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s from the surviving doeki； the sky was losing its golden sheen and dusk was on its way。 They debated whether to proceed in darkness and decided against it。 Though the air was calm at present； they knew from past experience that conditions on these heights were unpredictable。 If they attempted to move by night； and a storm descended from the peaks； they'd be twice blinded and in danger of losing their way。 With the High Pass so close； and the journey easier； they hoped； once they were through it； the risk was not worth taking。
Having used up the supply of wood they'd collected below the snow line； they were obliged to fuel the fire with the dead doeki's saddle and harness。 It made for a smoky； pungent； and fitful blaze； but it was better than nothing。 They cooked some of the fresh meat； Gentle observing as he chewed that he had less punction about； eating something he'd named than he thought； and brewed up a small serving of the herders' piss liquor。 As they drank； Gentle returned the conversation to the women in the ice。
〃Why would a God as powerful as Hapexamendios slaughter defenseless women？〃
〃Whoever said they were defenseless？〃 Pie replied。 〃1 think they were probably very powerful。 Their oracles must have sensed what was ing； so they had their armies ready…〃
〃Armies of women？〃
〃Certainly。 Warriors in their tens of thousands。 There are places to the north of the Lenten Way where the earth used to move every fifty years or so and uncover one of their war graves。〃
〃They were all slaughtered？ The armies； the oracles…〃
〃Or driven so deep into hiding they forgot who they were after a few generations。 Don't look so surprised。 It happens。'1
〃One God defeats how many Goddesses？ Ten； twenty…〃
〃Innumerable。〃
〃How？1'
〃He was One； and simple。 They were many； and diverse。〃
〃Singularity is strength…〃
〃At least in the short term。 Who told you that？〃
〃I'm trying to remember。 Somebody I didn't like much： Klein； maybe。〃
〃Whoever said it； it's true。 Hapexamendios came into the Dominions with a seductive idea： that wherever you went； whatever misfortune attended you； you needed only one name on your lips； one prayer； one altar； and you'd be in His care。 And He brought a species to maintain that order once He'd established it。 Yours。〃
〃Those women back there looked human enough to me。〃
〃So do I；〃 Pie reminded him。 〃But I'm not。〃
〃No 。 。 。 you're pretty diverse； aren't you？〃
〃I was once。 。 。。〃
〃So that puts you on the side of the Goddesses； doesn't it？〃 Gentle whispered。
The mystif put its finger to his lips。
Gentle mouthed one word by way of response： 〃Heretic。〃
It was very dark now； and they both settled to studying the fire。 It was steadily diminishing as the last of Chester's saddle was consumed。
〃Maybe we should burn some fur；〃 Gentle suggested。
〃No；〃 said Pie。 〃Let it dwindle。 But keep looking。〃
〃At what？〃
〃Anything。〃
〃There's only you to look at。〃
〃Then look at me。〃
He did so。 The privations of the last many days had seemingly taken little toll on the mystif。 It had no facial hair to disfigure the symmetry of its features； nor had their spar…tan diet pinched its cheeks or hollowed its eyes。 Studying its face was like returning to a favorite painting in a museum。 There it was： a thing of calm and beauty。 But； unlike the painting； the face before him； which presently seemed so solid； had the capacity for infinite change。 It was months since the night when he'd first seen that phenomenon。 But now； as the fire burned itself out and the shadows deepened around them； he realized the same sweet miracle was imminent。 The flicker of dying flame made the symmetry swim； the flesh before him seemed to lose its fixedness as he stared and stirred it。
〃I want to watch；〃 he murmured。
〃Then watch。〃
〃But the fire's going out。 。 。。〃
〃We don't need light to see each other；〃 the mystif whispered。 〃Hold on to the sight。〃
Gentle concentrated； studying the face before him。 His eyes ached as he tried to hold onto it； but they were no petition for the swelling darkness。
〃Stop looking；〃 Pie said； in a voice that seemed to rise from the decay of the embers。 〃Stop looking； and see。〃
Gentle fought for the sense of this； but it was no more susceptible to analysis than the darkness in front of him。 Two senses were failing him here…one physical； one linguistic…two ways to embrace the world slipping from him at the same moment。 It was like a little death； and a panic seized him； like the fear he'd felt some midnights waking in his bed and body and knowing neither： his bones a cage； his blood a gruel； his dissolution the only certainty。 At such times he'd turned on all the lights； for their fort。 But there were no lights here。 Only bodies； growing colder as the fire died。
〃Help me；〃 he said。 The mystif didn't speak。 〃Are you there； Pie？ I'm afraid。 Touch me； will you？ Pie？〃
The mystif didn't move。 Gentle started to reach out in the darkness； remembering as he did so the sight of Taylor lying on a pillow from which they'd both known he'd never rise again； asking for Gentle to hold his hand。 With that memory； the panic became sorrow： for Taylor； for Clem； for every soul sealed from its loved ones by senses born to failure； himself included。 He wanted what the child wanted： knowledge of another presence； proved in touch。 But he knew it was no real solution。 He might find the mystif in the darkness； but he could no more hold on to its flesh forever than he could hold the senses he'd already lost。 Nerves decayed； and fingers slipped from fingers at the last。
Knowing this little solace was as hopeless as any other； he withdrew his hand and instead said； 〃I love you。〃
Or did he simply think it？ Perhaps it was thought； because it was the idea rather than the syllables that formed in front of him； the iridescence he remembered from Pie's transforming self shimmering in a darkness that was not； he vaguely understood； the darkness of the starless night but his mind's darkness； and this seeing not the business of eye and object but his exchange with a creature he loved； and who loved him back。
He let his feelings go to Pie； if there was indeed a going； which he doubted。 Space； like time； belonged to the other tale…to the tragedy of separation they'd left behind。 Stripped of his senses and their necessities； almost unborn again； he knew the mystif s fort as it knew his； and that dissolution he'd woken in terror of so many times stood revealed as the beginning of bliss。
A gust of wind； blowing between the rocks； caught the embers at their side； and their glow became a momentary flame。 It brightened the face in front of him； and the sight summoned him back from his unborn state。 It was no great hardship to return。 The place they'd found together was out of time and could not decay； and the face in front of him； for all its frailty （or perhaps because of it）； was beautiful to look at。 Pie smiled at him but said nothing。
〃We'should sleep；〃 Gentle said。 〃We've got a long way to go tomorrow。〃
Another gust came along； and there were flecks of snow in it； stinging Gentle's face。 He pulled the hood of his coat up over his head and got up to check on the welfare of the doeki。 It had made a shallow bed for itself in the snow and was asleep。 By the time he got back to the fire； which had found some bustible morsel and was devouring it brightly； the mystif was also asleep； its hood pulled up around its head。 As he stared down at the visible crescent of Pie's face； a simple thought came： that though the wind was moaning at the rock； ready to bury them； and there was death in the valley behind and a city of atrocities ahead； he was happy。 He lay down on the hard ground beside the mystif。 His last thought as sleep came was of Taylor； lying on a pillow which was being a snowfield as he drew his final breaths； his face growing translucent and finally disappearing； so that when Gentle slipped from consciousness； it was not into darkness but into the whiteness of that deathbed； turned to untrodden snow。
23
Gentle dreamed that the wind grew harsher and brought snow down off the peaks； fresh minted。 He nevertheless rose from the relative fort of his place beside the ashes； and took off his coat and shirt； took off his boots and socks； took off his trousers and underwear； and naked walked down the narrow corridor of rock； past the sleeping doeki； to face the blast。 Even in dreams； the wind threatened to freeze his marrow； but he had his sights set on the glacier； and he had to go to it in all humility； bare…loined； barebacked； to show due respect for those souls who suffered there。 They had endured centuries of pain； the crime against them unrevenged。 Beside theirs； his suffering was a minor thing。
There was sufficient light in the wide sky to show him his way； but the wastes seemed endless； and the gusts worsened as he went； several times throwing him over into the snow。 His muscles cramped and his breath shortened； ing from between his numbed lips in hard； small clouds。 He wanted to weep for the pain of it； but the tears crystallized on the ledge of his eye and would not fall。
Twice he stopped； because he sensed that there was something more than snow on the