“what makes you think she’s gone up there?” Corson asked, as she and ’Deisha climbed the cart-track up Honeycomb Hill, stopping occasionally to shout for Nyctasia.
“I don’t know… Nobody’d seen her at dinner, and she wasn’t in her room, or at the dancing or the bonfire. I just suddenly felt quite certain that she’d gone back to the temple, I can’t think why. Perhaps I’m wrong, I hope I am.”
“Oh, you’re probably right-it’s just the sort of mad thing she’d do, the rutting half-wit. Every time I plan to set off for the coast, that one gets herself in some kind of trouble! I swear, if she’s vanished into the earth now, I’ll leave her there to talk philosophy to the moles. I mean to be back in Amron Therain in two days, without fail, even if the ground opens up and swallows all of Vale.”
She called again for Nyctasia, but there was still no answer. “Curse her, if she’s hurt herself, I’ll throttle her!”
’Deisha reached for Carson’s hand and squeezed it. “No wonder Nyc’s so fond of you. And Raphe will break his heart when you go.”
“Did she tell you she’s fond of me?”
“Oh, anyone could see that, but in fact she did tell me so.”
“Ah… well, you can’t believe everything that little liar says. The Imperial Head Questioner couldn’t get the truth from her on the rack if his life depended on it. Sometimes I’ve come within a hair of-”
’Deisha laughed. “Corson, how do you deal with people you don’t like?”
“Ask Newt,” said Nyctasia out of the darkness ahead of them. “He can tell you all about that, but it’s not a pretty tale, I warn you.”
“He deserved it,” said Corson promptly. “Nyc, you fool, what were you doing up there?”
“Have you been looking for me? I’m sorry you had the trouble of coming out here-I was on my way back.”
Corson turned to ’Deisha in exasperation. “There, that’s what I mean. She can’t answer a plain question. It’s not in her nature. Oh, no, we weren’t looking for you, of course not. We climbed all this way in the dark because we wanted to fall in a pit and break our necks. Come along, scatterwit, let’s get back to the feast.”
“I really shall miss you, Corson. It will be rather a bore being among civilized people again, but I daresay I’ll get used to it in time.” She took Corson’s hand, then ’Deisha’s, and they started back down the path together.
’Deisha leaned across Nyctasia to say to Corson, “You’re right, she never did answer. And just now she tried to provoke you, to turn the subject. It’s remarkable.”
“Now you’re catching on to her tricks. She can talk you into swearing your hat’s a hen, and believing it too, if you don’t take care. But maybe you’ll prove a match for her-you’re of the same blood.”
“Yes,” said ’Deisha, “we’re of the same blood. Nyc, why were you at the temple?
It’s dangerous there, you said so yourself.”
“It’s not as dangerous now.”
“Hmmm, I thought as much,” said Corson. “It’s changed, I can feel that. What did you do?”
Nyctasia was silent for a time, but then said quietly, “I didn’t do it, but it’s done. That’s all that matters.”
For it was not she who had spoken, in truth, but the Indwelling Spirit which had spoken through her. Faced with a temptation which she could neither refuse nor receive, she had desperately thrust from her the very will and power to choose.
Guided only by the thought, “Don’t hesitate, act!” she had cried inwardly, “Let it be as it will, whatever may befall. Let it be as it will.” When she drew breath to speak she did not know what she was about to say, and then she heard her own voice commanding, “Begone. Return in peace to thine own place, and there remain. This and this alone I require of thee. Obey!”
She had no sooner ceased speaking than she was alone on the dark hillside, and only a fleeting sense of wild, inexpressible thanksgiving remained to mark the passage of the Cymvelans’ curse.
Nyctasia was past doubt or disappointment. If she had lost her only chance to save her city, to be reunited with her lover, yet she knew a great relief that the choice had been taken from her. She might so easily have made a mistake, but now she had only to trust in the vahn and believe that the right decision had been made. She had-thank the stars!-no choice.
She did not know how long she’d been away from the harvest celebration till she heard Corson and ’Deisha calling for her. Then she hurried downhill to join them, suddenly eager to be with the others, and to forget about what might have been.
“It’s done,” she said. “Done is the chase, and you’ll not have to come hunting for me there a third time, I promise you. I don’t mean to climb this hill again till next crush. And perhaps I won’t be needed then-I don’t think the workers will shun the place anymore, by then. But I will. Now I only want to have some of Raphe’s new wine. In fact, I want to have a great deal of it.” The first barrels of the golden wine had been opened on the first day of the Harvest Festival. The new vintage had been a great success, a striking blend of sharp and sweet that even Nyctasia had appreciated. Raphe had named it, in Corson’s honor, “Corisonde.”
“And some food,” Nyctasia added. “I’ve not eaten all day, I’m famishing.”
“What, not eaten a thing at the harvest feast?” cried ’Deisha. “That’s bad luck for the whole year to come! You must come eat plenty at once, or Aunt Mesthelde will never forgive you.”
“That’s right,” said Corson gleefully, “and she’ll surely be offended if you don’t have some of her own special traditional zhetaris, Nyc.”