Sensing his panic, Runor moved away to regard him from a distance. She had never seen anyone so paralyzed with fear, only a cornered animal. And perhaps that was what he was, she thought, with an unexpected spurt of pity. She wondered who he was and how he had come here. His head was so swathed in bandages that it was impossible to tell.

The woman who was caring for him removed the bandages on one side of his face to rub in a soothing balm. Runor felt the hut whirl around her. She took a step back, then another, then her legs gave out and she sank to the floor of the hut, overcome by faintness and nausea. She knew now who he was... She had hoped never to see him or think of him again, never to think of what she had done to him in that moment of overwhelming rage... She had not even let the images of that appalling day come back to her mind... never had she allowed them...

Against her will she looked again, saw the hideous scars that disfigured the man's face. The sight released the floodgates of memory, and the images poured into her, as unstoppable as the ice that had careened down the mountainside onto her village. She saw herself pulling Mordor against her all those years ago, felt her body fill with desire so intense she could hardly breathe. He was so young then, hardly more than a boy, tall and beautiful. Never had she desired a man as she had desired him. And how could she have known what he would become?

But she had known, Runor thought bitterly, and felt shame pour into her, hot and ugly. Even then she had known that she should not trust him, known that beneath the beauty, the persuasive words, there was evil in his heart - the evil she had tried to kill when the flood had come. She had just blinded herself to it so she could satisfy her craving for him.

And all the time, Gurd had been watching them. That, she had not known, but Mordor had. Just after he had left her that last time, Gurd had run out of the trees and pounced on her, raped her. Mordor had told him he could; she had known that as inexorably as she knew the sun would rise, and disgust had given her strength. It was of little use. Gurd was heavy and thick, his arms and legs as strong as a bear's, and she could not dislodge him.

When he had rolled away she had leaped to her feet, enraged, and flung the container of food that had been heating on the fire into his face. Then, noise had come from him, a throttled cry of pain like that of a mute animal caught in the jaws of a predator. The sound had never left her.

Korg had taken Mordor and the bear-like man away that day. She had not seen them again for many years, and when they returned, Mordor had become the Leader. There had been no recognition on his face when he saw her, as if his mind had erased all memory of their time together. He did not know who Rofina was either. Korg knew though. Korg knew everything, even about the rape and the hot liquid she had hurled into Gurd's face. He never spoke of them directly, but she had understood. If she did not cease to act as wise woman for the tribe, did not stop speaking of the Goddess, he would tell Gurd to do to Rofina's face what she had done to Gurd's...

Covering her eyes with her hands so she could not see him again, Runor stumbled from the hut. She sat for a long time trying to calm her pounding heart, trying even harder to understand what Gurd's presence in her village meant, why he had had not died with Korg and the Leader. Probably, she thought, he had lived because he was not in the village, as Korg and the Leader had been, but in the woods, in the hut he had built for them. The waters would not have got there so fast.

She had felt him there all through the years, had felt his eyes on her as he peered at her from the trees. The intensity of his hatred for her had seemed to scorch her body as she had scorched his face. He had never come close to her, though, never come into the village.

Gurd never came into any village, Niva had told her. He did not like people to see him. Runor flinched from the thought, but she was not surprised, considering what the burning liquid had done to his face. What she had done to his face. An image of Rofina's face with similar damage came into her mind. She closed her eyes tightly to shut it out.

"Great Mother, what have You done?" she cried out, almost weeping now. "Why has he come here, to me, to my village?"

An unexpected answer surfaced, and Runor's shoulders slumped. Was it possible that this was another task the Goddess had laid upon her in exchange for life, to make amends to this man as well as to Her?

If that was the case, it was not going to be easy, Runor thought with a return of her usual spirit. To feel the compassion she knew she should feel to please the Mother was difficult indeed. Gurd had caused her great pain, not just by raping her but by causing her to relinquish the role that had been entrusted to her by the Goddess and to allow Korg and the Leader to impose their beliefs on her village. As a result, she and her people had lived all those years in fear.

Runor sighed, recognizing that there was justice in the Mother's demand. She had caused Gurd pain too, and not just from the burns. It could not have been easy to live with a face like that. If the Mother required her to make amends to him too before she died, she would do her best. She had not been kept alive just for her pleasure in watching Mara's little ones grow, she reminded herself, but to settle her debts.

"Great Goddess, You do not make the last years of my life easy," she said aloud, "but I suppose that is the price I must pay for my sins."

Her complacency did not last. As the days passed and she found out more about Gurd, the price became higher, then higher still until it was higher than Runor could ever have imagined, higher than she thought she could bear.

First Wulf, the young man from Niva's village, came to tell her that Durak and Pila had been found living in the hut that had been fixed for Rofina near the lake. That was welcome news, but hearing that Durak had been shot by an arrow was not.

"We were on our way to visit you, and we heard a woman screaming Durak's name," Wulf explained. "It was Pila. She had found him with an arrow in his chest up by the lake. They were living in the old hut near there. Durak was not dead though, and is recovering," Wulf added quickly, seeing Runor's shock.

"Do they know who shot the arrow?" Runor asked, and wondered if it was the same person who had shot Lief.

"Pila believes it was the man who abducted her," Wulf answered. "She calls him the hooded man because he always has a hood over his face. That is because it is badly scarred, Durak says. The hooded man does not want anyone to see it."

Runor felt a shock go through her body, as if she had been hit by lightning. The man whose face she had maimed was the man who had shot at Durak. Had he shot at Lief too, fired the arrow into his back that had killed him?

The certainty that it was so thudded into Runor. And that meant that she was the true cause of Lief's tragic death. If she had not thrown the boiling liquid at Gurd, he might never have killed Lief or abducted Pila. Those tragedies had happened because of her, because of what she had done in that one unguarded moment.

Runor felt as if she had been punched hard in the belly. "Great Mother," she murmured as an agony of remorse filled her, "how can one act, an act of rage and desperation, reap such unbearable consequences so many years later?"

Wulf knelt beside Runor, concerned by her sudden pallor. "Shall I get Mara?" he asked. "You are very pale."

Runor looked first at her hand, the hand that had thrown the hot food; then she raised her eyes to the young man beside her. He looked so innocent, so free of the weighty burdens that lay so heavily on her shoulders. Once, she had been like that. Now, all she could feel was desolation, and bleak despair.

"I am all right," she told Wulf wearily. "Tell me the rest of your story."

"We helped Pila nurse Durak," Wulf continued, "and he is recovering well. Pila is a healer, though none of us knew that when she was with us."

Another shock pummeled Runor. Was it possible? For a woman so young to be a healer was unusual. She had known only one other, and that was Teran. Niva had said that Pila did not remember where she had come from, had been called Pila because she did not know her name...

Runor closed her eyes and wanted never to open them again. She was not just responsible for Lief's death and the attempt on Durak's life; it was because of her that Teran, beloved sister of Zena, had disappeared. Truly, it was not just Gurd to whom she must make amends; she must beg forgiveness from everyone, all the people she knew, but especially from Zena. What could she say to Zena, who had suffered two terrible losses because of her?

But was she right? She had to know. Runor forced a question through stiff lips. "Can you tell me what Pila looks like?"

Wulf answered readily. "She has large brown eyes and brown hair, and she is very determined, the most determined young woman I have ever known."

Feeling as if the last of her strength had been drained from her, Runor nodded. She had expected the answer. It was as she had thought.

She forced herself to look at Wulf again. "When you return to the old hut," she instructed, "ask Niva to come to me as soon as she can leave."

Niva arrived some days later, and when they had greeted each other and Niva had received food and drink, Runor fired questions at her.

"What does Pila look like?" she asked first, wanting to be certain.

Obediently, Niva described Pila, not just the way she looked but her courage and determination. "She is a remarkably brave young woman," Niva said. "No matter what happens to her she stays calm and makes it right again. And how she loves that child - and Durak. They are very happy together, those two."

"Does Pila remember anything of her past?" Runor asked.

Niva shook her head. "She still cannot remember her past, but sometimes there is a look on her face, as if she has suddenly become someone else. I saw it when she was nursing Durak. Pila is a talented healer. She does not know where she learned the skills, but her hands, her mind, seem to know them still. When I asked her how she had learned such things, she was very confused."

"Teran," Runor said, trying not to let her pain show in her face. "All the time she was there, with you."

Niva nodded. "Durak believes that," she agreed. "But he does not press her to remember. Recently, though, I think she is trying."

"Does Pila know what happened to her after she was taken?" Runor asked.

"Yes. She remembers well what happened after Gurd - she calls him the hooded man - hit her over the head and brought her to the Leader. He initiated her, though she was barely conscious. Then Gurd raped her, she said. Korg was very angry with them and made Gurd bring the girl to me. We gave her the name of Pila, since she had no other."

Runor's body slumped. So Gurd as well as the Leader had assaulted the girl. The knowledge pierced her. That, too, had happened because of her.

Niva's voice interrupted. "When I realized Pila would have a child, I told the villagers that the Great Spirit had come to her. I did not want to say that both Gurd and the Leader had raped her. Korg did not want that either. The Leader had been so intoxicated that he did not remember what he had done, so he, too, believed the Great Spirit had come to Pila. And so we arranged the ceremony."

Niva felt the familiar shame come into her. "Had Zena not saved the infant, I would have sacrificed the child of her twin sister, and all because of my pride," she mourned. "Truly, the sin of pride is the worst, and we who presume to lead are the worst sinners. It is a hard burden to bear."

Niva's words sank into Runor like hot stones from the fire. They seared her, revealing a truth she had not permitted herself to see until now: that pride was the real reason she had never spoken of what she had done all those years ago. It was true that she had been afraid for Rofina, but she had been even more afraid for her reputation, had feared what others would think of her if they knew about Mordor, about how she had desired him, loved him, ignored all else because of that...

Runor felt her body bend, as if this final burden had broken it. She tried not to weep with its pain. "Great Mother," she said in her mind, so Niva would not hear or know how deep was her agony, "Great Mother, must I reveal all that I had buried in my heart, tell of faults I have never dared to admit even to myself?" The Goddess made no answer, but Runor knew what She would say.

Gathering her remaining strength, she called for Mara and asked her to summon Zena and Larak and Brulet, Pila and Durak too. Then she spoke words she had hoped she would never be forced to utter.

"It is time for me to tell them the truth about my past."

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE.

Pila and Durak set off with Niva and Wulf for Runor's village. Mara had sent word that Runor wanted all of them to come as soon as possible.

"Everyone does as Runor tells them," Wulf informed Pila cheerfully. "So as soon as we are ready, we must go."

Pila nodded. She hated the thought of leaving the secluded hut where she and Durak had discovered such happiness, but her need to know about herself was more important. She had also developed a strong feeling that Zena needed her in some way she could not imagine. She was sure now that she and Zena had once been close to each other, much closer than other people, and that Zena was struggling and needed her - which meant she really must be Teran.

Pila shook her head, frustrated. She wanted to know deep inside that she was Teran, not just convince herself she must be Teran, or fantasize about being Teran because she liked the idea. She needed to be practical, not dream about things that might not be true. Zena was the one who dreamed.

Mystified by the unexpected insight, Pila shook her head again. She walked on, caught between trepidation and exhilaration. Soon, she would see Zena, speak to her. Would she finally know then who she really was?

When they arrived at Runor's, however, a new message drove Pila's worries about who she was out of her mind. Lief had been killed. Lief, who had been closer to Zena than any other person, had been killed. It was a tragedy of such proportions that no other concern meant anything. Whether or not she was Teran, Pila knew how Zena must be suffering. She felt the pain as if it were her own, and all she wanted to do now was to comfort Zena.

She greeted the people she saw in Runor's village politely, spoke to them of what had happened to her, but every part of her body was waiting now for Zena. That was all that mattered.

Zena was on her way, accompanied by Larak and Brulet, as Runor had requested. Sorlin came too. She was overjoyed that Durak had been found, and eager to see her old friend again. The news had also cheered Zena, but in another way it hurt. Durak had also been shot with an arrow, but he had lived and was recovering, while Lief was dead. Why did such things happen? Zena knew perfectly well that there was no answer for such questions, but she could not keep from asking.

"It will be so good to see Durak again!" Sorlin exclaimed as they strode along the familiar path. "Imagine, all that time he was in the old hut he and Runor fixed up when they tried to wean Rofina from the poppies."

"It will be wonderful," Zena agreed sincerely, and vowed to think of that pleasure instead of brooding on her loss.

Her companions were also determined to keep her from brooding. Brulet was especially good at that, Larak reflected. The girl had been a faithful companion to Zena during her long struggle to recover from Lief's death, seeming to grasp her grief instinctively. It was almost as if they had reversed roles, Larak thought. Brulet watched over Zena as Zena had once watched over her.

When they stopped to rest and eat some grains, Brulet pulled an amulet out of her pack. "I made one of these for Pila and gave it to her when I left," the girl said. "This one is for you." She handed Zena a stone amulet she had made. Zena looked at it and felt a spasm of grief constrict her heart.

She had made one just like it for Lief many years ago - a circular piece of stone with a hole in its center. The polished circlets signified the wisdom of the circles, the endless connected rhythms of all life, and many Mother People wore them around their necks on leather strings, or at their waists. Lief had made long leather tassels that went through the hole in the center of his. One for each full moon we have seen together, he had told her.

It must be under him even now, Zena thought, and for a moment the grief was so strong she wanted only to sink back into desolation, to give up and simply mourn again. Brulet's eager face, waiting expectantly for a response, did not let her.

"That is very beautiful, Brulet," Zena murmured, as soon as she felt able to speak. "I will be happy to have it. It will bring me great comfort."

She put the amulet carefully around her neck. Each time she looked at it, felt it, she would be reminded of Lief, but in a good way, remembering the love they had shared together.

As they walked on, Brulet entertained all of them with stories she made up in her mind, which seemed to be full of them, and also stories the old wise one in Niva's village had told her. Larak listened with interest to the one she was telling now.

"Krone told me that Korg and the Leader, only he was called Mordor then, played nasty tricks on the people of their village when they were young," Brulet began. "Another boy helped them, she said, and sometimes the people blamed him even though the Leader, Mordor I mean, had thought of the tricks.

"Krone did not tell me what the tricks were," Brulet added, "but she said the Leader made them seem good and right even when they were not."

"I am not surprised," Zena replied. "The Leader could make almost anything seem good. But tell me more about the other boy. I never knew of him."

"Krone told me that he could not speak," Brulet answered. "When he was small he did not want to talk, and that made the man who was his father so angry that he beat him on the throat, many times. After that, the boy could not speak, no matter how hard he tried. He has never spoken, Krone said.

"That is a terrible story!" Larak exclaimed. "That poor child. I wonder what became of him."

"He left his village with Korg and the Leader," Brulet explained. "He helped them build their hut in the woods when they came to Niva's village, but no one knew he was there. He does not like to be seen. Even Niva never saw him, though she went there often. Krone said he made the mead that the Leader drank all the time.

"Krone also said that the three of them were forced from their village because they killed a woman. Some people said it was the mother of Korg and Mordor. Some young girls were also killed, Krone said."

"That is interesting," Zena said. "Girls have been killed here, too. Even in the beginning, the Leader must have done things like that. Perhaps the man who cannot speak helped him." She shuddered, imagining the terror those girls must have felt.

"Let us talk of other things," Larak begged. "The Leader is dead, and Korg, and probably the man who traveled with him that Brulet spoke of."

"Tell me more of Pila," Zena suggested instead. "I never met her."

"She is brave, very brave," Brulet said immediately. "She was given many potions to keep her quiet, but when she realized that a child was growing inside her, I saw her spit them out when no one else was watching. If Korg had seen that, he would have been angry.

"Pila was brave when the baby came, too," Brulet continued. "She was too young to have a child, the women said, but she did not cry out. I could see how it pained her only in her eyes. They are large and brown and they filled with tears that made them shine in the lamplight, but she did not shed them. I felt very sorry for her, but I admired her too."

But Zena's attention had stopped at the words large brown eyes, and she did not hear the last sentence. "Tell me what Pila looks like," she said cautiously. Surely, though, it was not possible...

"She has brown hair, quite thick, large brown eyes and a round face," Brulet answered. "She is about as tall as you are, Zena."

Larak examined Zena's face and saw the hope that had leaped into it. "Why is she called Pila?" she asked Brulet.

"She did not know her name, so Niva called her Pila," Brulet replied. "I suppose it was the first name she thought of. Pila did not seem to mind."

Zena wanted to weep with frustration. Why had she not thought to ask about Pila before? Niva had not permitted her to see Pila, but she could have asked Brulet about her. All these months, she had never thought to ask.

Her whole body felt frozen with tension as they approached Runor's village, and her mind reeled with questions. Would Pila be there? Could she possibly be Teran? Had Runor summoned her because she knew Teran had been found? But if that was so, why had Runor not told her before this?

The answers came from Durak, who ran ahead to intercept them. Before giving her the news about Pila, he wanted to tell Zena how sad he was about Lief and to see for himself if she really was all right after such a momentous tragedy. He also wanted to warn her ahead of time, so she would not be too shocked when she saw Pila, who was Teran but did not know that.

After he had greeted her and spoken to her of Lief, and they had shared tears together, he broke the news.

"Pila is Teran; Runor and I are certain of it, but Pila does not remember that," he said bluntly. "She remembers almost nothing of her past, though I think her memory is beginning to come back, a little at a time.

"I am so sorry I could not tell you this before now," he went on. "Runor sends that message too. She did not know until we came and she saw Pila for herself. It would have comforted you to know earlier, but first Pila twisted her ankle and could not walk and then I was shot and could not walk and so we had no way of reaching you. But you can hear our story later. Now, the others are coming."

Zena looked down the path. Mara and Hular were there, and so was another young woman. She carried a child in her arms, and she was dark-haired, familiar, unmistakably Teran...

Zena's heart began to pound. "Teran!" she whispered through the tears that had choked her throat. "Teran, is it really you?"

Conflicting emotions poured into her - wild, overwhelming joy that Teran was alive, desolation that she was no longer the sister who had once been Teran. She had Teran back, but would she ever be Teran again?

She must not think of that. Teran was alive, just as she had always thought, and that was all that mattered. A happiness she had not felt since Lief's death poured into Zena. At least she still had Teran, even if she was not the Teran she had lost.

She had something else, too, she reminded herself, something she had not realized until recently, had told no one else about...

Taking a deep breath, Zena brushed away her tears and hugged Durak warmly. "I am so glad to see you again, Durak! We were very worried about you. And thank you for warning me about Teran. To know that she is alive..."

She could not go on. Durak understood. He brought Mara and Hular to greet her first, giving her time to recover before she turned to greet Pila.

Zena went up to her. "I am Zena," she said softly, and held out her hands in a gesture of greeting.