The Sannyasi folded his wings tightly behind his shoulders. This will be difficult for you, but I know you will try.' His silver eyes softened. He leaned down to touch Atreus's shoulders and continued, 'And I am sorry for the grief you will feel after you leave.'
'What grief?' Yago demanded from the corner.
'You will be tormented by the memory of paradise,' the Sannyasi answered, continuing to look at Atreus. 'There is nothing I can do to ease this burden.'
'I wouldn't want you to,' said Atreus. 'Better to have the memory than nothing at all.'
'You will come to think differently.' The Sannyasi shook his head sadly, then laid his milky palm over Atreus's eyes. Now sleep. You must rest if you are to heal.'
Atreus could not have disobeyed if he wanted to. Even before the sentence was finished, the Sannyasi's dulcet voice had lulled him into a dreamless trance. Atreus's eyelids fell, his breathing slowed, and he sank into a deep, vitalizing slumber.
Atreus passed the next three days on that same sleeping pallet, staring up at the plank ceiling or gazing out through the window at an unchanging panorama of looming cliffs and forested hills. Every morning he was awakened by the sound of groaning yaks and clanging bells as the herders drove their beasts out to pasture, and every evening he was lulled to sleep by laughing voices as they returned. During the day, he occasionally heard someone talking out in the street, though his window faced the wrong way for him to see who they were. Seema came five times a day to feed him and change his bandages. Though she often lingered longer than necessary, Atreus found it difficult to make conversation, feeling at once guilty about her sacrifices on his behalf and angry with her for deceiving him about Langdarma's existence.
At Atreus's insistence, Yago and Rishi spent most of their time touring the wonders of the valley, returning each evening so weary they barely had the energy to describe their adventures. The explorations seemed to take a heavy toll on Yago especially, as Langdarma's customary fare of grains, legumes, and yak cheese were poor substitutes for charred meat and sour mead. Although the ogre could easily have supplemented his diet with a few rabbits or deer, he observed his promise to the Sannyasi and refrained from hunting anything more lively than blackberries. Rishi also seemed to honor the hospitality of their hosts, if only because the people of Langdarma lived very simply and had nothing to steal.
On the fourth day, Atreus was strong enough to move out onto a small wooden balcony overlooking the tiny hamlet where Seema made her home. From his chair, he could look out across the stone huts down to the meadows where the villagers grazed their yaks and the terraced slopes where they grew their peas and beans. A small gully curled around below the terraces, marking the boundary between the village lands and the forested slope that led down to the stone-walled fields in the basin's fertile bottomland.
Late in the afternoon, Atreus was staring out across the fields, trying to imagine where he might find the Fountain of Infinite Grace, when Seema came out and sat beside him. She was carrying no food or bandages, and her manner was unusually reserved. For a long time she simply sat there and followed his gaze across the valley until he grew — nervous and began to imagine she had somehow sensed what he was searching for.
When she finally spoke, it was without looking at him.
'Truly it is a miracle how just sitting and gazing out at Langdarma can heal one's soul. I was hoping it might also heal what has come between us.'
The comment itself did not surprise Atreus nearly so much as his reaction to it. He suddenly felt bitter and resentful, and he heard himself say, 'That is a strange thing hear from someone who tried to convince me Langdarma does not exist'
Seema recoiled from the acid in his voice, and said, 'Did you not promise the Sannyasi you would speak no angry words here?'
Atreus felt another rush of anger well up inside him but managed to bite his tongue and say nothing until it passed.
'I'm sorry,' he said finally, 'that's true, but you did tell me that Langdarma was only a myth.'
Seema's golden cheeks darkened to a tarnished bronze.
'Yes, I lied to you. I had hoped by now you would understand why.'
'I understand.' Despite his promise to the Sannyasi, Atreus could not keep the bitterness out of his voice. He touched a finger to his hideous cheek and said, 'I have understood my whole life. My mistake was in thinking you were different than people elsewhere.'
Seema looked at her hands. 'I do not know how people are elsewhere,' she said, 'but I did not lie to you because of how you look.'
' Don't insult me,' Atreus told her, then waved his hand at the lush forest below. 'Everything is beautiful in Langdarma, and I am ugly. I know why you didn't want me here.'
Now Seema's voice took on an angry edge. 'That is not so. You saw the Sannyasi's anger for yourself.'
Atreus shrugged and said, 'What's the difference? Whether you found me too ugly or simply knew the Sannyasi would, the result was the same.'
'You are not ugly. It is only that you do not belong here. The Sannyasi's concern is for your welfare and Langdarma's.'
Atreus rolled his eyes and looked toward a swarm of scarlet butterflies dancing among the white blossoms of a plum tree.
Seema stood and came to his chair. 'If you were ugly,' she asked, 'would I do this?'
Taking Atreus's cheeks in her hands, she leaned down and pressed her lips to his, and this time she was not trying to breathe for him. There was nothing friendly or modest in the kiss. Her mouth was warm and liquid and charged with ardor, and Atreus began to feel stirrings he had only dreamed of. His hands rose of their own accord and grasped her shoulders, drawing her down onto his lap. She did not resist. He pulled her close, mashing her body close to his, feeling her wonderful softness against his lumpy brawn, so lost in passion that when he heard a sudden peculiar hissing sound, he did not even recognize it as his own voice. Seema cried out and jumped out of the chair.
'Your burns!' she cried, staring down at his bandaged thighs.
Atreus blushed, realizing there was more to notice in his lap than burns. Seema paid no attention to his embarrassment. She pulled the bandages back, then winced at his torn and oozing scabs.
'We should continue this later,' she said, kissing Atreus on the cheek. 'The Sannyasi would be most displeased if I interfered with your recovery.'
'You won't,' Atreus said. His sour mood of a few minutes earlier had vanished, vanquished by the giddy astonishment Seema's kiss had stirred within his breast. 'And even if you do, I don't particularly care what the Sannyasi thinks.'
Seema's jaw started to drop in shock, then she smiled. 'I do.' She wagged a finger at Atreus and drew her chair closer, adding, 'There will be plenty of time later for Devotions.'
'Devotions?'
Now it was Seema who blushed. 'You know…'
But Atreus did not know, having learned as a young man that any sort of amorous advance would send a woman scurrying for the safety of her father's counting room.
Seema took his hand, drawing Atreus's thoughts back to the balcony. 'Perhaps it is better to wait anyway. It seems a lifetime since Tarch pulled you onto the slave barge, but it has been less than a ten-day. In truth, I hardly know you.'
'What do you want to know?'
Seema thought for a moment, then said, 'Why you are so angry with yourself.'
'Angry? I don't believe I am.'
Seema nodded and said, 'You are. I see it in this 'ugliness' you talk about. Why would you call yourself such names if you were not angry with yourself?'
Atreus scowled. 'Perhaps because that is what I learned from others.'
'Ah… so you are angry because you do not look the way they think you should, and so you cross the world, hoping that this penance will put you at peace with yourself.'
'Not exactly,' Atreus said, unsure as to whether or not she was mocking him. 'I came to find Langdarma.'
'Because someone told you it would make you handsome.' Seema smiled, faced him, and tapped his chest.
