They left Flotsam the next morning, and for the first several miles the trip went well. Mina was entertained and diverted by the new and interesting sights. Farmers from outlying districts bringing goods to market exchanged friendly greetings. A caravan of wealthy merchants with men-at-arms guarding them took up the entire road. The men-at-arms were stern and business-like, but the merchants waved at Mina and, seeing the monk, asked for his blessing on their travels and tossed him a few coins. After that, a noble lord and lady and their retinue rode by; the lady stopped to admire Mina and give her some sweetmeats, which Mina shared with Nightshade and Atta.
They met several parties of kender, who were either leaving Flotsam (forcibly) or heading in that direction. The kender stopped to chat with Nightshade, exchanging the latest news and gossip. He questioned them about the road ahead, and received an enormous amount of information, some of it accurate.
Their most interesting encounter was with a group of gnomes whose steam-powered perambulating combination threshing machine, dough-kneader, and bread-baker had run amuck and was lying in pieces on the side of the road. This meeting caused considerable delay as Rhys stopped to tend to the victims.
All this excitement occupied the better part of the day. Mina was happy and well-behaved and eager to meet more gnomes. They made an early stop for the night. The weather being fine, they camped outdoors, and Mina thought that was great fun at first, though she didn’t think much of it around midnight when she discovered she’d made her bed on an ant hill.
Consequently, she was cross and grumpy the next morning, and her mood did not improve. The farther they traveled from Flotsam, the fewer people they met along the road until eventually there was no one but themselves. The scenery consisted of empty stretches of vacant land enlivened by a few scraggly trees. Mina grew bored and began to complain. She was tired. She wanted to stop. Her boots pinched her toes. She had a blister on her heel. Her legs ached. Her back ached. She was hungry. She was thirsty.
“So when are we going to get there?” she asked Rhys, lagging along beside him, scuffing her feet in the dust.
“I’d like to cover a few more miles before it grows dark,” Rhys said. “Then we’ll make camp.”
“No, not camp!” Mina said. “I mean Godshome. I’m really tired of walking. Will we be there tomorrow?”
Rhys was trying to think how to explain that it might well be a year of tomorrows before they reached Godshome when Atta gave a sharp bark. Her ears pricked, she stared intently down the road.
“Someone’s coming,” said Nightshade.
A horse and rider were heading in their direction, traveling at a fast pace to judge by the pounding hoofbeats. Rhys took hold of Mina’s hand and hurriedly drew her to the side of the road, to get out of the way of the horse’s hooves. He could not yet see the rider, due to a slight dip in the road. Atta remained obediently at Rhys’ side, but she continued to growl. Her body quivered. Her lip curled.
“Whoever’s coming, Atta doesn’t like them,” Nightshade observed. “That’s not like her.”
Accustomed to traveling, Atta tended to be friendly with strangers, though she kept herself aloof and would submit to being petted only if there was no way to avoid it. She was warning them against this stranger, however, even before she saw him.
The horse and rider topped the ridge and, sighting them, increased speed, galloping down the road toward them. The rider was cloaked in black. His long hair streamed behind him in the wind.
Nightshade gasped. “Rhys! That’s Chemosh! What do we do?”
“Nothing we can do,” Rhys replied.
The Lord of Death reined in his horse as he drew near. Nightshade looked about wildly for someplace to hide. They were caught out in the open, however. Not a tree or a gully in sight.
Rhys ordered Atta to be quiet and she obeyed for the most part, though the occasional growl got the better of her. He drew Mina close to him, holding his staff in front of her with one hand, keeping his other hand protectively on her shoulder. Nightshade stood stolidly by his friend’s side. Reminding himself he was a kender with horns, he assumed a very fierce look.
“Who is that man?” Mina asked, gazing at the black-cloaked rider curiously. She twisted her head around to look up Rhys. “Do you know him?”
“I know him,” Rhys replied. “Do you know him, Mina?”
“Me?” Mina was amazed. She shook her head. “I never saw him before.”
Chemosh dismounted his horse and began walking toward them.
The horse remained unmoving where he left it, as though it had been changed to stone. Nightshade edged closer to Rhys.
“Render with horns,” Nightshade said to give himself courage. “Kender with horns.”
Atta growled, and Rhys silenced her.
Chemosh ignored the dog and the kender. He flicked an uninterested glance at Rhys. The lord’s attention was focused on Mina. His face was tight, livid with anger. His dark eyes were cold.
Mina stared at Chemosh from behind the barricade formed by the monk’s staff and Rhys felt her tremble. He tightened his hold on her reassuringly.
“I don’t like this man,” Mina said in a shaky voice. “Tell him to go away.”
Chemosh came to a halt and glared down at the little red-haired girl sheltering in Rhys’ arms.
“You can end this game of yours now, Mina,” he said. “You have made me look the fool. You’ve had your laugh. Now come back home with me.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you,” Mina retorted. “I don’t even know you. And Goldmoon told me never to talk to strangers.”
“Mina, stop this nonsense-” Chemosh began angrily, and he reached out his hand to seize her.
Mina kicked the Lord of Death in the shin.
Nightshade sucked in a breath and closed his eyes and waited for the world to end. When the world kept going, Nightshade opened his eyes a slit to see that Rhys had pulled Mina behind him, shielding her with his body. Chemosh was looking exceedingly grim.
“You are putting on a very fine show, Mina, but I have no time for play-acting,” he stated impatiently. “You will come with me, and you will bring with you the artifacts you basely stole from the Hall of Sacrilege. Or I will shortly be seeing your friends in the Abyss-”
Lashing rain drowned out the rest of Chemosh’s threat. The sky grew black as his cloak. Storm clouds boiled and bubbled. Zeboim arrived in a gust of wind and pelting hail.
The goddess leaned down and presented her cheek to Mina.
“Give your Auntie Zee a kiss, dear,” she said sweetly.
Mina buried her face in Rhys’ robes.
Zeboim shrugged and shifted her gaze to Chemosh, who was regarding her with an expression as dark and thunderous as the storm.
“What do you want, Sea Bitch?” he demanded.
“I was worried about Mina,” Zeboim replied, bestowing an affectionate glance on the girl. “What are you doing here, Lord of Rot?”
“I was also concerned-” Chemosh began.
Zeboim laughed. “Concerned with how royally you screwed things up? You had Mina, you had the tower, you had the Solio Febalas, you had the Beloved. And you’ve lost it all. Your Beloved are a gruesome pile of greasy ash lying at the bottom of the Blood Sea. My brother has the tower. The High God has claimed the Solio Febalas. As for Mina, she’s made it painfully clear she wants nothing more to do with you.”
Chemosh did not need to hear the litany of his misfortune recited back to him. He turned his back on the goddess and knelt down beside Mina, who regarded him in wary amazement.
“Mina, my dear, please listen to me. I’m sorry if I frightened you. I’m sorry I hurt you. I was jealous…” Chemosh paused, then said, “Come back to my castle with me, Mina. I miss you. I love you…”
“Mina, my pet, don’t go anywhere with this horrid man,” said Zeboim, shoving the Lord of Death out of the way. “He’s lying. He doesn’t love you. He never did. He’s using you. Come live with your Auntie Zee…”
“I’m going to Godshome,” said Mina, and she took hold of Rhys’ hand. “And it’s a long way from here, so we have to get started. Come on, Mister Monk.”
“Godshome,” said Chemosh after a moment’s astonished silence. “That is a long way from here.” He turned on his heel and walked back to his horse. Mounting, he gazed down at Rhys from beneath dark and lowering brows. “A very long way. And the road is fraught with peril. I’ve no doubt I’ll be seeing you again shortly, Monk.”
He dug his heels into the horse’s flanks and rode off in ire. Zeboim watched him leave, then she turned back to Rhys.
“It is a long way, Rhys,” said Zeboim with a playful smile. “You will be on the road for months, perhaps years. If you live that long. Though now that I think of it…”
Zeboim bent swiftly down to whisper something in Mina’s ear.
Mina listened, frowning, at first, and then her eyes widened. “I can do that?”
“Of course you can, child.” Zeboim patted her on the head. “You can do anything. Have a safe journey, friends.”
Zeboim laughed and, spreading her arms, she became a whipping wind, which then dwindled to a teasing breeze and, still laughing, wafted away.
The road was empty. Rhys sighed in relief and lowered his staff.
“Why did that silly-looking man want me to come with him?” Mina asked.
“He made a mistake,” said Rhys. “He thought you were someone else. Someone he used to know.”
The time was only midafternoon, but Rhys, worn out from the strain of the encounter with the gods and a day of putting up with Mina, decided to make camp early. They spread out their blankets near a stream that wound like a snake through the tall grass. A small grove of trees provided shelter.
Nightshade soon recovered his spirits and began to badger Mina into telling him what the goddess had said to her. Mina shook her head. She was pondering deeply over something. Her brow was creased, her lips pursed. Eventually she shook off whatever was bothering her and, taking off her shoes and stockings, went to play in the creek. They ate a frugal meal of dried peas and smoked meat, then sat around the fire.
“I want to see the map you drew,” Mina said suddenly.
“Why?” Nightshade asked suspiciously, and he clapped his hand protectively over his pouch.
“I just want to look at it,” Mina returned. “Everyone keeps telling me Godshome is such a long way away. I want to see for myself.”
“I showed you once,” Nightshade said.
“Yes, but I want to see it again.”
“Oh, all right. But go wash your hands,” Nightshade ordered as he removed the map from its pouch and spread it out on top of his blanket. “I don’t want greasy finger marks on it.”
Mina ran down to the stream to wash her hands and face.
Rhys had stretched out full-length on the ground, resting after the meal. Atta lay beside him, her chin on his chest. He stroked her fur and gazed into the heavens. The sun stood balanced precariously on the rim of the world. The sky was a blend of soft twilight hues, pinks and golds, purples and oranges. Beyond the sunset, he could feel immortal eyes watching.
Mina came running back, to exhibit moderately clean hands. Nightshade anchored the map with rocks and then showed Mina the route they were going to be taking.
“This is where we are now,” he said.
“And where is Flotsam where we started?” Mina asked.
Nightshade pointed about a whisker’s width away.
“All this walking and we’ve only come that far!” Mina cried, shocked and dismayed.
She squatted beside the map and studied it, her lower lip thrust out. “Why do we have to go all over the place-up and down and round about? Why can’t we just go straight from here to here.”
Nightshade explained that climbing extremely tall mountains was quite difficult and dangerous, and it was much better to go around them.
“Too bad there are so many mountains,” he added. “Otherwise we could go straight as the dragon flies and it wouldn’t take long at all.”
Mina gazed thoughtfully at the dot that was Flotsam and the dot that Nightshade said was Solace, where they would find his great friend, Gerard, and the monks of Majere who would tell them where to look for Godshome.
Rhys was drifting off in a pleasant haze of twilight forgetfulness when he was jolted wide away. Nightshade let out a screech.
Rhys jumped up so fast he startled Atta, who yelped in aggravation.
“What is it?”
Nightshade pointed a quivering finger.
The map was no longer lines and squiggles drawn on the back of the kender’s old shirt. The map was a world in miniature, with real mountains and real bodies of water that shimmered in the dying light, and real windswept deserts and boggy swamps.
Thus the gods might see the world, Rhys thought to himself.
Nightshade screeched again and suddenly the kender was floating up into the air, light as thistledown. Rhys felt himself grow buoyant, his body losing weight and mass, his bones hollow as a bird’s, his flesh like a soap bubble. His feet left the ground, and he sailed upward. Atta floated toward him, legs dangling helplessly beneath her.
“Straight as the dragon flies,” Mina said.
Rhys recalled the near-drowning incident in the tower. He recalled the meat pies and the fiery conflagration that had consumed the Beloved, and he knew he had to put a stop to this. He had to take control.
“Stop it, Mina!” Rhys said sternly. “Stop it at once! Put me down this instant!”
Mina stared at him, her eyes round and starting to glisten with tears.
“Now!” he said through gritted teeth.
He felt himself grow heavy, and he fell back down to the ground. Nightshade dropped like rock, landing with a thud. Atta, once she was down, slunk off hurriedly to curl up beneath a tree, as far from Mina as possible.
Mina drifted very slowly out of the air to land in front of Rhys.
“We are walking to Solace,” he said, his voice shaking with anger. “Do you understand me, Mina? We are not swimming or flying. We are walking!”
Mina’s tears spilled over and ran down her cheeks. She flung herself on the ground and began to sob.
Rhys was trembling. He had always prided himself on his discipline and here he was, yelling at a child. He was suddenly, deeply ashamed.
“I didn’t mean to shout at you, Mina-” he began wearily.
“I just wanted to get there faster!” she cried, raising a tear-stained and dirt-streaked face. “I don’t like walking. It’s boring and my feet hurt! And it’s going to take too long, forever and ever. Besides, Aunt Zeboim told me I could fly,” she added with a quiver and a hiccup.
Nightshade nudged Rhys in the ribs. “It is a long way and flying might be kind of interesting at that-”
Rhys looked at him. Nightshade gulped.
“But you’re right, of course. We should walk. That’s why the gods gave us feet and not wings. I’ll just go to bed now…”
Rhys knelt down and took Mina in his arms. She wrapped her arms around his neck and sobbed on his shoulder. Gradually her sobs lessened, she grew quiet. Rhys, looking down at her, saw that she had cried herself to sleep. He carried her to her blanket that he’d spread on a soft bed of grass beneath a tree and laid her down. He was tucking another blanket around her when she woke up.
“Good night, Mina,” he said, and he reached out his hand to gently smooth back the hair from her forehead.
Mina grabbed hold of his hand and gave it a remorseful kiss.
“I’m sorry, Rhys,” she said. It was the first time she’d ever called him by his name and not ‘Mister Monk’. “We can walk. But could we walk fast?” she added plaintively. “I think I need to reach Godshome quickly.”
Rhys was bone-tired, or he might have thought twice before he agreed that, yes, they could “walk fast”.