“Why should those be our only choices?”

She nodded. “We ask questions because we want to understand. Yet knowledge can be painful. Still, despite pain, we desire knowledge because, like a sown seed, it will flourish and bear fruit if properly tended.”

It was hard to argue with such platitudes, so Marit said nothing. In truth, the woman had instructed with seemingly infinite patience and a soothing demeanor: how the horse must be groomed and the wing feathers properly cared for; that the altars were holy spaces where Guardians replenished their spirit. They could survive for long periods without entering an altar, but they would grow weak and even appear to age without water from the holy spring to strengthen them.

“Are you ready to try again?” her companion asked.

“Aui! Yes.”

They rose and set foot at the entrance to the labyrinth, Marit in front and her companion behind her with fingers brushing Marit’s left shoulder blade. Marit imagined a knife thrust up under her ribs, and shook the image away.

“What is it, Ramit?”

“Just shaking the cobwebs loose. I was never good at memorization. That’s why the Lantern’s hierophant wouldn’t take me for my apprentice year!”

She laughed, the slight pressure of her hand shifting Marit forward. “I, also. Impossible to line up one after the next. But here you need only look, and remember. Soon you will have visited all these places, and you will know them in your heart as well as with your eyes.”

Marit paced the labyrinth, speaking each turn out loud. “Needle Spire. Everfall Beacon. Stone Tor. Salt Tower. Mount Aua.” The first were easy, but soon she faltered, recalling some from her own travels and others too unfamiliar to place.

Her companion reminded her in the voice of a patient teacher. “Thunder Spire . . . Far Tumble . . .”

They twisted, now seeing onto an overcast ridge with a faint booming like an echo.

“Aui!” cried Marit, for a presence waited there, green and flowering, as ordinary as a burgeoning rice field and yet with a hidden layer of rot deep in its roots.

“Who are you?” Raising an arm, he swung like a man grabbing for and missing a thrown rope. “Eihi! Mistress! I was hoping you would walk!”

“What is it, Bevard?” asked the woman. “You are making progress gathering the troops?”

“Eiya! I got some, but now I’m pursued, my companies trampled and killed. We were ambushed at the river! They dropped fire out of the skies!”

“Come back,” she said. “The army has reached Toskala. Negotiations should now be complete. You did as you were told.”

He caught in a sob like a child reassured. Marit sheared away from his presence, not knowing why he creeped her so; she hurried on, forgetting to name the angles. Finding the spring and the mares at the center, she knelt, trembling, and gulped down the cold liquid until her throat burned.

“Sheh!” Her companion arrived, filled her bowl, and drank with polite sips.