For years, the volcano lovingly nick-named ‘Little Lass’ had gone off on schedule, never early, never late.  The first sign of trouble came when for some reason or another, Little Lass erupted five minutes early.  In those five minutes, it seemed that a thousand years of Subrosian tradition crumbled as the citizens of Subrosia stood around the base of the volcano in fear, trembling in anticipation of the eruption which eventually came.  No one, not even the village elders, could ever remember it being late.  Everyone assumed that the aberration would quickly be forgotten as things returned to normal, but they didn’t.  In fact, Little Lass’ tardiness was just the beginning of the trouble.

            Quakes had always been a frequent visitor to the land, but today, they were slowly becoming out of control.  Pebbles rattled on the ground every few minutes as the very foundations of Subrosia shook.  Every square inch of the land was quivering, from the base of Little Lass all the way to the tribune’s manor where Philo, leader of the Subrosian people, stood by the window, watching as panic gripped his nation.

            Everywhere he looked, he could see people running, screaming in fear as yet another quake came.  A flurry of green, blue, and red cloaks flew past the window, racing to find loved ones and embrace them like it was the last night of the world.  Perhaps it was, the old man mused.  The earthquakes didn’t bother him so much, of course.  True, they had never been so constant, but they were still familiar to him.  What bothered him more was something extraordinary he had certainly never encountered before.  He felt it under his hand as he stood by the window, a cool, slick sensation that was neither water nor glass.  On his window pain, a frost had appeared, blurring the images of fear outside of his study.

            He raised his hand, pressing it against the foreign invader, feeling the ice melt, oozing down his fingertips.  Of course, he knew what water was.  Like all men of his station, he had been well educated in the legends of the past, when the Subrosian people lived above the ground like the Humans of Holodrum.  He had even seen pictures of water.  This was different though.  This time, he was feeling it with his own hand.  All too well, he knew that it did not belong in Subrosia.

            Sighing, he turned away from the window, crossing his office and steadying the lantern on his desk as yet another tremor racked the kingdom.  He walked to his bookshelf, scanning the official ledgers and registers for any of his old school books he had never quite managed to part with, despite his age.  Rosa must have taken them, he realized with a grimace. 

She had always been far too interested in the over world.  Officially, he remained disapproving as all the elders.  In his heart, he was secretly quite willing to let her explore.  Truth to tell, he knew that had he not been born a tribune’s son, he would very much have enjoyed going up there himself.  He knew that conditions were harsh for a Subrosian, but he also knew very well that Rosa’s curiosity had come from him, not her, frankly, stuffy mother.  He certainly couldn’t argue that it had been a bad thing either.  The fact of the matter was that had it not been for Rosa’s curiosity, the great topsider who had restored Subrosia to order following the great fall of the ‘temple’ would never have come.  Better still, without that great hero, the pirates who had been stranded in Subrosia would still be there.  Rosa had brought the hero.

Where was she now?  The thought struck him rather suddenly.  All day, as the quakes ravaged the land, Rosa had been nowhere to be seen.  With everyone racing to embrace their loved ones like it was the end of the world, Philo found it strange that his only daughter should go missing.  Then again, she didn’t frighten as easily as most people.  He supposed he would send for his eldest son and ask about the state of the family.  Of course, he knew he could rely on his sons to take care of Rosa, but what he feared was that Rosa needed no taking care of.  When had he gotten so old?  When had she grown up?

            There was a rapping on the door.  “Come in,” Philo muttered without turning to look.  He could hear the rock slab of a door scrape against the ground, accompanied by two sets of footsteps.

            “Sir,” a familiar voice called out to him.  It was Jamis, one of the elected senators who served as advisor to the hereditary tribune.  “You must address your people at once,” he continued.

            “I intend to,” Philo replied with a hint of irony in his voice.  “As soon as I know what I’m going to tell them.”

            “We’ve been to the official archives,” a second voice said.  This was Tao, Jamis’ constant companion, another senator.  “Do you realize what today is?”

            “What’s today?” Philo asked.  He turned around to face the senators, both donning robes of green as all elected officials.  Philo himself wore red, along with his family, as a mark of ancient royalty.

            “Precisely one thousand years ago today, the dark ages ended,” Tao told him urgently.

            Philo felt a heaviness fall on his shoulders.  He knew all about the dark ages, a time when Subrosian fought against Subrosian over the most trivial of all possessions:  Land.  It was out of that era that his ancestor, the first tribune, emerged as leader of the people by delegating them the responsibility of electing five senators to represent their interests in the government. 

It was also out of that time that the Subrosian theology abruptly shifted from a dour, pessimistic outlook on life to one which saw Subrosia as a mirror of the cosmic order.  The robes that all Subrosians wore, covering their faces, came into fashion then for the very good reason that the people began to believe that the only way to maintain the cosmic order was to avoid looking into the eyes of the damned.  Because from that point on, each Subrosian was seen as damned.

            “The contract of Flordelis,” Philo said quietly.

            “Yes, sir,” Tao told him.

            The old tribune had feared as much.  “The people believe that Flordelis will return today to collect on a thousand year old contract.”

            “As she promised in the stories,” Tao explained, “We had a thousand years of peace and prosperity.  The terms clearly state that our land, our institutions, our people belong to her.”

            He sighed.  “Surely,” he muttered, “you don’t really believe in such fables, gentlemen.”

            “It’s not a question of what I believe or what Jamis believes,” Tao explained gently.

            “It’s what the people believe,” Philo said with a weary nod.

            “Yes, sir,” Jamis said.

            “I don’t know what I can say to them,” he sighed.  “When someone sets their mind on believing something, it is difficult to say otherwise.”

            “According to the terms of the contract, you must step down as tribune,” Tao told him.

            “That will hardly be a comfort to the people,” he grumbled.

            “It will comfort them to know that their leader is taking their fears seriously,” Jamis supplied.

            “The last thing we need right now is anarchy,” Philo snapped.  “Authority must be maintained.”

            “But if you don’t fulfill the terms of the contract, the people will see it as a defiance of Flordelis,” Tao said.

            “Which will lead them to expect certain doom,” Jamis added.  “Sir, the panic will only get worse.”

            “If someone is doomed then I don’t see what good panicking will do.  They’ll still be doomed.”  Philo turned back to the window, watching as the people rushed by.  Someone slipped on a patch of frost and fell over, landing on his back.  Immediately, his hands flew up to his hood, making sure to hold it in place.  He rolled over, rubbing his hands against the ice in wonderment.  “Send out the police,” Philo muttered reluctantly, turning back to Jamis and Tao.

            “The police, sir?” Jamis asked carefully.

            “Authority must be maintained.  They are not to harm anyone.  They are only to control the crowds and keep the people from hurting each other.”

            Tao stepped forward.  “But what about Flordelis, sir?”

            “If she comes,” he said with a very skeptical edge to his voice, “she’ll be expecting a well ordered city, won’t she?  Was it not she that gave us order and discipline to begin with?”

            “Shall I have the police tell the people as much?”

            “If they will believe it and if it will keep them from further harm, it would be the logical statement to make.”

            “What about your statement, sir?” Jamis cut in.

            “My statement?”

            “When you address the people.”

            “The day is young,” Philo sighed.  “I will speak to them at the end of the day, when we know for certain whether or not Flordelis intends to collect on her end of the bargain.”

            “Very good, sir,” Jamis muttered nervously.

            “Tell me frankly,” Philo continued softly.  “Do you really believe that she will come?”

            “I cannot say,” Jamis answered.  “In a thousand years, a story can become so manipulated, so mangled, that it’s difficult to say what’s what.”
            “Yes,” Philo murmured, “the contract was only put on paper a hundred years ago.  Who knows how much it may have changed since then?”  He glanced in Jamis’ direction.  “And what about you, Tao?”

            Tao shrugged.  “I believe it, sir.  I was brought up to believe it.  My parents wanted me to be prepared for the day, in my lifetime, when Flordelis would come to claim Subrosia.”

            “I do not,” Philo admitted, steadying his lantern as another quake shook the office.  “I think it’s a story that my ancestors concocted to bring about peace in a time of troubles.”

            “A powerful story to work so well,” Tao commented.

            Philo nodded.  “Yes.  But I do firmly believe that stories can be the most powerful forces in the world.  Even more powerful than quakes.”  He took a deep breath.  “Go, see to the people.”

            “Yes, sir,” Jamis said.

            “Yes, sir,” Tao echoed a moment later.

            “Oh,” he stopped them before they could leave.  “Have either of you seen my daughter?”

            “Rosa’s disappeared again?” Jamis asked. 

            “So it would seem.”

            “No, sir,” Tao said.

            “I assumed as much.  Well, be on your way.”

            “Yes, sir.”

            The two of them bowed and walked out of the study, closing the stone door behind them.  Philo sat down heavily at his desk, fishing about for a moment before he found a fresh slab of clay.  He set it down in front of him and picked up a wooden stylus.  “My fellow Subrosians,” he whispered, carving the words into the soft clay.  “I come before you today to say…”  But he trailed off.  The fact of the matter was he didn’t know what he was going to say.

 

            As Link walked into the tavern, he was immediately struck by the sad, longing song of a mandolin.  How perfectly the music spoke to him, so far from home, so lost.  He had never expected to find himself in the Horon Village again, yet he had arrived.  Absently, he brushed his hair over his ears, looking around at the patrons of the establishment.  There were one or two familiar faces, each of them staring off into space as they listened to the invisible mandolin’s song, doubtlessly turning their thoughts to their own grievances.  Link’s was hardly the worst, but he did miss Hyrule.  He missed his friends and most of all, he missed his uncle.

            It wasn’t his fault that things fell out the way they did, but he continually got mad at himself each time he allowed something to distract him from his journey home.  First, it had been all that trouble with Onyx.  Then, before he could return home, he had been called on an urgent matter to Labrynna.  Between facing off against Veran and dealing with a certain annoyance named Ralph, Link had been fairly certain he would never reach his native shores again.  He didn’t want to return to Holodrum once Veran was defeated, but duty called him there to deliver a fairly nonsensical secret to a villager from an old woman in Labrynna.  After this, Link promised himself, after this, he would go home again.

            He crossed the room, listening to the heavy fall of his footsteps on the polished wooden floor.  “What can I get you?” the barkeep asked, flinging a towel over his shoulder.

            “Milk,” Link muttered.

            “Milk?”

            “Milk.”

            The barkeep stared at him incredulously for a moment, the corners of his lips twitching in bemusement.  “Milk it is,” he said, fighting to keep the chuckle out of his voice.  He departed, disappearing in the back room to retrieve the most unusual drink order.

            Adjusting his cap, Link sat down on a stool, resting his elbows on the counter and sighing into his palm.  Just as his thoughts began to stray once more to the beautiful land of the Triforce, the song ended and he suddenly heard someone calling his name from across the room.  “Link?  Is that you?”

            Link turned around to the direction of the sound, his hand instinctively going to the sword at his side.  In the corner of the cantina, he spotted a young man leaning against the wall, balancing a mandolin on one knee.  There was something familiar about this man, but it took Link a moment to place him.  He wore a simple pair of dark brown slacks and an impossibly white poet’s shirt, unlaced practically to his navel, revealing an impressively muscular chest.  He had long blond hair, pulled back by a satin ribbon at the base of his neck, emphasizing his rather attractive features. 

            “Link?” he asked again, standing up and swinging the mandolin on its strap around behind his back.  “Don’t you remember me?  Donal?”
            Link instantly made the connection.  He remembered now, Donal, one of the gypsies he had met upon his initial arrival in Holodrum.  “Donal,” he said, breaking out into a smile.  “Yes, of course I remember.”  Gradually, hoping Donal wouldn’t notice, Link let go of his hilt, the Master Sword falling limply to one side.

            “Well, I certainly didn’t expect to find you in here,” Donal said brightly, crossing the room to plop down on the stool next to Link.

            “Me neither,” Link admitted.  He reached out, clasping Donal’s wrist and giving him a brisk shake.  “What are you doing here?  I thought you troop would have moved on by now.”

            Donal shook his head.  “The troop fell apart really,” he sighed.  “After all, we lost our star dancer.”

            “You’ll be pleased to know that she’s alive and well,” Link supplied.

            “Yes, I know,” Donal responded.  “I’ve been hearing great tales of you, Link.  You and your daring defeat of General Onyx.”

            “They’re all exaggerated,” Link shrugged.

            “Modest to boot.”  Donal slugged Link’s shoulder playfully.  “What in the name of all things sacred are you doing back here?”

            “Trying desperately to get out of here.”  The barkeep arrived, setting Link’s drink down with a condescending smirk.  Link reached into his wallet to fish out the proper currency.

            “No,” Donal said, reaching out and putting a hand on Link’s wrist.  “Allow me.”  With great showmanship, he produced a coin, handing it to the barkeep.  “Keep the change.”

            “Thanks,” Link said, picking up his flagon.  “So what have you been doing, if the troop broke up?”

            “Pretty much what you see,” Donal replied, patting his mandolin lovingly.  “I play here almost every night.”

            This caught Link slightly off guard.  All of the gypsies he had encountered had been hopelessly talented.  Frankly, it seemed to him that playing in a dank tavern was a bit beneath Donal’s skills.  “Oh.”

            The young musician shrugged.  “The pay is steady enough and it’s only until I can afford passage on a ferry out of here.”

            “Why not go on foot?”

            “I miss the sea,” Donal said with a shrug.  “My parents were privateers.  Mother captained her own ship.  I was born on the sea.”

            Link scowled.  “I don’t care much for water myself,” he admitted.

            “Sea sickness?”

            “Perpetual fear of drowning.”  He shuddered slightly, recalling just how much time he had spent by the water during his adventure in Labrynna.  His wreck on the island of the Tokay had more or less permanently scarred him.

            “Water’s better than land, mate,” Donal laughed.  “When you fall down, you don’t smoosh.”

            He laughed nervously, sipping his milk.  “I’ll keep my feet firmly planted on bedrock, thank you very much.”

            “Your loss,” Donal shrugged.  “I tend to think that the sea offers more adventure than anything you could find here.  Then again, I’ve never had much in the way of adventure.”  He frowned slightly.  “What are you drinking there?”

            Before Link could answer, the door to the tavern flew open and hit the opposite wall with a crack.  A form silhouetted against the moonlight swept in, drawing the attention of all the patrons.  Link knew, all too well, this particular Subrosian, shrouded in a red cloak and wearing a length of pink ribbon around her neck.  She immediately spotted Link, somehow beneath her heavy hood, and made her way toward him, ignoring the surprised gapes of several drunken customers.

            “Link!” she cried excitedly in her soothing, smooth voice.  “I knew I’d be able to find you!  I just knew it!”

            He set down his mug, standing up to greet her.  “Rosa?  What are you doing up here?”

            “Up here?” Donal repeated incredulously.

            “I came to find you,” she explained.  “I need you.”

            “Nothing like the direct approach,” Donal muttered, glancing into Link’s mug and smirking.

            “What’s the matter?” Link asked, ignoring the comment.

            “Subrosia is in danger,” she explained.

            “What kind of danger?”

            “The people think it’s the end of the world.”

            “What?”  His heart sank inwardly.  Not another apocalypse!

            “We need your help.”

            “Me?  Why me?”

            “Tales of your bravery have been sung throughout Subrosia,” Rosa said.  “The way you managed to lift the…” she stumbled over the word, “…temple.  The way you saved the topsiders.” 

            “That wasn’t bravery,” Link said weakly, feeling Hyrule slip through his fingers once again.  “It was just dumb luck.”

            “Well, whatever it is, it follows you.”  She paused, probably staring at him from under her heavy hood.  “Please, Link,” she whispered.  “We need your help.”

            He sighed sadly.  “All right, I’ll see what I can do.”

            Rosa surged forward, hugging Link around the waist with her cloaked arms.  “Thank you!”

            Link smiled weakly, pulling out of the embrace.  He flagged down the barkeep.  “Get me a canteen of water,” he told him.

            “What exactly is Subrosia?” Donal asked, examining Rosa curiously.

            “It’s another land, beneath the crust of Holodrum,” Link explained.

            “And this is where you’re from?” Donal turned to Rosa.

            “Yes,” she muttered shortly.

            “Oh.”  Link gestured from Donal to Rosa.  “Donal, this is Rosa.”

            “Daughter of Philo, tribune of the Subrosian people,” Rosa said smugly, dipping her head.

            Donal smiled wryly.  “So you’re a princess?”

            “Something like that,” she replied.

            “Rosa, this is Donal,” Link continued.

            “Son of Captain Pegeen Aldred,” Donal added.

            “So you’re a pirate?”

            He laughed.  “Worse, I’m afraid.”

            “What’s worse than a pirate?”

            “A musician.”

            The barkeep returned, giving Link a canteen full of water and a dirty look.  Link took the former, ignoring the latter, and paid the man, strapping the canteen to his side.  “I can’t promise anything, Rosa,” he said carefully.

            “I won’t ask for any promises,” Rosa replied.

            “Can I come?” Donal asked suddenly, causing both Link and Rosa to turn in his direction.  “What?  Why not?”

            “Father doesn’t like topsiders coming down into Subrosia,” Rosa said.

            “You’re bringing Link.”

            “Father knows Link,” Rosa insisted.

            “I’d like to help,” Donal persisted.

            “How can you help?”

            “How is Link going to help?” he shot back.

            Rosa faltered at this.  “Fine,” she mumbled after a moment.  “You can come.  Just don’t cause any trouble.”

            “The thought never crossed my mind,” Donal said with a bow.

            Link sighed.  “Get yourself a canteen,” he told Donal.

            “Why?”

            “There’s no water in Subrosia.”

            “No water?”

            “No.  And since it’s close to bedrock, it gets very hot down there.  The first time I went down, I got dehydrated.”  He scowled.  “I’m told, I ended up dancing like an idiot in front of half the population.”

            “More like a fifth,” Rosa corrected him.

            “I’ll get some water,” Donal said.  “Barkeep!  Another canteen!”

            “Rosa,” Link turned back to her.  “You have to give me a little more information here.”

            “I told you, the people think the world is coming to an end.”

            “How exactly?”  Link ticked off on his fingers.  “Monsters?  Storms?  Poor dental hygiene?”

            “Quakes.”

            “Quakes?  Rosa, there are quakes all the time in Subrosia.”

            “Not like this.”

            “What else?”

            “Frost,” she replied.

            It took him a moment to absorb this new information.  “This sounds serious,” he finally admitted.

            “What do you mean?” Donal asked, paying for his water.

            “Frosts and lava flows rarely mix.”

            “Hey, that’s pithy,” he muttered.  “If my grandmother were alive, I’d have her needle point it.”

            “We’d better go,” Link sighed.

            “Follow me,” Rosa told them, already on her way out the door.  “And don’t let anyone see you.”  She vanished.

            “I hate it when she does that,” Link mumbled, gripping his sword and heading out the door.

            Donal hurried after him.  “Link, if Subrosia is a land of lava flows, why, in the name of all things sacred, is she wearing a full cloak?”

            “I don’t know,” Link admitted.  “It’s some kind of Subrosian thing.”

            “What do they look like?”

            Link shrugged.  “I have no idea.”

            The two of them hurried out after Rosa.  Link’s heart was sinking into his chest.  Hyrule would have to wait, yet again.  Unfortunately, and despite his greatest protests, Link was a hero.  And he knew it was his duty to be a hero.  Even at the cost of his own, personal happiness.  Vaguely, he wondered what Donal was up to.  After all, he had no real reason to trek down to Subrosia.

 

            Tao threw a tablet against the floor, watching it shatter into a dozen pieces.  “I can’t believe it,” he muttered for the thousandth time.

            “So you’ve said,” Jamis muttered, collecting the pieces into a small burlap satchel.

            “The old man actually thinks the legend is rubbish.”

            “Of course he does,” Jamis replied, tying a bit of twine around the mouth of the bag.  “You know how the tribunes are.  Arrogant and stubborn.  They all believe their power is limitless.”

            Shaking his head, Tao smashed another tablet.  “Does he not feel the quakes?  Is he missing the frosts?”

            “He knows,” Jamis sighed.  “He just doesn’t want to believe.”

            “No indeed,” Tao agreed.  “Flordelis is a threat to his power.  Of course he doesn’t want to believe she’s coming.  He doesn’t want to step down.”

            “Would you?” a voice asked.  The Subrosians turned to look over at the screen set up on the opposite side of the room.  Frankly, by Subrosia standards, it was something ugly and lowly, not carved out of permanent rock, but made of ephemeral paper and brittle sticks.  Behind it, they could see the silhouette of Vash, changing her robes.  They tried not to gawk too much, but it was very difficult.

            “No,” Tao admitted.

            “Of course not,” she replied.  “No one would.  The duty of a person in power is to stay in power.”

            “In the face of men,” Tao argued.  “But this is beyond mere mortals.  This is the goddess of vengeance.”

            “He doesn’t believe,” Jamis repeated.

            “He will soon enough,” Vash told them.  “When Flordelis appears before him in the flesh, he’ll believe.”

            “I hope so,” Tao sighed, smashing another tablet.  “For his sake.”

            “Concern for the tribune,” she scoffed.  “How touching.”

            Jamis crossed the chamber.  Although most of the records were stone tablets, there were one or two books, back from the ancient days.  That they had survived the hot conditions of Subrosia was a miracle.  He briefly skimmed the spines before selecting the proper volume and taking it down from the shelf.  “I do not pity him as tribune,” he declared firmly, crossing over to a stone table.  “Rather, I pity him for the folly of an old man.”

            “Pity is a weakness,” Vash spat from behind the screen.

            “Is it?”

            “Yes,” she answered.  “And it will get you killed, Jamis.”

            “Cut it from your heart,” Tao told him, picking up the shattered remains of the tablets.

            “Of course,” Jamis muttered.  He opened the book and flipped through the pages, filled with colorful illuminations.  “Our primary duty is to protect the people,” he sighed.  “Not the tribune.”  He found the proper page and ripped it from the spine, folding up the brittle drawing and sticking it into his robes.

            “He will step down,” Vash said.  “When he realizes that Flordelis is a reality and not a fiction.”

            “And whether the people love him or not, they will not question his decision,” Tao added.

            “His children will resent him for it,” Jamis pointed out.

            “No they won’t,” Tao insisted.  “They’ll realize that Flordelis is real.  Just like their father.”

            “I worry about Rosa.”

            “Rosa?” Vash asked.

            “Philo’s daughter.  Jamis fancies her.”

            “I do not!” Jamis cried.

            Both Vash and Tao laughed at this.  “Is she going to be a threat?” Vash asked.

            “She’s beloved by the people,” Jamis said sheepishly.  “Almost more so than her father.”

            “She is not a goddess,” Vash replied.

            “No,” Jamis admitted.  “She’s not.”

            “The people will not follow her in place of Flordelis any more than they’ll follow Philo.”

            “I suppose not,” Jamis admitted.

            “For her own sake, she’d best not interfere.  If she does, she will be eliminated.  As will her followers.”

            Jamis sighed, glancing out a window at the plain of Subrosia.  “What’s to become of our people?” he mused.

            “A new era is beginning, my friend,” Tao said passionately.  “Some will face it with fear, but I choose to embrace it.  There is great glory to be had.”

 

            Although he had visited Subrosia several times before, Link had never been allowed into the tribune’s manor.  It was really quite remarkable, though alien to his experiences with many monarchs.  The estate was carved into the base of a red cliff like a labyrinth, decorated with delicate stone tracery depicting scenes from mythologies that Link could only guess at.  Peeking out of the rock were thin windows of volcanic glass that glittered like stars as he approached the complex.  These windows climbed up high into the rock face, going up at least twelve stories by Link’s calculations.

            Inside the building, Link was promptly abandoned by Rosa and Donal who hurried down to the infirmary to care for a rather nasty burn Donal had sustained, touching one of the rock walls as they descended into Subrosia.  Link was guided through the complex building by a Subrosian underling in blue robes who continually cast glances back over his shoulder at the topsider. 

Not particularly anxious to engage in any sort of small talk, Link occupied himself by examining the fascinating architecture.  The walls were so smooth he could easily have mistaken them for polished oak, glossed dark red.  Stone slabs served as doorways, a bit clunkier than what he was used to, but every bit as effective.  Each door was carved with Subrosian runes, doubtlessly explaining the purpose of each room.  From what Link understood, this was the public portion of the state house, filled with offices for elected officials and civil servants.  It was the private part of the house, with the infirmary, where the royal family of the tribune lived.

Link had to admit, coming from a land of a strict monarchy, that he didn’t entirely understand the Subrosian system.  Still, judging by the impressive size and décor of the house, he reasoned it must have been in place for a very long time, long enough to allow this impressive maze.  Rosa had informed him, as well, that her family had been in power for well over a thousand years.  Only a stable land could record history that far back in time.

            “This way, sir,” Link’s guide said beneath his hood, gesturing to an elaborate door of solid, pink granite.

            “Thank you,” Link mumbled.  He pressed his hand to the door and it opened with surprising ease, scraping softly against the floor.  Inside, he discovered a warm, comfortable office, not at all like the royal chambers of Hyrule.  There was a large stone desk against one wall, underneath a delicate window overlooking the plains.  One wall was made up entirely of a bookshelf, though as Link looked, he realized that instead of books, most of the volumes lined up in neat rows seemed to be clay tablets, fired and glazed in the volcano.

            Standing by the window was a Subrosian in deep red robes, a dark hood covering his face.  Link could only assume this was the tribune.  “Tribune Philo?” he asked carefully, stepping into the room.

            “Hello, Link,” Philo replied, his voice reaffirming Link’s theory.

            “It’s good to see you again,” Link said diplomatically.  Vaguely, he wondered how it was possible for the Subrosians to tell each other apart.  They certainly all looked the same to him.

            “It’s good to see you too, Link.  Although a bit unexpected.  What are you doing down here?”

            “Rosa asked me to visit,” Link explained.

            “Rosa?”

            “Yes, sir.”

            “What did she tell you?”

            He clasped his hands behind his back.  “She said it was urgent.  That the world was coming to an end down here.”

            “She’s always been prone to hyperbole,” Philo mumbled.

            “She says the quakes have been out of hand.”

            “Yes,” Philo admitted.  “It all began when Little Lass was late for eruption.  After that, the quakes began.”

            “Leading to mass hysteria.”

            Philo chuckled.  “You’d be surprised how little it takes.  There’s been a further development, however.  Come over here.”  Dutifully, Link crossed the room.  Philo reached out and took Link’s hand, pressing it against the windowsill.  Immediately, Link’s fingers slipped on the melting frost.  “You see?”

            “How is that possible?” Link asked, running his fingers along the glass and frankly enjoying the frost a bit.  Subrosia was difficult to bear with his delicate Hylian sensibilities.

            “We don’t know,” Philo answered.  He sat down on a stone stump behind the desk.  “The people think that the end is coming.”

            “Quakes and frost don’t really spell out certain doom,” Link replied, sitting on the corner of the desk.  “Just a bit of a mystery.”

            “There is another matter,” Philo told him.

            “What’s that?”

            “A legend.  Dating back many centuries.”

            “What’s the legend?”

            “Are you familiar with Subrosian history?”

            “Not particularly,” Link admitted.  “I’ve only been down here once or twice and I didn’t have much time for cultural activities.”

            “Fair enough.”   Philo leaned back against the wall.  “Over a thousand years ago, the Subrosian people experienced our dark age.  It was a terrible epoch, as all dark ages are.  War, famine, disease, murder, all of it.  But, it ended abruptly as my ancestor assumed the role of tribune.”

            “How did it end?”

            Philo chuckled.  “That is the legend.  According to our most basic theology, the Subrosian people signed a contract with a goddess named Flordelis.  This contract promised us a thousand years of peace and prosperity.”

            “What happens at the end of a thousand years?”

            “Flordelis would return to lay claim to the city and everything in it.”

            “I see,” Link murmured, his mind already making the connections.

            “Today is the thousandth anniversary of the contract.  The people believe that Flordelis returns today to collect all of our damned souls.”  He shook his head.  “Of course, it’s all nonsense.”

            “You don’t believe it?”

            “No.  I don’t.  The problem is that the people do.  The people have believed it for a thousand years.  It’s the very basis of our belief system.  It’s the reason why we’ve never started a war.  It’s the reason why we wear the cloaks.”

            “The cloaks?”

            “Yes.  Some nonsense about how we all will eventually belong to Flordelis, so therefore we’re all damned and should not be looked at by anyone else.”  He waved his hand dismissively.  “At least, that’s how it began.  Eventually, it became tradition and law.”

            “But the people believe?”

            “Unfortunately, most of them do.  Which gives me a bit of a problem regarding how to deal with the situation.”

            “Does it?”

            “What do I tell a people who are convinced that they belong to the goddess of vengeance?”

            “That it’s not true,” Link replied haughtily.  “That there is no Flordelis and no goddess coming to collect their souls.”

            “And crush a thousand year old system of belief?” Philo retorted.

            “Oh,” Link mumbled.  “I didn’t think of that.”

            “That is the problem facing me.  Putting an end to the panic without putting an end to our way of life.”

            “Change is inevitable, sir.”

            “Yes,” Philo sighed.  “However, change cannot happen all at once and abruptly.  What we need is a cultural evolution, not a revolution.”

            “How can I help?”

            “We just need to make it to the end of the day,” Philo explained.  “When the people see that the anniversary has come and gone without an appearance by Flordelis, they’ll calm down.  In the meanwhile, my main concern is avoiding any sort of hysterical rioting.”

            “Do you have anyone operating crowd control?”

            “I do.”

            “I’d be more than happy to stick around and help them.”

            “That would be much appreciated, Link.”

            Link shrugged.  “I want to help.  Your people were very good to me during a very difficult time.”

            “We are nothing if not hospitable.”  Philo stood up.  “Where is my daughter anyway?”

            “The infirmary.”

            “The infirmary?” Philo’s voice rose in alarm.

            “A friend of mine accompanied us down here.  He burned is hand.”

            “Another topsider?”

            “Donal,” Link explained.  “He was with me when Rosa found me.  Got curious.  We said he could come.”

            “I should like to meet him.  Many of the more conservative members of our society object to topsiders entering our world.  As for me, I’m curious to know more about them.”

 

            The Subrosian healers had no idea how to treat a burn victim.  With such a high tolerance for heat, they were at a loss as to what had caused Donal’s hand to crack and peel.  At long last, they wrapped it up in a bandage and told him not to go lava bathing for a week or so.  Donal was only too happy to comply.  Hand throbbing, he left the infirmary with Rosa and asked her to show him around the estate.

            She led him to an enormous room that she called the throne room, though to Donal, it looked more like a ballroom.  Instead of thrones, there were two rows of chairs going along each side of the room.  In between these rows was a beautiful stretch of empty floor, carved out of obsidian and mica in a checkerboard pattern.  An enormous chandelier of electrum was suspended over the floor, though Donal could not see any sort of chains holding it up.  Dozens of small, blue candles burned, casting monstrous shadows onto the floor.

            “This is where the elected officials and the hereditary officials meet to hold hearings for the commons,” Rosa explained with boredom, making a sweeping gesture across the room.

            He walked into the room, listening to the vague echoes his boots made.  “Excellent acoustics,” he commented.  “Do you clear away the chairs for balls?”

            “Balls?”  She followed after him.  “I don’t understand.”

            “You know, for dancing.”  He turned back to look at her.  “You do have dancing down here, right?”

            “We dance,” she replied with a shrug.  She demonstrated by suddenly stepping abruptly to the right three times.  She spread her arms out, then moved to the left in quick, jerky movements.

            Donal stared at her for a moment.  “What was that?”

            “Dancing,” she replied.

            “That,” he said crisply, “was not dancing.  That was a seizure.”

            “How do you do it?”

            Shrugging, Donal scraped his foot along the floor, sweeping it up to one side then crossing it over his ankle in a simple little soft shoe.  With a hop, he switched feet, repeating his pattern.  Dropping his arms to the side, he kicked out each leg, tapping his toes first to the left and then to the right.  “That is dancing,” he told her.

            “Only if you’re a small child who needs to use the bathroom,” Rosa shot back, planting her hands on her hips.

            He chuckled.  “Occasionally.  We have many kinds of dances though.”

            “Show me another.”

            “All right.”  Abruptly, he reached out and grabbed her arm, pulling her in with a twirl.  He planted his other hand on the small of her back and started a brisk foxtrot.  Rosa laughed, struggling to follow his lead, keeping one hand planted on her head to keep her hood from flying off.  “This,” he explained as they flew around in clumsy steps across the room, “is a foxtrot.”

            “I’m getting dizzy!” she cried.

            “All right.”  At once, he transitioned cleanly, swaying her back and forth in three steps.  “This is called a waltz.  It’s my personal favorite.”

            “Why?”

            “It reminds me of the rhythm of the sea.”

            “What’s a sea?”

            Donal stopped dead, his arms falling to his sides.  “What’s a sea?” he repeated incredulously.

            “Yes.  What is it?”

            “You don’t know what the sea is?”

            “No…”

            “The sea is…” he struggled for words.  “I’m not sure I can do it justice.”

            “Why not?”

            “It’s such an enormous thing.”

            Rosa seemed to be leaning her head to one side in curiosity.  “Describe it for me, please.”

            “A vast amount of water.”

            “Water…”

            He opened his canteen, pouring a small amount of his precious water supply onto the floor.  “You see that?”

            “Yes.”

            “The sea is like that, times a hundred million.  More drops of water than you could ever count.”

            “I think I know what that is.  I once saw something up on the over world called a Spool.”

            “No, no, no,” Donal shook his head.  “That’s Spool Swamp you’re thinking of.  A swamp isn’t a sea.”

            “What’s the difference?”

            He brushed a stray strand of hair behind his ear, gesticulating vaguely as he worked it out.  “All right, picture Spool Swamp.  With it’s disgusting, moldy green and brown water.  Now, imagine that water is blue.”

            “Blue?”

            “The bluest of the blue.  Deeper than any sapphire.  And completely bottomless.  You can’t see what creatures are lurking beneath the surface, crawling along the sand below.  Can you picture it?”

            “Sort of,” she replied with a nod.

            “Now.”  He reached out, putting his hands on what he could only assume were her shoulders.  “Imagine standing over that blue, looking down into it.”  Gently, he started to rock her shoulders, pulling her back and forth to the rhythm of the gentle waves he remembered from his childhood.

            “Why are we moving?”

            “These are the waves,” he explained.  “The wind moves the water which, in turn, rocks the boat.”

            “What boat?”

            “The one we’re pretending to stand in.”

            Rosa pulled back, smoothing down her sleeves gently.  “This is all a little too confusing for me.”

            “Sorry,” he mumbled with a shrug.

            “The sea sounds beautiful though,” she added quickly, afraid to wound his pride.

            “You have no idea,” Donal sighed.

            “It sounds like you love it very much.”

            “I miss it,” he shrugged.  “I’m going to go back there someday.”

            “I wish you luck.”

            “Thanks.”

            The door to the room opened then, stone scraping against stone.  Two Subrosians, both wearing green robes walked in, deep in conversation.  “That’s not the point, Jamis,” one of them was saying passionately.

            “I know, Tao, but all the same…” he trailed off, catching sight of Rosa and the topsider.  “It seems we have a guest,” he said.

            “Rosa,” Tao said, walking over to them.  “Your father’s been looking for you.  Did you run away to the over world again?”

            “Yes,” Rosa admitted.

            “You know you shouldn’t be doing that,” Tao scolded her.

            “What is this outsider doing here?” Jamis asked crisply, facing Donal.  Donal imagined he was glaring beneath his hood.

            “Oh.  This is Donal, a friend of the topsider hero, Link,” Rosa said, gesturing to him.  “Donal, this is Senator Tao.  And this is Senator Jamis.”

            “A pleasure to meet you,” Donal said politely, extending a hand out in their direction.

            “You know you’re not supposed to bring outsiders into the city, Rosa,” Jamis continued, ignoring Donal’s friendly gesture.

            “There are no laws against it,” Rosa said fiercely, coming to Donal’s defense.  He lowered his hand and turned to watch her.

            “It’s going against a thousand years of tradition,” Jamis said.

            “As I recall,” Rosa replied, “if it had not been for an outsider, the…” she stumbled, “temple, would still be in our land.”

            “Your point being?” Tao asked dryly.

            “My point being,” she answered, “That some traditions could stand to be changed.”  By this point, Donal was out and out impressed.  Rosa was far more defiant than he would have imagined her to be.

            “And I suppose next you’ll be suggesting we forgo the formality of our cloaks,” Tao scoffed.

            “Does your father even know he’s here?” Jamis cut in quickly, pointing angrily at Donal.

            “Father is meeting with Link as we speak,” Rosa replied.  “Should he have a problem with the outsiders, I’m certain we’ll hear about it shortly.  In the meantime, until he objects, you are to treat this man has a guest of the royal establishment.  He is a guest of my father and myself.”

            Tao nodded curtly to Donal.  “Welcome to Subrosia.”

            Jamis was silent for a moment, standing completely still, like a statue.  “Welcome” he finally said.

            “Thank you,” Donal murmured, suddenly grateful that he could not see the glare Jamis was doubtlessly giving him.

            A quake suddenly shook the room, mercifully preventing the need for additional small talk.  Jamis and Tao rattled into each other.  Rosa lost her balance and fell, but Donal managed to catch her, righting her again as they both dropped down to the floor.  A light dust descended from the ceiling, falling over the four of them as the final throes of the tremor dissolved into stillness and quiet.

            “Is everyone all right?” Donal asked carefully.

            “She’s getting angry…” Tao muttered.

            “Who?”

            “Flordelis.”

            “Who’s Flordelis?”

            “The goddess of vengeance,” Tao said, getting back to his feet.  “She comes to claim Subrosia today.”

            “If you believe in that sort of nonsense,” Rosa added, helping Donal up again.

            Donal smirked.  “Which you clearly do not.”

            “No.”

            “You’d be wise to believe, Rosa,” Tao told her.  “Flordelis is coming.”

            The door to the throne room flew open again.  In floated Philo, followed by Link who was brushing dust off of his shoulders.  “Rosa!” Philo called, crossing swiftly over to her and taking her in his arms.  “How many times must I tell you not to run off like that?”

            “A few more times, father,” she answered with a laugh in her voice.

            “Are you all right?” Link asked Donal, going over to him.

            “Just a little shaken up,” Donal quipped.

            As soon as the words left his lips, a second quake came, throwing all the inhabitants of the room to the floor.  “They’re getting worse!” Jamis shouted, rolling along the tide of the quake.

            “We noticed,” Rosa shot back, falling against Donal’s side.

            Link flipped over onto his stomach, pressing his hands against the floor.  He felt them slip and he fell to his face.  The ground was cold and slippery.  Carefully, he pulled back, touching the thin layer of ice that was forming.  This was no casual frost.  This was an actual slick.  The quakes shook again, causing Link to fall back on his face.  There was a loud explosion and he felt a wave of fire slap his cheek.  At once, the quakes stopped and Link was able to sit up.

            Beyond a dancing curl of smoke, smoldering from some kind of explosion, a new figure had appeared in the room, standing between the rest of them and the door.  She was a woman, clearly not Subrosian because she proudly displayed her face, painted with gaudy blue paste over her eyelids, going up to her eyebrows.  Around her ears and throat, she wore a white cowl with a hole cut in the back, allowing two long, black braids to fall, halfway down to her knees.  The rest of her decidedly attractive body was wrapped in a shimmering pink gown with a long train that trailed behind her.  She lifted an arm, the window sleeve falling away to reveal cream, perfect flesh.  “I’m here,” she said with a gleeful smile.

            “Flordelis!” Tao cried, falling to his knees and bowing.

            “I see you’ve heard of me,” she said with a laugh.

            “Hail, goddess,” Jamis whispered, bowing as well.

            Link slowly clambered to his feet.  Flordelis examined the Subrosians sprawled across the floor.  “Oh, do get up,” she sighed, rolling her eyes.  “Really, I’ve had just about all I can take of the prostration.  It was fun for a few millennia, but now it’s really quite old.”  Her gaze fell on Link, standing off to one side.  “Oh,” she said with a hint of satisfaction.  “That’s much better.”  She walked over to him, going in a circle to examine him from every angle.  “I love a man in a dress,” she murmured, eyeing his legs.  After a lingering moment, she turned to face the others.  “Now, which of you is currently in command of my kingdom?”

            “Your kingdom?” Rosa spat.

            “Rosa!” Jamis hissed.

            Slowly, Philo rose to his feet, smoothing down his robes.  “My name is Philo,” he said softly.  “I am tribune of Subrosia.”

            “Excellent,” she said, clapping her hands together in front of her chest.  “Philo, is it?”

            “Yes…”

            “Well, we’ve got quite a bit of work to do, Philo.  Between organizing the new regime and your resignation, I imagine the two of us will be spending a great deal of time together.”

            “Resignation!” Rosa shouted indignantly, jumping up to her feet.

            “Rosa!” Jamis cried.

            There was no stopping her.  Rosa marched right up to Flordelis.  “How dare you suggest that my father should resign!”

            Flordelis looked past Rosa to Philo.  “Who is this…person?”

            Philo grabbed Rosa’s shoulders, pulling her back.  He stepped in front of her, facing Flordelis.  “My daughter,” he said apologetically.

            “She really must learn some manners,” Flordelis sighed.

            “Please forgive her,” Jamis said quickly.

            She glanced at Jamis for a moment, squeezing her hands into fists at her sides.  Suddenly, the ground began trembling again, throwing everyone back to the floor.  Rosa crashed into Donal.  “I will not tolerate rudeness in my kingdom,” she told them icily as the quake ended.  “Now, we have business to attend to.”  She pointed to Tao.  “You.”

            “Tao, mistress,” he said, rising to his feet.

            “I want you to scurry off and bring me reports on the resources and industries of Subrosia.  I want to know everything about the gross domestic production there is to know.”

            “Yes, mistress,” Tao replied with a bow.  At once, he swept out of the room.

            Her attentions next fell on Jamis.  “You.”

            “Jamis, mistress,” he told her.

            Flordelis was about to give him another inane order, but Link interrupted, back on his feet again.  “Why don’t you tell us who you really are,” he said, folding his arms across his chest.

            “Oh?” she asked, turning to face him.

            “You are no goddess,” he retorted.

            “Are you so certain of that?”

            “I am.”

            “Have you ever seen a goddess before?”  She walked over to him.  “Who are you anyway?  You’re not one of them.”

            “Link,” he replied.

            “I see.  Tell me Link, what do you know about Subrosian theology?”

            “Enough to tell that you’re not a goddess.”

            Flordelis balled up her fists at her sides.  There was a soft crackling sound.  Link looked down to find a swirl of ice gathering around his feet.  He made to move away from it, but found that his boots had been frozen to the ground.  Slowly, painfully, the ice began to crawl up his legs.  They ached at once, as though on fire, but he could not move to escape.  “I don’t like my subjects to be rebellious.  I like them to be perfectly satisfied in their knowledge that I am mighty.”

            “I am not one of your subjects.”

            “Oh no?”  The ice stopped climbing and slowly began to melt.  “You’ll find, my dear Link, that you are.”  She made a broad, sweeping gesture across the room.  “Everyone in this kingdom now belongs to me.”

            “But we’re not Subrosians,” Donal said softly.

            She turned to spare him a passing glance.  “But you are in my kingdom,” she replied.  “Therefore, you are mine.”

            “Forgive me if I don’t curtsy,” Link said tightly.

            Flordelis turned back to him.  “I like you.  You have character.  You shall be my new favorite.”

            By this point, the ice around Link’s feet had melted enough for him to break free of it.  He immediately turned his back on Flordelis, crossing back to Rosa and Philo.  “You don’t have to roll over for her,” he told them.

            “No, father,” Rosa agreed.

            “Why are you so resistant to me?” Flordelis wondered loudly.  “I assure you, I don’t intend to change your respective lives considerably.”

            “No,” Link responded.  “You just mean to enslave an entire population.”

            “An entire population that owes me for a thousand years of peace and prosperity,” she pointed out.

            “I’m not entirely convinced that they owe anything to you.”

            “Have I not proven myself?  Would you like more tremors?”

            “You’ve proven yourself a skilled magician and a clever actor, nothing more,” Link answered.

            “This grows tiresome,” she sighed.

            Link turned to Philo.  “Sir, I beg of you, before blindly handing over your kingdom to this woman, find proof she is what she claims to be.”

            “Yes, father,” Rosa urged him.

            “Proof?  Again, you ask for proof.”  Flordelis rolled her eyes.

            “If you’re truly Flordelis, you have nothing to fear,” Link told her.

            She sighed.  “I suppose that’s the case.  Very well.   You may search for any kind of proof you wish.  But unless you discredit me, I will assume responsibilities as leader.”  She glanced at Philo.  “Once your little friends have exhausted their search, you may officially step down.”  She turned to Jamis.  “Show me the village square,” she instructed him.  “I want to see where my shrine will be built.”

            “Yes, mistress,” he mumbled.

            As Jamis led her out, Flordelis turned back to look at Link once more.  “I’m going to enjoy you,” she said.  And with that, she was gone.

            “I’m going to go out on a limb and say that I don’t like her,” Donal said once her footsteps vanished.

            “You’re not the only one,” Link muttered.

            “Rosa!” Philo gasped, rushing over to his daughter and pulling her into a tight embrace.  “You mustn’t make her angry, child!”

            “Father, you can’t possibly believe –”

            “What I believe doesn’t matter,” Philo interrupted.  “What I know is that she has power.  She could do real harm to you.”

            “Her tricks are nothing special,” Link replied.  “I’ve seen people do far more impressive and dangerous magic.”

            “What do we do, Link?” Donal asked.

            “We need to start with the basics.”  He looked at Philo.  “Is there a copy of the contract somewhere?”

            “In the royal archives,” Philo said.

            Rosa grabbed Donal’s hand.  “I’ll show you.”

            “You two go research everything you can about Flordelis,” Link told them.

            Donal nodded.  “What are you going to do?”

            “I think I might research Subrosian gross domestic production myself.  What could she be looking for?”

            “Use my office,” Philo told him weakly.

            “Are you all right, father?” Rosa asked.

            “I’m going to take a walk,” Philo said.  And he left.

 

            Rosa and Donal hurried to the royal archives.  They were nothing like Donal had expected.  Instead of a room filled with old musty books, he found himself surrounded, primarily, by clay tablets.  Immediately, they located a copy of the supposed contract between the tribune and Flordelis from a thousand years ago and sat down, their heads bent together, scanning the Subrosian runes.

            “It says here,” Rosa told him, pointing to a vertical line of pictographs, “that Flordelis will collect on the Subrosian territories and all good things that come from them.”

            “All good things?” he mused.  “Well, I suppose that counts me out right away.”

            She laughed.  “I’m not sure how she defines good things, to be honest.”

            “The semantics will kill you,” he chuckled.

            Rosa scanned the tablet.  “According to this, her return following the thousand years of peace would be heralded with rattling and shivers.”

            “Well, tremors and ice will cause both.”

            “Damn,” Rosa sighed, leaning back.

            Donal glanced at her.  “You kiss your mother with that mouth?”

            “Actually,” she said, “my mother died a long time ago.”

            “Oh.”  Donal wished he could shove his foot in his mouth.  “I’m so sorry.  I didn’t know.”

            “It’s all right,” Rosa told him.  “I didn’t really know her.”

            “My mother died when I was fifteen,” he said, leaning his elbows on the table in front of them.  “I was absolutely devastated.”

            “You were close to her?”

            “Like you wouldn’t believe,” he said.  “I was so overcome that I packed up my things and foreswore the sea.”

            “But you speak so lovingly of it.”

            “Without my mother,” Donal explained, “I couldn’t find any beauty in the thing I loved the most.  Of course, now I realize what a great fool I was.”

            “Retrospect is a fantastic thing,” she said.

            “Something like that.”

            She sat up again, looking down at the tablet.  “Well, this confirms everything.  She does technically own the land, the people, and the institutions.”

            “Are there any other sources we can check?”

            “What do you mean?”

            “Some record of mythology.  What does Flordelis look like, according to legend?  What does she sound like?  Anything like that?”

            “Well…” Rosa glanced at the shelves.  “There’s a book up there.  It’s about ancient creatures with supernatural powers.  I think there’s a drawing of some kind in there.”

            At once, Donal crossed the room, scanning the shelves.  “Which one?”

            Rosa stood up, coming to his side.  Carefully, she reached up standing on her tip toes, pulling a volume down from a high shelf.  The weight of the book threw her balance off and she stumbled into Donal.  He caught her around the shoulders.  “Oops,” she muttered.

            “No quakes this time.”

            “Sorry.”

            “I’m beginning to think that you’re magnetically drawn to me.”

            She laughed.  “I’m so sorry.”

            The two of them returned to the table where Rosa set down the book and began flipping through it.  “It’s funny.  I’ve lived in Holodrum for awhile now.  I never knew a thing about this place.”

            “We’re a bit clandestine when it comes to outsiders,” she said.

            “You know, I got that impression from your friends.  Jao and Tamis?”

            “Tao and Jamis,” she corrected him laughingly.

            “Right.  I didn’t like them.  They weren’t very nice.”

            “They can be a little bit stuffy.  They’re well meaning though.  Jamis himself has been reelected to his position nearly ten times.”

            “He seemed very protective of you.”

            Rosa sighed.  “Yes.  A little bit.”

            “Is there anything…”

            “What?”

            “I mean, between the two of you…”

            “Between Jamis and myself?”

            “Yeah.”

            “No.  Nothing.”

            “Oh.  Good.”

            “Good?” she repeated.

            He cleared his throat.  “Well, he just doesn’t seem right for you.  A bit too institution, if I may say so.”

            “I’m not entirely sure what that means,” she said with an amused tone, “but I think I’ll accept it.”

            “Good.”

            Rosa flipped a page.  She paused, then flipped back.  “That’s not right…” she muttered.

            “What?”

            “The book goes from Tahafra to Anyanca.  It skips over Flordelis completely.”

            Donal ran his fingers across the crease of the pages.  “There’s something that’s been ripped out.  I can feel the edges.”

            “Who would rip out the page on Flordelis?”

            “Someone who didn’t want anyone seeing her picture?”

            “There are some tablets of folklore against the wall,” Rosa said, shutting the book and standing up.  “Maybe they have a description of her somewhere.”

            They crossed the room and Rosa ran her fingers along the titles of each stela, searching.  “Do you see anything?” Donal asked after a moment.

            “No,” she said dourly.

            “So, every bit of literature about Flordelis, except for her contract, is gone and someone’s torn out her picture?”

            “That about sums it up.”

            He leaned against the shelf, folding his arms across his chest.  “When I was working as a gypsy, we had a saying.”

            “What?”

            “When going to hide know how to get there and how to get back and eat first.”

            Rosa was silent for a moment.  “What does that have to do with anything?” she asked.

            “Nothing,” he replied.  “I think we know for certain now that there’s foul play going on.  When evidence is missing, it’s a clear indication that something is being covered up.”

            “So you don’t believe that she’s a goddess either?”

            “No,” he admitted.  “I never did.”

            “Good.”

            “The question is, what do we do now?”

            “I don’t know,” she said.

            “Wait for Link?”

            “I guess so.”

            “It’s getting pretty late,” Donal sighed.  “Why don’t you go to bed?  We’re not going to get much more done tonight.”

            “Will you walk me back to my quarters?”

            “Of course,” he replied.  “Although, I have absolutely no idea where they are.”

            Rosa giggled.  “I’ll show you,” she told him.

            “Lead the way.”

            As they departed, they happened to turn their backs on the stacks.  From a dark, shadowy shelf, a pair of eyes peered out at them, hidden underneath a green hood.  Great anger filled his heart, watching Donal depart with Rosa.  He clenched his fists, his breathing getting faster and faster.  How dare he!  An outsider!  He had no rights to her, none at all!  If anyone had earned the privilege to escort Rosa to her room, it was he.  He would have his revenge.

 

            The heat was starting to get to Link more than he cared to admit.  As a Hylian, he had rather thin skin, meaning he lost a lot of hydration just from standing around a Subrosian plain too long.  Leaning against a wall, he took a big gulp of water from his canteen, grateful for the lukewarm water which wetted his gullet.  He would have to return to the surface to get more, he realized dourly.  And there simply wasn’t time for this.

            It was horrendously late and Link had finally realized his own exhaustion and retired to one of the guest apartments in the state house Philo had been generous enough to provide for him.  The room was sparse, but frankly, Link didn’t need more than a bed right now.  He sat down heavily on it, running his hand through his untidy hair.  At once, he flopped over onto his back.

            The ceiling above him was of stone, of course.  His eyes followed the cracks, trying to decide what they looked like.  Somehow, everything merely reminded him of home.  Oh Hyrule.  Would he ever see it again?  A very small, very weak part of his mind began searching for who to blame for his unfortunate exile.  He assigned some to Onyx, some to Veran, quite a bit to Ralph, but most of all, he couldn’t avoid the fact that he blamed himself.  Somehow, he continually got himself caught up in things that shouldn’t have been his business.

            There was a scraping noise and a light fell over the ceiling.  Link sat bolt upright to see Flordelis breeze into the room, closing the door behind her.  “Get out,” he said immediately.

            “That’s not very neighborly,” she told him.

            “What are you doing in here?”

            “I came to pay you a visit.”

            “Go away,” he said.

            “You really can’t give me orders,” she said.  “I own you.”

            “Not yet.”

            Flordelis crossed the room.  “In time,” she murmured.  “You will come to appreciate me.”

            “I highly doubt that.”

            “Haven’t you heard at all about me?  I made the walls of Galaxia crumble.  Eventually.”

            “What do you want?”

            “Just you,” she said.

            “Me?”

            She sat down beside him on the foot of the bed.  “Is it so hard for you to believe that I find you attractive?”

            “Yes.”

            “You’re modest,” she said.  “Self defacing.  I like that.”

            “Please go away.”

            “Tell me, have you ever been with a woman before?”

            “That is none of your business,” he said tightly.

            “Hmmm…that’s a qualified yes.”  She leaned forward, bringing her lips close to his ears, hidden under his hair.  “I look forward to discovering the qualification.”

            Link stood up, crossing the room to get away from her.  “I’m really very tired,” he said.

            “Do you find me attractive?”

            “No.”

            “Why not?”

            “I see nothing attractive about a woman attempting to enslave an entire race,” he replied.

            “Oh, I see.  You’re one of those sorts who actually believe in something as preposterous as inner beauty.  It’s sweet, really.”

            “You’ve got me all figured out.”

            “Not quite,” she declared.  “But I’m working on it.”

            “Enjoy yourself.”

            “Oh, I intend to,” she answered.  “And if you would allow yourself, you might enjoy it too.”

            “Please leave.”

            “Let’s forget about this whole ‘it’s what’s on the inside that counts’ notion and focus on something more relevant.  What do you think of my body?  Be honest.  I can take it.”

            Link rolled his eyes.  “I’ve seen better.”

            “Oh,” she blinked.  “I didn’t expect you to be so brutally honest.”

            “I’m not afraid of you.”

            “I know.  That’s why I like you.”

            “I really wish you didn’t.”

            “Life isn’t always fair, Link.”

            “I know.”

            “You’ll learn to make the best of it.”  She reached behind her head and slowly started undoing her braids.

            Link eyed her wearily.  “What are you doing?”

            “I sense your type.  You like the virginal, sweet girls.  You’ve known a few.  Perhaps you’ve deflowered a few.”

            “Don’t go fishing into my past,” he warned her.

            “Touchy subject?  Perhaps there’s been a bit of a tragic loss.  Separation from someone special?”

            “That’s none of your business.”

            “I knew I was right,” she murmured, shaking her head.  Her hair was loosened from the braids, falling around her face in ebony ripples.  “How’s this?  Maidenly enough for you?”

            “Why me?” Link groaned.

            “Still not enough,” she tutted.  “I love a challenge.”

            “This isn’t a challenge,” Link muttered.  “It’s impossible.”

            “We can go round and round for all eternity.  The thrill of the chase.  I’m not getting any older.”

            “I’m really very tired.”

            “Then go to sleep.”

            “Not with you here.”

            “Afraid of me watching you sleep.”  She leaned forward.  “Afraid of what dreams I might overhear.”

            “None of them will be about you.”

            “You say that now.”

            “I mean it.”

            Flordelis reached behind her neck, a clicking sound signaling her unfastening the clasps of her cowl.  “Tell me, what were you and your little friend doing down in Subrosia anyway?”

            “We came to help,” Link replied.  “Rosa found us and told us there was trouble.  You, apparently.”

            “Rosa again?  That girl seems very prominent around here.”

            “S