“Well, never mind.” Aleatha sighed. Turning to go, she placed her hand on the wooden doorknob. “I’m growing rather fatigued. If you’ll excuse me-”
“About the stars?” Haplo put his hand on the door, keeping it shut.
Pressed between the door and Haplo’s body, Aleatha looked up into the man’s face. He smiled into the purple eyes, edged his body nearer, hinting that he was prolonging the conversation for one reason only. Aleatha lowered her eyelashes, but kept close watch from beneath.
“Perhaps I underrated you. Very well, if you want to discuss stars …”
Haplo wound a strand of the ashen hair around his finger. “Tell me about the ones that ‘come and go.’ ”
“Just that.” Aleatha caught hold of the strand of hair, pulled it, drawing him closer to her, reeling him in like a fish. “They shine for so many years, then they go dark and stay dark for so many years.”
“All of them at once?”
“No, silly. Some wink on and others wink off. I really don’t know much about it. That lecherous old astrologer friend of father’s could tell you more if you’re truly interested.” Aleatha
glanced up at him. “Isn’t it odd how your hair grows like that, just the opposite of the goddess. Perhaps you are a savior-one of Mother Peytin’s sons come to rescue me from my sins. I’ll give your kiss another try, if you like.”
“No, you wounded me deeply. I’ll never be the same.”
Haplo gave a silent whistle. The woman’s aimless throws were hitting their target too near center. He needed to get rid of her, needed to think. There came a scratching sound at the door.
“My dog,” said Haplo, removing his hand.
Aleatha made a face. ‘”Ignore it.”
“That wouldn’t be wise. He probably has to go out.”
The scratching sound grew louder, more insistent. The dog began to whine.
“You wouldn’t want him to … uh … well, you know . . . in the house.”
“Callie would stew your ears for breakfast. Take the mutt out, then.” Aleatha opened the door, and the dog bounded inside. Jumping up on Haplo, it planted its paws on his chest.
“Hi, boy! Did you miss me?” Haplo ruffled the dog’s ears, patted its flanks. “Come on, let’s go for a walk.”
The dog leapt down, yelping gleefully, darting off, then dashing back to make certain Haplo was serious about his offer.
“I enjoyed our conversation,” he said to Aleatha.
She had moved aside, standing against the open door, her hands behind her back. “I was less bored than usual.”
“Perhaps we could discuss stars again?”
“I don’t think so. I’ve reached a conclusion. Poets are liars. You better get that beast out of here. Callie won’t put up with that howling.”
Haplo walked past her, turned to add something about poets. She slammed the door shut in his face.
He led the dog outside, sauntered around to the open area where his ship was moored, and stood staring up into the sunlit sky. He could see the stars clearly. They burned bright and steadily, not “twinkling” as the poets were wont to say.
He tried to concentrate, tried to consider the confusing tangle in which he’d found himself-a savior who had come to destroy. But his mind refused to cooperate.
Poets. He had been going to reply to Aleatha’s final comment. She was wrong. Poets told the truth.
It was the heart that lied. . .
. . . Haplo was in his nineteenth year in the Labyrinth when he met the woman. Like him, she was a runner, almost his age. Her goal was the same as his-to escape. They traveled together, finding pleasure in each other’s company. Love, if not unknown in the Labyrinth, is not admitted. Lust is acceptable-the need to procreate, to perpetuate the species, to bring children into the world to fight the Labyrinth. By day the two traveled, seeking the next Gate. By night, their rune-tattooed bodies twined together.
And then one day, the two came upon a group of squatters- those in the Labyrinth who travel in packs, who move slowly and represent civilization as far as anything can in that hellish prison. As was customary, Haplo and his companion brought a gift of meat and, as was customary, the squatters invited them to accept the use of their crude lodgings and find a measure of peace and security for a few nights.