'Nothing. As usual,' said the one nymph cattishly.
Renate sighed. 'If they could only talk. It's . . . it's all just a terrible misunderstanding. We all did it for the best.'
'Well, let him talk. Let him go and see her.'
Renate shook her head 'Aidoneus can see out through the shadows and together they can affect all things living and dead, but short of being in the land of the dead they can't see each other. They can't talk.'
'So let's send him there,' said the one nymph, tugging at a tangle in her hair.
Renate drew herself up. 'We don't kill.'
The nymph clicked her tongue at her. 'Oh, you don't have to be dead to go to Shadowkeep. That's the easy way. It's been done the hard way before a couple of times and by different ways, but you short-lifers have probably forgotten.'
The one nymph turned to the other, cocking her head. 'What do you think, Sister? Acheroussia?'
The first nodded. 'If the limnaiad there is willing.'
Renate sighed again. 'Well, let me at least make sure the rituals of spring still happen this year.'
'Very well. We'll ask Valdosta if he wants to visit the Lord of the Dead, and make arrangements with she of lake Acheroussia.'
Chapter 101
'It's my opinion,' said Benito stiffly, 'that even the Paulines are too lenient with witchcraft and magic. It's time they were both eliminated. I'm sorry you don't see things my way, Eneko. But I'm not going to let that stop me.'
'The Church believes we will achieve more by a degree of tolerance, Benito.'
'Tolerance is well and fine, Eneko Lopez. But tolerance doesn't mean making doormats of ourselves. The price of our tolerance is that they practice their religion within the constraints of our law and our society. If they step outside it—and if human sacrifice isn't stepping outside it then the Church, law, and society need a wake-up— I'm not going to sit back and turn a blind eye, even if you are.'
Eneko Lopez shook his head. 'I think you're allowing personal unhappiness to affect your judgement, Benito. This is not exactly 'human sacrifice.' Of course, the Church frowns on it . . .'
Benito stood up. 'You can continue to dance around this, Eneko. I'm not going to.'
He walked out, down toward the sea. Part of him longed to simply fling himself off the walls and down into it. To make an end of sorts. But . . . well, there was Alessia. She depended on him. And, right now, he depended on her. And there was work to be done.
As he was passing a street fountain, now gurgling with water—the Citadel had water, if not food—he heard someone call. He turned to see the Crenae nymph he'd followed to Alessia's rescue beckoning to him. 'Valdosta.'
'Alessia? Is she all right?'
'There are less-well-guarded crown jewels,' sniffed the nymph sarcastically. 'Anyway, you're worrying about nothing. The priestess wouldn't hurt a child, not even for her own life's sake.'
'A matter of opinion,' said Benito angrily.
'Not really,' said the nymph. 'We see deeper into the spiritual side of you humans than you can. And our sister Juliette would not allow harm to come to Alessia. Since her mother sacrificed herself for the island, we of nonhuman kind feel repayment to her child is the great Goddess's justice.'
'Good. Now, if you'll excuse me I have a poplar tree to fell. The first part of
The nymph plainly realized just which tree he was speaking about. She winced. 'Retribution won't help, Benito. And you will hurt many of those who are trying to help the child. Our kind depend on the protection of the Mother Goddess. Maria is the living embodiment of that Goddess.'
Benito shrugged. 'That's what you say. As far as I can work out, De Belmondo at best helped Maria kill herself, deprived Alessia of her mother and me of my anchor. I don't look on what I am going to do as revenge. I'd call it prevention of this ever happening again. As for the nonhumans: You're long-lived. Don't tell me this hasn't happened before. Don't tell me it was always a case of siege and starvation. You let probably miserable women do this, time and again, leaving broken hearts and spirits in their wake—for your benefit. You were content to benefit from their misery. You just let it pass. You had your chance to do something. You didn't. Now you must suffer the consequences.'
The Crenae-nymph wilted back somewhat from the sheer force of his bitterness. There was some justice in what he said. Most of Aidoneus' brides had gone to him deeply unhappy.
'If we arranged it so that you could speak to Maria . . . you could see that we and the priestess spoke the simple truth. Would that be acceptable to you? She isn't dead, Benito Valdosta. Just beyond the reach of mortals, creating life and light into the shadow world so that it may be reborn into ours.'
Benito shook his head. 'I only look stupid, nymph. I'm not gullible. You nonhumans are masters of illusions. I'd want to see, touch and be sure this was Maria, before I trusted. And then I'd bring her home.'
The nymph bit her lip. 'You could try. She—like you—doesn't belong in the Kingdom of the Dead. Aidoneus can do nothing to stop you. She is there by her choice. And while glamour may work on other people—we know it doesn't work on you. You can see us.'
'Probably because you choose to be seen. The honest truth is that I don't trust you, I certainly don't trust that priestess of yours, and I don't trust this great Goddess cult. Show me and I might change my mind. It's not likely, though.'
