Caerwyn agreed to my request that I not be bothered in the glade, and she was true to her word, although an acolyte or two accidentally found me there. For three days and nights I fasted, lost in meditation and prayer, trying to establish my link with Paladine. I did not expect to be successful, but near the end I was overcome with a tremendous feeling of inner peace and calm, especially as I thought of seeing Mythos again. Taking that as a sign, I ate a quick meal of dried fruit and bread, packed my rucksack, and headed back to wait for the barge to Amber.
*****
By the time I'd gotten back to my room, the efforts of the last few days finally took their toll. The lights were off under Mythos' door, so I made my way to my bed and slept a good half day.
Late that next morning, Biscuit answered the door, unreadable. She'd said Mythos had just returned and was asleep, but it was time for her to get up, even though I'd said I'd come back. Eventually Mythos emerged, bleary-eyed but still looking not as if he'd just lifted her head from bed. I sat down. Just as before, our conversation started cautiously -- I didn't want to say anything *wrong* -- and I think she read that, finally putting one some very colorful clothes (that left little to the imagination) and asking if I wanted to go jogging. Of course I agreed.
Jogging required two things -- specialized shoes (too comfortable was the final verdict on these) and to keep a pace somewhere between dancing and outright sprinting. One bonus was that at that pace we could still converse, and we delved into each other's worlds, talking about the little things that makes up a life. The morning wore on until we headed to the castle, famished.
*****
I stayed quiet during the discussion and watched the others, as I preferred to do, and watched the almost child-like exuberance flow from these people around me. A game was arranged to be played, provided that we find equipment, and an innocent remark about buying clothes sparked an entire afternoon with all the others. Not as I would have preferred -- I'm too old for these things -- but all things considered lately, I felt it best to go along and keep my eyes open. Besides, I was able to expand my wardrobe exponentially. When the hockey game was invented I spent most of the time keeping children from hurting themselves, others, or the furniture, but everyone seemed to have fun.
Afterwards, we had a courtesy drink with Fayne; there was one brief moment where I caught his eye looking at Mythos in a way that I did not like, but as quick as that it flashed away. I left to my room and Mythos followed, asking if I wanted to come to her quarters.
Inside, she made a very serious face and began, in halting tones, to tell me more of that part of her life she was hiding behind dark eyes. She talked of crimes and deeds done solely of her own whim, and that her soul was stained dark, and that in that, she and I were so different that she feared there was no hope for that connection we'd made to hold together. I argued that a man, or woman, walks a very narrow path in life down along the bridge of the Great Scales -- a path that moved from darkness to light and back and forth again. I told of the things I'd done that I did not like nor should have done. With more time I'd began to argue less with logic and more with the fervor inspired by the thought of losing this great spark of life, this woman who'd turned my world completely upside down. And when it was finished, I could see the cloud of darkness clear just enough from her eyes that my fears abated again.
Little did I know that this quiet respite would be short-lived.
*****
The screams woke me, one hand reaching for my blade as the other grasped at empty space in the bed beside me. Grasping my robe, I'd made it to the source of the yelling in a dozen quick steps.
Inside, Sarah slumped against the wall, pulling a blade from her shoulder. She only nodded to my asking if she would live, though her face was pale and beaded with sweat. On the floor lie Mythos, sitting on her hands and sobbing, the wails having died down. I ran to her, holding her in my arms and whispering words of comfort.
When she finally looked up at me, she blinked back tears. "I told you so..."
My response was one simple request -- to not give up until we'd found out exactly what happened. Only the smallest of nods gave me asset.
Samuel Lancaster bound her hands and we went to a more secure room; she was not much talkative, seeming only to accept the fate she'd given herself to. Caspian showed and began the magical scrying. I'd seen similar readings of one's aura back home, and when the spell took effect, one did not have to be a wielder of the mystic art to read the angry red scars there. It was a geas, or a compulsion, but this news did not brighten Mythos' spirits much. I offered words of encouragement, and she whispered back to me, though I could not understand what she said. I could only hope that trust and faith was enough to pull her -- and us -- through this. I knew I had plenty to share; my only hope is that it is enough.
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