protested Oranir as Rieuk started off again. “If you miss your footing this high up, you'll—”
“Wait for me here, then,” Rieuk called back down the track. His first glimpse of the springs only made him eager to consult the Guardian as soon as possible. He heard Oranir curse viciously in Djihari and set out after him.
It was almost night by the time Rieuk and Oranir passed beneath the rocky archway. The roar of the waterfall dwindled as they approached the springs and the steamy mist, tinged green by the glow emanating from the bubbling waters, enveloped them. Rieuk knelt and dipped in his hand. The springwater was hot, though not too hot to bear, and felt slightly effervescent against his skin.
“Rieuk!” Oranir was pointing into the heart of the steam where the waters issued from a gaping fissure in the mountain rock. Far out in the pool, Rieuk thought that he caught a glimmer of phosphorescence, livid as poison. A dark form could be seen moving toward them through the water. “What is that?”
Rieuk swiftly withdrew his hand. He sensed a powerful presence. “The Guardian?”
Breaking through the floating mist came a water serpent, its scales glittering jade and black, its head held high. Its emerald eyes fixed on them, it moved through the waters at astonishing speed. As it drew nearer, they saw that a third eye had opened in its scaly forehead.
Rieuk stayed kneeling, mesmerized, but Oranir launched himself forward, placing himself between Rieuk and the serpent.
“Two magi?” The serpent spoke and its voice was that of a woman, soft and sensuous. “I will only speak with one of you. Which shall it be?”
“Me.” Rieuk rose.
“No!” cried Oranir, holding him back. “It could be a trap.”
The serpent turned its glittering eyes on Oranir. “You must leave us alone,” she said, adding slyly, “Don't worry. I don't intend to devour your master.”
“I'll be all right, Oranir.” Rieuk pressed his shoulder, speaking with a confidence that he did not feel. “Wait for me beyond the waterfall.”
Oranir stood a moment, his eyes sullen, rebellious. Then he shook off Rieuk's hand and walked back toward the way they had come without a backward glance.
Rieuk turned to the Guardian. Where the jade-scaled serpent had been, he saw a slender woman, clothed only in her long green hair, which trailed over her naked body like strands of waterweed.
“Are—are you the Guardian of the Springs?” he stammered.
She rose out of the springs, the water dripping off her like a liquid veil. “My name is Anagini,” she said. “What is yours?”
“Rieuk. Rieuk Mordiern.” Mesmerized by her beauty, he stood staring as she glided toward him.
“Your eye.” She touched his face and he felt his skin tingle. “Have you come to ask me to restore your eye?”
Rieuk had never imagined that such a thing was possible, believing himself to be disfigured for life. “Could you do it?” Distracted, he began to imagine how wonderful it would be to be whole again, to present an unscarred face to the world, and, best gift of all, to see clearly once more.
“These are no ordinary healing springs. But the price for granting such a wish would cost you dear. There is always a price, Rieuk Mordiern.”
“And what is that price?” He had begun to hope again in spite of himself.
“Your shadow hawk.”
The dream died. He could never give up Ormas. He should have known it was pointless to wish to be restored; he would go scarred and half-blind to his grave.
“Your price is too high,” he said sadly, resignedly. “I came here to ask you what has become of the soul of my dead master.”
“Your master who was a magus?” Her soft voice could only just be heard above the hissing of the steam. “So you know nothing of the true nature of the shadow hawks of the emerald moon?”
“My master, not my Emissary.” Rieuk thought that she had misheard him.
“Have you never asked Ormas who he is? Or…” Anagini's
“Wait for me here, then,” Rieuk called back down the track. His first glimpse of the springs only made him eager to consult the Guardian as soon as possible. He heard Oranir curse viciously in Djihari and set out after him.
It was almost night by the time Rieuk and Oranir passed beneath the rocky archway. The roar of the waterfall dwindled as they approached the springs and the steamy mist, tinged green by the glow emanating from the bubbling waters, enveloped them. Rieuk knelt and dipped in his hand. The springwater was hot, though not too hot to bear, and felt slightly effervescent against his skin.
“Rieuk!” Oranir was pointing into the heart of the steam where the waters issued from a gaping fissure in the mountain rock. Far out in the pool, Rieuk thought that he caught a glimmer of phosphorescence, livid as poison. A dark form could be seen moving toward them through the water. “What is that?”
Rieuk swiftly withdrew his hand. He sensed a powerful presence. “The Guardian?”
Breaking through the floating mist came a water serpent, its scales glittering jade and black, its head held high. Its emerald eyes fixed on them, it moved through the waters at astonishing speed. As it drew nearer, they saw that a third eye had opened in its scaly forehead.
Rieuk stayed kneeling, mesmerized, but Oranir launched himself forward, placing himself between Rieuk and the serpent.
“Two magi?” The serpent spoke and its voice was that of a woman, soft and sensuous. “I will only speak with one of you. Which shall it be?”
“Me.” Rieuk rose.
“No!” cried Oranir, holding him back. “It could be a trap.”
The serpent turned its glittering eyes on Oranir. “You must leave us alone,” she said, adding slyly, “Don't worry. I don't intend to devour your master.”
“I'll be all right, Oranir.” Rieuk pressed his shoulder, speaking with a confidence that he did not feel. “Wait for me beyond the waterfall.”
Oranir stood a moment, his eyes sullen, rebellious. Then he shook off Rieuk's hand and walked back toward the way they had come without a backward glance.
Rieuk turned to the Guardian. Where the jade-scaled serpent had been, he saw a slender woman, clothed only in her long green hair, which trailed over her naked body like strands of waterweed.
“Are—are you the Guardian of the Springs?” he stammered.
She rose out of the springs, the water dripping off her like a liquid veil. “My name is Anagini,” she said. “What is yours?”
“Rieuk. Rieuk Mordiern.” Mesmerized by her beauty, he stood staring as she glided toward him.
“Your eye.” She touched his face and he felt his skin tingle. “Have you come to ask me to restore your eye?”
Rieuk had never imagined that such a thing was possible, believing himself to be disfigured for life. “Could you do it?” Distracted, he began to imagine how wonderful it would be to be whole again, to present an unscarred face to the world, and, best gift of all, to see clearly once more.
“These are no ordinary healing springs. But the price for granting such a wish would cost you dear. There is always a price, Rieuk Mordiern.”
“And what is that price?” He had begun to hope again in spite of himself.
“Your shadow hawk.”
The dream died. He could never give up Ormas. He should have known it was pointless to wish to be restored; he would go scarred and half-blind to his grave.
“Your price is too high,” he said sadly, resignedly. “I came here to ask you what has become of the soul of my dead master.”
“Your master who was a magus?” Her soft voice could only just be heard above the hissing of the steam. “So you know nothing of the true nature of the shadow hawks of the emerald moon?”
“My master, not my Emissary.” Rieuk thought that she had misheard him.
“Have you never asked Ormas who he is? Or…” Anagini's
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