PART IV: SANDRA (Both Versions)

A greatly overdue dedication: to Intrasonic.

Chapter 1: Emerald Spring

     Something prompted Emeralda into waking from a deep sleep. The song of spring outside her window, the bright, fresh morning that flowed like a honeyed draught and warmed her little white room, fanning the ivory curtains until they rippled like the wings of a butterfly, their fragile lace almost transparent in the strong light.
     She opened her eyes.
     For a little while more she resisted the urge to rise, lying with her eyes half-closed, watching the light and the warmth, submerged in silence and tranquility.
     Something new is beginning today, she thought, a little dreamily.
     Of course, answered that ever-present, practical side of her nature. It's the seventeen of May, and the summer quarter begins today in the university. So you better wake up and do something about it, unless you want to be late.
     I wonder if Snow is awake yet? I better go and find out.
     She rose in her bed and leant against the windowsill, looking outside. Everything was bright and festive that morning, and even the ordinary cobblestones gleamed in the sun like pearls taken fresh from the depths of the ocean, the luminous paths running between buildings of sun-warmed crimson bricks.
     The Summer quarter is beginning today, Emeralda thought, and we're still here in the university, Snow and I. I think we'll stay here for a little while more; and I'm happy for it.
     She put her feet in the soft bath-slippers and set about the business of washing and dressing. This concluded, she fished out her summer schedule and pored over it; not particularly pleased at the fact that she and Snow were to have only six classes together this semester instead of seven (did they have to put him in advanced language studies?) and noting the addition of a completely new class and instructor (subject: Geology. It should be interesting).
     Someone knocked on Emeralda's door. "Hey, Emmy!" said a voice. "Are you up already? If you don't hurry I'll be the first one in class today, instead of you."
     She recognized the voice of Sage, that strange boy who always lurked around her. He was the same age as Emeralda, but behaved in an older manner, priding himself for his academic achievements and scoffing the others for their childish manner. The other students teased him, but in a good-humored way, because he was overall good-natured, and could be counted on (unlike, for example, Snow) to rescue the class by single-handedly conducting class discussions and experiments, when others failed to understand the material or just generally preferred to goof off.
     He now pushed his glasses up his nose and ran his hand through his straw-colored hair, blinking at Emeralda in a self-important manner as she opened the door.
     "I know that you hate to be late," he stated. "Especially on the first day of class."
     "Is Snow up yet?" asked Emeralda. Somewhat to Snow's chagrin his room was adjacent to Sage's room in the boys' dormitory.
     "Always asking for the Professor," Sage said, displeased. He acquired the habit of calling Snow “the Professor” ever since Snow displaced him as the number one student last quarter. This sprung up an instant rivalry between the two boys, which, however, was devoid of hostility, Snow not being particularly interested in it, and Sage's nature entirely lacking in rancor. Snow was a little less pleased with Sage's obvious admiration for Emeralda, but as Sage was not much better-looking than him, the emotion was more like a persistent, minor irritation rather than true dislike.
     "I am sorry," answered Emeralda, turning around and seating herself on her bed, and pulling her shoes on. "But I wish to know whether I need to wake him up."
     "He'll be here presently," said Sage. His pale blue eyes peered at Emeralda through the lens of the glasses. "No need to wait for him, though, Emmy. Let's go to class together."
     "Sorry," replied Emeralda resolutely. "But I need to make sure that Snow is ready in time. He tends to be sleepy and sulky when he needs to wake earlier than he's used to."
     "Will you stop talking about the Professor?" Sage demanded, mildly frustrated. "You make too much fuss over him. Here, Emmy, take my arm, and we'll go to the boys' dorms."
     Emeralda rose to her feet. "Thanks," she said.
     "You should forget about the Professor," said Sage, drawing her near him. "You and I belong together, Emmy."
     "Don't be silly," answered Emeralda briskly. "Come on, then, let's go." And she passed through the doorway.

     Geology class was conducted only once a week. The students, back in the classroom after lunch and anticipating the newest subject, chatted between themselves in the relaxed fashion of students just back from a vacation, and not yet quite in grasp of the fact that school had actually started.
     "How's the new instructor?" asked one. "Miss Green, or whatever her name is?"
     "I heard she's kind of new to the university. Only here since February or so."
     "I heard she was in research, but they forced her to teach a class to fund her studies."
     "I heard she's a real pill," said one of the girls. "She's young, but she dresses like an old maid."
     "Oh great. Those types are the worst."
     "Yeah. They have no sense of humor. And just look at the amount of homework she dumped on us. Typical of her type."
     "Personally, I think she sounds interesting," Sage stated. "They say she's a brilliant researcher."
     "She does sound like your type, Sagey," answered one of the students. The others laughed.
     "And Snow too should approve," said another.
     At this Snow, seated by Emeralda as usual, raised his head from his examination of his geology book. Quickly backlashing as always, he said with cool acidity:
     "If she teaches you to formulate just one decently coherent thought, I will."
     The laughter increased.
     "Come on, Snow, you know that's an impossible task."
     "You are making a mistake of thinking that, like you, we came here to study."
     "I think I'll like her," said Emeralda seriously. "She sounds interesting."
     "That's because you're an angel, Emmy," said one boy, winking at her. Emeralda was well liked, and the general admiration for her spilled over to a toleration (mixed with envy) of Snow on the part of the boys. She and Snow had the reputation of being “the brilliant couple”. To this last fact, Emeralda was completely oblivious; and Snow, secretly pleased that they were considered a couple, never sought to illuminate her of it.
     "Hush," a girl scolded the laughing, chattering boys. "Here she comes."
     A young woman entered the room. The term “pill” used to describe her certainly did not fall short of the mark, if the fashion of her clothes was the sole consideration. Emeralda studied her with interest.
     The new teacher, Miss Green, appeared young enough, in her mid-twenties or so; but she was clad in an old-fashioned manner of a much older woman. Her clothes consisted of a sober black jacket, vaguely manlike in appearance; a gray, long-sleeved shirt; and a starched, gray-green skirt reaching down below her knees. A prim black hat covered her head tightly, and the few strands of hair falling loose from beneath, as if peeping in mischievous defiance of their imprisonment, were brown in color. Her oval face was half-concealed by large, wide-framed glasses. Thick socks and old-fashioned, heavy-soled shoes completed her drab makeup.
     Despite the appearance of their new teacher, the students felt immediately that they were in the presence of something curiously different than its surface appearance. Certainly, she was tall and slender, and her clothes could not quite conceal the fact that she had a graceful figure, and that her gait, as she strode into the room, was decisive and firm. Her skin was pale and fine, and her eyes, seen through the thick lens of her glasses, were large and beautiful in shape and shade, with just a hint of a glimmering green fun playing through their dark color.
     Her first words, spoken in businesslike tones, confirmed that impression.
     "So, you're the brats I'll be teaching," she said, casting a relentlessly critical eye over the class. "A fine headful of children we have here; we'll see if there's brain beneath all that hair. To present myself: I'm known as Miss Green, but you may call me Alexa if you like. Try it; I promise I won't mind." A smile peeped out now, seemingly belying her severity. "Geology is my passion, but teaching is not; although I should warn you that I dearly love to have things my own way."
     She put her hand on her book and seated herself in the chair. "You should all have received your syllabus in the mailbox," she continued briskly, "and hopefully you've done all your reading for today. And now that I dispensed with the formalities, let's open to page five and begin."
     A little shocked at this abrupt dismissal of the usual long-drawn introductions, most of the students obeyed mechanically, following her cue; only Sage, greatly daring (without, however, being aware of it), raised his hand. The new instructor, who called herself Alexa, raised an eyebrow.
     "Yes?"
     "Please, Miss," Sage said formally. "I believe that the correct procedure would be to ask for our names. This is how it's usually done."
     Miss Green eyed him. She seemed to take his measure, and she needed but a moment or two to size up his character correctly. A smile quirked at the corner of her mouth, but she answered seriously enough: "Indeed? Well, it's not how it's done under my tutelage. You see, all I care about right now is the amount of knowledge you possess in my area of interest. I can't say I care the least about YOU."
     The class stirred at this answer. Sage seemed to mill his new instructor's reply over in his mind. Then he said, a little more carefully, "I do know quite a bit about chemistry, Miss, so I believe that I have a good basic ground for this subject."
     The Geology instructor fixed a stern gaze on Sage. "Are you the best student in the class?" she asked briefly.
     This was a sensitive subject. Sage hesitated; but he always adhered to the complete truth; unaware, indeed, that there was another option. He answered, although somewhat grudgingly for his mild nature:
     "No, ma'am. I'm the second-best student. But," he added punctiliously, "only for the overall average."
     "You're not a genius by any chance, are you?" Miss Green inquired. "I must confess that I can't abide geniuses. They have this irritating habit of being as smart as I am."
     The unrest of the class increased. Sage answered with his unremitting honesty: "Well, ma'am, I don't know, but my father is a renowned mathematical scholar, and I'm generally considered to have inherited his intellect."
     "Who, then, is best?" asked Miss Green; but her gaze shifted and came to rest on Snow even as she uttered the question, and the hint of the smile became increasingly prominent.
     Snow initially sat with his head lowered when the new instructor strode into class. His eyes were fixed on his book with marked disinterest, and unlike Emeralda, he did not look at the new teacher. But as the new teacher sat down he glanced up, as if his attention was drawn by something; and the brief glance quickly became more pronounced, until it turned into a fixed stare. Now when she looked towards him he changed color and lowered his head hastily, pretending not to notice her pointed gesture.
     Sage, meanwhile, answered the question. "For the overall average, ma'am, it's Snow. But for science it's Emmy. And I'm best at math."
     Miss Green looked back towards Sage. "I see," she answered coolly. "Who, then, is Emmy? Stand up, please."
     Emeralda, who's been examining her new teacher with unruffled serenity, stood up at once. "It is I," she said.
     Miss Green bestowed a cursory, apparently disinterested glance on Emeralda. "Do you know the table of elements by heart?" she asked shortly.
     "Yes, ma'am."
     "Then recite it for the class, starting with the first atomic number, and include the element name, symbol, and atomic weight."
     "Hydrogen, H," Emeralda began calmly, without as much as an objection. "Atomic weight one. Helium, He; atomic weight four. Lithium, Li; atomic weight…"
     The new instructor surveyed the class. "The rest of you," she said, "open to page thirty and complete the exercises for your first reading. I want it perfectly quiet in here until she finishes, and then each of you will be assigned an answer. Understood?"
     The class became silent at once, and the students obeyed her bidding. Emeralda continued her recital. Then, she paused. Miss Green, who sat and worked at some notebooks (to Snow, who's been shooting continual glances towards her, they appeared to have nothing to do with the class material), looked up.
     "Finished?" she asked.
     "I'm afraid, Miss, that I wasn't bid to memorize beyond Zinc," Emeralda explained. "Although I could try and recall some of the elements beyond. I think that Selenium, for example, has the atomic weight of-"
     Her teacher detained her. "That's all right," she said, her eyes betraying her amusement. "I'll let the class finish their problems. Well done." She bestowed a telling wink on Emeralda, who answered it with a disapproving but by no means uncongenial stare. Snow alone in the class detected the signs of familiarity in that exchange of unceremonious looks.
     When the class was over Sage bundled his books under his arms and hurried after Emeralda.
     "I'm awfully sorry, Emmy," he whispered. "For causing her to make you stand and recite everything point-blank like that. Although I knew you'd be capable of doing it," he added with undisguised pride, as if Emeralda's success fully justified his belief that she was the girl of his choice.
     "It's all right," Emeralda assured him. "I didn't mind. I do need a brash-up on the table of elements, however," she remarked thoughtfully.
     Snow, quick to detect the added flavor to Sage's remark, felt annoyed at his possessive tones. "Next time, you shouldn't interfere," he said crossly. "This new teacher is not one to be trifled with, you know."
     "I have to agree," answered Sage. But he gazed at Snow with mild curiosity. "You speak as if you already know her," he remarked.
     "I do," Snow replied flatly.
     Emeralda , knowing fully well what was to come, intervened. "She is just the kind of a person that makes you feel as if you had known her for a long time, even after a very short while," she said, giving Snow's arm a very pointed squeeze.
     Sage was familiar with Snow's ironic way of speaking, and he was thus slow to suspicion. He nodded "Yes. I felt this as well. That's what you meant, isn't it, Snow?"
     "No," Snow answered stubbornly.
     Sage appeared slightly baffled, but Emeralda diverted his attention by speaking of something else. After he left she tugged at Snow's hand.
     "Come on," she said briskly. "I think I know where her office is; and if not, I'll ask."
     Snow muttered something, and did not appear particularly enthusiastic at the prospect of meeting his new teacher again; but he followed Emeralda without objection.

     Emeralda inquired for the location of Miss Green's office at the student administration building. She and Snow then made their way towards the pretty, low set of russet brick buildings located at the west end of the university.
     Miss Green's office was a small, unimportant-looking door at the end of a narrow wing that overlooked a neat terrace of white stones. Emeralda knocked politely, and after a moment a voice bade her to come inside.
     She entered, Snow following. They found themselves inside a tiny rectangular room that appeared to contain nothing but rows upon rows of shelves, densely set with books that piled up to the ceiling, and a large redwood desk in the middle. An open window let in the warm breeze and prevented the room from becoming too stuffy. Miss Green sat at the desk, leaning over some parchments. Her dark jacket was thrown carelessly across the back of the chair, and she had taken off her black hat. Her smooth chestnut hair brushed her jaw in short strands as she leant forward, deeply absorbed in her reading. Snow, who glanced at her surreptitiously, could barely catch a glimpse of her lowered countenance. She did not look up as Snow and Emeralda entered, and only said briefly, "Yes? What do you want?"
     Emeralda replied in calm tones, unfazed by this distant greeting. "I wanted to see you."
     Miss Green looked up immediately at the sound of Emeralda's voice. Her eyes lit with amusement, but she did not rise from her seat. "A visit from two of my best students, I see! I fail to discern its necessity, but I am honored nevertheless. How can I help you?"
     "Don't talk like that, Alex," said Emeralda with some asperity. "Of course I could not help but to come and see you. Also, I wanted to ask you some questions, but you shouldn't be surprised at that either."
     The Jumi of Alexandrite finally set her parchments aside with a brisk movement of her hand. Then, leaning back in the chair, she crossed her arms and appeared to resign herself to the fact that the visit will be of some duration. "I am listening."
     "Where is Florina?" asked Emeralda without much ceremony.
     Alexandra raised an eyebrow, then sighed and shook her head with a mournful air. "I see. It's been- how long? Four and a half months since I've seen you last. And the first thing you do is ask after Florina. Nothing such as 'It's wonderful to see you, Alex!', or 'I'm so glad you're not dead!'"
     "It's not as if you care about that," observed Emeralda with devastating honesty, but accurately enough. "Besides, I didn't think that a person like you could die. You're too devious."
     Alexandra uttered a short laugh. "I see you haven't changed, brat. But what if I told you that I almost ended up dying?"
     This seemed to take Emeralda off-guard. "Oh!" she said. "I'm glad you didn't, then, Alex. Did Elazul save you?"
     Alexandra's mirth seemed to increase. "Elazul? A good guess, but no. I was saved by some, shall we say, unusual circumstances."
     Snow had hitherto listened to Alexandra in silence, and tried not to make his eyes linger over her too obviously. The transformation of the slender, sharp-tongued youth Alex, whose confident, brusque manner he always found irritating, to the young woman Alexandra, caused him to feel both disconcerted and awkward. Alexandra was not beautiful, but despite the lingering sense of dislike he felt towards her, he could not overlook the fact that she was very attractive. The few times their gaze met he could see an unholy green glimmer inside the dark depths of her eyes, that furnished him with a keen feeling of discomfort, and the sense that she discerned his embarrassment and took delight in it. He was careful to keep his head low, listening to the exchange between Alexandra and Emeralda with an assumed air of indifference.
     However, at this startling statement even he looked up and fixed his eyes on her in surprise. "Unusual circumstances?" he echoed, along with Emeralda.
     "Yes," Alexandra answered.
     Emeralda looked puzzled, but also curious. "What do you mean?" she asked.
     "It doesn't matter," answered Alexandra. "At any rate, I myself am only guessing at what happened, and I don't mean to discuss this right now." Her tone was good-humored, but it clearly signaled that, as far as she was concerned, the conversation upon that subject was finished. "But, back to Elazul: as you may observe, we have parted ways since."
     Emeralda nodded. "I know where Elazul lives, Alex," she said. "I can tell you."
     "No need," answered Alexandra. "I already know."
     "Oh!" said Emeralda, taken by surprise. "Did you visit him, then?"
     "I did not."
     This briskly-spoken reply gave Emeralda a pause. She bestowed a long, measuring gaze upon Alexandra, who returned it with a deceptively bland smile. The Emerald Jumi broke the silence by saying, "Do you know that Black Pearl is with Elazul, then?"
     "Yes, I do," answered Alexandra, without a change of countenance. "I know all about her transformation as well."
     "Then did you at least contact Elazul?" Emeralda persisted.
     "No, I did not," answered Alexandra.
     "Why not?" asked Emeralda, and her expression, that had increased in severity through this set of apparently indifferent answers on Alexandra's part, became visibly disapproving.
     "Because," answered Alexandra, in the same offhand way, "I did not wish to."
     Emeralda favored the unconcerned tone of this answer with a short reflection. Then she stated: "I know you, Alex. You're up to something, aren't you?"
     Alexandra was amused at this accusation. "I don't know what you mean."
     "Well, aren't you here for your research?" asked Emeralda.
     "I am."
     "And is Florina helping you?"
     "She is"
     "Well, then, that's it," said Emeralda. "You're still researching the angel legend."
     "And what does it have to do with Elazul, pray?" Alexandra inquired affably.
     "I don't know," Emeralda admitted. "But I just know that it does. At least, your not contacting Elazul may have to do something with it." A flash of realization struck her and she finished, "You're planning something that he wouldn't like."
     Alexandra did not attempt to answer any of these observations. Instead, she leant forward and looked straight at Emeralda.
     "Listen here, brat," she said, with perfect amiability, but in an unmistakably dictatorial tone. "If you- either of you," she amended, shifting her gaze to Snow, who unconsciously flinched and looked down, "ever tell Elazul that I am here without my permission, I shall make you heartily sorry for it."
     Snow looked a little annoyed at Alexandra's familiar, imperious manner. He remained silent, although he looked up again, and the expression he bestowed upon her was far from friendly. Emeralda said, "I don't know why you should talk like that, Alex. You should tell Elazul you're here. He thinks that you are dead."
     Alexandra raised an eyebrow. "Well, I will not tell him. And let me tell you this, brat: keep silent on this matter, and you and Snow earn my protection. Tell Elazul anything at all, and you and Snow will be carted back to the Jumi city faster than you can imagine."
     Emeralda was never afraid of Alex; but she respected her, and this warning gave her a pause. She had already experienced Alexandra's wrath once, and recognized the signs that indicated that she was perfectly serious. A short reflection caused her to adopt more caution. She said, stoutly, "If it's that important to you, Alex, we won't tell Elazul."
     "Good," answered Alexandra, her expression amused again at Emeralda's familiar, fearless manner. "You know how to survive around me, brat."
     "I think that you are intolerable," said Emeralda. "You always liked to be hard on Elazul, and I won't be surprised if this causes him to break off with you completely. But," she added, recalling her first question, "I still wish to know where Florina is."
     "I'm sorry to say that I cannot supply you with an answer to that particular inquiry," answered Alexandra, with the same careless good-humor.
     "You must," Emeralda said firmly. "I wish to see her again."
     "Well," said Alexandra, "if you must know, I keep her locked tight inside a box."
     Emeralda was not daunted by this characteristically evasive answer. "By this you must mean that you keep her contained in some horrid little studio inside the city," she observed. "Just tell me where, so I can visit her."
     "That's for me to know," answered Alexandra, "and for you, odious brat, to cease your impertinent questioning and be silent, as you ought to before an adult many years your senior."
     Snow could bear to keep silent no longer. He now intervened. "Emeralda means well, and no disrespect," he said promptly, with some heat. "All she wants is to see Lady Florina again. I wish to see her as well."
     Alexandra, who had hitherto addressed Emeralda exclusively, finally turned her attention towards Snow. Although she apparently focused upon Emeralda, Snow's various revolutions of feelings towards her did not escape her observation, and his outburst amused her. But she decided that it was discourteous enough to merit a proper retribution.
     "I apologize, Snow," she said, affecting regret. "I'm afraid I forgot that I am in the presence of Florina's lovelorn admirer. She cannot see anyone, not even you."
     Snow gave Alexandra a lengthy stare. Her teasing little reply took him off-guard, so he could not think of an immediate answer. His color somewhat heightened, he finally said, "I, I am not Lady Florina's admirer. That is, I am," he corrected himself, "but when I asked to see her, I did not mean- that is, I didn't mean that I wanted to see her because-" He discovered that Emeralda was giving him a steady look and lost his thread of thought, coming to an abrupt halt.
     Since Snow was momentarily silent, Emeralda spoke now. "Snow," she said seriously, "I did not know that you admired Florina that much."
     Snow's embarrassment increased. "That's not what I meant, Emeralda," he said quickly, with emphasis. "I admire Lady Florina, but not that way. Anyway," he continued, wishing to turn from a subject of which he was rapidly losing hold, and addressing Alexandra with a somewhat belligerent tone, "you ought to let us see Florina."
     Alexandra immediately discerned that the situation between these two young Jumi remained exactly as it had been in the city. Snow had an obvious, persistent crush on Emeralda, to which she was completely oblivious, perceiving him only as a close personal friend. She decided that the course that she embarked upon inadvertently was a fitting punishment for this rash young man, and the little smile that always lurked at the corner of her mouth became more prominent. "Well, Snow, I cannot but consider your feelings," she said gravely. "I will think this request over, especially for you."
     Snow began to feel distinctly incensed. "I respect Lady Florina, ma'am. But that's all."
     "I'm glad to hear it," Alexandra answered, bestowing a wink upon him with a mischievous green eye. "Personally, I always hoped that you might be MY most ardent admirer."
     Snow, turning red, was effectively silenced. Emeralda said, with a tone of strong reproof: "Don't pay any attention to her, Snow. I can tell that she's in one of her strange moods, and we won't be able to get anything out of her at present."
     Attempting to recover his dignity, Snow said stiffly: "Give my regards to Lady Florina, ma'am." He executed a short bow and turned. Emeralda, echoing his sentiments, expressed her determination to achieve her wish to see Florina despite Alex's refusal; to which Alexandra answered congenially that Emeralda may try if she likes, but that she will never manage to execute this ambition without her own permission. She succeeded this exasperatingly autocratic observation with a perfectly genial invitation to both young people to visit her whenever they liked; and upon this dubiously friendly note they departed.
     Both were silent as they made their way back towards the central courtyard to take their belated lunch. Snow, reflecting back upon the last hour, decided that instead of liking Alex more, now that she was female, he liked her even less. He disliked the infuriating command she had on every situation, and the dexterity with which she manipulated his reactions; but he especially disliked the fact that she deliberately maneuvered him to convey to Emeralda the impression that he was in love with Florina.
     He became aware of the fact that Emeralda was unusually silent. Glancing at her, he noticed that her dark eyes were fixed vaguely upon the path before her, an indication that she was deep in reflection. It was one of the expressions that he liked most on her, because it bestowed that peculiarly serene, grave, and thoughtful demeanor that he found so charming on her. Looking thus, Emeralda led people to the false conclusion that she was just some quiet, pretty little girl. And she conveyed that impression until the point when she began to speak, at which juncture most people were so disconcerted by her direct, serious, and insightful observations, that they usually ended feeling like they were the small, immature individual between them.
     He now wondered whether she was thinking of Alexandra's provoking and untrue insinuations, and decided to speak and dispel their impact as soon as he could. "What are you thinking of, Emmy?" he asked. "It's not of what Alex said, is it? Because I can tell you right now that it's absolutely false."
     She seemed jerked out of her reflections and directed a grave gaze towards him. "Do you? How did she survive, then? It does seem curious, though, the way that she spoke about it."
     Snow felt a distinct sense of disappointment, and a flush crept to his cheeks. "Oh, that," he said. "I wasn't thinking of- I mean," he finished hastily, attempting a recover, "that she can't be lying about that matter. Why would she?"
     "Alex doesn't seem to have a problem lying," observed Emeralda bluntly. "But I also can't understand her objection to meeting Elazul. She once hinted to me- practically told me, in fact-that Elazul knows that she's a woman; and after that I sometimes thought that she might be-"
     She halted abruptly without finishing her sentence. Snow did not comprehend what she was trying to say for a moment; but a quick reflection on Alexandra and Elazul's peculiar relationship, and his somewhat disgusted understanding of the way women usually reacted to Elazul, illuminated him as to Emeralda's meaning swiftly enough. "Oh," he said. "Well, I don't understand her manners, and I don't care to. Anyway, I thought Elazul is younger than she is."
     "Not by much," said Emeralda. "The difference between them is nothing to the difference between you and Florina."
     She uttered this in her usual, matter-of fact way. Despite his earlier expectation, Snow was taken off-guard by this observation, her steady tones misleading him into thinking that she'll conclude her sentence differently. His color heightened, he said quickly, "Oh, that! There's nothing in that. She was just insinuating it to make fun of me."
     Emeralda raised her eyes to Snow's face. "Really?" she said, with one of those instances of peculiar innocence that was another of her characteristics, and which Snow always found so engaging. "I rather thought that sometimes young men- in the Court, you know- admire ladies a little older than themselves, because they are allowed to dress in those beautiful ball gowns instead of being schoolgirls, and look so much more splendid. Not that I ever cared for all that," she added, a little defiantly, and more in her usual manner. "But, Snow-" she glanced up at him, suddenly looking youthful and very girlish, "I never thought about it, you know, until Alex said that you admire Florina."
     Had Alexandra been present, she probably would have been surprised at the fervent veneration Snow would have bestowed upon her at that moment. He had known Emeralda for many months, and not once, until the moment where Alexandra had goaded her into thinking that she had a rival for Snow's affections, had she displayed any interest in this question. True, she did not seem jealous; but jealousy was not her way. There was something about the way she said it that was unusual, and indicated to Snow of her revolution of feelings. She uttered this observation without her usual detached tones, appearing a little uncertain, and, which was most unusual, just a little shy.
     Snow did not betray any of these thoughts. To Emeralda he said decisively: "I promise you, Emmy, that there's nothing at all in what Alex said about Florina and me. I like and admire Florina like she was my elder sister; but nothing beyond."
     "Oh!" said Emeralda. "Well, that's…" she halted, and Snow waited expectantly for her to finish her sentence; but Emeralda said quite simply, with a frankness that betrayed her inexperience: "That's good to know."
     "Isn't I?" Snow agreed blandly. He decided that Alexandra was not so bad after all; he even found himself looking forward to studying in her class. He took Emeralda's hand, holding it firmly in his own.
     "Come on, Emmy," he said. "Let's go and get something to eat now."

Comment: I always found Sage the most memorable of the faceless students of Geo, so I gave him a bit of a part. His name isn't supposed to be Sage because he's 'wise' (though the pun might have been deliberate, you never know when text is translated from another language). Rather, his name is for the plant; all the students in Geo had names after plants, herbs, flowers, etc.

For those of you who wondered whether the geologist Alex will have vanished from this story completely, I hope this section set your mind at rest.

Unfortunately, you will not see either Snow or Emeralda again until Part V. Their appearances until now are, indeed, more time than I originally planned to give them. Originally they would have appeared in maybe 4 chapters; their meeting, their reaction to Elazul's banishment, their trip to the mountain, and sometimes in the end. But, as with Sapphire, I felt that more time was required to develop the relationship between them; added to this was the fact that they are fun to write about. Thus, you see that they appear, quite extensively, in some 5 or 6 chapters so far. Emeralda first appears in I/3. Then there's their meeting in I/4; their interaction with Sapphire in I/5; Snow's interaction with Sapphire and Emeralda's interaction with Alex in II/5; the mountain-trip in III/4; and the university chapter, in IV/1. They will also appear in V/2, and towards the end again, in V/5, which obviously would form the final chapter to Snow's story. This expands their role by almost 3 times as much. You can see how, between them and Sapphire, the story expanded from 15 chapters to 25.

A final word. I first named this chapter 'Green Spring', referring to the appearance of Alexandra, 'Miss Green', who is a 'spring person'. Then I looked it over and saw that it featured so much of Emeralda that I decided to rename it 'Emerald Spring'. Then, when I wrote that whole thing about Alex teasing Snow and Emeralda's 'awakening' into new feelings, I realized that it was actually a quite appropriate title. Then I looked it over and realized that the first thing in this chapter is Emeralda's awakening, to 'the song of spring outside her window'… which, obviously, fits into the overall theme.

In other words… I swear that I did not plan the theme of this chapter to be Emeralda's 'spring awakening'. It just happened this way. No, really! I'm not THAT literary!

"Nocturne" is a name of some random LoM tune that I can't even recall. I think it might have been a flute melody. In other words, it has no meaning whatsoever, and provided me with no inspiration.

Chapter 2: Nocturne

     A slow, warm day of spring prepared its closure, and the rich remains of the golden sun sparkled brightly in the air for a moment, like threads of an intangible treasure that the skies scattered into the world. Then they, too, were swallowed by the velvety embrace of the evening, and vanished.
     The air was soft and hushed, the meadows around the great university swayed with a secretive whisper. A drowsy red light seeped from beneath the door of the west-wing office, where Alexandra sat poring over the numerous scrolls and parchments scattered all over her desk. She did not raise her head even when a low knock on the door interrupted her studies, but said shortly, "Come in."
     The door pushed open and a man entered. He took a seat opposite Alexandra, who continued at her work without looking up, as was her habit. She gave no indication of noticing her visitor, but she appeared to know his identity, because she observed: "You're back soon. I take it that the mission went well."
     "Very well indeed," answered the man, in a placid, pleasant voice. "Although it would have been even better if you were present, Sandra."
     She smiled slightly, but did not glance up from her work. "I'll come within a few days, I promise. As soon as I finish making sense of this mess." She tapped the scroll before her briefly with one finger.
     The man folded his arms, observing her. "Seems like tedious work, that."
     "It is," she replied.
     The man continued to study her and a smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. In the orange lamp-light he appeared to be an ordinary man of an unremarkable appearance; thin, almost scrawny in build, and of average height. The expression in his eyes, whose brown color the soft glow of the lamp threw into dark relief, was both shrewd and humorous. The flames lingered over the man's hair, which was a fierce shade of rusty red, drawing copper glimmers from it with their wavering glow. Even the insufficient illumination could not conceal the deep lines in the man's wry, intelligent face; they caused him to appear older than his age, which was about forty-two years.
     "These scrolls are not familiar to me," the red-haired man remarked, after concluding his survey of the woman and her work. "I can only suppose that they are new, especially due to the amount of time you've been investing in them."
     "Good observation," she replied. "Kristie's minions dug up several scrolls and sent them to Florina just last week. A capital find, or so she assures me. It provided her with further clues regarding the temple's location."
     "I see," said the man. "I was wondering, however, whether you feel ready to gather all the clues together and finally go in quest of this temple. Because if you are, you know that my help is assured."
     She meditated for a moment; but then she answered briskly: "I think that I may be. But I'm still not quite sure which Jumi core is needed to open the temple, so the discovery of its location is, at present, redundant. Although it would, of course, please me greatly if we did find it."
     The man observed Sandra, who sat leaning over her unremitting work, with a searching look. "You may not be sure which Jumi core is needed to open the temple, but you're willing to gamble upon it," he commented calmly, scratching his chin.
     This remark finally drew her full attention, and she looked up quickly for the first time, as if she was familiar with it. "Yes, I am," she answered. "Except that I don't think that it'll be a gamble, precisely. Despite what you think," she added with a challenging look.
     But the man did not appear inclined to engage in the clearly invited dispute. "My only thought at present," he replied genially, with the wry smile that appeared characteristic to him, "is how utterly charming you are looking tonight, Sandra."
     She lowered her head towards her scrolls again, but uttered a stifled laugh. "Charming? In this horrible outfit?"
     "You look wonderful in anything, my pretty."
     "Liar," returned Sandra amiably. "But you won't make me change the subject that easily."
     "This is unfortunate, since I was about to inquire after Florina."
     She glanced up fleetingly, clearly amused by this rejoinder; but replied gravely enough, "She's well, thank you."
     "Your medicine helped, then?"
     "It so appears."
      "And when are you going to inform her," inquired the man, "that this miraculous new concoction is an extraction of the Jumi cores that we acquired from the murderers of the city's emissaries?"
     "Never," answered Sandra coolly. "She would have refused to take the medicine if she knew. As it is, she simply marvels at my remarkable new potion."
     The man observed her with a slight smile. "You even practice deceit on those you love most, Sandra."
     "Especially on those I love most," she answered placidly. "What Florina doesn't know won't hurt her. On the contrary, it heals her wonderfully."
     "The same cannot be said for the Jumi knight," the man said dryly. "When will you warn him about the sword currently in his possession?"
     "At present I don't care to meet him," answered Sandra immediately, as if she was prepared for this question. "So I'll delay that particular revelation as much as possible. Elazul does not know what the sword is, but he is intelligent enough to figure out that it's unusual, and he tends to be careful about such things. I trust that that he won't do anything stupid with it."
     "You rely too much on presumption," said the man.
     Sandra shrugged dismissively. "Perhaps I am. Don't worry; when the time is right, I'll retrieve it."
     "Steal it, you mean," the man supplied good-humorously. "My men can do this job for you easily, Sandra."
     But she shook her head. "What's the point, when it's of no use for me until I ascertain of the correct way it should be utilized? The sword is dangerous enough as it is."
     "All this does not excuse you," the man answered. "Unless you are more afraid for yourself than for the Jumi knight." But he uttered this severe observation in a perfectly calm voice, utterly devoid of condemnation.
     "Oh, you know me," Sandra replied with an unruffled air, pursuing her writing. "Self-serving to the core. Anyway, I don't believe the sword poses any threat to him. Not unless he uses it improperly. Until then, I'll let him keep it. You see, if I retrieved the sword, it will give Elazul a reason to engage in active pursuit of me, or to interfere with my plans, before they are fully ready to be quickly executed. He is bound to hear of Sandra and guess about her at some point, you know."
     "If I were you," said the man, "I would consider that I have more cause to worry about that lover of Florina's- that man called Saristin- guessing about Sandra's identity. I've only seen him once, but strikes me as the sort of man that even I would hesitate to meddle with."
     "Oh, don't worry about him," answered Sandra off-handedly. "He's too busy with his tasks as a dragoon, which take him away often enough. I hope, at least," she added as an afterthought, "that he won't catch to my true identity until it's too late. But he doesn't know about me as much as Elazul, so it's not likely, unless Florina tells him, and I charged her not to tell."
     "I hope that she won't," answered the man. "What will you do if he gets a drift of the fact that you are looking for a Jumi core to open the temple?"
     "And how will he?" returned Sandra. "Florina doesn't know about it, so why should he? If he is ever informed of the Sandra rumors, and identify her with me, I'll just tell him that the rumors are simply what they appear to be: rumors."
     "It's as I said," said the man, after another thoughtful pause. "You base all deductions and conclusions about the core entirely on your own research, because you cannot use Florina's help for this matter. Again, Sandra, I say that you rely too much on presumption."
     "I know, dear," she answered calmly. "But we've been over it before, haven't we? Unless, of course, you are ready to dispute it again." She shot a challenging, fleeting glance in his direction.
     But the man simply leant across the table, supporting his chin with his hand, observing her closely. "I've no such wish, I assure you," he replied mildly. "What puzzles me most at this moment is your reluctance to see the Lapis Lazuli knight again. I had rather thought you would like to. He was, after all, a close friend of yours."
      "I assure you I'm not," she answered coolly. "Saristin may be more dangerous than Elazul, but Elazul can provide one with no end of trouble when he sets his mind to it. Besides, I've no wish to endure one of his moral strictures about my behavior; it causes me to attend to my conscience, something which I am not in the habit of doing, and which I do not like at all." She signed a little, pausing in her writing for a moment. "He reminds me of those nuns that raised me when he speaks like that. I have to confess that it's rather annoying at times, but also strangely endearing."
     "From all your descriptions, he sounds incredibly overbearing to me," observed the man. "Not at all the thing for you, my pretty."
      She looked at him again, a hint of laughter in her eyes. "True. But from your tone, I might have supposed that this was an advice from a sage uncle to his wayward niece. Can it be that you're just a little jealous, Foxy dear?"
      "Oh no, not a little jealous," answered the man in a good-humored tone. "Incredibly jealous. He's young, and handsome, and possesses an ardent spirit. I am old, cynical, and as dry as a string."
      "Well, you shouldn't be, Foxy," she answered placidly, a twinkle in her eye.
      "Prove it to me, my pretty," he said. "For you know that all that would matter naught to me, if you only agreed to become mine again."
     Sandra ceased her work completely at this seemingly mournful tirade. She placed her pen on the table and leant forward, her chin cupped between her palms, observing the man with an apparently guileless expression.
     "And what if I promise to come back to you?" she inquired sweetly.
     "You should," he answered. "I always told you, sweetest, that you're best off marrying me."
     "This might be true, but I tried my hand at a relationship with you at least once, and it didn't work. I've no wish to share you with your numerous mistresses yet again."
     "As a married man? I assure you not."
     "Liar," repeated Sandra, with unremitting affability. "I know your type perfectly well, Foxy. You are so much like my father that it frightens me a little. I never thought I'd look for someone like my father- but here I am, three years after the end of our memorable little affair. Let me tell you, Foxy, that there's at least one quality this handsome young knight possesses, that you lack. A very engaging kind of honesty; a strict adherence to the truth."
      "Which I will hazard to guess simply means that he possesses a very unfortunate, very stupid kind of naiveté," answered Fox without rancor. "I would guess that, between you and that young knight, it was you who always had the upper hand. And I've no doubt that this pleased you much."
     "You're wrong," Sandra retorted. "Any control I ever had over Elazul had always been extremely tenuous. I told you that he has this tendency to oppose me, to try and influence me into seeing his own point of view. It's rather surprising, really," she added, "considering that he's usually extremely reserved, and distances himself from most peoples' affairs. I seem to have raised in him some kind of an urge to control my actions and behavior."
     "I'm not surprised at it one bit," said Fox calmly. "From what you told me of that woman, Black Pearl, that this young knight had become infatuated with, he appears to be drawn to your kind of women."
     "You mean that he's drawn to impossible, control-obsessive bitches, don't you, dear?" she asked, amusement in her voice.
     "I hasten to add that in you I find these qualities most charming," Fox answered with admirable aplomb, and bestowed a wink upon her.
     "Intrepid!" she observed, her eyes dancing.
      He bestowed another wink upon her. "But it all matters naught, my pretty. Once you've grown tired of waiting for this handsome, simple-minded young man to notice you, you'll return to me."
     She resumed her writing. "I'll think about it, Foxy."
     "You don't love me?" he asked, his tone mournful.
      "I do, Foxy. I just don't wish to be married to you. Besides, I think that your absurd jealousy is making you awfully hard on poor Elazul. He's not as smart you are, but once you get to know him you find that he possesses a good amount of common sense, and even a sense of humor."
      "I see," Fox answered gravely. "He surprised you, didn't he?"
     Sandra ceased writing, throwing her hands up with seeming exasperation. Then she stood up.
     "Thank you, Foxy," she said. "You've robbed all desire of continuing this conversation right out of me."
     "Which is your way of indicating that I won this exchange," he said slyly.
     She came over around the table and patted him affectionately on the head. "Dear Foxy! That's why I left you, you know. I don't mind sharing you with other women, but I can't stand people who are smarter than I am."
     "Speaking of which," said Fox, with an altered tone- suddenly quite serious- "I bear some news that I think will interest you." He scratched his chin in thought, a habitual gesture. "It seems like Snake is abroad again."
     This gave Sandra a pause; but after a short meditation she shrugged dismissively. "And what's it to me?"
     "Arrogant as always, my pretty. It means that we must, at least, be more watchful. He's always been very dangerous."
     "I agree," said Sandra shortly. "And I am heartily sorry that we failed to trap him at that one occasion."
     "You see what I mean," answered Fox. "Our combined efforts to snare him failed. And don't forget that he's probably dreaming up a fitting revenge. I made it seem like the trap was in jest, but Snake doesn't forget anything, not even a jest. He hates me more than he ever did, and he now hates you as well."
     "Then let him indulge in these amiable feelings. He can't do anything to me, you know, and certainly not to you."
     "I agree," answered Fox. "And still, you must be careful."
     Sandra shrugged. She glanced outside, through the dark square of the window. "Snake is a dangerous man, I agree," she answered. "But I've enough on my mind, and I've no wish to worry myself about his likes."
      Fox watched her set countenance. "My men will keep an eye on him," he said. "But, Sandra, I hope that you're not making a grave mistake. Snake doesn't always work in a straight fashion. He has ways of doing things in seemingly convoluted ways, which end up doing great harm anyway."
     "I'll keep your warning in mind," was Sandra's reply; but she spoke it in an indifferent tone. Fox could see that she was adamant about this matter, and he did not argue it further. "Well," he said, pleasantly, "will I be spending the night at your place?"
     She turned towards him at this, with a brilliant smile. "Of course, Foxy! We shall have coffee and biscuits and we'll chatter about old times."
     "You make me feel old, saying this," Fox sighed.
     "We ARE old," answered Sandra cheerfully. "I, for one, am more than twice as old as you are."
     "So I shall turn old and wither, while you remain young and beautiful," he observed with a melancholy air. "I must admit that this prospect possesses certain attractions, despite some clear drawbacks."
     "But isn't this prospect the very reason you wish me to be yours?" she asked, with radiant sweetness.
     He shook his head. "The ungratefulness of this woman! Because of you, I refrain from killing Jumi. I gave you the cores of the murdered Jumi so you can use them for the sake of Florina- whom, by the way, I know you greatly prefer to myself- thereby missing out on a huge fortune. You should be kissing my hands and swearing eternal fidelity to me, my girl."
     "And still," she answered cheerfully, "I shall not, Foxy. Now, come with me and cease your complaining, before I call you a dull old man."
     But Fox merely shook his head again. "Unfortunately," he said mournfully, "Your outrageous behavior always made me feel like one."

     Alexandra sat inside her little bedroom, on the window-sill, her head leaning against the window. She looked out into the balmy, scented evening of spring, but her eyes saw nothing, because her mind milled over old memories.

      …The red-haired man sat inside his room at an early morning hour. It was five o'clock, when the skies were tinged by a hint of the pale dawn, but the night was not quite over. The man did not appear tired, although it was not certain whether he just awoke, or whether he's been sitting all night. He was poring over drawings of maps, carefully charted in slender, accurate lines of various colors. A knock on the door disturbed him from his study, and he said in an unruffled voice, "Yes?"
      "Sir," said a voice behind the door. "I must speak to your urgently."
      The red-haired man did not look up from his study of the map. "Then come in," he answered.
      The door opened and a man came in. He bowed briefly, then stated: "Someone broke into the hideout's labyrinth, Sir. We detained him, of course, and the men are holding him right outside."
      "Then put him in the dungeon and I'll attend to it tomorrow," answered the red-haired man in a disinterested voice.
      "Sir, he claims to know you," said the messenger in apologetic tones. "It must be an outrageous lie. He is very young, Sir, but I mislike his looks."
      The red-haired man asked, blandly, "Indeed? What is his name?"
      "He calls himself Alex, Sir."
      At this, the red-haired man looked up. "Alex," he repeated, thoughtfully.
      "Yes, Sir," said the messenger. "I know not how he managed to locate our hideout. Someone must have betrayed us, Sir."
      "You fool," the red-haired man said pleasantly. "It was I who gave him the location of our hide-out. Let the boy in."
      The man appeared slightly puzzled, but obeyed this order without question. Some time later the door opened again, and several men hauled in a slender young man clad in a dusty traveling-cloak. He was dressed in dark clothes besides, and a bandanna was wrapped around his head, concealing his hair. The young man was pushed forward, not too gently, and one of the men said: "Here he is, Fox."
      Fox raised an eyebrow. He observed the young man with a slight smile on his wry countenance. His gaze was returned boldly by green, bright eyes. Fox's amusement increased.
      "Leave us," he said quietly, without taking his eyes off the youth. "I need to make a thorough investigation of this."
      As soon as the door closed, the youth threw his cloak off and pulled a chair, seating himself opposite Fox. "A warm welcome, Sir!" he remarked with a familiar air. "Had I known your men would have been this pleased to see me, I would have come sooner."
      "Bold words for a run-away," stated the Fox mildly. "What brings you here, child, at this hour, in this garb, and with that impertinent look on your face?"
      The youth raised laughing eyes at him. "Why you, Sir."
      The Fox raised an eyebrow. "Indeed?"
      "You said I'd be welcomed here whenever I wish to come," said the youth, in an accusing tone. "And here I am, Sir."
      "Indeed, child. And you are twice as charming as I imagined you to be."
      The youth stifled a laugh, and unwrapped the bandanna with a few brisk motions. Brown, disheveled hair was revealed, surrounding the oval countenance in a fashion that was very unbecoming. But Fox thought that it was enchanting, and he said as much to his young guest. "Did you cut your hair by yourself?" he asked admiringly.
      "You are too cruel, Sir, for making such sport of me," was the plaintive rejoinder; but the green eyes danced, belying its tone.
      "I was serious," Fox replied mildly. "I had never seen what you actually looked like, my child, beneath that nun's garb. You are much prettier than I thought you would be."
      The young woman disguised as a man rose to her feet, executing a bow. "Thank you, Sir. And now that you've seen me as a woman, I have but one request of you."
      "And it is…?" inquired Fox, not at all unruffled by the ill-boding air of mischief with which the young woman uttered this statement.
      She straightened, directing a perfectly serious gaze at him despite the apparently humorous look. "To teach me to fight, act, and speak like a man."
      But Fox had seen much in his life, and he was immune to surprises. "I see," he answered. "What else?"
      "I also wish you to track down someone for me. A young knight."
      Fox raised an eyebrow. "Any particular reason?" he asked.
      She noticed his quizzing gaze and her eyes twinkled. "Because, Sir, he's attractive and young and has nice blue eyes. But most importantly," she added, more seriously, "because he is of my people."
      "Might I inquire, Sandra," asked the Fox serenely, "Who are 'your people'?"
      In answer, the young woman unlaced the front of her shirt, opening it at the neck, and revealing the green jewel embedded within. Her eyes steady on Fox, she said,
      "Now you know, Sir. I am entrusting you with this secret because I know that I can trust you. Your life for my life, Fox. Six years ago I saved you from fatal wounds. Now you must help me to become a fitting fighter, so I would be ready to join my people."
      As she talked, Fox's eyes were fixed on the green jewel with a bland, thoughtful expression. But when she ceased speaking he raised them to her face with his wry smile.
      "And what has the handsome, blue-eyed young knight of yours anything to do with it?" he asked.
      She laced her shirt deftly, but answered with a bright air, "Oh, nothing- and perhaps much. I tended his wounds a while ago. He was the first Jumi that I have ever seen, Sir, of the city. Somehow, once I've seen him, the time felt ripe to leave the shrine and go to the city."
      She pulled her chair closer to Fox and bent a serious gaze on him. "But I don't wish to go back as a woman, Sir. I want to be a knight. I wish to go back as a man. This young knight happens to be the best knight that I have ever encountered. I mean to use his knowledge to learn the city's ways."
      She folded her arms and leant back in her seat. "It seems that he is a dissenter," she remarked. "Like my father had been. I want your men to trace him, Fox; I want to see when he means to go back to the city. My father told me that young men leave sometimes, but they usually go back and are forgiven upon their re-integration within the city's life. Meanwhile, until he does, I have much to learn. I'll train here, with you and your men."
      Fox listened to her speech with a bland air; and when she ceased speaking he said, with a slight smile: "My dear, you have taken a great risk. But it is as you say. My life for yours. I shall help you in any way I deem possible."
      "Thank you, Sir," said Sandra. She went down to one knee and bowed before him. "I shall not be ungrateful for your help."
      "Rise to your feet," he answered. "You saved my life, Sandra. You are my equal."
      "I trust you, Sir," she said. "But what about your men? They are bound to find out that I am a woman sooner or later."
      "Fear not, my charming child," answered Fox mildly. "I shall fully inform them of the circumstances, your origins excluded. And if any of them happens to touch you in an inappropriate manner with any part of their body, that part shall be directly cut off. Do you find this amusing?" he added, because she appeared to have difficulty at containing her mirth at this pleasantly-spoken statement.
      "Not at all," she replied. "You have a way of putting things so beautifully, Sir."
      "Thank you, my dear. I think we shall deal well together." And he winked at her with a shrewd, dark eye.
      She gave a tiny laugh, and bowed. "I agree. We shall deal famously together, oh illustrious Fox."

      In the end, Sandra thought, it took Elazul a year or so to return to the city; but still, I needed two more years of training to finally return, and even then, I had no true skills. But Elazul refined my skills, ensured to hone the rough edges, to prepare me for my knighthood.
      Three years, she thought, it took me to meet Elazul again. I only did so casually, because I valued his skills. I did not know that he'd be determined to entangle himself in my complicated affairs.
      And I am only afraid that, without meaning to, I had become a curse for you, Elazul.

     It was a mere week since the summer quarter began when Emeralda found a letter waiting at her mailbox.
     She picked it up and opened it. It was a short missive from Elazul. He did not write often and when he did, he did not waste words. Succinctly, the missive explained to Emeralda that dangerous new circumstances obliged him to become the guardian of Snow, Sapphire, and herself; and it informed her that he will be shortly arriving at the university with Sapphire and Pearl, where he intended to stay.
     At all other times, Emeralda might have resented the authoritative tone of this letter. But she knew Elazul well, and however lightly she took his warnings, she understood that it was the product of his concern. Any remnant indignation she might have felt, however, melted away at an immensely pleasing realization. Here, thought Emeralda, was a beautiful opportunity to thrust a spoke in Sandra's wheel, without doing anything that could be regarded as breaking the promise she made to her, to not inform Elazul of her whereabouts.
     Her answer to Elazul was concise.
     "Thank you for your concern," (she wrote). "Snow and I would like to see Sapphire and Lady Pearl again. You should come as quickly as possible. I think we all ought to stay in the university together, as you suggested. I believe that some of the people you'll meet here will interest you greatly."
     Feeling satisfied, she folded her letter and sent it to Elazul. She expected to see him within a week.
     Elazul may have felt more surprised at the submissive tone of Emeralda's letter had he an opportunity to consider it. But, as it happened, the ensuing events demanded his attention to such a degree that the subtle hint was lost upon him completely.
     As it turned out, when Elazul finally met Alexandra again, it was under much less pleasant circumstances than a chance meeting at the university.

Comments: I thought I won't write Fox into this story, since he's an original, but ah well… there he is. This scene of him talking with Alex just came into my mind many weeks ago and wouldn't leave. I suppose that everyone envisioned him as a young, attractive guy, but I always knew that a man who could stand on his own against Alexandra would have to be somewhat older than she is (in human-terms, that is). Besides, a young man would have been too much in contest with Elazul in various ways; you can see how things appear different now that we know that Fox is actually an older man. It also provides more of a harmonic touch to the fact that he is a rival to the obviously no-longer-youthful Snake.

This chapter is dedicated to Anithin, the “official illustrator” of Legend of the Jumi. I thank her for all her beautiful illustrations, particularly of the semi-original characters (Amber, Snow and Sapphire). And for her translation of the story into Thai!

And you don't seem to understand

A shame, you seemed an honest man

And all the fears you hold so dear

Will turn to whisper in your ear

And you know what they say might hurt you

And you know that it means so much

And you don't even feel a thing

I am falling, I am fading, I am drowning, help me to breathe

I am hurting, I have lost it all, I am drowning, help me to breathe

                - Duvet (Boa)

Chapter 3: Drowned Dreams: Sapphire

    The spring ocean was blue, intense and clear like flame, like the jewel that gleamed on the young woman's breast. She stood in the heat of the hour on that early spring morning, regarding it with wistful eyes of a deep, intense sapphire, that contained a light as warm and as profound as the burning waters that spread on the expanse of her vision and flowed unto the border of the glowing skies. The red seaweed streamed at her bare feet with the motion of the waves that surged onto the pale rose sand.

    I am all alone, she thought to herself. All my life I have been alone. This loneliness is strange; it's a balm for my soul, yet also a pain that glows within me with a constant fire. I crave this loneliness, and I fear it. I need it, and it seems to slowly erode me from within.

    The golden morning mist surged around her like the waves of the ocean, obscuring her vision of the glowing firmament, and she seated herself on the warm sand, sinking into a deep reverie.

    It seemed just a short while later, and yet forever, when she sudden saw her.

   A bright figure in the sun slowly coalesced into a distinct vision of girl. The girl sat on a rock by the ocean, her dark eyes regarding the young woman from within a strangely white face.

    She was beautiful, that girl, her brown hair like seaweed surrounding that snowy face in silky threads, her chemise as red as coral, her ivory skirt flowing around her bare legs like creamy sea-foam. But something about her was unsettling, her eyes too dark in that too-white face with its impassive expression, looking at the young woman steadily as if she was probing into her thoughts, into her very soul.

     The young woman's hand went to her breast, to the jewel gleaming within, and they rested upon it, seeking to conceal it. She did not know why she had uncovered it, a slip on her part that never occurred before because of the danger it portended. And then she realized that it was still concealed beneath the cloth, but that the girl's dark, penetrating gaze discovered it without seeing it in the material world.

    And then the girl asked: "You like it here, don't you?"

    The young woman answered softly, "Why, yes, I do."

     "Yes," remarked the girl. "I felt it calling to me."

     "What?" the young woman faltered, her fingers clutching around the blue jewel. "What called you?"

    "That odd heart of yours," the girl answered. "You are not an ordinary human, are you?"

    The young woman replied, "I am not."

    "I thought so," said the strange girl, her dark eyes fixed on the young woman's face. "I never met your kind before. What are you?”

    The young woman said nothing, but her fingers gripped tightly around the blue jewel embedded within her breast. The girl seemed to notice this, and made a slight movement with her shoulders.

    “It doesn't matter to me,” she said. “All I care about is that you heard us calling."

    The young woman hung her head and persisted in her silence. But the girl said: “The waves of the sea sing our song. Those who hear us seek to join it.”

    "You are them, aren't you?" asked the young woman softly, her eyes fixed on the bright sand. "Them who lure people into the waters with your song of death."

    The girl's white face did not change its expression. "It depends how you perceive it," she answered. "We see it as a transformation.

    “Those who hear us, and choose to join us, do so out of their own free will. They seek us out because they fall in love with the wide seas. Deep within their hearts, they desire to join the song of the endless oceans, to leave the gray shadows of the earth.

    "We are the people of the sea," the girl continued, her fluting voice, itself a trilling song, flowing like the incessant waves. "Like the sea-foam, we can take any shape we wish. Many choose human form because this is the shape they previously assumed, but others choose different forms.

    "But when the people who seek to join us enter the waters, some are terrified by the realization of this metamorphosis that they must undergo. So they give up out of cowardice and die an ordinary human death. One must possess a true love of the ocean, one must be truly willing to give up one's shell of flesh completely, to integrate oneself with the dark heart of the ocean. Only those with a strong heart and a true love manage to undergo the complete change and become one of us."

    The young woman said nothing, and the girl's lips arched in a secret smile.

    "You called us," she said. "You wish to join us. You are weary of this world, and lonely. Give up your material existence and join us, girl with the jeweled heart."

    She leant forward and her words flowed upon the warm winds of the morning, a whisper of ancient dreams.

    "We will show you strange new lands… ones that the people trapped within the green confines of this earth will never see. We will take you to the end of the world, where the sun never sets and the waters glow like clear fire, where the rain is warm and shimmers gently in the eternal light. All you must do is shed your old, weary shell and join us in the waters."

    The young woman whispered, "I... I don't know. I am afraid to die."

    "One must die to attain a new existence," answered the girl.

    She leant closer. Her dark eyes looked into the young woman's soul.

    "It's no use struggling," she said. "One day you will join us, girl with the heart of Sapphire."

     Sapphire woke up suddenly. She rose and brushed her hand over her cheeks, waving away the long hair, feeling slightly bewildered. She must have fallen asleep on the sand; the golden morning had deepened into a burnished afternoon.

      A dream, she thought. Just... a strange dream.

     She passed an unsteady hand over her face, attempting to brush away the cobwebs of that sunlit, daunting dream. The sun shone into her eyes, and for a moment she could not see anything. She turned her face away. Then she lowered her body onto the sand and turned on her back, looking up into the warm blue skies.

     Something, she knew, had crept upon her, so quickly that it was too quick to grasp... but she could not explain what it was.

     I am no longer alone, she thought, trying to quench the shadow of that elusive dream. I am no longer alone...

     She looked into the empty spring skies with eyes that saw nothing but blue. And she wanted to drown in that vast sky of blue, drown in her dreams, drown and forget her hopes, her fears, her life... to forget...

     Everything.

    Elazul had been prepared to leave the seaside village as soon as it was possible. It was June, and he has been in the inn only two weeks. But the sense of the responsibility he owed to Emeralda and Snow began to lay heavy on him. He was therefore somewhat upset to come back one afternoon, just two days before he was ready to leave, and find that Pearl was missing.

    It was not the first time this had happened. Despite repeated promises, Pearl persisted in her habit of wandering. But it sometimes took Elazul a whole day to find her, and he could not afford more delays.

    It had been Sapphire's responsibility to take care of Pearl during Elazul's absence, and she was a little disconcerted at her disappearance. She apologized to Elazul, who cut her off with a curt, “Don't worry about it. She's done this before, as you know.”

    Sapphire said nothing, and Elazul asked, “Is something wrong, Sapphire?” For he noticed that she was looking unwell.

    She gave a start. “What? No, no nothing. We ought to look for Lady Pearl, Elazul,” she added immediately.

    He examined her face, thinking that her answer was scattered and that she appeared distracted and uneasy. But he refrained from commenting, and only said, “You are right. I better get going. She can't have wandered far.”

    Sapphire nodded. She stepped forward suddenly and closed her fingers around Elazul's hand. “Come back safely,” she said.

    He nodded, smiling at her, but her eyes were fixed on the floor, and she appeared lost in something- a thought? He released his fingers from Sapphire's grip, and put his hands on her shoulders, looking into her face.

    “Are you all right, Sapphire?” he asked, very gently.

    She said nothing; but to his surprise, she suddenly threw her hands around him in a tight embrace, pressing her face into his shoulder.

    “Come back safely,” she repeated, very quietly. Then she stepped back and attempted a smile. “I'll be all right.”

    Elazul did not know what to make of this; but he obeyed her silently. When he reached the end of the corridor, he paused and looked over his shoulder.

    Sapphire was standing in the opposite doorway, her back against the light. Her face appeared very white, her eyes great, dark pools within it. These eyes stared at him, receiving his gaze mutely, like Pearl's eyes had always done. Elazul was overcome with an eerie feeling, as if he was seeing something else through the eyes of the young woman, a duplicate image, a wraith from another world that looked at him with a secret, knowing gaze.

     Elazul turned his back on this disquieting, foreboding image and passed through the door.

    He made his way to his own small room first, rummaging quickly inside the closet. He had his own sword, of course, but it was an ordinary, unsatisfactory weapon. In matters pertaining to Pearl, he preferred to be careful. He needed an added security, a power.

    His quick search finally revealed the object he had sought; Black Pearl's runic sword. He rarely used it, but had a sense that he needed it now. He gripped the hilt, extracting the blade from amid the pile of objects buried inside the closet, and hung the sword at his belt.

    The woods brimmed with a gentle afternoon light, and the slender trees blossomed white. The dark earth beneath was bright with green shoots. Steeped within the deep, fragrant silence of that beautiful grove Elazul felt a serenity settle upon him. These woods bordered the seashore, and he made a quick journey, guessing that their beauty and peaceful aura may have attracted Pearl. Passing travelers confirmed his guess. He now walked the forest path, scouting between the trees, occasionally calling Pearl's name.

    He wasn't sure how far he walked; the grove could not be a large one, and yet he seemed to lose estimate of the time he took traveling through it. Perhaps he lost his way and moved in circles, because everything inside these luminous woods appeared the same. He paused, considering his next move, his gaze traveling across the lush foliage, over the snowy flowers shimmering among it, whose bright image was imprinted against the deep blue of the sky.

    “Pearl,” he called, again.

    “I believe I can help you to find her, knight,” said a voice.

    Elazul halted and spun around, drawing his sword. A figure clad in a white cloak emerged from the trees and stood at some distance. A hood was drawn over its head, half-concealing its face, but Elazul could spy a narrow visage, the pale glitter of eyes.

     “Drop your sword,” said the man, his voice soft and silky. “Back up against the tree with your hands raised above your head.”

     As the man spoke, the shadows of men rippled out from the background of the forest and closed around Elazul in tight, concentric circle.

    Elazul steeled himself. Without lowering his sword, he said, very clearly, “Where is Pearl?”

    The man in the white cloak did not answer, but spoke again with the same peculiarly unpleasant, soft voice. “Careful, men. He's a dangerous one. But what's the power of a raging wolf when the snake grips his foot in a deadly bite?"

    He gestured. One of the men came forward, dragging a woman with him. It was indeed Pearl. She looked frightened, but made no resistance to the men; and when she saw Elazul she uttered a cry and fixed her eyes on him.

    “As you can see, our ground is covered,” said the man in the white cloak. “Make one move, knight, and my archer will pierce your throat.”

     Elazul's eye caught a movement among the trees. He focused his gaze briefly. He could now perceive the archer who stood straight and poised, an arrowed ready at his bow. The archer returned his look, his cool gray eyes bright in the shadow of the woods.

    And Elazul knew that he was caught.

    It was so easy by myself, he thought; so simple. A quick rush forward may have served to break through the converging circle of the men, even avoid the arrow. I would have sustained grave injuries, but I would have been free.

    But not now, when I am responsible for others' safety. Emeralda, Snow, Sapphire, Pearl…

     Nothing was simple anymore, now.

    Slowly, reluctantly, Elazul released the grip on his weapon. The runic sword clattered to the floor of the woods and lay there, its blade a luminous streak on the dark earth. Elazul raised his hands to show that they were empty.

    As if on cue, the men moved on Elazul. Strong fingers, their grip like iron, caught him by the shoulders. Elazul was slammed against a large tree and his arms were forced back, so that they circled around the trunk. His wrists were tied together behind, anchoring him to the tree.

    “That's better,” said the soft voice of the leader.

    Elazul turned his head with some difficulty. Some of the men surrounded Pearl, easily enclosing her within a tight circle. Her eyes pled at him, and she trembled. She made no attempt to either speak or escape.

    The white-cloaked man advanced until he was standing directly before Elazul, and pulled the hood of his cloak back. “Look at me,” he said. Elazul obeyed, and his face assumed a hard mask, betraying no emotion.

    He did not recognize this man, since he did not notice the white-cloaked figure in the bar two weeks back. He did not know what this man's purpose might be, but one thing he knew for certain: this was no ordinary assembly of thieves looking for loot. They were too well-orchestrated.

    He returned the leader's gaze. He tried to disguise his hostility, masking the qualms that nagged at him, qualms that quickly crowded into shouting, struggling threads of a growing alarm, and a feeling of deep fear. The man standing opposite him could perceive this, and the dagger-thin smile pulled at his mouth.

    “Listen to me, knight,” he said. “And listen closely; because only a full and ready participation in my request will result in an outcome satisfactory to us both. You see, I come to you today in quest of some important information.”

    “You might have condescended to request it more politely,” Elazul returned coldly.

    The man laughed shortly. Elazul now noticed that his eyes were a diluted shade of azure, and that his hair was pale as well. Everything about him was colorless, vampirical, as if he was cleanly leached of his blood and came in quest of a fresh supply.

    “I might have,” he answered, the gleam in his eye indicating that he felt a detached sort of appreciation for Elazul's unexpected display of irony. “But I'm afraid that this information is not easily acquired with routine methods. What I need, young knight, is a full disclosure of your acquaintance with Sandra.”

    Elazul's brows came together. He said nothing for a moment.

    “I saw you at the bar,” the man clarified. “And, shall I say, you seemed interested in her.”

    Elazul's baffled expression vanished. “You are right,” he answered coolly.

    “You knew her well, I presume?” the man inquired.

    “Well enough,” answered Elazul. “But I know nothing of her current whereabouts, I'm afraid.” He met the pallid man's gaze indifferently. “Well, I won't deny it; I've known Sandra once. But it was a long time ago.”

    The man sized up Elazul for a moment. Elazul gave him a neutral stare, indicating that he was anticipating further questions, but was not particularly worried over the prospect of answering them. The man, perceiving this, tapped his lips with his bony finger, as if in thought.

    “Interesting,” he responded, very mildly. “I was under the impression that your acquaintance was of a more, shall we say, intimate nature.”

    “If you mean lovers, yes, we were,” answered Elazul shortly. He shrugged. “But if you know anything about Sandra, you should know that I was one of many.”

    “Then you heard nothing of her current plans?” inquired the man, his voice modulated to the same bland tones.

    “Plans?” echoed Elazul, his brows coming together in brief concentration. “Well, the man at the bar spoke about her quest for jewels. I wouldn't be surprised if she has some plan up her sleeve. She was always a cunning little tramp, you know.”

    The unpleasant smile returned to the pale man's lips.

    “Is that all you know?” he asked. “Please make an effort to refresh your memory.”

    “If I knew anything, I'd tell you,” said Elazul shortly. “If I could, I'd gladly aid you to continue in your quest for Sandra, so you would leave me alone.”

    His eyes flickered briefly to Pearl. She appeared bewildered, although the momentary respite from the previous violence assuaged her somewhat, and she stood silently among the men who closed around her. None of them touched her, but their bodies formed an inescapable barrier that Pearl instinctively recognized.

    Elazul could tell that she was drifting away. For her, the world was unreal; she was too immured inside her own world to comprehend it fully. She did not appear to understand the scope of the danger they were in. Or if she did, she simply preferred to block it out of her consciousness.

    The thin man noticed this. He did not respond to Elazul's reply. Instead, he walked towards Pearl. The barrier of men parted before him; he went through it until he was standing right next to her.

    The change in circumstances alerted Pearl. She watched the man mutely, uncertain of his intention. He walked near and stood next to her without touching her. Then, his eyes on her, he spoke. His voice was quiet, but Elazul caught it clearly.

    “I'm sure that you can make a better effort than this, young knight.”

    He raised his hand, touching Pearl's cheeks. She edged away, but came against the barrier of men. The barrier shrunk, enclosing her and the white-cloaked man in a tight, not-quite-touching circle.

    The pallid man slid his hand down Pearl's throat, caressing it. “Although it would be such a waste,” he said gently. “Such a waste… of such an exquisite creature.”

    Elazul clenched his teeth, his back growing rigid against the tree. He struggled briefly, then regained control, although not without great effort. He knew that every moment of silence counted, and would be correctly interpreted to his detriment.

    His answer was cool, his tone indifferent.

    “Well, you're welcomed to this woman, if that's what you want. You see, I've had her for a while, and I'm rather tired of her.”

    The pale-cloaked man turned his head at this reply. He withdrew his hand away from Pearl, and regarded Elazul with narrowed eyes. “Indeed?” he said, with a raise of an eyebrow. His smile was sardonic, but incalculable. “I must confess that I'm a little surprised. Have you been with her long?”

    “For a while,” Elazul answered. He found that it was getting easier to speak in that tone once he began. “She's not right in her mind, you know, and she tends to go off with other men, because she doesn't know better. It made me kind of tired of her.” He shrugged briefly. “I don't like to share my women with other men. I'll be glad to be rid of her.”

    The pale man gave Elazul a measuring look. There was a brief silence. Then he stepped out of the circle of his men, leaving Pearl trapped within. He approached Elazul again, scrutinizing him.

    “I will give you a last chance to speak,” he said. “Sandra, as you know, is looking for a precious, special jewel. She is, in short, looking for a Jumi. Tell me: what do you know of this matter?”

    “Nothing,” Elazul said calmly. “As I said before, I have no interest in her doing.”

    “And yet, you seemed extremely agitated that day at the bar at the mention of Jumi,” said Snake.

    Elazul said nothing. Snake's hand went to the folds of his robe. He withdrew a dagger and put its sharp point up to Elazul's throat. “I confess that I grow tired of you,” he said softly, in a musing tone. “But I admit that your talent in stringing this amusing charade of lies surprised me. Some men might have been fooled.”

     Elazul flinched instinctively, but the point of the dagger moved downwards, then sliced through the strings of his shirt, and pulled it open. The blue jewel was revealed, shining in great clarity and beauty. The men stirred, and all eyes were fixed on it.

    “Ah,” Snake said, very gently. “Just as I suspected. Now the story becomes interesting, knight of the Jumi.” He gestured towards Pearl. “I suspect that I shall find another such precious stone couched within her breast. And… that little girl at the inn as well, I presume?”

      It took Elazul great effort to maintain that expression of indifference. “No,” he said. “She… she was just a girl we met in our travels. Please do not harm her.” But he was speaking too quickly. The mask had been dropped.

    Snake raised an eyebrow. “I shall pay her a little visit and see for myself,” he said with a dour smile. “But the time had run out for polite questioning, Jumi knight. If you won't, or can't, tell me about Sandra, then there's no point in persisting to interrogate you-“

    He made a slight movement with his hand. The archer, who had lowered his bow, raised it. He fitted the arrow to the string and fired.

    Snake completed his sentence softly: “-the courteous way.”

    The arrow shot true and sunk into the lower side of Elazul's stomach.

    Elazul gave a hissing sound of pain, sucking his breath in. The agony of the impact was so sudden, so violent, that he felt as if the arrow caused a tremor of shock to reverberate through his entire nervous system. He experienced a sharp fit of nausea, and stared ahead, for a moment seeing nothing. He heard a weak cry of horror; Pearl, reacting to the turn of events.

    There was a pause. Elazul regained focus with difficulty, but he was only aware of one thing, the throbbing pain in his side. His entire body concentrated upon it. This was nothing to the wounds occasioned by swords. The arrow plunged deep, lodging into his body and remaining there, and every breath reminded him of this fact, due to the burning, maddening ache it brought. It took him many moments during which he stood, wavering on his feet unsteadily, to regain control on his body and to raise his head again.

    Snake stood before him, examining him with a cool gaze, as if measuring an experiment. As their eyes met, he said,

    “Had enough, knight? Or shall we try again?”

    Elazul's eyes flared with hatred. But then he hung his head, and after a moment he answered, very quietly, and with some effort: "I told you… all that I know."

    Snake was silent for a moment. Then he made another slight, barely perceptible gesture with his fingers.

    The archer fitted another arrow to the bow, and fired. The arrow lodged itself into the upper part of Elazul's left rib.

    Pearl started again, more violently, and her eyes widened. She opened her mouth, but her voice was silenced. Elazul did not utter a sound, but sank forward. His body was still anchored to the trunk of the tree by his arms, and he hung against it, leaning forward, his head low. For a moment he nodded unsteadily, and it was doubtful whether he'd be able to remain conscious. Snake's silky voice spoke again.

    “What do you say, knight? Do you co-operate?”

    Elazul said nothing. He longed for one thing only; the agonizing pain to end. The world swam before his eyes, and he doubted whether he could gather the strength to reply. He sucked in his breath. Then he murmured:

    “I… I… know… nothing.”

    Snake regarded Elazul with a musing gaze. Elazul paid him no heed. He stood with his head lowered, breathing in short, strained gasps.

    “Well,” Snake finally said, after concluding his survey of Elazul. “It's disappointing to find you much more stubborn than I had thought you will be; but no matter. My time is short, and I've no more to waste on you. I'm afraid, young knight, that you have outlived your use. But your core will be a great prize. I suspect that it will greatly aid my quest to lure out Sandra.”

    He turned around and gestured to one of the men, and spoke a few soft words in his ear. The man nodded. Snake then gestured to the archer, who turned and disappeared silently amid the forest's foliage. The men made way for Snake. His retreating form soon disappeared through the silent woods.

    The man who conferred with Snake now approached Elazul. “Well,” he said, “it looks like you'd live for a short while more, Jumi knight. Snake ordered to keep you alive, in case you wanted to talk.”

    Elazul, his head hung low, said nothing.

    “You see,” the man continued, coming close to Elazul, “Snake gave you an option. If you talk, you will die quickly soon after. But if you don't- well, Snake thinks that perhaps there may be a way to carve your core out of your body while you are still alive.”

    As he spoke, his hand went to his belt, producing a dagger. He drew it close to Elazul's face. “Well, Jumi, what do you say? It's either a quick death or a slow, tortured death. You've been given a choice.”

    There was silence. Then Elazul spoke, his breath heaving in gasps.

    “Damn… you. Damn… you.”

     “Well, then,” said the man. “I've no great love for this, but you've made your choice, knight.” With a quick thrust, he plunged the sharp blade into Elazul's chest, just below the shining blue core. Elazul gave a chocked sound, his body convulsing.

    “Well?” said the man, as the sharp point dug under Elazul's core. “Had enough, knight?”

     Then sudden commotion interrupted the scene. Pearl stood straight and tall, gazing at the man.

    “How-  how DARE you!” she said, in a terrible voice.

    The men around Pearl stirred; but she paid them no heed. She said a few strange words aloud. A great swirl of wind arose, circling the woman, fanning her golden hair around her slender figure. Then, a moment later, she straightened, her eyes dark and hard, and flung her arms wide.

    A bright stream of energy rushed forth in a circle that spread wider and wider. The men had no time to prepare themselves, or to avoid it. They were engulfed, and collapsed to the earth one by one. The glittering energy pierced through their bodies like thousands of tiny needles, killing them instantly.

    The wind sank presently. The brief luminance subsided, and the woods became quiet again.

    Pearl stood in the middle of the forest, silent and motionless. The clearing was empty save for herself, Elazul, and many bodies of men who littered the ground, their blood staining the dark earth.

    Pearl's eyes were fixed on Elazul. He was reclining against the tree, whose pale bark was streaked with blood where his body touched it. Somehow, he managed to refrain from falling. His head was lowered, his eyes closed. His breath was so shallow that it was barely perceptible.

    Shaking slightly, she began to walk towards him. When she reached him, she collapsed, as if her legs could no longer support her trembling form. Her arms went about his knees, and she rested her head against them.

    “Don't die, Elazul,” she whispered, in anguish. “Don't die.”

    Elazul opened his eyes, and stared at her for a moment.

    “Pea…rl,” he said, speaking with obvious difficulty. “P…earl… you…“

    But he couldn't finish what he wanted to say. He keeled forward in a dead faint. Pearl rose to her feet and caught him quickly, her arms drawing around his shoulders. She could feel his low breath against her skin. Her white dress was stained with his dripping blood.

    Then something caught her gaze with a sudden flash. A faint, bright glimmer, like a star descended into the dark heart of the forest. The Runic sword.

    She suddenly straightened. She knew what to do, felt it in some strange, inexplicable way. She closed her eyes, and her core brightened. A gentle, healing glow coursed through the white pearl, into the body of the Jumi knight that reclined against her.

    Pearl rested her head against Elazul's shoulder, and let the silent glow engulf them both.

    The sea was gray in the twilight, and the sinking light provided no illumination. A wind had risen earlier which would not cease, and it flung the dark waves against the red rocks.

    Standing near the open window with her eyes on the dark sea, Sapphire felt uneasy. The pool at the bottom of the rocks, whose color was such a beautiful blue during high summer days, was opaque and lightless like the mouth of an opening grave.

   A shudder of unhappiness passed through Sapphire. Elazul had not returned from his sojourn into the woods yet. She knew that he was well able to take care of himself, and yet, she could not help but feel apprehensive.

    After a while she uttered a quiet sigh and seated herself on the window-sill, laying her head against the frame. She closed her eyes. The wind was cold, but she did not mind it. Clouds raced through the dark skies, casting gray shadows on the black sea.

    A gentle click, as of a door opening, drew her wandering attention. But she did not turn around until she heard the voice that spoke softly behind her.

    “Ah. So there she is.”

    Sapphire, jerked into attention, looked up. A man clad in a white cloak stood over her. Another man stood in the shadows behind him. The second man closed the door, and leant against it. Sapphire rose to her feet, and opened her mouth. But before she could utter a word Snake came close, his arm encircling her easily, a light touch yet clearly a limit, an enclosed space to which she was confined. He brought the point of a knife close to her face.

    "Softly, now," he said. "I am sorry to say, my dear, that we've shut off your way of escape. Don't think of uttering a word, or I'll slice your throat.”

     Sapphire trembled, and said nothing. The man in the white cloak gestured to his partner. The archer, stepping quickly, came up to Sapphire and unbuttoned the front of her shirt. She flinched, but said nothing, conscious of the blade of the knife near her throat. The blue jewel, its light dim in the evening, was unveiled.

    “Ah,” said Snake quietly. “Look at this beauty. This child is a great prize. Not as precious as the woman with the golden hair, perhaps, but she will be valuable.”

    Sapphire opened her mouth. By now she understood what happened. And she had say it; only one word, a question that had to be answered.

    “Elazul.”

     Snake's eyes wandered from the jewel to the girl's face. "Elazul?" he echoed. "If it is the young knight you are referring to, child, well then, he is dead."

    Sapphire stared at the man for a moment, her gaze without comprehension. She heard what he said, the words that rolled so glibly off his tongue. They seemed to hang in the air, and she could almost sense their repercussion, could almost discern their shape in the subsequent stillness, clear and cool and indifferent, presenting to her a reality too cruel to be understood, to be consciously absorbed.

    "Dead?" she echoed, in a tone so soft, so clear, as if she was merely repeating the word in order to listen to it again, rather than to understand its implication.

    "I'm afraid so,” replied Snake. “There will be no help for you from that quarter, child.”

    Sapphire appeared not to hear him. "He is d- dead," she said, still soft. "You k-killed him."

    "That's right," Snake said. “My men should be extracting the lapis lazuli core from his body as I speak."

    Sapphire now looked straight into her captor's face.

    "He was the, the only p-person that truly c-cared about me," she said, her voice rippling on the stammer. "And, and, you are saying that he is d-dead."

    Tears welled in her eyes, rolled silently down her white face. She did not sob, did not make any sound, but stood staring at him, disregarding the tears, seeming, indeed, not to know that she was crying. She still stammered as she spoke again, but her voice had no tears in it, merely that persistent tremor.

    "He was the only person that c-cared about me. And you, you k-killed him."

    Snake released Sapphire's shoulders. His hand extended, touched her face. Sapphire did not flinch. A tear rolled down, clung onto the tip of his finger, and lay suspended like a tiny jewel.

    "Jumi tears," said Snake, hungry fascination in his eyes. He watched the small globe of water, its shimmering beauty, its liquid perfection. Then he touched his finger to his lips and licked the tear, savoring the flavor.

    "Tastes like blood," he whispered, a thin smile pulling his mouth.

    Sapphire said nothing, but merely looked at him with that direct, steady stare. Snake narrowed his eyes. "You are a fetching little thing," he said softly. "Not beautiful perhaps, but then again... there's those eyes."

    His hand reached out again, touched Sapphire's hair, his fingers smoothing the long waves down. “And those priceless Jumi tears.” He watched her through half-closed eyes. "I may have more than one use for you yet, my sweet child."

    Now Sapphire appeared to shake off the spell that arrested her. She shrank from his touch and retreated, her back to the open window.

    "No," she said. "No."

    Snake advanced towards her. “I am warning you,” he said softly. “If you scream, you will be dead within the moment. Your rescuers will be too late. And besides, if I am captured and fail to return, my men will kill the woman with the golden hair. You do not wish to be responsible for her death, do you, child?”

    Sapphire's back came to rest against the windowsill. She turned her face a little and watched the wall next to it, but appeared not to see it. She seemed to be thinking, contemplating something. The wind blew through the open shutters, a refreshing, icy stream of air, an element of the evening storm. She turned quickly and climbed the sill of the window. Then she turned again, facing the men who stood a little below her.

    "And where are you going?" asked Snake, raising an eyebrow. He did not make an attempt to stop her retreat. "There's no escape for you, child. Down below are rocks and deep waters. It's going to be a long fall for you, if you take one more step back. I advise that you come down quietly, without any trouble.”

    A sudden gust arose at Sapphire's back, blowing her long hair around her slender figure wildly. Below, she could hear the savage ocean beating against the high cliffs, the waters stirred into madness by the incessant gale. She heard nothing of the words spoken to her. Her gaze was fixed not on the men, but on something else, an inner vision, a story she recognized, but could not understand...

    She saw, in succession, faces of people she grew up with, faces she knew. Persons that were cruel to her, and persons that were kind to her. They had no meaning, now. As in a vision, she saw Elazul lying on the forest floor, his bright blood staining the dark earth. She tried to recall him alive, tried to recall his voice, the way he spoke, his kind words of encouragement that always made her feel safe. But she could no longer remember anything, except that he was dead; and he, too, vanished in turn, and had no meaning. She looked down, and saw the faces below her, but they blurred, melted into oneness. There was nothing there, just a great emptiness.

    Then she saw a face that she had forgotten for many years. Now, as in a sudden, illuminating flash that lit up a vision long-gone, she could see the kind, sweet face of a woman, with a wan visage and great, sad eyes. But then it, too, faded away.

    "Mother," Sapphire whispered, closing her eyes. The darkness melted, vanished in an all-encompassing, soothing, warm ocean of light.

    Mother, I...

    I'm sorry.

    Elazul opened his eyes to warm light.

    He was lying in a small white bed, as confining as a coffin. Stirring slightly, he felt a burning ache, and discovered that his wounds have all been dressed.

    He turned his face slowly, with difficulty, and discovered that Revanshe was sitting nearby on a narrow little chair, her slender form bathed by the rich afternoon sun. Her hands were clasped together, folded in her lap. She noticed him stir and looked towards him.

    "Elazul," she said. "Elazul… it's Sapphire… she is…"

    After a moment, he whispered: “I know.”

    Revanshe exhaled a breath and murmured, “They left before we could even…”

    Her voice trailed off. And Elazul gazed at her and thought, she is crying. She is crying for Sapphire… whom, after all, she barely knew.

    And I, a Jumi, I cannot cry for her.

    I cannot cry for another Jumi who died. I could not cry for Alexandra… and I cannot cry for Sapphire. But she, a human, she cries for us…

    Revanshe shook her head, her eyes swimming, slow tears running down her face. She spoke in a soft, drawn-out murmur.

   "The poor girl,” she said. “The poor child...”

    “Poor little Sapphire."

Comments: It took me over a year to complete this chapter due to lack of time, but also because I got stuck on some points. Some of the resolutions were surprisingly simple in the end, but I am still not satisfied with the chapter.

About Sapphire's story:

Once upon a time I thought up a short story with the Jumi of Sapphire, and then I decided to add her to Legend of the Jumi instead. Her role, and her death, were all planned from the beginning.

Originally I wrote up Sapphire as a kind of a dry, stubborn character; but when I looked the chapter over I thought to myself "this isn't the kind of a girl that seems like she'll commit suicide at the threat of rape." So I revised Sapphire's personality, using the hints I got from the excerpt I started as a separate short story (now the beginning of this chapter); and in the process I gave her a really tough history, because I wanted to make very clear that she herself would consider that she has nothing to lose by committing suicide.

When the story was only 15 chapters long, this chapter was supposed to chapter 8 out of 15. Now it's chapter 18 out of 25. As with Emeralda and Snow, Sapphire's role expanded; because what's the point of introducing a character and killing her after she appears in only 3 chapters, as originally intended? And how would her relationship with Elazul appear convincing unless he has time to actually grow emotionally attached to her?

C.S. Lewis's “Voyage of the Dawn Treader” inspired the scene with Sapphire and Flamshe (the mermaid, here the sea-girl in Sapphire's dream). However, there are some definite overtones from Andersen's “The Little Mermaid”, my favorite Andersen tale. Indeed, I think that Sapphire's depiction is greatly influenced by this story- she is very 'mermaid-like' in looks and coloring, her depiction as a dreamer and a silent sufferer- down to her connection to the sea, which, of course, started by drawing on LoM's “Drowned Dreams” section. Andersen's mermaid was very much a silent sufferer who doesn't really get rewarded for her sacrifices.

The assumption in this story is, of course, that the biologically reproduced Jumi need their flesh body to stay alive. They can't re-form around their cores like they do in LoM, and death of either the flesh or of a broken core is permanent. That makes them... well, even MORE susceptible to death than LoM's Jumi, who can at least 'resurrect' around their core.

As I wrote this story one of the albums I listened to was "Twilight" by Boa, that features the song "Duvet" (of the opening for the anime "Lain"). "Duvet" seemed to me to fit Sapphire well. (Almost like something she might be saying to Elazul). The song goes well with this chapter, anyway.

Other stuff:

The scene of Elazul getting gravely injured and Pearl so enraged that she turns into Black Pearl is actually played in a very different way in Legend of Mana. In LoM, Sandra is the one who either purposely or incidentally injures Elazul in the caves, by throwing one of her 'cards' at him. I think that she threw it at Pearl, but Elazul steps in-between and takes the blow. Whatever it was, I found that I simply could not imitate this scene, perhaps because the action seems a little awkward to put into text, and because Sandra would not purposely injure Elazul in this story (it's debatable whether she did it purposely in LoM, anyway…)

Still, I'm not really happy about taking my favorite Legend of Mana scene and re-integrating bits and pieces of it into different parts of this story. In the original, immediately after Elazul is injured, Pearl turns into Black Pearl- and then leaves Elazul after a brief, rather cool “thank-you for your service, but I have more important things to do right now” kind of speech. Needless to say, this scene was extremely memorable. It established Elazul as a character for me as none other did- at least, for his characterization in this particular story. And it was THE scene that defined Black Pearl's personality in LoM, or at least, its potential; it was definitely her best moment.

The scene of Elazul getting repeatedly shot with arrows was taken from a death scene in the movie “Fellowship of the Ring.” Usually I try to refrain from copying situations from other writers as much as possible, but I guess I just liked this scene.

But wait… doesn't a human who cries for the Jumi supposed to turn to stone? Ah well. I'm not really following the original very closely anyway. And I didn't like that plot point, because it involved the mutes.

These notes are starting to be as long as the chapters preceding them.

Chapter 4: The Flame of Hope

    The setting sun dripped its blood-red rays across the mountains, and the occasional flashes of gold that brightened the burning sky rapidly thinned out as evening approached.

    A man stood on the porch of a secluded little temple fixed in the side of the mountain, his form a dark silhouette against the morbid, majestic terrain. The occasional flicker of light chancing to illuminate his face revealed a good-looking man with red hair and clothes, his colors matching the scene before him, as if he sought to blend into it.

    Rubens arrived at the shrine over a week ago, after a fruitless search for Elazul in town. He located Elazul's recent dwelling place, but the young knight was gone. He left suddenly some time previous to Rubens' arrival, no one knew where to. Hoping he may return, Rubens left a letter with a woman called Jennifer, who claimed to know Elazul, to inform him of his next destination. This was the mountain shrine, in which Rubens sought to trace information about the outlaw Jumi, Alexandra.

    He questioned the nuns at length, but did not manage to elicit any satisfactory information. They answered his questions with grim faces and thinned lips, clearly indicating to him that they took no pleasure in the mention of this wayward young woman, who lived in the shrine as a dependent on charity after her mother's death, and had always expressed dissatisfaction with her life until she made her escape about four years previous.

    It seemed that when still a girl, Alexandra's mother brought her to the shrine, escaping Jumi-hunters, and there they both stayed. The mother, who was fragile and suffering from a consumptive disease, died only a few years after she came, and the nuns allowed the kinless girl to stay. And despite Alexandra's considerable talents in the medicinal arts, nothing, the nuns asserted, could amend for her bad character. Ultimately, she repaid their charity with ingratitude.

    “She had always been an immoral, ungodly creature,” was the head nun's curt denunciation of Alexandra. “Immediately after her escape, or so we heard, she whored herself to an infamous criminal, and made herself partner to his misdeeds. I regret to say that it afforded me no surprise, although it is to be lamented. Her mother was a good woman.”

    Rubens, however, was much more interested in the reports of the strange young woman who lived with Elazul. The townspeople supplied him with several conjectures, some mean-spirited, some charitable, about her exact relation to Elazul. What alerted Rubens immediately was her name, Pearl. Further investigation revealed various puzzling and incongruent reports, some of which seemed to confirm his suspicion, some of which utterly contradicted it. Sometimes Rubens was convinced that he found Black Pearl in addition to Elazul, and that Elazul would provide him with an explanation as to her altered appearance. At other times he thought that perhaps Elazul had taken under his wing a strange human girl to whom he gave the name of the woman with whom he had been obsessed for such a long time.

    He reasoned that he would know all when he meets Elazul, and opted for patience.

    He politely thanked the nuns for their help and requested shelter in the shrine. “I am waiting for a friend,” he explained. “I have left him with a missive, and I wish to stay here in case he arrives within the next week.”

    “As you please,” answered the head nun. “But we have a task for you, to repay your keep. You must become the warden of the sacred flame that burns at the holy altar. Out last flame-warden left us some time ago, and we have no replacement. You must watch that the fire never goes out during the night.”

    Rubens considered it a small service, and gave it willingly. And so, he waited for Elazul at the shrine.

    Some doubts possessed him as to whether Elazul would obey the missive. But the nature of the situation was such, that he doubted not that Elazul would at least come to consult him. They always respected each other, and Rubens knew Elazul well enough to understand that he would be glad to speak to another Jumi again. Besides, the matter of finding the children, Snow, Emeralda, and Sapphire, was too important, too urgent. Rubens knew he could trust Elazul to help him in his quest for them.

    It's been a week since he arrived at the shrine, and Rubens decided that if Elazul does not arrive within a few days, he would return to town himself. But meanwhile, he had a few more days to tend to his short leisure, to his soothing task, which was so unimportant to the rest of the world and yet, to the nuns, went to the very essence of their religion. For the first time in many, many years, Rubens was a person of no significance, a figure in shadows, a keeper of a flame that, in this place, was far more important than he. And he reveled in the sensation, in that momentary pause in his too-busy life, a life normally filled with worries and foreboding. He enjoyed his little quiet corner in the shrine, even though he was aware this life would soon end.

    Therefore, Rubens bid his time, and waited for Elazul, to come and break him out of his short spell of peace. In some indefinite way he felt as if it was the last time in which he could snatch such a stolen moment of complete tranquility, resting from the weary going-ons of the world. And he cherished it.

    Fields of wheat swayed in the balmy June winds, dyed a warm gold in the rays of the afternoon sun. The pale sliver of the moon barely showed through the golden blanket of the sky. The rich light greeted the young girl who walked out of her house and paused near the garden gate. Aged about thirteen, she had very dark hair and eyes, and a white little countenance. She stood for a moment, her eyes on the forested hills that surrounded the city at no great distance.

    Something arrested her attention presently. A tall young woman dressed in white, walking along the street.

    The girl stared, and her lips parted. She took a step or two forward, as if meaning to follow the woman, then stopped, an uncertain expression on her face. The woman vanished at the turn of the road, between a cluster of houses. As if reaching a decision, the girl began to walk in a hurried step in the direction where the woman had disappeared.

    Inside the small tavern in the center of town, small oil lamps brightened the dusky atmosphere. Despite the illumination, it was dark and almost unbearably hot indoors. Men crowded around the tables, talking among themselves, but the noise level was kept to a minimum.

    A young man sat in a corner-table that afternoon, refreshing himself with a drink. He arrived in town around noon, and was obliged to halt and arrange a lodging for himself and his companion, a silent, golden-haired woman dressed in white. He saw to it that she was secured in their warm little room, and then left in quest of refreshments. His steps led him to the tavern, and he took a corner-table, drinking very little and not conversing with anyone, and seeming just a little preoccupied, as if he came into that place simply because he had nothing else to do.

    Sitting at his lonely table, Elazul's lingering thoughts returned to past events. The grave wounds he sustained confined him to bed for almost week, but as soon as he fully regained his strength he gathered his meager belonging and went out on the necessary journey.

    He left memories in that seaside inn, a ghost of a girl whose body was never found, almost as if it dissolved upon the waves into which it plunged. Those memories were already far away. Although he knew with his conscious mind that the event happened only recently, he felt in some elusive way as if she has been dead for a long, long time. He had trouble adjusting these unsettling and incongruent impressions, and they culminated in nothing but a listless sort of depression whenever he thought about it.

    He tried to focus his attention on the present, but it was difficult. He had little idea what should be done, and only embarked on his present journey because it was too dangerous to remain at the inn. He could not go to the university at present, because it meant putting Emeralda and Snow in danger. Elazul knew that the assassin and his crew would follow him very soon, if he was not followed already.

    And besides, events have proven that he was inadequate to deal with the threat of Jumi hunters when more than his own safety was at stake. Elazul knew that he was saved from death only because of Pearl's unexpected fit of berserk rage. He recalled the sight of least twenty bodies strewn across the forest grounds, their blood staining the earth. It was unpleasant, even to him, who had killed in the past again and again in self-defense. His fingers instinctively touched the jeweled core concealed beneath his shirt, but he diverted his thoughts from the memory with an effort. Even the slightest recall of that day revives an echo of the terrible agony that had been inflicted on him.

    But there was another side to that day. Elazul dimly recalled a glow, Pearl's warm embrace; and a little while later he recovered consciousness, his wounds tenuously healed, just sufficiently to undertake a fevered, slow journey to the inn. And he knew that Pearl healed his wounds.

    As before, Elazul tried to coax Pearl into recalling what she did to mend his wounds. But Pearl had forgotten most of the events of that day, and when questioned she grew agitated. Elazul was forced to forfeit the inquiry. He could not blame her for refusing to remember.

    Her abilities, he knew, lay dormant; remarkable healing powers within her grasp, powerful enough to heal the wounds of a man near death. These powers, he knew, may come into great use to the Jumi. But as soon as the thought formulated itself, Elazul smiled bitterly. I am becoming like the other Jumi, he said to himself, only looking at what uses Pearl may have. Let her powers lie asleep a while longer.

    He tried to ponder his next actions. The uncertainty of the future, the failure of the past, all lay like a shadow upon him. The clearest solution was undertaking a secret journey to the city, where they would once again be safe. But Elazul disliked this option.

    Even if I returned to the city, he thought, I would still lose everything. I would be suspected as the Alexandrite's accomplish, I will be shunned and disrespected. As long as Florina is not returned, I would be implicated and blamed for the difficulties experienced by the Jumi. Elazul knew that he could not bear to live in an atmosphere of such suspicion, such hostility, such disgrace.

    And he could never have his old life back. Sapphire was gone. Alexandra was lost to him. Florina, if returned, would face certain death. And as for Pearl…

    He would lose Pearl forever.

    And this, Elazul knew, was more than he could bear.

    Elazul's thoughts were diverted when he perceived someone approaching the table. The young girl halted, perspiring, as if she made a quick journey. He recognized her at once.

    “Rachel,” he said with some surprise. “How are you?”

    Rachel stood for a moment, catching her breath. He waited for her to speak, wondering why she came. Then she said one word:

    “Pearl.”

    “Pearl!” Elazul rose to his feet at once. “What about Pearl?”

    Rachel was silent. Elazul dropped to one knee, his hands gripping Rachel's shoulders. “Did something happen, Rachel? Tell me!”

    The girl stared at him. Elazul grew impatient. “Tell me what happened!” he repeated, his voice rising.

    The girl opened her mouth, but no sound came. Exasperated, Elazul shook her. “Answer me, damn it!”

    Rachel swallowed, and finally spoke with no more than a whisper:

    “You… you are… hurting me.”

    Elazul recollected himself. His fingers relaxed, and he held her a little more gently. “I am sorry,” he said quietly. “I forgot myself. I did not mean to hurt you, Rachel. But please, you must tell me quickly what happened.”

    “The hills,” Rachel said softly.

    “She went to the forest?” asked Elazul quickly. Rachel nodded.

    Elazul's fingers left the girl's shoulders. He grasped her hands and pressed them, bestowing a smile on her. “Thank you so much.”

    Rachel stared at him for a moment without saying anything. Then, faint blush rose to her cheeks, and she looked down.

    “You are welcomed,” she whispered.

    Elazul rose to his feet, as if meaning to leave; but Rachel detained him by showing her hand. She was clutching a piece of folded paper. “For you,” she said simply.

    Elazul took it, and flashed a glance through its contents. When he finished he put it into his pocket without comment.

    “Thank you again,” he said to Rachel. “I must go now.”

    He turned abruptly and left the tavern. The girl remained, looking after him.

     Pearl was standing inside the green woods, inside the shower of drifting leaves, watching the blossoming trees waving their fragile arms against the golden sky. She barely noticed when Elazul approached her like a shadow. The glorious lake spread its violet waters to the edge of hazy woods and hills, and Pearl was a white shadow, an apparition within its misty mirror.

    Rubens' letter was folded in Elazul's hand, and he crumpled it incessantly, a repeated, unconscious, mechanical action. Although it was a mere paper it seemed to scorch his fingers like fire. He recalled the luminous forest, the bodies of men littering the earth, the mass carnage caused by this young woman. He recalled Sapphire's secret, knowing gaze, the death in her eyes as he left her to her fate in that dark little inn.

    And Elazul knew that it was no longer for him to decide the destiny of any Jumi. It was no longer for him to determine who must live free and who must enslave themselves to the fate of their race and their city. It was no longer for him to determine who lives and who dies. Someone else must make this decision.

    “Pearl,” he said softly.

    She turned and looked at him with her turquoise eyes. Elazul sensed that she was seeing him, and yet through him. That her world was not his own; will never be his own.

    “Pearl,” he whispered. “Pearl…

    “We are going home.”

    Silence settled over the mountains as the warm spring day drew to a close. The great doors of the shrine were closed for the evening, and in a high window, inside a great hall, a fire burned at the altar. A man sat at corner of the hall, some distance from the altar, his form a shadow. He was still, bent over some papers in his hand.

    Voices seemed to carry in that quiet atmosphere; and at that moment, his ears caught the echo of two people conversing below, at the lowest level of the shrine. The man looked up and listened, as if his attention was caught. But the voices presently faded, and he returned to his reading.

    Some time later, a door at the end of the hall opened. A woman stood there like a shadow.

    “Flame-warden,” she said, in abrupt, dry tones. “You have a visitor.”

    The man raised his head. He recognized the voice of one of the nuns living in the shrine. The woman turned and left immediately. The nuns did not like to speak much, especially not to men, and although they tolerated the Flame-warden as an exception, they made little conversation with him unless necessary.

    A moment later, however, a young man stepped through the doors and approached the flame-warden with a rapid gait. The Flame-warden rose from his seat at once. He half-guessed who it would be, and hoped that he was correct.

    The young man paused a few steps from the Flame-warden. In the red light of the fire, his face appeared shadowed. He made a curt, awkward bow.

    “Elazul,” the flame-warden said quietly, advancing. “You are finally here.”

    “Sir,” the young man responded neutrally. He did not take the hand offered him, but instead said, “I traveled as soon as I received your message.”

    “I am glad of it,” said the Flame-warden. “And… Pearl?”

    His eyes went to the shadowy frame of the door, for now he perceived a white form lingering there.

    “Yes,” said the young man in a low voice. He turned and gestured to the person near the door. The flame-warden focused his gaze as the woman advanced towards them, then drew in his breath.

    “Great heavens,” he murmured.

    Pearl approached the two men with slow steps. The luminous waves of her long hair framed her figure like a halo, and in the warm light of the fire her turquoise eyes acquired a deep hue. In her white dress she seemed a spirit borne from another world, shining with a light that surpassed mere beauty.

    “Amazing,” the flame-warden muttered. “What happened, Elazul?”

    Pearl, for her part, paused and looked towards Elazul. The Jumi knight stood with his eyes on the ground, refusing to look at either her or the flame-warden. The flame-warden approached Pearl.

    “I… I know you,” she said softly. ”I have seen you before.”

    “Yes, Lady Pearl,” said the flame-warden, the warm notes of his rich voice sad. “You have known me for a long time. I am Rubens.”

    She said nothing, but gazed at him with wondering eyes. The flame-warden took her hand. “I've come to take you home.”

    Pearl bowed her head, and turned towards Elazul. Rubens observed them both, discerned how Pearl came to Elazul, shrank behind him as if for protection. Elazul spoke a few words in a low voice. Then he looked up, his eyes meeting Rubens'.

    “You see the situation, Sir,” he said quietly.

    Instead of replying, Rubens approached the young knight, and placed his hand on his shoulder. “You will tell me all later. First, you must take a drink, and a rest.”

    “Sir,” said Elazul voicelessly. “There is something I must say first.” He looked up, straight into Rubens' eyes. “Sir, the Clarius's daughter… Sapphire… Sir, she is dead.”

    Rubens said nothing for a moment. Then he heaved a deep sigh, and examined the young knight. He now noticed the dark shadows under Elazul's eyes, and began to comprehend the trials he must have undergone.

    “Be seated,” he said quietly. “I shall know all soon.”

    “Yes, Sir,” answered Elazul wearily.

    That evening, Rubens and Elazul conversed at length. Elazul refrained from relating his opinion about the events that passed. Instead, he reported them as if was telling a story that did not involve him. He found it easier that way.

    Rubens did not pry into Elazul's thoughts. He was familiar with his reticent and withdrawn nature. He allowed him to recount the past in that detached, factual fashion, and if he perceived Elazul's feelings, he kept his observations to himself. He did not comment about Sapphire's fate. He did not question Elazul about his feelings for Pearl, or his opinions about Alexandra. He did not comment, did not criticize. There would be time enough for all that, he thought, when we return to the city, and Elazul comes under Diana's censorious fire. For now, he respected Elazul's privacy.

    After Elazul finished his recital of the past, Rubens said:

    “Elazul, a full pardon may be granted to you when Pearl is returned.”

    Elazul averted his eyes. “I know.”

    Rubens watched him attentively. “Do you wish to return to the city?”

    “No,” said Elazul quietly. “But I have no other choice. And…” he hesitated for a moment, then said quickly, “I do not wish to leave Pearl.”

    “I understand,” Rubens said gently. “I noticed that she relies on you. I will not separate her from you, unless you desire it.”

    Elazul made no reply. Rubens leant back against his chair. His eyes on the young knight, he asked, “What do you think caused her transformation?”

    Elazul made a slight shrug with his shoulder. “I'm afraid that I don't know.”

    Rubens was silent. Then he said, very quietly:

    “We must leave as soon as possible. Tomorrow evening, if possible. Night-travel has its danger, but we may be less noticed this way.”

    “Yes, Sir,” said Elazul.

    Rubens continued: “I'm afraid, however, that I must put two more questions to you before we conclude this conversation. I do not mean to cast doubt upon your loyalty; but I must ask them.”

    “I understand, Sir,” answered Elazul. But he did not meet Rubens' gaze as the high councilor began to speak in a calm, steady voice:

    “Elazul, do you know of Sandra's whereabouts?”

    “No, Sir,” answered Elazul. “She took care to conceal it from me.”

    “Sandra seems to make some formidable enemies where-ever she goes,” Rubens remarked, but more to himself. “Well, then, I don't suppose that you know anything of Florina's whereabouts, then.”

    “No, Sir.”

    “Finally-“ here Rubens fixed Elazul with a grave gaze, “I must know: where is Black Pearl's sword?”

    There was silence. Elazul stirred uneasily, the fingers of one hand rubbing across his knee. Somehow, he did not wish to answer this question. But he had to.

    “I have it with me.”

    “We should return it to the city,” said Rubens. “It is an important artifact.”

    “Yes, Sir,” said Elazul passively.

    Rubens examined the young knight, who sat with his head lowered during the entire conversation. His manner was still reticent, and also subdued. It must be the recent events, thought Rubens, pitying him. He sensed that Elazul was in the process of finishing an unpleasant task as quickly as he could.

    He rose from his seat. “Tomorrow evening, then,” he said.

    Elazul looked up. “Sir, is it safe?” he asked. “I am known to the hunters, and so is Pearl. What if we are followed? We will only betray Emeralda and Snow.”

    Rubens shook his head. “I do not wish you to travel alone with Pearl anymore. When we arrive at the university, we shall think of our next move.” He turned, as if meaning to leave. “Time enough to think of these details when we come to the point, Elazul. I'm afraid that no choice is easy, nowadays.”

    “You are right,” said Elazul voicelessly. But suddenly he looked up. “Sir,” he said impulsively. “I- I forgot.”

    Rubens turned back. “Yes?”

    Elazul rose from his seat. “To thank you again for saving my life in the city.”

    The high councilor smiled at the young man. “Think nothing of it, Elazul.”

    “Thank you, Sir,” said Elazul quietly. “Thank you… for everything.”

    The Ruby knight nodded, and left. Elazul lowered himself into the chair, and remained in a fixed reverie. One detail he avoided entirely, since it evoked such unpleasant memories. He did not tell Rubens of Pearl's murderous rage. I will tell him later, he thought, sensing the recurring, unpleasant echo of pain in his chest, near his core. I will tell Rubens everything when we come to the city. But not now… not when the memory is so clear.

    Pearl stood on the back porch of the shrine the next morning. The air at these heights blew cold and fresh, and the clear blue skies stretched serenely over snowy peaks. She stood very still, seeming to absorb herself in the glorious brightness of the day. Her eyes were fixed on the distance, as if she was trying to focus on a vague prospect, or obtain a distant vision. Then, she spoke slowly; but her aspect was scattered, as if she did not know what she was saying.

    “Strange… you are so close now. So close. For years I have looked for you, years of wandering, years of silence… then you spoke to me, and I awoke. You are with me now. This is where it all began, there, in the black tower of glass and steel… the looking-glass tower.”

    She paused for a moment. Then she whispered, “It is very close now.”

     “Is it, Lady Pearl?” said a voice, speaking low behind her.

    Pearl started, distracted from her reverie. She turned.

    A woman stood near a column by the porch's entrance. She was unlike any of the nuns in the shrine. Her dress was green and golden, and sunflowers burned their orange fire upon her hair.

    “Who are you?” asked Pearl.

    The woman was silent for a moment. Her eyes in the shadows appeared dark, absorbing even the bright light of the morning. Then a smile rose to her red mouth.

    “I am a friend, Lady Pearl,” she said softly. “An old friend. A friend of… Rubens'.”

    Pearl lingered under the sunlight, looking at the woman passively. The woman took a step towards her. “I have come to help him to take Elazul to the city.”

    This statement drew Pearl's attention. “You are coming with us?” she asked.

    “Of course,” answered the woman. She regarded Pearl through her dark lashes, the red smile remaining. “Rubens and I were charged to guard Elazul, lest he escapes the trial prepared for him in the city.”

    Pearl's attention was finally arrested. "Trial?" she echoed.

    “Yes,” answered the woman, her fingers brushing the short strands of her smooth brown hair across her cheek, her hooded gaze on Pearl. “You must know, Lady Pearl, that Elazul is a criminal. He will be tried in court.”

    Pearl's lips parted as she stared at the woman. “Will… will he be… punished?” she asked slowly.

    The woman's smile grew crooked. “Why, of course! Punishment for a traitor consists of a prolonged incarceration. Sometimes death.”

    Pearl's eyes dilated. “Death?” she echoed.

    “It's likely,” answered the woman, her eyes steady on Pearl's face.

    “Oh, no, no!” Pearl whispered. She stared blankly, seeming to forget the woman for one moment. Her hands trembled. Then they flew to her mouth, and she shook her head. “No. NO!”

    The woman finally stirred into action. She approached Pearl with a quick, decisive stride. She stretched her arm out and her fingers touched Pearl's cheek, caressing it.

    "Pretty Pearl," she said softly. "What happened between you, that you love him so much now?"

    "I don't… I don't know… what you mean," whispered Pearl.

    The woman uttered a short, derisive laugh that had no humor in it. "You! YOU don't know of what I speak! Why, that's rich, I think." Her fingers tightened around Pearl's jaw suddenly. "Prepare yourself, my Lady, for Elazul's time is near."

    Pearl began to edge away; but the woman snaked around and blocked her retreat.

    "Oh, no," she said softly, the same red smile lacing her mouth. "You are staying here for now, my Lady Pearl."

    Rubens had engaged Elazul in a conversation about the upcoming journey, and, stopping at Pearl's room right afterwards, he discovered that she went outside. As he approached the back porch he heard voices speaking. One of them was Pearl's voice, but the other spoke in energetic accents unlike any of the nuns in the shrine. Somewhat uneasy, he stepped outside.

    He perceived Pearl standing opposite a woman clad in a green dress. Pearl was staring down blankly, and her core was glowing. Perceiving Rubens, the stranger made a curt gesture of warning. "Don't approach her!" she ordered.

    “What's going on?” Rubens asked, advancing quickly. “Who are you?” He examined the stranger attentively. She was familiar to him, like someone he met long ago. But Pearl's low cry diverted his attention. “No! You cannot… you cannot do it!”

    Concerned at her distraught aspect, Rubens advanced towards Pearl. "What's wrong?" he asked softly. "Come here, Pearl."

    But Pearl retreated, trembling. "No!" she said. "You… will not… do it!”

    "Pearl, Pearl, calm yourself!" said Rubens. He stepped close and attempted to put his arms around her. “What happened? Did something frighten you?”

    "Don't!" exclaimed the stranger.

    Pearl uttered a strangled cry. A bright aura suddenly surrounded her and enveloped Rubens as well. His eyes widened and his mouth opened. But he seemed unable to move, riveted to Pearl's body by the power of the lethal magic. Pearl watched him, her eyes devoid of emotions.

    "PEARL!"

    The voice was Elazul's. As if awakened from a trance, Pearl's eyes snapped towards him. The aura vanished at once.

    Rubens was standing with his head lowered. The next moment a sharp sound clicked, like glass breaking. But to the Jumi that sound was sickening, for to them it signified death.

    For a moment everything was still. Then Rubens slid to the floor, and Elazul snapped into action. He sprang forwards at once. Pearl fell back several steps, leaning against the wall, watching them both with a blank gaze. Elazul knelt by Rubens and turned him around gently. He quickly unlaced the string of Ruben's shirt, and the red core was revealed. A small crack had formed in the middle of it.

    Rubens' eyes opened. "That… woman…" he whispered hoarsely. “Sh- she-“

    "Don't speak," said Elazul quickly, his voice flat with the shock. “Don't speak.” He looked up, surveying the area, but he saw nothing. The stranger was gone.

    "What's going on?" a cold, severe voice asked. Elazul turned his head and perceived three nuns standing at the door. “We have seen Sandra,” said one grimly, advancing.

    Elazul started. “Sandra?” he echoed, staring at the nun. “Sandra was here?”

    “Yes,” answered the nun, her voice harsh. “How dare she defile this shrine with her presence again!"

    "Please," said Elazul. "Please- this man is hurt. Please help us."

    The nun leant over him, examining him. "A Jumi, then," she said indifferently.

    "Will you help him?" Elazul asked. He felt sick to his stomach as he looked at Rubens' white face, and his hands trembled. "Please help him. I'll do anything."

    The nun cut him off, her voice cool. "We make no difference between the goddess's creatures, young man." She nodded to the other nuns. "Take him to the infirmary. We'll see what we can do."

    Elazul helped the nuns convey Rubens to the infirmary. The door closed in his face firmly, and he was left standing outside, his head bowed, his fists clenching and unclenching.

    “Not you too, Rubens,” he muttered. “Not you too.”

    It took Elazul some time to draw the events that occurred out of Pearl. She lay curled on her bed, her face to the wall, and refused to talk. He had to sit at her side, to urge her patiently to speak to him. But in the end he coaxed the entire tale out of her in bits and pieces. And the more she told him, the darker the look in his eyes became.

    When she finally ceased speaking, he sat on the bed and stared at the wall with a face devoid of expression. After a short silence, Pearl whispered:

    "Elazul, I, I… don't know what happened.”

    He recalled her presence. "It's all right," he said listlessly, passing his hand over his face. "It was not your fault, Pearl."

    She turned her face back towards the wall, but after a long pause she said, "I killed him."

    Elazul recollected himself with an effort, and tried to reassure her on this point; but nothing he could say or do could divert her mind from this thought. She listened to him silently, but only said, when he urged her to speak, "I killed him. I killed him."

    Elazul rose from the bed. He could not bear to hear her speak so, as if Rubens was already dead. He turned around and leant his forehead against the wall. After a few moments of silence his clenched fist struck it with a sudden, furious motion.

    "Why, Sandra, why?" he whispered.

    Had a Jumi healer been present, he knew, even such a grave problem as a slightly cracked core could have been partially mended, to sooth the sufferer and prolong his life. But no Jumi healers were present. Rubens was condemned to die within days, perhaps even within hours.

    “Elazul,” Pearl said.

    Elazul turned his head slowly. A Jumi healer, he thought…

    Pearl.

    A sudden hope flared in his heart; a wisp of a solution presented itself to him with great clarity and force. He seated himself on the bed again.

    “Pearl,” he said quickly. “Do you recall the time when you've been ill?”

    She nodded. Encouraged, he continued. “A glow came out of your core, and healed you. You healed yourself, Pearl.”

    She said nothing, and Elazul said, continuing with some difficulty: “And in the forest, Pearl. Didn't you heal me in the forest? Please, Pearl.” He leant forward, his eyes pleading at her, and took her hand. “You must recall what happened that day. How you healed me.”

    Pearl stared at him for a moment. Then she looked down. “No,” she said. “No.”

    Elazul's heart sunk again. But he persisted. “Pearl, there is hope for Rubens. You may heal his wounds. Please, Pearl.” He leant close to her. “Please.”

    But Pearl grew agitated, as she always did when the subject was approached. “No!” she said, covering her face with her hands and turning away. “I cannot. I cannot!”

    Elazul remained seated, torn between frustration and despair. Why would Pearl not recall her healing? Why did she refuse to heal, unless it was instinctive, or when his own life was at stake?

    And then, a sudden realization came over him, as swift and as stunning as a physical blow.

    Elazul realized that Pearl was devoted only to him. She would heal him, because she wanted him to live. But she would not heal or exert herself on behalf of anyone else. She cared for him, and him only.

    Pearl would do anything for me, he thought, in shock. She would heal for me… she would kill for me. She had killed for me; and she would kill again, if she thinks she must.

    Turning slowly, Elazul watched Pearl as she lay under the covers. But she did not return his look. Instead, she averted her face and became silent; and Elazul, recognizing it as the silence designed to shut him out, soon left.

    The day wore on, lapsed into evening, and Rubens' condition did not improve. He lay half-awake, half-dowsed by the medicines given to him by the nuns. Elazul waited in vain for better news outside the infirmary. Reflections about the past, the present, the future plagued him incessantly; Sandra's latest transgression, Rubens' injury, the fate of the children, his relationship with Pearl. At last, he had enough, and rose from his chair, deciding to return to Pearl's quarters.

    He found her lying in the bed, in the same position as before, and thought she had fallen asleep. But then he heard his name spoken softly.

    He approached. Pearl partially rose from the bed, propped on one elbow, looking at him. For a moment he hesitated, and was inclined to say a word of encouragement, tell her Rubens is better; but he could not utter this falsehood.

    "You better go to sleep, Pearl," he said, trying to suppress the weariness in his voice.

    She did not reply, but instead said, “Elazul, please come here.”

    Elazul obeyed, seating himself on the bed. “You should go to sleep, Pearl,” he repeated quietly. "I'll take care of everything.” But to his own ears, this promise sounded empty and hollow. He felt worn in spirit, and alone.

    She made no answer; but instead of sinking back into the bed, she rose to a half-sitting position, and leant against him, her arms going around his neck, and buried her face against his shoulder.

    He understood that she was seeking comfort, but he couldn't help but feel a little uneasy. But he preferred to see her gesture as that of a mere child, seeking reassurance from the protective premise of her guardian. He therefore encircled one arm around her, and turned a little, to allow her to lean more comfortably against him. He told himself that he'll let her stay this way for just a little while more; then he'll coax her to go to sleep.

    Pearl obeyed the movements of his body instinctively; and she leant against him, her head lowered. After a moment, she said, her voice quiet: "Elazul-"

    "Yes?" he answered softly.

    She said nothing; but then, without lifting her head, she raised her body little more, so her head was resting directly on his shoulder; and she moved her hand, slowly, to his face. Her hand began caressing his cheek gently; but before Elazul could absorb this gesture on her part, he felt her hand sliding down his neck, and then she raised it up and slid her fingers through his hair.

    With a sudden shock he realized that this was no innocent gesture. It was a deliberate, insistent, completely conscious action on her part. His arms embraced her slender waist, he looked down at the honey waves of hair that appeared a rich golden color in the faint glow of the lamp, glimpsed a little of her white profile as she rested her face against his shoulder. He began to perspire quickly, and tried to make a move, to break away; but he could not. As if sensing the change that overcame him, she turned her face upwards and looked into his eyes.

    “Knight of Lapis Lazuli,” she said softly. And Elazul suddenly noticed that her turquoise eyes were dark.

    "Lady Pearl-"

    He said her name with a constricted voice; but he barely had time to react, because she lifted herself and, her arms twined about his neck, leant towards him and covered his mouth with her own.

Comment: I will note any significant differences in the two versions for the curious, from now on. (Until now the differences were mostly minor, and the most important were some paragraphs in Part III chapters 2 and chapter 5, where Elazul mulls over his feelings for Alex, in the Sandra version.)

In the Sandra version Elazul rejects Pearl and leaves. She is a little more Pearl-like than Black Pearl-like.

This chapter is dedicated to Lynda who, if still reading this, must greatly enjoy my suffering as I struggle to reconcile a certain plot point that I changed after I began writing the story, at her useful advice. Not that I'm… bitter or anything. ;)

Chapter 5: The Looking-Glass Tower

    The morning light flowed through the high window of the room, its gentle aura casting the rest of the room into soft shadows. The glow reminded Rubens of that day, a long time ago, when he met Diana for the first time. He closed his eyes and drifted away into memories of youth, of lavish rooms, glowing chandeliers, golden lights…

    He was attired in a red soldier's uniform that day, his silvery badge of excellence decorating it. He was admitted into knighthood that summer, having graduated at the top of his class academically, and excelled equally in combat skills, as worthy of a descendant of an ancient Jumi lineage. As he entered the ballroom that summer evening, the profusion of bright lights from teardrop chandeliers blinded him momentarily. And when his vision cleared, he saw her.

    A young girl clad in an ivory-hued silk dress stood near the high councilor and his wife in silence, her large eyes surveying the scene before her attentively. Her brown hair was elaborately twined in white flowers, and her little hands were clasped before her demurely. Standing in the flood of pure light she was an image of grace and innocence. It was the first time Rubens had seen her at the royal ballroom, and he guessed that it was her first social event.

    “Who is that young woman?” he asked one of his comrades.

    “Diana, the councilor's daughter,” whispered the young man. He noticed that Rubens' eyes were fixed on the girl, and added, “Beautiful, isn't she? No wonder her father kept her well-sheltered. I heard she's well-educated, and uncommonly clever for her age.”

    “The last time I have seen her she was but a child,” said Rubens. “And she is one still.”

    “Yet it seems she's already won an admirer,” Rubens' observed friend slyly.

    Rubens smiled in response, but said with composure, “I suppose that's correct.”

    “Then this evening is already a raving success for her,” said his friend. “Just imagine the envy of all her friends when she tells them all about it tomorrow morning.”

    “I suppose it's left to me to find out if she is truly of such a frivolous disposition,” said Rubens calmly. Leaving the young knight, he approached the high councilor. The councilor, who knew and approved of the young ruby knight, welcomed him with such friendliness as his normally detached disposition allowed. Rubens then bowed to the councilor's wife as was proper, sending his family's regard.

    As Rubens conversed with the councilor and his wife about inconsequential matters, he continued to glance at Diana. She observed him with her large eyes, her gaze very steady and not at all shy. Her mother, meanwhile, correctly discerned where the young man's attentions were focused.

    “Rubens,” she said with her cool, cultivated voice, “please allow me to introduce you to my daughter Diana. You may recall her from many years ago, before you went into knightly training.” She then turned to her daughter. “Diana, you may recall the ruby knight. His father is a councilor as well.”

    “I do, mother,” answered the girl, her voice possessing the same cultured, clear tones as her parent. She extended her gloved hand. “I'm pleased to meet you, Sir.”

    Rubens requested Diana's hand in a dance, to which she gracefully complied. He then walked away, reflecting that he may get to know her better during the dance. He could not tell whether or not she favored him. Her aspect was perfectly proper for a young girl: demure, refined, and unassuming. Yet Rubens gained the distinct impression that those large, clear eyes observed all with a detached, perceptive gaze, sophisticated beyond her years. He reflected that she greatly resembled her parents.

    The evening's progression did not dispel this first impression. A politician's child, Diana knew a great deal more about the working of the city than many men and women older in years. And although she still possessed an unpolished innocence in some ways, the result of her youth and her years in an all-girls academy, Rubens could tell by her intelligent conversation, her astute judgment, that even those soft child's edges would soon wear off. But what startled him most was that Diana was no idealist, had no impractical fervor in her soul. She knew everything about the situation of the city, and she approved of it, and made a great many intelligent observations as to its workings.

    She is a true child of her parents' upbringing, thought Rubens. If she thinks other than what she was taught, she did not let it show. And he found himself feeling pity for this child, who did not allow herself to be a mere girl. Everything Diana said even then, everything she did, was the model of the perfect councilor's child. Only as the years progressed, doubt began to cast its black shadow upon her; and the more she doubted, the harder she struggled to conquer her feelings, creating a false outer appearance of calmness over a conflicted heart.

    Diana is no angel, thought Rubens. She's never been an angel, albeit she resembled one in appearance, nay, took a painstaking care that she would look like one. And yet, when I spoke to her then, I perceived that fragment of innocence in her, a tenuous, fragile thing, like easily-torn wings of gossamer- and even in youth Diana seemed ashamed of it, and sought to conceal it, to disregard it.

    All his life since then, Rubens tended that fragment of innocence in Diana, encouraged her to preserve that wisp of fragility that she always sought to conceal, yet which was, to him, the most beautiful thing about her- more than her fine mind, more than her beauty, more than her strength of character. It was the one part of her that he truly loved; the one part of her that gave her a soul.

    The door of the infirmary opened, and Elazul stood in the doorway. The flood of light through the high window illuminated the features of the ruby knight who lay in the narrow white bed, and the Lapis Lazuli stood very still for a moment, his eyes on him. Rubens was colorless, wan, and life seemed drained of him. The bright light accentuated his sickly appearance. Elazul felt his heart sinking at this sight. Rubens' hand was placed on the blanket, over the slight curve that denoted the ruby gem just underneath, as if he sought to placate the wound, contain the life that drained out of him as the minutes ticked by. To Elazul he seemed sunk into a reverie, a peaceful delirium induced by the strong sedatives the nuns gave him. But when Elazul approached him he stirred, and turned his face towards him. Elazul seated himself on a chair just a little distance away from the bed, his figure half in shadow.

    After a moment he asked Rubens quietly, “How are you feeling?”

    Rubens drew in his breath for a moment. It was an unhealthy, whizzing sound. Then he said, “Worn.”

    “Do you feel any pain?” Elazul asked.

    “Not much,” replied the ruby knight. “The medicines of these nuns are strong.”

    Elazul looked at the dark floor, his fingers lacing each other. He shifted uncomfortably in the chair for a moment, and separating his hands, rubbed his knee with one hand. He looked at Rubens again and discovered that the high councilor was measuring him with a questioning look. But since Elazul would not speak, he finally asked, “Is anything wrong, Elazul?”

    Elazul halted his nervous activity, and drew a breath. He averted his eyes to avoid Ruben's gaze. “Yes, Sir,” he said. “Pearl is gone.” He waited a moment, but received no response, and felt that he must elaborate with an explanation. “She took a nun's garb for concealment, and left.”

    He glanced at Rubens. The ruby knight's penetrating eyes were on Elazul. “Did something happen?” he asked, although very gently.

    Elazul muttered something incomprehensible; but a deep blush betrayed him, and told the high councilor all that he needed to know. “Should I guess?” Rubens asked, although he appeared to be suppressing a smile.

    “I think you did, Sir,” said the young man, his color high. “She…” he looked away. “Sir, it was Black Pearl.”

    “I see,” said the ruby knight after a pause, the implication of this sinking in.

    “Still, Sir,” Elazul added, “I must go after her. I… I am sorry, Sir.”

    Rubens now understood his struggle. “Don't worry about me,” he said slowly. “Just go. Do you still have the sword?”

    “Yes,” answered the young knight.

    “It must be returned to her,” said Rubens. “She… will know… what to do. But, Elazul… promise me only one thing.”

    “Yes, Sir?” said the young knight unhappily.

    “If…” Rubens uttered these words with difficulty. “If… anything happens…” He noticed that Elazul made a gesture of protest, and shook his head. “No, listen… if anything happens, tell Diana…”

    He became silent, and Elazul waited, his fingers curled into fists, eyes fixed on the ruby knight painfully. Finally Rubens uttered a short, soft sentence:

    “Not to be sad.”

    “I will, Sir,” replied the young knight, his voice constricted with emotion. Rubens's warm smile appeared. “Do not tell her this… however. Diana, she…”

    He paused, and looked at Elazul gravely.

    “She was wrong about you. You proved yourself…. more than adequate…. in taking care of Pearl.”

    Elazul rose to his feet and turned, and stood with his head bowed. “No,” he said. “I thank you, Sir, but… no.”

    He received no reply. Looking over his shoulder, he noticed that Rubens, exhausted, had sunk into a quiet reverie. His fingers remained lying over the ruby core, and the white face was illuminated by the quiet morning sunlight. Elazul looked away. He knew the ruby knight was already drifting away on slow currents, to a realm beyond his each.

    He left the room, closing the door after him.

    A slender tower rose amid lonely peaks, a tower of black steel and hundreds of windows, the valley of broken stone mirrored in their dark eyes. It was said that the tower once belonged to a mighty sorcerer, who conducted his black experiments within thousands of years ago. The sorcerer passed away long since, but the tower remained, locked by hundreds of intricate runes written in an ancient language. Very few entered that tower, and fewer lived to re-emerge from its enchanted gates. It was a tower of death, nothing lived within; but the courageous wanderer who dared to walk within the empty corridors of stone required a powerful shield against its lethal enchantment. This was the tower of broken mirrors; the tower of Leires.

    That misty evening, a young man approached the winding path leading to the tower's sealed gate. He paused, perspiring from the steep ascent, and exhausted from a two-day arduous journey. Seating himself at the road-side for a moment, he refreshed himself with a drink. Torn clouds sailed across the black sky, and the air cooled slowly after a hot day.

    The young man rose to his feet again. His journey was almost over, and he knew that he must not waste any time. The tower gates loomed above his head, composed of an ornately-curved metal that cast long shadows in the moonlight. He touched his fingers to the black handles, and, applying some force, turned them and opened the metal gates.

    He marched across the dark courtyard with a quick gait and presently reached the black doors of the tower. They were firmly shut, and would not budge when he applied force.

    The young man investigated the doors for a few moments. Their black surface was perfectly smooth, with no writing nor any other mark upon it. The hazy moonlight cast moving shadows upon the polished metal. He drew his sword from his sheath. It glowed immediately, a bright beacon in the thick atmosphere. The young man brought it closer to the doors, seeking, in the light, some mark or indication of a way to open the doors.

    As the young man leant forward, the blade touched the doors lightly. Immediately he heard something, a low creak, which turned into a heavy, dragging sound. The great doors swung open slowly.

    The young man retreated for a moment in surprise. But he recovered immediately, and fathomed his answer at once. He knew that he held a potent key to the tower.

    He went inside the doors, which remained open in grim welcome. They closed after him silently, and locked shut once again.

    “Pearl.”

    The young woman knelt on the white marble floor in the prayer-house, head bowed, eyes closed, hands locked together in prayer. She paid no heed to the voice speaking softly behind her, and continued in her position for a few moments more. When she concluded her silent offering she opened her eyes, rose to her feet, and turned.

    The man who spoke her name stirred as their eyes met. In human terms he seemed in his mid-thirties, with dark hair prematurely streaked with gray, and dark eyes. His clothes were simple and frayed, time-worn, perhaps even travel-worn. His gaze on the young woman was warm, full of feelings he could barely contain.

    “When did you come back?” he asked the young woman.

    “Three days ago,” she replied. Unlike the man she remained cool, her rich voice betraying no emotions.

    The man walked a step towards her. “When I came back to the city three months ago and discovered that you left, I was extremely worried. I almost made up my mind to leave the city again and look for you. But they warned me to stay.”

    “They warned you well,” she answered. “I needed to make my journey alone. I did not wish for company.”

    “But- if anything happened to you-“ He took another step towards her. “I don't know what I would have done. It's been so long, Pearl. So long.” He gazed at her, as if seeking to devour her with his eyes, frame that glowing beauty of golden hair, of turquoise eyes, of that pure robe of white, and imprint it forever on his memory.

    The young woman did not move as he stepped close to her. “Indeed,” she responded calmly. “Almost five years, I believe.”

    “I have thought only of you,” he said, attempting to touch her hand with his. But she retreated, fell a few steps back. Her eyes did not repel him, but they did not welcome him, either. He perceived this and paused, a puzzled, hurt look stealing into his eyes. “What is the matter, Pearl? Are you not glad to see me?”

    She met his gaze with an inscrutable expression. Finally she said, “I am. But-as you may know- things changed since you left.”

    He said nothing for a moment. She stood tall and clear-gazed, meeting his eyes silently. Finally he lowered his head and murmured, “Yes, I heard about it. The people on the street speak strangely. They say you talk to angels, that you have prayed for a miracle for many days, and that you took your journey to seek the answer. But- Pearl- what does it have to do with- with us?”

    “Everything,” she responded shortly.

    The pain in his eyes increased, but he said quietly, “Then… you have not thought of me all this time, when I was gone?”

    Now she looked down. “I did,” she said, her voice soft for a moment. “But-“ and again she raised her head, her voice regaining its former, cool tone- “you must understand that I changed. That experience changed me. I will never again be the Pearl that you have known.”

    “Never?” he echoed. “Nothing that happened mattered to you, Pearl? You must recall.” He took a step towards her suddenly, his voice almost pleading now. “Not even that summer evening- when the flowers gave their sweet fragrance, and we walked in the moonlight- when you told me- no, I refuse to believe that you changed so much that you can say-“

    His voice trailed off. He could now see that her eyes were hard and cold, two shining jewels of turquoise. He retreated a step.

    “You were always proud,” he murmured, his dark eyes unhappy. “But I've seen another side of you, Pearl. A girl I could love, full of wisdom and compassion.”

    “You cling to an image,” she replied. “You remember but a naïve child. I have nothing to do with her anymore.”

    “Nothing?” he repeated. “But why? Why?”

    “I belong to the goddess now,” she answered. “She blessed me with powers of unparalleled magnitude, a power with which I can help our people. One day I was blessed with a dream. When I awoke, I have changed. Can you not see that I am not that child you have known? She is gone forever.”

    Now anger entered his eyes. “And because of that change, you are willing to throw the past away? Did you lose your capacity to feel, that you speak such words?”

    Her white core flickered, and the light was reflected in her eyes. It was a repelling flash, a flash of warning. Her rich, low voice was implacable and cold.

    “Do not think that you can lead me astray with such petty, shallow pronouncements. How can you possibly comprehend the experience I have undergone?” Her voice grew fervent, her turquoise eyes burned. “I have journeyed many days, spent many nights in utter solitude. I experienced darkness, hunger, loneliness, fever, ere I saw the light. You never will understand what I have seen and known.”

    She turned her back on him.  “Leave this place,” she said, with calm finality containing no regret. “We have nothing to do with each other any more.”

    “No. Don't leave. Don't leave me!”

   Elazul jerked into awareness. The vision appeared as in a dream, and for a moment he was inside, heard it all, as if he experienced it himself through the eyes of the dark-eyed man. He felt his anger and sadness as he turned to go and left forever, never to see Pearl again.

    But as the man left, Elazul remained, and stood looking at Pearl. A change overcame her as soon as the man was gone. Her voice became soft, pleading, and she stretched her arms in supplication after the retreating figure of the man.

    “Don't leave me,” she whispered. “Please… please forgive me.” Her turquoise eyes shadowed, burning with a black fire. “I've been alone in this nightmare. Please forgive me.”

    Elazul stood mesmerized, unable to move. Pearl stood still. Her arms dropped slowly to the side of her body. She spoke quietly, her voice distant, stringing the lost fragments of a dream, singing an old song long-forgotten.

    “How long have I been here? Forever, I think; and yet, no time at all. I've been living a dream whose shadows I see in the glass eyes of the mirrors. In their meaningless black surface endless corridors wind, coming from nowhere, leading nowhere, hung with a thousand mirrors, their eyes watching, judging, accusing me.”

    A tremor passed over her impassive white face, but it was gone at once. “When did I lose the holy aura? The goddess loved me once. She blessed me with visions, and with power.” Her eyes flashed darkly. “I became the most fearsome person in the city! I was Black Pearl! But the light of the goddess was slowly drained of me, and I faded from within, like a flame-holder whose fire long-since died. And now…”

    Black Pearl's hands clenched, nails digging into her palms. “Now… now only the dead follow me, tormenting me, haunting my dreams… dead faces, reflecting in the black eyes of the mirrors. Why? Why did I fall from grace?”

    She suddenly looked up, straight at Elazul. “Tell me!” she said, her voice commanding, fervent. “Tell me why!” And she came upon him with quick steps, her eyes burning. “I must know!”

    Elazul fell a step in unconscious reaction. But as she approached, her figured blurred, turning into mist. The room melted into darkness, and the woman's figure vanished with it. Elazul shook himself briefly and looked around.

    The vision that spread its enchanted web upon him dissipated like a dream. He was standing in the darkness, on the narrow, winding staircase of Leires tower, and the closed doors of the topmost room rose just before his eyes.

    A bright gleam caught Elazul's attention. He realized that the sword on his belt had caught fire and glowed steadily, as if responding to something. The light was so bright that it escaped the confines of the sheath, and threw dancing glimmers around Elazul.

    He drew it. The light intensified at once, and a great wave of light washed over the dark stairs. Elazul considered it for a moment in silence. Then, as if reaching a decision, he turned and descended the stairs. For a few minutes, the staircase remained dark and empty. Then Elazul re-appeared and, with quick steps, ran up to the door. The sword was absent from his belt.

    Elazul approached the door, and, pushing it open, entered the room.

    Pearl was standing with her back to him, in the middle of the room. She turned her head slowly at his entry. Then she swung around and faced him fully; and Elazul, meeting her eyes, knew at once who she was.

    “Lady Black Pearl,” he said.

    She gave him a piercing gaze. “How did you enter the tower?” she asked. He was silent, and after a few moments she passed her hand over her eyes. “Well, no matter,” she said, turning again. Her eyes wandered to the blackness of the square glass window.

    Elazul sensed that despite her calm appearance, her thoughts were scattered. She certainly did not appear as self-possessed as she had been in the Jumi city. He recalled that vivid, lifelike vision he experienced, and wondered if it was the effect of this accursed tower. The first time she had gone to the tower to find the sword, she lingered longer than expected. He now divined the reason for this earlier event.

    Black Pearl spoke quietly into the night. Elazul knew she was addressing him; and yet, he sensed that she was speaking only to herself. Always herself, he thought, his fingers clenching into fists, herself and the city. No one else matters to her.

    “Many months ago I came here, propelled by some unknown impulse, looking for something... although now I can barely recall what it was. And I was visited with memories so vivid that I almost forgot myself. Only the strongest of willpower enabled me to regain my awareness of the present. And now I returned here, to seek the answer, the riddle of my existence since then. What happened to me? Why has my core changed?”

    She heaved a deep breath. “But I found no answers, only more riddles. But I still recall one thing… a passage to another place, where I believe I may find the answers.”

    She looked over her shoulder, bestowing a cursory glance on Elazul. “You, Lapis Lazuli,” she continued, “I charge with one task. Tell the city that I am gone, and will return only when I find my answer.”

     Without another word, she began to walk away. Elazul now noticed a small door fixed at the side of the wall, apparently leading into another room. So far he listened to her in silence. She is leaving like this, he thought. She says nothing of what happened, as if it never happened. She is not Pearl, he reminded himself, and thought listlessly, were you stupid enough to expect anything else? Still, something prompted him to speak.

    “And what about Rubens?” he asked.

    Black Pearl paused for a moment. “Is he still alive?”

    Elazul felt irked by her coolness in her voice; and or the first time addressed her in the old way. “Yes, Lady,” he answered tersely.

    “That is good,” she remarked. “But I can do nothing for him at present.”

    The indifferent tone in which this statement was uttered infuriated Elazul. “Well spoken, Lady Pearl,” he said hotly, taking a step towards her. “Considering what has passed.”

    She glanced over her shoulder. “What would you have me do?” she asked coldly. “I could not control what happened.”

    “Have no sorrow for him, Lady Pearl?” Elazul flung at her vehemently. “No tears? In the whole thousand years of your existence, did you ever care for anyone? Are you truly beyond all feelings, Lady Black Pearl?”

    Black Pearl stood silent for a moment. She did not respond to Elazul's outburst. Then she turned and approached him. Elazul stirred uneasily, but stood his grounds. Her expression was inscrutable as she halted before him.

     “I recall everything, Elazul,” she said softly. “Everything that happened.”

     Elazul started at this, his face flooding with color. He knew what she meant at once, and instinctively began to stammer something- an explanation, an apology, he knew not what- and then he suddenly became very quiet. He knew that nothing would serve to explain what happened, that nothing he would tell her would suffice to make her comprehend what Pearl had felt; because she remembered it, yes, but she did not understand, did not feel it the way that Pearl did. He found it strange, almost disturbing, that she would look so much like Pearl- she still wore a pure white, and the rich, beautiful waves of her pale golden hair loosely framed her delicate, snowy face. But the dreamy expression that he loved in the deep turquoise eyes was gone, they were black and cold as they had been when he first saw her. He met her gaze silently, waiting for her to speak, awaiting her judgment, not with dread, but with apathy, thinking, all emotions are fleeting, and ties are loose gossamer threads that can be severed by the first rough wind that rips through them.

    "Lapis Lazuli knight," Black Pearl continued, her voice betraying no tremor, no change. "You have saved my life, and I will not be ungrateful for it. You protected me in my moment of distress and confusion, and you shall be rewarded for your actions. If you go back to the city, I shall ensure that the highest honors shall be bestowed upon you as payment for your service."

    Elazul bent his head, curling his fingers into a fist. "I do not wish for honors, Lady," he said tersely. And he thought, why is she doing this? She only uses it as a weapon, to catch me off-guard, and silence my tongue.

    "Then what do you wish for?" asked Black Pearl.

    To have Pearl back, thought Elazul. But he said nothing.

    After a long pause, Black Pearl said coolly, "If you so wish, you can become my lover."

    This proposal, so calmly offered, was to Elazul like a hot brand of mortification pressed to his skin. He recalled the desire for her that possessed him, he thought of Pearl and her wistful eyes, and felt sick to his stomach, ashamed by his mixed feelings. She chose to draw me into what happened, he reminded himself, and I almost thought that, then, she… but no, it was Pearl who felt it. Not she.

     "I have no wish to take advantage of your offer," he said with sudden heat. "For you do not love me."

    "You dare refuse me?" she asked, with a mirthless smile. "My, but the Lapis Lazuli had grown up."

    Elazul's face suffused with red. But his answer was quiet and clear. "I was you who has made me old, Lady Pearl."

    Black Pearl said nothing for a moment. Then she spoke, her voice very soft. “And what if I told you that I do love you?”

    Elazul fixed his eyes on her with undisguised astonishment. Despite what he knew of Pearl he did not expect Black Pearl to utter those words. For a moment he remained mute, not knowing what to say. He felt himself drawn to the black eyes fixed on him, for a moment wishing to believe what she said is true. But then, Black Pearl's eyes flashed. Suddenly she came upon Elazul with a quick step and caught his shoulder with her hand.

    “What's happened to me?” she asked, in a low, fevered voice. “It is her! Her speaking through me. Prompting me to do thing I'd never do otherwise. Damn her! But I will uproot her from my mind. She will not control my mind and heart. She will not make me dependent upon you, Lapis Lazuli! She will not make me love you. She and I are two different beings!”

    She fell back and stood, her chest heaving. “Pearl is gone,” she repeated, her voice hard. “And I will ensure that she will never return, Lapis Lazuli.”

    Without another word, she turned her back to him and walked towards the door fixed at the side of the wall, and disappeared through it.

    Elazul had stood immobile, mesmerized by her outburst. But now he was startled into action. He ran towards the door and tried to open it. The handle would not give. He thought he heard a strange sound inside, and knocked on it.

    “Lady Pearl!” he cried. “Open the door!”

    Silence. Elazul tried the handle again, and to his surprise it turned this time. He pushed the door open and entered quickly. The room was small, circular and empty. Black Pearl was nowhere to be seen.

    Elazul surveyed his surroundings. He noticed markings on the floor, and approached to examine them more closely. It was a golden circle curved into the floor. In the middle of the circle two triangles intersected in a neat, geometrical pattern, and several angular characters were drawn beneath.

    Elazul reflected upon this for a moment, and decided that this must be some kind of the transportation device, the “passage to another place” of which Black Pearl spoke. But he guessed that only a runic command would activate it. Black Pearl was gone, and he knew not where.

    He examined the runes for a moment. There were only three characters, simple in design, and Elazul carefully committed them to memory.

    Then he rose to his feet. There was nothing else to be done; he felt that it was time for him to leave.

    Pearl may love me, he thought. But not Black Pearl. She will contain that feeling to the bottom of her heart, repress it until it is killed. And then, we will have nothing to do with each other anymore. His fingers trembled, and he clenched them furiously. Despite what passed between us. She sees it as a momentary weakness, and it meant nothing to her.

    Weary of conflicted thoughts and feelings, Elazul turned his back on the tower of mirrors and began his descent in the staircase. He only paused briefly to retrieve the sword of fate from its hiding place. He did not know whether he made the right decision when he concealed it from Black Pearl. But somehow, he knew not why, he did not feel easy at the thought of Black Pearl retrieving this sword. He was glad that her mind was too pre-occupied, too scattered, to question closely his ability to enter into the tower.

    He buckled the sword to his belt, and began his long descent down the tower stairs.

    When Elazul finally reached the great main doors of the tower, it seemed like many hours had passed. It must be nearing midnight by now, he thought.

    He paused just before the doors, and was about to push them open. But suddenly he halted, because he heard voices speaking just outside the tower doors.

    The voices appeared to belong to many men, who probably stood in the gated courtyard bordering the tower. Elazul pressed his ear to the doors and listened. Presently a voice arose among the babble, a soft voice which Elazul instantly recognized.

    The assassin, Snake.

    “It appears that we cannot enter,” said Snake, “since the door is locked by runes. The witch is inside. We shall wait for her, and trap her when she leaves. She seems to be alone, but we must exercise caution. She once slaughtered over twenty of our men using some unknown magic.”

    “Do you mean to kill her at once?” asked a man.

    “It is best,” answered Snake. “A swift, single attack is what we need.”

    “But I had the impression,” said the man's voice, a trifle dryly, “that she may have caught your fancy on that previous time.”

    Elazul knew now that the speaker was the archer. He left with Snake to the inn, and was therefore the single survivor of the previous raid.

    “You heard my order, man of the forest,” said Snake sharply. He did not sound pleased to be talked back to.

    The archer spoke again. He did not appear apprehensive of Snake's anger. “Yes, I did. But I wish to let you know one thing only. If you mean to do to this woman- or to any woman- what you did to the girl at the inn, I will take no part of your ventures.”

    “I see.” Snake's voice was venomous. “And since when did you, man of the forest, turned a judge of morality? Considering your past deeds, I find this rather amusing.”

    “I do not judge,” said the archer calmly. “But there was no call for the way you treated that child. You knew that she would react this way. She seemed the type that would commit suicide in such a situation.”

    “Oh,” Snake's voice sneered, “how virtuous of you to mind. Fear not, man of the forest. The kill for this one will be swift, and will give me no comparable pleasure.”

    The archer said nothing; and Snake continued his address to the men.

     Elazul stood near the doors, very still. His face was devoid of expression, his eyes unfocused, his breath was shallow.

    He did not hear anything by now; as the conversation progressed, as the implication of the words spoken sunk into his conscious mind, everything blurred bit by bit. Images seeped through his memory like blood running through the cracks of a blank wall. They swelled into a pool that ran red, a crimson vision smelling of blood, upon which the body of a raped girl floated gently like a white ghost, her pale hair drifting in the red streams. Blood rushed in his veins, so swiftly that it burned.

    The sword in his hand began to glow.

    Snake was still talking when the great doors of the tower opened. The men turned at once as a group. Weapons flashed in their hands. Then they saw the young knight standing at the top of the steps leading to the doors, his sword drawn. The doors behind him closed, a soft sound of an automatic magic lock clicking. The light shed by the sword illuminated Elazul's face with an eerie glow, showing his features clearly.

    Snake betrayed no surprise, but his mouth narrowed, and he retreated a few paces. “You are not dead, then,” he said. The men stirred, their eyes watching Elazul guardedly, and whispered amongst themselves.

    “No,” said Elazul quietly. “But you will be, soon.”

    "Impressive," said Snake dryly. “Well, Jumi knight, I do not know how you escaped death. I assumed until now that the woman took your core and buried you somewhere. But no matter. You will not live long.”

    “Really?” asked the young knight, his smile morbid. “Recall that I have no one to protect, this time.”

    He lifted the sword with both hands. His eyes became bright, a strange look in them, and his voice rang clearly. “You have murdered a Jumi, assassin. The punishment for your crime is death.” As if responding, the blade began to glow, its light brighter and brighter, until it shone clearly against the night sky, throwing moving shadows across the yard. The men retreated, muttering; but their weapons were ready.

    Without further words, Elazul sprang towards Snake; but the bodies of many men intercepted him. The yard erupted into confusion, the men attempting to overwhelm the young knight. But their efforts lacked orchestration, and their opponent quickly deflected their weapons aside with his own, and retreated briefly. A hard look shone in his eye as he quickly assessed the stage for the battle. His mind calculated the situation with the cold precision of steel. The confined area of the yard placed him in constant danger of being assailed and besieged by his opponents simply because of their superior numbers. He knew that quickness, agility, precision, all took priority in this situation. His fingers tightened around the hilt of his sword, and he sensed fresh power streaming into his veins, ready at his disposal.

    All this took but a moment; the men were already gathering for a fresh attack. Elazul readied himself, and answered the foremost man with a drawn sword. The glowing blade quickly turned, deflecting the man's weapon aside, then immediately slashing upwards through his sword arm, leaving a deep gash. The man retreated with a cry, but managed to hold onto his sword. Blood streamed profusely down his arm. Elazul spun around immediately, evading a second attacker who came onto him from the side. He deflected the blade, ducked, and then delivered a hard blow to the man's face with his fist. The man reeled into the wall. Before he could recover his senses Elazul jumped forward, his sword straight, using the propulsion of the leap to drive the blade into his abdomen. Yet a third assailant had no more success than his predecessors. The young knight, evading his attack, delivered a vicious kick to his knee and, as the man staggered a step back, slit his throat with a single movement of his arm. He then turned to the man with the injured arm, who was attempting to distance himself from the battle, and quickly intercepted him, knocking his sword out of his hand with a single blow. The man barely had time to consider his next movement before Elazul rushed upon him, driving the glowing blade into his stomach.

    Perceiving the fate of their comrades, some of the men immediately behind the first three congregated to form a tight ring around Elazul, realizing that they could only counter his superior strength and agility with a group effort. They were too quick for Elazul this time, and he found himself surrounded by at least six or seven men. He barely evaded one blade that slashed past his neck, and had to immediately dodge several weapons closing upon him from the side and from behind. Some missed their target and passed nearby harmlessly, but one sword caught his shoulder.

    Elazul gritted his teeth and readied himself for the pain. He sank to the ground with a single movement. The blade was freed, leaving a deep wound in his shoulder, and the rest of the weapons closed on air. Lying flat for a moment, the young man kicked one of the men hard, unbalancing him; then, quickly leaping to his feet, he rammed his body against him. The man tumbled to the floor heavily. Elazul dashed through the ring of men, his sword flying, inflicting injuries and nimbly deflecting the swinging weapons. His fierce attack worked. The men were disconcerted for a moment by the furious pace of the assault and the ring broke, letting him through.

    The fallen man meanwhile turned to lie on his stomach with a groan, and attempted to rise to his feet. The young knight performed a single leap, and used both hands to bring the point of the sword into the man's exposed back. The man fell flat again with a cry, and lay still. Elazul turned around almost immediately and, deflecting a blow aimed at his head, skewered another of his opponents through.

    The fight wore on. Again and again, Elazul's sword turned efficiently, slaying his adversaries. There was a hard, steady light in his eyes, and his whole attention seemed concentrated on the fight, his actions deliberate, calculated, mechanic. His body, his mind, his hands, were all geared, focused upon, and ready for a single purpose: to kill.

    As the fight progressed, Snake stood in a dark corner of the yard, watching Elazul with narrowed eyes. He made no move to intervene nor any attempt to help his men. His gaze flicked from the sword to the young man's face, and back to the sword, with intense concentration. "Fascinating," he said softly. “How foolish of me, to overlook this weapon. But no matter.”

    The number of men dwindled to five. Three, acting in unison, came upon Elazul. He deflected their blades, then unbalanced one by delivering a hard kick to his ankle. Throwing himself bodily upon the second, he managed to pin him to the wall. The sharp point of the luminous sword pierced through the man's hand, leaving a deep gash. The man cried out, clutching at his bleeding hand. Without a pause, Elazul spun to confront the third man, his fist catching him under the chin. Then he thrust the glowing blade into his chest.

    The first man, now recovered, again tried to attack Elazul. The young knight brought his iron-hard fist against his chest. The man folded, uttering a strangled cry. Elazul retreated a little for a moment, then leapt forward, inflicting a second, harder blow under the man's rib. The man crumpled, sliding onto the floor. His body wriggled a little, then became still. Turning again to the man with the injured hand, Elazul swiftly drove the sword into his throat. The man made a choked sound, and blood stained his lips. Then he collapsed to the ground.

    Only two men were now left. One lunged towards Elazul quickly, in a desperate attempt to catch him off-guard. The young knight turned and, using the force of the man's moving body, caught him and slammed him against the granite wall, head-first. The man screamed, his sword cluttering to the ground. Elazul rammed him against the wall again, and a third time, with increasing force. The man's hands grew nerveless, his body limp. Elazul released him. The man crumpled slowly with his face against the wall. Blood streamed down the black wall of the tower.

    The last man, perceiving the fate of his injured comrades, now advanced on Elazul. “What devilry is this?” he asked. “Do enjoy inflicting pain?”

     “I am simply paying you in the same card dealt to me,” answered Elazul. He evaded the man's thrust, and leaping suddenly, swung his sword at the man. The man, dodging the blade, thought himself in the clear. But suddenly he found his hand caught between the young man's fingers.

    He tried to pull back, but could not; then began to perspire as his hand was slowly crushed by Elazul's inexorable grip. He was forced to drop his weapon. “Curses on you!” he panted.

    Instead of replying, Elazul released him, and the man staggered backwards, uttering a cry of agony. But before he could perform a full retreat, Elazul swung his sword. The finely-honed blade rippled like light, severing the man's head from his shoulders with a single sweep.

    Elazul halted, realizing that he was no longer being attacked, and stood still, his chest heaving. The yard was littered with the bodies of men, and the wall of the tower was stained with blood. Elazul bled from numerous wounds, but did not seem to feel them.

    He turned around, and saw the archer standing near the gate.

    The archer had retreated, his dagger in hand, when the fight began. In this small area, his arrows were useless. He watched the fight, but did not seem inclined to take a part in it. As the fight wore on, the look in his cool gray eyes became guarded. He did not leave, but seemed to prepare himself for something. When Elazul approached him, he stood for a moment, gazing at him, but making no move. Then he threw his weapon at Elazul's feet.

     He looked directly into Elazul's eyes. “I will not fight,” he said calmly.

    Elazul stood for a moment, gazing at him with an inscrutable expression. A current of light beat through the shining blade of his sword, throbbing like the running of blood through living veins. Finally, a smile crept to the young knight's mouth.

    “A coward's way?” he asked. “How pathetic.”

    “No,” the man responded quietly. “Your revenge is just. Kill me, if you so wish.”

    Elazul was still for a moment. Then he leapt and caught the man's shoulders with both hands. He rammed him against the wall and looked straight into his eyes.

    “Did you do anything,” he said, “when she suffered? No. You stood and watched.”

    His fingers closed around the archer's face. “Now,” he said softly, “you will suffer as she did.”

    The archer said nothing. He stood rigidly as the knight's remorseless grip closed like a steel vice around his jaw. His face lost color quickly, his hands trembled. But he made no attempt to either cry out or ask for mercy.

    After a few moments, a sharp noise sounded. The archer's body convulsed once, and then grew limp. Elazul released it, and the dead man slid slowly down onto the floor of the yard, his jaw broken.

    As Elazul stood there with his back turned, Snake fiddled with the folds of his robe and withdrew a slender, gleaming, thin piece of metal. A needle, its narrow tip shining in the darkness.

    Elazul turned and faced Snake. He advanced on him, his eyes empty, the drawn sword glimmering in full light and beauty. "Say your prayers, assassin," he said. "For your death shall not be as agreeable as that of your men.” His lip twisted into an unpleasant smile.

     Snake did not lose his cool. He knew that his strength was nothing to Elazul's; all he could count on now was his speed and agility. He dodged Elazul's quick lunge, springing aside. The young man turned. With a quick twist of his wrist, Snake drove the needle into Elazul's arm, then evaded Elazul again, and retreated towards the tower wall, observing his work.

    Elazul barely felt the prick of the needle, and was only checked for a moment. He ignored it, and advanced towards Snake again, the gleaming sword at ready. “You are quicker than I thought,” he remarked. “This is how you managed to keep your accursed life intact, is it not?”

    But a moment later he halted, overcome by a sudden fit of nausea. His vision blurred a little, and he wavered on his feet. Shaking his head, he tried to wave the sickness aside, and continued to walk forward.

    But the man's pale figure quickly turned dark before Elazul's eyes. His hands became numb, and he could no longer feel the sword in his fingers.

    "What..." he muttered.

     He looked at Snake, perspiring heavily, sweat running down his face.

    "Poisoned needle," said the assassin coolly. "It works swift and well."

    Elazul's eyes flashed in hatred. He tried to rush at Snake, but his body would not obey him. He gasped, and collapsed to his knees. The sword dropped from his nerveless fingers and cluttered to the floor. He crumpled to the ground, and lay still.

    Snake advanced towards the young knight with a few quick strides, then crouched and observed the beautiful sword, whose blade rippled in the evening like liquid fire.

    "What a wonderful weapon," he said softly. "What superior craftsmanship." He reached out and grabbed the sword's hilt. Then he turned it in his hands, trying to decipher the runes.

    Suddenly the young knight's hand shot out, and grabbed Snake's shoulder. Quick as a flash, he rose to his feet, dragging the man up with him, his fingers gripping Snake's arm with an iron hold.

    Caught in Elazul's grip, Snake twisted quickly, trying to break free; but to no avail. Although the young knight was perspiring heavily, there was a dark look in his eyes, a deadly determination to overcome his opponent at all costs.

    Snake recalled the weapon in time. He jerked the sword up with his free hand and brought it down, intending to cleave at the young man's arm. Elazul dodged just in time, and the sword was driven into his wounded shoulder, the finely-honed blade slicing through his flesh. He cried out, releasing his hold on the man, and tumbled backwards.

    Snake, released, tried to advance upon Elazul again; but a sudden sensation of sharp pain stopped him.

    A white fire leapt out of the sword as soon as its blade touched Elazul. The fire burned down the blade, and crept onto the man's hand. The assassin, his eyes widening in horror, tried to drop the sword, but his fingers seemed glued to the hilt and he could not set them free. The flames leapt and caught onto his clothes. Within moments, the strange fire enveloped the man's flesh, clinging to him as it burned.

    Elazul, who had dropped to his knees again, looked up. The man was a torch of white flames that consumed his clothes and his flesh with terrible, purposeful thoroughness.

    And Elazul experienced a memory, saw in his mind's eye Black Pearl wielding the sword against Alexandra, the great flash of fire that occurred as soon as the sword touched Alexandra's body… the holy light that brought down Black Pearl.

    Within minutes, the assassin's form shrank into a mere skeleton in the silent heat of the flames; then it, too, was consumed, and crumbled into a heap of white ashes. For some moments the evening breeze, blowing through the dark yard, stirred the ashes; then they, too, melted away into nothing.

    Elazul collapsed down to the floor. He lay still, the poison sapping his strength second by second. Through his blurring vision, he could see the hot, burning form of the glowing sword. The world turned dark before his eyes.

    Then a familiar face bent over him, he heard his name uttered softly, felt a warm hand brushing through his hair.

    “Hold on a little longer, Elazul. I shall help you. Just hold on.”

    “Sandra,” he whispered, and lost consciousness.

    Rubens lay in the narrow bed in the shrine, watching the rich golden twilight. It quickly turned into a succession of pictures, images, recollections….

    The vision that recurred, white against the gold, was of Diana's perfect, calm little face, lovely and chaste in her dress of ivory silk, her hands laced together demurely, her serious child's eyes cool, clear, and calculating, her melodious voice uttering serious reflections; her mind as cold, as clear, and as hard as a diamond.

    And Rubens thought dreamily, Diana never allowed herself to be a child, to be innocent, to be soft, to be feeling…

    And now… now…

    It's too late.

Comment: My, this was long and bloody and detailed. I gave this fight extra-attention, since I am usually not good at writing battle scenes, and it was important to emphasize what Elazul was doing during this fight. I'm not really happy with this chapter, however.

You may ask yourself by now why I dearly love to “abuse” Elazul, both physically and emotionally. There are several factors at work for the answer; but I think that the most concise one is that the scene with Pearl turning into Black Pearl and rejecting the wounded Elazul, calmly leaving him to go back to her search, was the single most memorable scene for me in Legend of Mana, and it established Elazul for me as a character that experiences abandonment. In addition, he is both physically and emotionally hurt in this scene, thus my own depiction of him as a character hurt physically/emotionally, as well as my depiction of him as a character that is frequently betrayed, abandoned, and whatnot. It's all so delightfully ANGSTY that I just couldn't resist!

Differences between the two versions: mainly in the conversation between Elazul and Black Pearl. (Very small differences).

Maintained by:

d Galloway (Insert Image Here)