“Yes!” it said.
A sound was waiting for them when the echoes of their enthusiasm died. A tinkling, as of ice bells.
“They’re calling us,” Gentle said.
The doeki had found a little paradise by the fire and was not about to move, for all Pie’s attempts to tug it to its feet.
“Leave it awhile,” Gentle said, before the mystif began a fresh round of profanities. “It’s given good service. Let it rest. We can come back and fetch it later.”
The passage they now followed not only curved but di- vided many times, the routes all lit by fire bowls. They chose between them by listening for the sound of the bells, which didn’t seem to be getting any closer. Each choice, of course, made the likelihood of finding their way back to the doeki more uncertain.
“This place is a maze,” Pie said, with a touch of the old unease creeping back into its voice. “I think we should stop and assess exactly what we’re doing.”
“Finding the Goddesses.”
“And losing our transport while we do it. We’re neither of us in any state to go much farther on foot.”
“I don’t feel so bad. Except for my hands.” He raised them in front of his face, palm up. They were puffy and bruised, the lacerations livid. “I suppose I look like that all over. Did you hear the bells? They’re just around the corner, I swear!”
“They’ve been just around the corner for the last three quarters of an hour. They’re not getting any closer, Gentle. It’s some kind of trick. We should go back for the animal before it’s slaughtered.”
“I don’t think they’d shed blood in here,” Gentle replied. The bells came again. “Listen to that. They are closer.” He went to the next corner, sliding on the ice. “Pie. Come look.”
Pie joined him at the corner. Ahead of them the passageway narrowed to a doorway.
“What did I tell you?” Gentle said, and headed on to the door and through it.
The sanctum on the other side wasn’t vast—the size of a modest church, no more—but it had been hewn with such cunning it gave the impression of magnificence. It had sustained great damage, however. Despite its myriad pillars, chased by the finest craft, and its vaults of ice-sleek stone, its walls were pitted, its floor gouged. Nor did it take great wit to see that the objects that had been buried in the glacier had once been part of its furniture. The altar lay in hammered ruins at its center, and among the wreckage were fragments of blue stone, matching that of the statue the girl had carried. Now, more certainly than ever, they were standing in a place that carried the marks of Hapexa-mendios’ passing.
“In His footsteps,” Gentle murmured.
“Oh, yes,” Pie murmured. “He was here.”
“And so were the women,” Gentle said. “But I don’t think they ate men’s balls. I think their ceremonies were more loving than that.” He went down on his haunches, running his fingers over the carved fragments. “I wonder what they did? I’d like to have seen the rites.”
“They’d have ripped you limb from limb.”
“Why?”
“Because their devotions weren’t for men’s eyes.”
“You could have got in, though, couldn’t you?” Gentle said. “You would have been a perfect spy. You could have seen it.”
“It’s not the seeing,” Pie said softly, “it’s the feeling.”
Gentle stood up, gazing at the mystif with new comprehension. “I think I envy you, Pie,” he said. “You know what it feels like to be both, don’t you? I never thought of that before. Will you tell me how it feels, one of these days?”
“You’d be better off finding out for yourself,” Pie said.
“And how do I do that?”
“This isn’t the time—”
“Tell me.”
“Well, mystifs have their rites, just like men and women. Don’t worry, I won’t make you spy on me. You’ll be invited, if that’s what you want.”
The remotest twinge of fear touched Gentle as he listened to this. He’d become almost blase about the many wonders they’d witnessed as they traveled, but the creature that had been at his side these many days remained, he realized, undiscovered. He had never seen it naked since that first encounter in New York; nor kissed it the way a lover might kiss; nor allowed himself to feel sexual towards it. Perhaps it was because he’d been thinking of the women here, and their secret rites, but now, like it or not, he was looking at Pie ‘oh’ pah and was aroused.