The Tattooed Heart (Messenger of Fear 2)

I don’t know what Daniel is. To all appearances he’s a casually dressed youngish man, not imposing in the least. But from Messenger’s hints, and more from Messenger’s obvious deference, I judged Daniel to be a powerful being, someone with a sort of supervisory role over Messenger and by extension, me.

I stopped, stepped off the path into deeper shadow to be less visible, and shamelessly eavesdropped.

“I was not aware that I was never to stray, even for a few minutes, from the path of duty.” This was Messenger, and he did not sound deferential, he sounded defiant.

“It is not a rule,” Daniel said calmly. “You perform your duties well, Messenger, I have no complaints.”

“Then why are you here?”

“I am concerned for you,” Daniel said. Where Messenger was defiant, Daniel was understanding.

“I would have thought I’d earned some trust,” Messenger said, still huffy in a low-key sort of way.

Daniel put his hand on Messenger’s shoulder. “You have. And beyond that, you have earned some affection.”

Messenger slumped and the defiance was gone from his body language and his tone. “I know you think I’m obsessed.”

“Yes,” Daniel said, and smiled sadly. “I wish I could help you.”

“I know that you may not,” Messenger admitted. “And I know that my searches are in vain. I know, Daniel. I know the chances of seeing her, it’s just that . . .”

“The search has become an expression of faith,” Daniel said.

“My only faith is in Isthil. And, of course, in her servants.”

“Yes, Messenger, I know the correct answer. But the truth is otherwise. Isthil is only your second love. Ariadne is your first. You search for a glimpse of her, knowing how improbable it is, but the act of searching is, for you, an expression of love.”

Messenger had nothing to say to that. He hung his head and the two of them stood in silence until Messenger said, “She once told me there were a dozen places she wanted to see before she died. She loved old places, places that were unique, places that seemed to hold a mystique.”

“She sensed even then the presence of our world,” Daniel said. He emphasized the word our so that there was no doubt he was referring to whatever impossible dimension we occupied. Daniel looked around, saw me, let me know that he had seen me, and said, “She was not mistaken. This place has meaning to the gods.”

“But she is not here.”

“You know I cannot answer that.”

Silence again as Messenger absorbed that answer, and after a moment nodded his acquiescence.

“I do not forbid you, Messenger. Even you are allowed a life, pleasures, as you carry out your destiny. But as a friend, I wonder if you do yourself harm. I wonder if your already burdened heart only becomes heavier.”

“I can’t give up,” Messenger said with a note of helplessness. “That would be despair. That would do more than burden my heart, it would destroy me.”

Daniel nodded and smiled wistfully. “Love is a power to equal that of the gods. Your apprentice is with us.”

Messenger turned his gaze on me, not searching, knowing where I was. “She needed rest. She has seen terrible things.”

Without willing it, I was with them.

Daniel said, “You have begun to see the nature of your duty, and the pain it will cause you. But you have not broken.”

“I . . . I didn’t mean to . . .” I was about to say I had not meant to eavesdrop, but of course I had, and there is little point in lying to people who know instantly whether you are speaking truth. “I don’t understand why—”

“You are not my apprentice,” Daniel said, cutting me off. “I am not your master.”

With a nod to Messenger he was gone.

An uncomfortable silence stretched between me and Messenger. Then he took an audible breath and said, “This place is called Parque Lago Azul. It is in Brazil.”

“I recognized it.”