Days passed and she was invited into hut after hut. She heard so many tales, not one duplicated, that she was amazed at their colourful history. The Pilanese had no system of counting, beyond the rudimentary, so it wasn’t easy to put a date or length to their histories, but it seemed old, for they often told of a time when there were few people. At every telling she was plied with sweet fruit and a fermented drink that caused her to see stars and giggle helplessly when the funny tales were rolled out. She laughed at the antics of monkeys and the mischievousness of children, and only they asked why she had come to their city. She just smiled enigmatically, and that was enough for them. A Goddess did not have to explain herself. She watched, intrigued anew, as fireflies were lured into mesh baskets with a blob of wild honey. She tried her hand at basket weaving, but was so bad at it she laughed until her sides ached, and everyone laughed with her. Never did she feel unwelcome, nor did she consider herself as a freeloader, for she too gathered fruit, and became quite proficient at catching fireflies. It rained almost incessantly and she quickly rediscovered why the Pilanese went about naked. Wet clothes were uncomfortable, chafing constantly. The second day she removed her clothes and went about in a loincloth, a gift from Emth. At first she was self-conscious, but when no one thought her strange, she revelled in the freedom. Her clothes vanished into the community. She accompanied the women to a naming ceremony and the men and boys on a hunting expedition. They hunted the large animals for their skins and the meat was left to carnivores. Pilanese did not eat meat, and it was one of the reasons they were so healthy. She watched the preparation of the hides with interest; a waterproof container was hung in the trees with a hide inside, and every hour the container was aired, and once a day five men urinated all over the hide. It was a very smelly curing process.
Every moment brought something; a child’s touch, a bright bird, a tale, a drink, a wooden bead, a joke, a new fruit, a squealing monkey, a song, and throughout it all, laughter. She found that Valaris and its problems receded, the harsh winter there a distant memory. However, try as she might, Torrullin’s image kept returning, to catch her unawares. She often thought that was the moment his thoughts turned to her, as if across space she could yet sense him. The image that nagged at her the most, however, was the one of him kneeling before his unborn son, and that image was entirely of her mind, not a connection holding over vast distances. She would distract herself by watching a rainbow or joining in a song…until the next time.
As a person, a woman, an individual, she healed inside. The friendly unselfishness of the Pilanese restored her faith in people and their good natures. They gave her strength and she silently thanked them daily. But she knew she could not stay much longer, welcome as she was. That would upset the balance of their society. This was a recharge, an interlude. This was not her life. And as the healing of the spirit came, so the healing of the heart lagged ever more…but she could not stay. Hiding was not something she admired in herself. Wistfully, she watched the young play. How she wished…and then she would laugh and determinedly shake it away, and join in with another task she was bad at and laugh along with the Pilanese. Only once did they scurry away from her, when she rounded on a young man who had approached stealthily, his curiosity agog, and his aim to touch her laser strap. Her fearful, almost violent, reaction caused them to be quietly subdued for all of five minutes. She did not explain what it was; only that it was dangerous. Afterwards she was silently amused, wondering what form that incident would take in the tale of Leath, Goddess of Water.
On the eighth day Torrullin came.
He came striding across bridges as sure-footed as if he had been born there. He was dressed in black close-fitting breeches and a long-sleeved black tunic, the woven kind he favoured, and black knee-high boots. A black cloak hung limp and wet from his shoulders and his sword bumped against his thigh as he walked. It was that slight metallic sound, an alien sound, that caused her to look up, rather than the squeals that were accompanying his arrival- the Pilanese were ever vocal about something. Her breath caught in her throat as she saw him approach, his grey eyes intently on her. She had not expected him and did not know what to feel. He was not the Torrullin of memory, but a harder Torrullin with a leaner face, hungrier, and close-cropped hair. He was wet, very wet; it had been raining all day.
Sitting under a leather awning, almost dry, she dropped her fourth attempt at basket weaving and stood slowly, pushing her damp hair from her face. She noticed the crowds on the bridges, sensed them around her, and heard their silence. It was eerie, that silence, as if they sensed confrontation or perhaps it was the presence of the fair man that had rendered them wordless for a time. He did look very different…very inspiring, and very dangerous. Of course, if there was to be a confrontation, the Pilanese would not want to miss a word, but their silence wouldn’t last long, they could not help themselves. What had they called him? He had been given the name of a God, she knew, but she hadn’t been paying attention.
She noticed the way his eyes flicked over her nakedness, the flare of his nostrils. His jaw clenched. She was gratified to realise she still had that effect on him, but suddenly she wished for her clothes, feeling more naked before him alone, than among many.
He halted a few feet from her, in the rain, and held her gaze. Rain sluiced over his face, but he did not blink. The city was silent but for the irrepressible jungle sounds. They had called him Pill. The God of Light. What a tale this would become by nightfall- a God and a Goddess among ordinary folk. This city would take on great importance in the years to come, blessed as they had been by two deities.
When he continued to stand there silent, she realised he did not know how to begin. It gave power to her, she knew, and he was aware of it, but she was feeling vulnerable without her clothes in his presence, so she said:
‘Would you lend me your cloak?’ Her voice was no more than a whisper.
For a second he was confused as if he had misheard her, and then he understood. He understood also why she had asked. It gave power to him, but he betrayed it not at all. He undid the clasp at his neck, shrugged it off, and made to bring it to her.
She whispered fiercely: ‘Don’t come closer!’ Don’t come near me or I shall be lost. ‘Just throw it here. Please.’
His cheeks became hollows of restraint and he threw it at her feet. She knelt and picked it up, swung it around her, wondering what the sudden movement of her breasts was doing to him, but not daring to look. She hugged it closed around her, her arms hidden in it, smelling him.
‘Thank you.’
I want to touch you.
Her head jerked and her eyes flew to his face. She had forgotten how he could read her thoughts. No. You made your choice. Let me be.
He continued to stand without moving. Gradually sound began to rise anew as the Pilanese realised the confrontation would not be violent. They were abuzz with questions, asking it of each other, for they dared not question their deities. The kids began shouting and jostling as was their wont.
Yes, I made a choice.
‘Go away, Enchanter. Here is nothing for you,’ Saska said aloud, her chin raised. Under his cloak she was trembling, her hands clenched.
‘You are here,’ he spoke then, and the sound of his voice sent shivers down her spine. She closed her eyes then, and when she opened them again, he was close, very close, one hand holding his sword quiet. ‘You are my choice, Saska. I made it in loving you and that did not go away. Please give me a chance to explain…’
‘Explain what?’ She refused to move back, yet trembled even more. ‘Explain that you and I began before there was even a Dark Lord? When you were Rain? That even Rain was curiously drawn to the waif-like Averroes, despite what was building between us? And do not lay that damned Valleur prophecy down as a reason for mindless fate. You made love to her despite your commitment to me at the Keep, and it had nothing to do with prophecy. No, there is your choice. If you are to be a man, live by it. And go, please.’
Torrullin did not move when she pushed at him on her last words. His eyes darkened when she snatched her hand back; she could feel his warmth even through the wetness of his tunic.
The Pilanese were still watching. A monkey swung overhead, chattering. The rain ceased then as suddenly as it could come, and the sun came out, brightening the jungle with glory. Torrullin’s eyes rose in wonder, drawn to the splendour of rainbows both gigantic and nestling between little leaves. The city transformed into a world of colour and song as the pixie people exuberantly joined in to celebrate the miracle of light. Saska’s heart filled, watching him. Despite all that had happened to him, he appreciated beauty and could lose himself in wonder like an innocent child. Unlike the Dark Lord, it was not something he sought to control; no, each tiny event was to him a gift, a miracle to be treasured.
‘Oh, Torrullin,’ she breathed, and then stepped away from him quickly.
His eyes lowered to hers immediately, darkening, responding to the emotion in hers. She could not know that the sight of the rainbows had brought to mind the pond where he had first recognised his son; for him it was like a sign, and he could nothing less than follow the road it had opened in his mind. ‘Saska…’
She shook her head. ‘No. Your son deserves all of you. I cannot stand between you. Please leave me alone.’
His eyes closed and he took a deep breath…as if coming to a vital decision. When he opened them, his eyes were so intense…it told her a truth was about to be torn from him. She shivered. ‘Saska, hear me, please. A man is the last part of who I am, but the man unfortunately makes the most mistakes. My son will have that part of me that is father, and twenty different women in my life cannot affect that. I am more than a father, however, and more than a man. Saska, I am you…and I shall forsake even my son if you ask it of me.’
‘No!’ She stared at him wild-eyed. ‘Are you mad? I would not ask that!’
He smiled grimly. ‘I know you would not ask, yet I need you to know that I would turn my back on everything Valleur…Vannis, Lycea, the Vallorinship, the bloody prophecy, and my son, for you. This you must know, now.’
‘Dear god, Torrullin, and then? You would hate me.’
He stared at her. ‘Yes. Yet I would do it.’
She swallowed, her entire body straining for him, only her mind holding her back. His eyes flickered, as aware of her as she was of him. ‘I do not ask it. Not now, not ever. Know that, now.’
‘Where does that leave us?’ he demanded. ‘I would give you everything…wealth, privacy, isolation, crowds if you prefer…a world just for you…I would make any promise, break every bond…’
She had to interrupt, or she would hit him. For thinking that was what she wanted, and for being prepared to do it. She believed every word, and it scared the hell out of her. ‘Does Vannis know how you feel?’
He was silent.
‘He does.’ She sighed. ‘You shocked him.’
A reluctant smile tugged at his lips. ‘Again.’
‘You cannot do these things, Torrullin. It would not be right. You should not even be offering this.’
‘What is right is not the issue here, Saska.’
She licked her lips, her hands clawing at the fabric of the cloak. ‘We have a destructive relationship, Enchanter,’ she said, putting space between them by using his title. ‘Maybe it is safer to stay apart…’
‘Safer?’ he said savagely.
A hot streak of pure lust shot through her. ‘Yes!’
He snatched breath, furious, and his eyes told her he knew where she was. His hands clenched tight to his scabbard to prevent himself from reaching out, consequences be damned. He forced himself to calm down, ‘Do you feel that, Saska? I do…’
‘Get away!’ she whispered roughly, desperately.
‘We are not done, you and I,’ he whispered as roughly.
She denied that truth by shaking her head, ‘There is nothing.’
‘Liar.’
Oh, god, she was going to come undone. ‘I am not committing.’
He stared at her with lifted brows, and she had to look away. The silence then was loaded between them, and when she looked back at him he was another step closer. She could feel his heat; feel his breath on her cheek…
‘Torrullin, get away from me, or I am going to run and you won’t find me again.’
He stared down at her, and then gave a nod. His eyes narrowed and he stepped away. ‘Very well; I shall say no more, for now.’
‘Thank you.’
He fingered his scabbard as if he wanted to say more despite his words to her, and then he shook his head. He looked away from her to the Pilanese, his eyes silvery and alien to them, and when he looked back at her she could see he had imposed control on himself, even if it was thread-thin and would not take much to snap. She desperately wanted to snap it, and had to find her own control then.
‘You have to return to the Dome, Saska.’
She studied him. ‘Belun told you. In the Dome. You have been to the Dome finally.’
‘Oh, yes; through the fourteenth ogive.’ His face twisted.
She paled. ‘You’re the Dragon?’ Dear Goddess, so fatadic; what chance at normality would he ever have? ‘I am sorry.’
‘One more,’ he shrugged. ‘Will you come?’
‘Final Days?’
‘It seems so.’
Clutching at his cloak, smelling him, wanting him, she looked out from under the awning to the singing, laughing and chattering Pilanese. Her eyes followed the path of a flock of parrots and rested on a rainbow. The interlude was over. It was time to leave. As a Goddess she did not have to explain her abrupt arrival, or her abrupt departure, but her heart constricted at the happy innocence around her, at having to leave it, and leave without explaining…they were the lucky ones. In their believed isolation they did not have to grapple with all the ugliness out there. Universal answers were not debated here and could not cause strife, for they could not conceive of the questions.
It was not over; he was right. Every moment in his presence was a fight to stay away from him. He would forsake his son for her, sweet god. She would not ever want him to do that, but it proved how much of an obsession they had for each other. And if she returned to him, then one day she would find herself in this hell of pain again. It was the nature of their relationship. Intense, hurtful, dangerous…and that was the fire.
She looked at him, knowing he could see, locking onto those silvery orbs. ‘Go away.’
He smiled.
She looked away. ‘I shall come to the Dome, but I have to stop for clothes.’
He wanted to say something, and then thought better of it. He wanted to stop for clothes with her, and knew she would not resist the instant he touched her. But it was too soon to make that kind of advance; if they were to have a chance, he would have to exercise patience. He was not a patient man.
He said something else: ‘Is this the kind of place you would be happy in, Saska?’
She stared at him. ‘Could you live like this?’
‘No.’
She was furious then. ‘Too innocent, Enchanter?’
He stared deep into her eyes. ‘Too wet, my love. Too unchanging. You would not be happy here either; you and I, we need change all the time.’
She swallowed. He knew her. ‘Perhaps.’
His hand was at her cheek, and the fingers curled as if about to twist into her hair. She could see the intent in his eyes, the desire to pull her close, to lock his mouth onto hers, to take, to pillage every defence…she strained towards him…and then he swore and dropped his hand. Another time. ‘In the Dome, then.’ He stepped back swiftly and turned and a moment later had vanished to shouts of ‘Pill! Pill!’ as the Pilanese chanted and clapped their hands in rhythm.
She was shaking. She would not have stopped him, she knew. In fact, she was furious he had drawn back. And then she smiled. Sometime she would tell him that here he was the God of Light, as he was to others out there. She allowed the cloak to fall open then, but only so far as to reveal her breasts- which told every Pilanese near enough to see how aroused she was- and raised her hands. When she had a measure of quiet, she said simply: ‘Thank you, people of Pilan, for your welcome and hospitality. It is time for me to leave…’ My God has called me. ‘…but one day I shall return.’
To nods and clapping, shouts and whistles, to ‘Leath! Leath!’ and squealing monkeys, squawking parrots, and with rainbows in her eyes, Saska turned and vanished. She would return, one day.
What a tale the Pilanese now had to pass from generation to generation…how the God of Light had summoned the Goddess of Water, and how they had been witness to it.
Every moment brought something; a child’s touch, a bright bird, a tale, a drink, a wooden bead, a joke, a new fruit, a squealing monkey, a song, and throughout it all, laughter. She found that Valaris and its problems receded, the harsh winter there a distant memory. However, try as she might, Torrullin’s image kept returning, to catch her unawares. She often thought that was the moment his thoughts turned to her, as if across space she could yet sense him. The image that nagged at her the most, however, was the one of him kneeling before his unborn son, and that image was entirely of her mind, not a connection holding over vast distances. She would distract herself by watching a rainbow or joining in a song…until the next time.
As a person, a woman, an individual, she healed inside. The friendly unselfishness of the Pilanese restored her faith in people and their good natures. They gave her strength and she silently thanked them daily. But she knew she could not stay much longer, welcome as she was. That would upset the balance of their society. This was a recharge, an interlude. This was not her life. And as the healing of the spirit came, so the healing of the heart lagged ever more…but she could not stay. Hiding was not something she admired in herself. Wistfully, she watched the young play. How she wished…and then she would laugh and determinedly shake it away, and join in with another task she was bad at and laugh along with the Pilanese. Only once did they scurry away from her, when she rounded on a young man who had approached stealthily, his curiosity agog, and his aim to touch her laser strap. Her fearful, almost violent, reaction caused them to be quietly subdued for all of five minutes. She did not explain what it was; only that it was dangerous. Afterwards she was silently amused, wondering what form that incident would take in the tale of Leath, Goddess of Water.
On the eighth day Torrullin came.
He came striding across bridges as sure-footed as if he had been born there. He was dressed in black close-fitting breeches and a long-sleeved black tunic, the woven kind he favoured, and black knee-high boots. A black cloak hung limp and wet from his shoulders and his sword bumped against his thigh as he walked. It was that slight metallic sound, an alien sound, that caused her to look up, rather than the squeals that were accompanying his arrival- the Pilanese were ever vocal about something. Her breath caught in her throat as she saw him approach, his grey eyes intently on her. She had not expected him and did not know what to feel. He was not the Torrullin of memory, but a harder Torrullin with a leaner face, hungrier, and close-cropped hair. He was wet, very wet; it had been raining all day.
Sitting under a leather awning, almost dry, she dropped her fourth attempt at basket weaving and stood slowly, pushing her damp hair from her face. She noticed the crowds on the bridges, sensed them around her, and heard their silence. It was eerie, that silence, as if they sensed confrontation or perhaps it was the presence of the fair man that had rendered them wordless for a time. He did look very different…very inspiring, and very dangerous. Of course, if there was to be a confrontation, the Pilanese would not want to miss a word, but their silence wouldn’t last long, they could not help themselves. What had they called him? He had been given the name of a God, she knew, but she hadn’t been paying attention.
She noticed the way his eyes flicked over her nakedness, the flare of his nostrils. His jaw clenched. She was gratified to realise she still had that effect on him, but suddenly she wished for her clothes, feeling more naked before him alone, than among many.
He halted a few feet from her, in the rain, and held her gaze. Rain sluiced over his face, but he did not blink. The city was silent but for the irrepressible jungle sounds. They had called him Pill. The God of Light. What a tale this would become by nightfall- a God and a Goddess among ordinary folk. This city would take on great importance in the years to come, blessed as they had been by two deities.
When he continued to stand there silent, she realised he did not know how to begin. It gave power to her, she knew, and he was aware of it, but she was feeling vulnerable without her clothes in his presence, so she said:
‘Would you lend me your cloak?’ Her voice was no more than a whisper.
For a second he was confused as if he had misheard her, and then he understood. He understood also why she had asked. It gave power to him, but he betrayed it not at all. He undid the clasp at his neck, shrugged it off, and made to bring it to her.
She whispered fiercely: ‘Don’t come closer!’ Don’t come near me or I shall be lost. ‘Just throw it here. Please.’
His cheeks became hollows of restraint and he threw it at her feet. She knelt and picked it up, swung it around her, wondering what the sudden movement of her breasts was doing to him, but not daring to look. She hugged it closed around her, her arms hidden in it, smelling him.
‘Thank you.’
I want to touch you.
Her head jerked and her eyes flew to his face. She had forgotten how he could read her thoughts. No. You made your choice. Let me be.
He continued to stand without moving. Gradually sound began to rise anew as the Pilanese realised the confrontation would not be violent. They were abuzz with questions, asking it of each other, for they dared not question their deities. The kids began shouting and jostling as was their wont.
Yes, I made a choice.
‘Go away, Enchanter. Here is nothing for you,’ Saska said aloud, her chin raised. Under his cloak she was trembling, her hands clenched.
‘You are here,’ he spoke then, and the sound of his voice sent shivers down her spine. She closed her eyes then, and when she opened them again, he was close, very close, one hand holding his sword quiet. ‘You are my choice, Saska. I made it in loving you and that did not go away. Please give me a chance to explain…’
‘Explain what?’ She refused to move back, yet trembled even more. ‘Explain that you and I began before there was even a Dark Lord? When you were Rain? That even Rain was curiously drawn to the waif-like Averroes, despite what was building between us? And do not lay that damned Valleur prophecy down as a reason for mindless fate. You made love to her despite your commitment to me at the Keep, and it had nothing to do with prophecy. No, there is your choice. If you are to be a man, live by it. And go, please.’
Torrullin did not move when she pushed at him on her last words. His eyes darkened when she snatched her hand back; she could feel his warmth even through the wetness of his tunic.
The Pilanese were still watching. A monkey swung overhead, chattering. The rain ceased then as suddenly as it could come, and the sun came out, brightening the jungle with glory. Torrullin’s eyes rose in wonder, drawn to the splendour of rainbows both gigantic and nestling between little leaves. The city transformed into a world of colour and song as the pixie people exuberantly joined in to celebrate the miracle of light. Saska’s heart filled, watching him. Despite all that had happened to him, he appreciated beauty and could lose himself in wonder like an innocent child. Unlike the Dark Lord, it was not something he sought to control; no, each tiny event was to him a gift, a miracle to be treasured.
‘Oh, Torrullin,’ she breathed, and then stepped away from him quickly.
His eyes lowered to hers immediately, darkening, responding to the emotion in hers. She could not know that the sight of the rainbows had brought to mind the pond where he had first recognised his son; for him it was like a sign, and he could nothing less than follow the road it had opened in his mind. ‘Saska…’
She shook her head. ‘No. Your son deserves all of you. I cannot stand between you. Please leave me alone.’
His eyes closed and he took a deep breath…as if coming to a vital decision. When he opened them, his eyes were so intense…it told her a truth was about to be torn from him. She shivered. ‘Saska, hear me, please. A man is the last part of who I am, but the man unfortunately makes the most mistakes. My son will have that part of me that is father, and twenty different women in my life cannot affect that. I am more than a father, however, and more than a man. Saska, I am you…and I shall forsake even my son if you ask it of me.’
‘No!’ She stared at him wild-eyed. ‘Are you mad? I would not ask that!’
He smiled grimly. ‘I know you would not ask, yet I need you to know that I would turn my back on everything Valleur…Vannis, Lycea, the Vallorinship, the bloody prophecy, and my son, for you. This you must know, now.’
‘Dear god, Torrullin, and then? You would hate me.’
He stared at her. ‘Yes. Yet I would do it.’
She swallowed, her entire body straining for him, only her mind holding her back. His eyes flickered, as aware of her as she was of him. ‘I do not ask it. Not now, not ever. Know that, now.’
‘Where does that leave us?’ he demanded. ‘I would give you everything…wealth, privacy, isolation, crowds if you prefer…a world just for you…I would make any promise, break every bond…’
She had to interrupt, or she would hit him. For thinking that was what she wanted, and for being prepared to do it. She believed every word, and it scared the hell out of her. ‘Does Vannis know how you feel?’
He was silent.
‘He does.’ She sighed. ‘You shocked him.’
A reluctant smile tugged at his lips. ‘Again.’
‘You cannot do these things, Torrullin. It would not be right. You should not even be offering this.’
‘What is right is not the issue here, Saska.’
She licked her lips, her hands clawing at the fabric of the cloak. ‘We have a destructive relationship, Enchanter,’ she said, putting space between them by using his title. ‘Maybe it is safer to stay apart…’
‘Safer?’ he said savagely.
A hot streak of pure lust shot through her. ‘Yes!’
He snatched breath, furious, and his eyes told her he knew where she was. His hands clenched tight to his scabbard to prevent himself from reaching out, consequences be damned. He forced himself to calm down, ‘Do you feel that, Saska? I do…’
‘Get away!’ she whispered roughly, desperately.
‘We are not done, you and I,’ he whispered as roughly.
She denied that truth by shaking her head, ‘There is nothing.’
‘Liar.’
Oh, god, she was going to come undone. ‘I am not committing.’
He stared at her with lifted brows, and she had to look away. The silence then was loaded between them, and when she looked back at him he was another step closer. She could feel his heat; feel his breath on her cheek…
‘Torrullin, get away from me, or I am going to run and you won’t find me again.’
He stared down at her, and then gave a nod. His eyes narrowed and he stepped away. ‘Very well; I shall say no more, for now.’
‘Thank you.’
He fingered his scabbard as if he wanted to say more despite his words to her, and then he shook his head. He looked away from her to the Pilanese, his eyes silvery and alien to them, and when he looked back at her she could see he had imposed control on himself, even if it was thread-thin and would not take much to snap. She desperately wanted to snap it, and had to find her own control then.
‘You have to return to the Dome, Saska.’
She studied him. ‘Belun told you. In the Dome. You have been to the Dome finally.’
‘Oh, yes; through the fourteenth ogive.’ His face twisted.
She paled. ‘You’re the Dragon?’ Dear Goddess, so fatadic; what chance at normality would he ever have? ‘I am sorry.’
‘One more,’ he shrugged. ‘Will you come?’
‘Final Days?’
‘It seems so.’
Clutching at his cloak, smelling him, wanting him, she looked out from under the awning to the singing, laughing and chattering Pilanese. Her eyes followed the path of a flock of parrots and rested on a rainbow. The interlude was over. It was time to leave. As a Goddess she did not have to explain her abrupt arrival, or her abrupt departure, but her heart constricted at the happy innocence around her, at having to leave it, and leave without explaining…they were the lucky ones. In their believed isolation they did not have to grapple with all the ugliness out there. Universal answers were not debated here and could not cause strife, for they could not conceive of the questions.
It was not over; he was right. Every moment in his presence was a fight to stay away from him. He would forsake his son for her, sweet god. She would not ever want him to do that, but it proved how much of an obsession they had for each other. And if she returned to him, then one day she would find herself in this hell of pain again. It was the nature of their relationship. Intense, hurtful, dangerous…and that was the fire.
She looked at him, knowing he could see, locking onto those silvery orbs. ‘Go away.’
He smiled.
She looked away. ‘I shall come to the Dome, but I have to stop for clothes.’
He wanted to say something, and then thought better of it. He wanted to stop for clothes with her, and knew she would not resist the instant he touched her. But it was too soon to make that kind of advance; if they were to have a chance, he would have to exercise patience. He was not a patient man.
He said something else: ‘Is this the kind of place you would be happy in, Saska?’
She stared at him. ‘Could you live like this?’
‘No.’
She was furious then. ‘Too innocent, Enchanter?’
He stared deep into her eyes. ‘Too wet, my love. Too unchanging. You would not be happy here either; you and I, we need change all the time.’
She swallowed. He knew her. ‘Perhaps.’
His hand was at her cheek, and the fingers curled as if about to twist into her hair. She could see the intent in his eyes, the desire to pull her close, to lock his mouth onto hers, to take, to pillage every defence…she strained towards him…and then he swore and dropped his hand. Another time. ‘In the Dome, then.’ He stepped back swiftly and turned and a moment later had vanished to shouts of ‘Pill! Pill!’ as the Pilanese chanted and clapped their hands in rhythm.
She was shaking. She would not have stopped him, she knew. In fact, she was furious he had drawn back. And then she smiled. Sometime she would tell him that here he was the God of Light, as he was to others out there. She allowed the cloak to fall open then, but only so far as to reveal her breasts- which told every Pilanese near enough to see how aroused she was- and raised her hands. When she had a measure of quiet, she said simply: ‘Thank you, people of Pilan, for your welcome and hospitality. It is time for me to leave…’ My God has called me. ‘…but one day I shall return.’
To nods and clapping, shouts and whistles, to ‘Leath! Leath!’ and squealing monkeys, squawking parrots, and with rainbows in her eyes, Saska turned and vanished. She would return, one day.
What a tale the Pilanese now had to pass from generation to generation…how the God of Light had summoned the Goddess of Water, and how they had been witness to it.
