She did not answer.
Dashwood continued, “I know I don’t have his power or his money, but I can give you a good life, Elle. We are good together, you and I. I’ll even go legitimate, if you ask me to.”
She turned and put her hand against his cheek, where the soft stubble tickled her hand. “Logan, I can’t. I made a vow.”
He sat them both up and he looked at her. “Why not?” She saw the hurt in his eyes that she was causing and she felt her heart break. “He’s gone and your vows ended when he passed over, Elle. You are free to live your life.”
Dashwood was right. The last words Marsh had spoken to her were that he wished for her to live and be happy without him.
And he did not come back for you, even though he knew where you were … The thought tore through her.
She reached up and kissed Dashwood again. His hands ran up and over her shoulders to cup her chin. The touch of his fingers sent shivers through her as it had when they were in the water. She felt desire for him stir deep inside her.
She could love this man. She could make the life she had always wanted with him; a ship, the freedom to fly where and when she chose, with someone who saw the world in the same way she did. All of that lay before her, bundled up in the heart that this man had just offered her.
Their kiss ended in a little sob that came from the deepest, most broken part of her heart. How cruel the wyrd-weavers were to finally grant her everything she had ever wished for when it was impossible to accept it.
Dashwood looked at her with concern. “Please don’t cry,” he said.
She shook her head. “It’s not that. You don’t understand. Hugh was the love of my life. I promised to love him forever and now I don’t know what to do.”
Dashwood’s expression grew stern. “I am here and he is not. Does that not tell you everything you need to know?” he said.
“I know,” she said softly. “I need some time to think. To sort things out in my head. It is a very big promise I need to turn away from. Do you think you could wait for me? Even if it is for a little while?”
Dashwood ran his thumb across her cheekbone, rubbing away a few drops of moisture. “I will wait for you,” he said softly, and she could see the sincerity in his eyes.
She put her arms around him and they held each other for a long time, sun-warmed skin on sun-warmed skin. Around them, the jungle hissed and buzzed in time to the rushing pulse of the water at their feet.
Elle felt Dashwood’s muscles tense for a second. “I think we should get dressed.”
Elle lifted her face off his shoulder. “Um, perhaps,” she murmured.
“No, I think we should get dressed right away,” Dashwood said. “We are no longer alone.”
Elle looked over her shoulder and gasped in mortification. On the bank of the waterfall stood a monk dressed in maroon and saffron robes. His head was completely shaven, and in his hand he held a long staff.
“Oh my word,” Elle said as she lifted her knees and tucked her feet close to her body to cover herself.
The monk did not move. He just stood gazing across the pool with a serene calmness that made Elle want to shriek with embarrassment.
“Stay where you are, I’ll get our things,” Dashwood said. He stood up and walked over to collect their clothes, striding along completely naked with apparent nonchalance.
The monk did not bat an eyelid.
Dashwood returned and dropped her things on the rock beside her. “I will see if I can distract that fellow from staring at your beauty by asking if he can help us,” he said as he pulled his shirt over his head and dragged his jodhpurs on.
Elle dragged her shirt over her head and fumbled with the laces of her corset. All her fingers suddenly felt like they had turned to thumbs, but she managed to get into her clothes eventually.
She was busy lacing up her boots when Dashwood strode over with the monk in tow.
“Elle, this is Hari. He speaks French.”
“Bonjour,” Elle said.
“Bonjour, Madame.” The monk bowed. His expression gave absolutely no indication that he had witnessed them in a most intimate of moments just minutes before. For that, Elle was so deeply grateful she almost hugged him.
“He says we have been swimming in a sacred spring,” Dashwood said. “There is a temple at the top of this hill.”
The monk nodded and pointed toward some rocks that were just visible in the water. “The sacred springs. Carvings of the lingam and yoni. Man part and woman parts,” he said, gesturing at the geometric designs, “bring power to the water. Make it strong, fertile for the people.”
Elle stood up and peered at the rocks he had pointed out. They were indeed carved in fine bas-relief. “Hold on, are those … ?” She felt herself blush as she suddenly recognized the rather obvious phallic shapes of half the carvings. They had simply felt like smooth, round rocks underfoot before.
“I think they are. There are a thousand of them carved in the river around here, if I understand Hari correctly,” Dashwood said.
“Very strong energy. Specially for someone with the special inside them, like you,” Hari said in his broken French. One corner of his mouth curled up slightly in a ghost of a knowing smile.
Dashwood started laughing. “It certainly was that, my friend,” he said, giving the monk a hearty pat on his shoulder.
Elle felt herself turn crimson with mortification.
“Say, is there any way you can tell us where we might find food and transport?” Elle said, pointedly changing the subject. “Perhaps the nearest town?”
Hari nodded. “We go to the temple. They give you food and place to sleep. Show you way to the village of Siem Riep. Lots of people there. And airships. People who speak English.”
Elle felt her eyes fill with tears of relief. There would be no more being lost among snakes and spiders and other horrible things.
They had found rescue.
CHAPTER 23
The temple at Phnom Kulen was, as Hari had said, a steep trek up the mountain, along a series of wooden footbridges and carved stone steps. The place consisted of an interconnected series of buildings, some with roofs made of palm fronds; others appeared to be caves, hollowed out in the sandstone.
Some were dedicated to worship, others for meditation and then there were the living quarters. Unlike other holy places, this monastery seemed to be a place full of ordinary people.
At the sight of the monk, dark-haired children ran out to see the strangers he was escorting. They smiled and laughed and pretty soon it became a game to see who could get close enough to touch Elle and Dashwood.
The children were followed by men and women, all curious to see who had arrived at the monastery.
Hari started speaking rapidly to them, and after a few nods and instructions, Elle was handed over to a group of women. They took her in hand, sweeping her off to the bathhouse, all the while muttering. Elle could not understand what they were saying, but by the way they were examining her mussed up hair and dirty clothes she was sure they were talking about the state she was in. As she walked, she cast an eye at Dashwood, but his back was turned and he seemed to be in deep in conversation with Hari.
After her bath, the women rubbed coconut oil over her skin and brushed her hair until it dried in soft, glossy waves. Even though she did not speak their language, the universal understanding of all things feminine seemed to carry them along. There was much chatter as they admired the deep auburn color, which they seemed to find exceedingly amusing. Elle in turn admired these women with their rich, glossy hair and their easy smiles. They seemed so free and happy, and she felt sad that her own world was so constricted by protocol and convention.
After what appeared to be much debate, it was decided that frangipani blooms were to be fixed into the braid they were making in her hair.
Elle was given traditional clothes. A tunic and skirt made from soft cotton in a blue-green that echoed the color of her eyes and a pair of leather sandals. Free f
rom corsets and trousers that chafed, the strange exotic dress was surprisingly comfortable. She smiled her thanks for the kindness of these people as best she could, and then she was escorted to the eating hall for dinner.
Elle was surprised to see that it had grown completely dark outside while she had been busy with the women. She was even more surprised to see that the monastery offered food for anyone who might be hungry—as long as they ate with appreciation and mindfulness, all the while observing the vows of silence that most of the monks kept.
Elle was so hungry she could do little to stop herself from falling into the bowls of rice and strange cooked vegetables that were served.
It was here, while stuffing gorgeously fragrant greens into her mouth, that she felt someone sit down next to her. Dashwood. In her hunger, she had not noticed him when she came in.
“Enjoying your dinner, I see?” he said. She noticed that he too had been to the bathhouse. He was also wearing a shirt and a pair of loose cotton trousers she had seen the other men wear.
Elle paused, her chopsticks holding a large piece of food halfway between her bowl and her face. “Um, well it has been a fairly trying few days, Captain. And spiders are not that filling.”
“So we are back to calling me captain now,” he said.
Elle put her hand on his arm. “I’m sorry. It’s force of habit. Please think nothing of it Logan.”
He smiled at her, but she could see that she had hurt him and she felt terrible for it.
He put his bowl down next to hers. It contained the remnants of a fiery vegetable stew flavored with coconut.
“Are you not eating?” she said.
“I think that might be my sixth helping. If I eat any more, I think I might explode.”
At that point, Hari glided up to them.
“My English friends. How are you feeling now? I trust that you are better now that you have taken care of your bodily needs.”
Elle smiled at him and inclined her head with gratitude. “Thank you. We owe you our lives.”
Hari too inclined his head, returning the greeting. “It is our belief to respect and preserve all that is living.” Then he smiled at them. “Would you care to take a walk with me before we take some rest?”
Elle looked at Dashwood. “It’s still very early,” she said. “It gets dark quickly here in the jungle.”
Hari smiled at her benevolently. “Here we go to bed early because we rise before the sun to pray and meditate.”
“Well, then we would be delighted. And I am very tired, so a good night’s rest is perhaps exactly what I need.”
They rose from the bench where they had been sitting and strolled out into courtyard, at which point Hari started telling them all about the significance of the buildings and fountains around them.
“Hari, could I ask you something?” Elle said, once they had completed the circuit.
“I will answer if I can,” the monk said.
“We are looking for a city. A lost city, built centuries ago by the Khmer. They called it Angkor Wat. Do you know of it?”
Hari’s face went very still. “I know of it,” he said.
“Really?” Elle felt herself grow excited. “Do you know where we might find it? Is there a map or something?”
Hari was silent for a very long time. In fact he was so still that Elle thought he might not answer.
She looked up at Dashwood, who was standing beside her. The light of a lantern illuminated the side of his face, giving it an eerie glow in the darkness of the jungle night.
“The Temple City is not lost. We have always known where it is.”
“You do?”
“It is a very sacred place,” Hari said. He looked around, as if searching for the correct word. “The holiest of holy. Is that how you call it?”
“Yes, a holy place. A temple.” Elle felt her excitement grow.
“It is no place for outsiders who seek only gold. I do not know what is within your hearts, so I cannot take you there.” Hari shook his head.
“Oh, Hari.” Elle felt like weeping. “We seek the place because we seek answers. I have come so far to see the apsara. I must ask her something.”
Hari stared at her for another long while. “You, lady with the light inside and who cast no shadow. You are not like other outsiders I’ve seen before,” he said thoughtfully. “I wonder why that is so?” Hari’s French seemed to be growing stronger as he spoke to them as if he was rapidly remembering a language he did not often use.
Elle nodded. “Yes, I am special. There are … things about me which I can never speak of, and this is why I must go to that place.”
Hari looked very unhappy, his eyes darting about as if he were looking for a means of escaping this conversation.
Elle felt Dashwood’s hand on her arm, warning her to back down. “Perhaps it’s time to go to bed. We are very tired. Our trek through the jungle was filled with hardship, so please forgive us,” he said with a kindly voice. “We are sorry if we have caused offense.”
Hari bowed. “In controversy, the instant we feel anger we have already ceased striving for the truth, and have begun striving for ourselves,” he said with a serene smile. “Now I must say good night, my friends. I show you to your beds now.” He rose and started walking, motioning for them to follow him.
Perhaps it was because they were foreigners, or because Hari seemed to have assumed that they were husband and wife, but Elle and Dashwood found that they had been assigned a hut of their very own, set a little way from the rest of the monastery. They had expected a mat in one of the segregated dormitories that the monastery kept for pilgrims.
The hut was in the traditional Cambodian style, set on wooden stilts and with a wood and roof made of palm fronds. Inside, it was furnished simply with a sleeping mat on each side. These were raised off the floor on a low bamboo platform with a fine mosquito net draped over the top.
Alone inside the hut, in the light of a single candle, the enclosed space suddenly made things seem awkward between them. Elle bumped into Dashwood’s elbow as she turned her back to unwind the sarong she had been given.
Dashwood unexpectedly bent forward to untie his boots and their foreheads bumped against each other, which made them both recoil and laugh.
“I think we have been given their very best accommodation. I didn’t see any other beds with mosquito nets,” Dashwood said.
“Well, I for one am eternally grateful. I don’t think I’ve ever been this tired.” Elle yawned.
“You got that one right,” he answered.
“I have to admit, lying down on a proper bed, protected from insects is probably the best feeling yet,” she said.
“The very best?” he said with a chuckle.
Elle felt her cheeks grow hot. “Oh, you know what I mean,” she said.
“I meant what I said at the waterfall, you know. About us going away together. I still do.” He paused for a moment. “There have been many women. A man like me tends to get around a bit. It’s just the way things are if you live the life I lead.”
Elle did not answer, afraid that she might break his confession.
“I don’t know,” Dashwood continued. “Perhaps it was this place, but it’s never been like that … like it was today … with anyone.” There was a raw sincerity in his voice that made her insides ache for him. This was the real Logan Dashwood, honest and brave, with none of the bravado and theatrics he normally used to protect himself.
“I felt it too,” Elle said. The words felt inadequate, but she did not know what else to say, because she also wanted to be honest with him.
They lay listening to the sounds of the jungle spilling into the hut.
“Can I ask you something?” he said after a little while.
“Of course,” Elle said.
“You told Hari that you were special. I take it that has to do with the fact that you cast no shadow. Why is that?”
Elle stared up at the moonlit folds of her mosquito net. She owed him th
e truth, that much was plain, consequences for herself be damned.
“I am the Oracle. I am the force that holds the folds of the universe together.” She shook her head. “This is very difficult to explain but I am everywhere at once—in both the Shadow and the Light at the same time and this is why I cast no shadow. I don’t understand exactly how it works, but this is how it’s been for me, my mother and all my grandmothers before them.”
They listened to the crickets outside.
“It also means that I can speak prophesies and slip between the realms of Shadow and Light. You saw me do that when we were in San Francisco. My … late husband was on the Council of Warlocks. He … fought for my freedom because even though the warlocks are traditionally supposed to be our guardians, they have never treated us well. Instead they use us for their own means and so all the women in my family die young. My own mother died at the hands of such men when I was only a baby.”
“So that’s how you did that neat trick with the golden light,” he said.
“Yes, I have learned how to manipulate the barrier. I can shift into the space between the two realms. At least I used to be able to do it, but something is wrong with the barrier and I cannot enter. It has been ever since the Inanna crashed.”
“Hmm,” Dashwood said.
“Hugh sacrificed much so we could be together. We both did. And then I lost him to the Shadow realm. I watched him turn into a wraith before my very eyes and that night my heart broke into a million pieces. Even now, it feels like there is just broken and bloody mush where it used to beat. Hugh worked so hard to keep me safe from those who wished to harm me that he forgot to take care of himself.”
As soon as the words started tumbling out, she found that she could not stop. “All of it is my fault and this is why I need to find the temple. Inside it somewhere dwells the queen of the apsaras. She is said to have the ability to tell a person the answer to the question that they most ardently desire to know. Gertrude, Dr. Bell, told me about it. I need to know if there is a way to bring Hugh back from the Shadow realm alive. It is the one answer I seek more than anything.”
“But there is more than this, isn’t there?” he said, and she heard the slight edge to his voice.
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