door.

Benjamin did not move. “I think you have sold your soul,” he said.

Aton stepped into the night. The clear stars shone overhead—stars that he would not see again. “‘Hide, hide your golden light!” he quoted softly, “She sleeps! My lady sleeps! Sleeps...’”

§400

16

The caverns were quiet. There was no wind at all, and even the current in the water had disappeared. Some liquid hung in stagnant polls, too shallow to swim in. The rock formations had taken on a peculiar cast, an unnatural gray, and the grotesque shape of diverging passages repelled the eye.

Foreboding grew. This had the smell of a dead end. The once-mighty river had gradually seeped away, and the plentiful game had become scarce. Once more the party traveled hungry. Soon the lots would come into use again, unless someone volunteered by collapsing. The last of Bedside’s markers had been spotted two marches ago. If another were not found by the end of this march, they would have to retrace the trail.