Two men stand in the shade at the edge of a clearing, where they gaze upon the ziggurat in its center, and share refreshment from a hip flask."

One man is taller, but not by much, and his hair is dark where it falls to his shoulders. His vest and trousers are leather dulled by use, not worn through but with some deep stains in them. His shirt is a somber green to match the forest. A lute is slung on his back where a sword might be on another man. His ears are slightly pointed.

The shorter one wears two swords. His ears are more pointed, and a tiny gold stud reflects in the right one. He dresses in Phoenician blues: chambray shirt and denim pants, but with a red scarf about his neck. His colors make him appear as a forest bird when he darts quickly through the forest sunbeams.

When they speak it is in whispers, despite being the forest of Shando in daylight. "I wish Tollenkov was here" says the one with the swords, peering a hundred yards to the onyx building. "He is very good in a fight."

"Threnody, I'm glad you have no wish this day," says the other. "When was the last time you traveled with your father?" The swordsman starts a chuckle that they both end.

'I keep forgetting." says Threnody. "He was my partner for so long, it's hard to think of him that way." Their eyes meet and then both face the structure dominating the clearing.

"Hopefully, no one is home." says the one with dark hair. "The guest list didn't have too many fun people.

Two men walk from the forest into the clearing. Save for the earth shifting like syrup under Threnody's feet, nothing takes special note of their passage; the birds neither stop nor start singing at the motion, the insects fly across their paths, and even a nearby rabbit hops through the sun drenched grass as if the men were not there. The wild grass swishes across their boots and against their trousers until they achieve to the stairwell leading into the ziggurat.

The weaponless one speaks first. "There were no special traps here. Leaving was the hard part." Threnody passes him and steps onto the first stair, then ascends five more quickly. The other watches and steps onto the first stair far slower then his friend. He stands there long moments, and then closes his eyes.

"Wedge ... Wedge! Do you feel any different?" Threnody asks, and his hand slips to touch his mai, and Wedge's eyes open. The fingers sweep past the weapon's hilt, but flex nearby. Wedge looks up into the other's eyes.

"You mean, do I feel monomaniacal all of a sudden? Do I want to kill you, take your wealth for my own, and dance about your grave?" Threnody smiles tightly but says nothing, and he rubs his wrist. Wedge shakes his head and says, "No. I feel no different. I feel just like did when I woke this morning, or last week when you first asked me to come." Wedge shivers despite the spring morning sunlight. "With the God of Life at my side, I can come back. I need to stop the bad dreams."

"I promised you that," says the swordsman, and they both turn to ascend.

The men pause after twenty steps inside to allow their eyes to adjust from the light of the sun to that of torch. Twenty steps more and there is four-way intersection of halls. Wedge points a direction. Threnody leads that way, walking softly

The swordsman moves his face close to no particular torch, and breathes on the flame. It flickers but does not die. Threnody touches the wood, and the brand is engulfed then consumed, all in a flashing instant. Their eyes meet. Threnody whispers, "It's not magical. Been burning for three, four hours. I wonder who keeps them lit."

"There were slaves and dead men to look after that without orders." Wedge shrugs. "I don't feel Turf, there's no hint of ownership power. But you probably guessed that by now." They meet gazes and Threnody pats Wedge on the shoulder, leaves his hand there a moment. Then he moves onward down the hall. Wedge follows twenty feet behind.

Threnody comes to a cross passage no different from the first. Turning to see Wedge point ahead, he steps across. Instantly, a black-robed skeleton appears in the hall behind him and slashes the back of Threnody's thighs a cruelly deep blow. Before his knees hit the ground, Threnody has drawn his mai and defends from another cut to his head. Wedge stands clear, watching, waiting. A single minute passes while Threnody slashes at the black cloak and cut into the bones until he faces only debris on the ground.

"Minor," he gasps quietly, and lowers his head, closes his eyes. Wedge moves closer to his kneeling companion. Without opening his eyes Threnody holds his hand up, palm facing Wedge. Three minutes pass with only the sound of Threnody's breathing coming slower and slower. Finally he stands, looks at the slashed cloth hanging from his trouser seat. He grimaces, and backs against the wall, beckoning Wedge to cross the intersection.

Wedge takes a step, two, five, and he is across. "Hail Death," whispers Threnody. The fire that is anger blazes in Wedge's eyes, and Threnody's smile vanishes. Threnody points the way they came, but Wedge juts his finger onwards. Threnody stares at the blaze in Wedge's eyes a moment before he continues that way down the corridor, sword drawn. They walk onwards in silence, save for the crackling flames that line the path.

Three times more is Threnody attacked as they walk the corridors, and three times Wedge does pass the same way unchallenged. Wedge offers no aid, even when the last battle continues for two minutes, three, five, before Threnody decapitates his red-cloaked skeletal foe. Wedge whispers "Major?" and Threnody nods once before he lies prone.

Wedge counts a hundred and then begins composing a tune. He has two verses and the chorus before Threnody lifts his head and stands. They walk on down a longer corridor with no more crossways, only chambers on either side.

Wedge reaches out to tug on Threnody's sleeve as they approach the end, which opens into a chamber, the largest they've seen. Wedge mouths "throne" and points to the far wall, where an massive stone chair stands empty but for the blood. Wedge sees dark stains on the walls now, as if a mad artist had cupped paint in his hands and spattered it about in a frenzy. Then Wedge follows Threnody's gaze upwards.

At first Wedge thinks its a rope, or ropes. Then he sees the body suspended close to the chandelier, and Wedge can make out the noose about it's neck, and a red scarf binding the hands behind its back. The face is concealed by a red executioner's hood, the kind with no holes. The ropes-that-are-not-ropes extrude from the front of the corpse's robes, coming from just above the belt in front. They dangle in various loops almost to the floor.

A dull grey longsword passes through the still form. Wedge can make out the hilt protruding from the chest, and sees where it extends three feet out the back: he is startled to recognize the weapon. Greyswandir, Corwyn called it at family gatherings, but now it is has the aspect of a different, older, name. The name was Dyrnwyn, for this sword slew the Lord of Death in the lands which birthed Troy and Ko. Wedge recalls the name means 'thresher.'

Threnody enters the chamber, stepping slowly, as if reluctant. He walks not to the throne, but to the place on the floor beneath the body. Wedge casts a wary eye about the chamber but sees no life, senses no servant. This could be good or bad. He follows.

Amid the biology that has accumulated below the corpse, there is a thing that may once have been a skull of jade, but is now a collection of green shards.

Threnody touches the shattered jade, starts. He looks upwards sharply, and Wedge sees tears start falling like rain, tracing two rivers down the Phoenix's face, and landing one by one on the floor. In the silence of their breathing, Wedge can almost hear each tear strike the cold stone.

After a moment, Threnody lowers his face, and sinks to his knees. "There shall be no rebirth." Threnody whispers, and his voice shakes with the grief. Wedge has never seen such from a god. Wedge cannot move, for he cannot think in its face.

Presently the Phoenix rises from the cold stone and casts his eye about the chamber. He moves to a statue where the rope suspending the body is tied off. Wedge helps Threnody's trembling fingers untie the knotted cord, and lower the body slowly to the floor.

"And the ground shall receive him, and hold him as when he lived," says Wedge the moment the body contacts floor. Threnody holds the rope as Wedge gently, ever gently, lowers the still form to lie on its side, pulling the sword free.

Threnody starts and yells "No-" when Wedge grasps the hilt, but says nothing as Wedge throws the blade aside. It slides to rest near the throne. Threnody studied Wedge, sheaths his sword, and approaches.

As Threnody touches the hands to untie them, Wedge lifts the hood, and in that moment both men jump as if burned. "Wrathman!" Threnody says. The men share a look at the dead face as they confirm their surprise. "You've never seen this artifact before?" Wedge answers with a verse.

"The bare cherry tree
 higher than the roof
 last year produced
 abundant fruit. But how
 speak of fruit confronted
 by that skeleton?
 Though live it may be
 there is no fruit on it.
 Therefore chop it down
 and use the wood
 against this biting cold."

"I think this Wrathman must have told Yama he couldn't use the machinery to attempt a transfer," whispers Wedge.

A bitter laugh erupts from Threnody's lips as he rises smoothly to his feet and casts about the chamber with his eyes. Threnody moves swiftly to the throne and Dyrnwyn rises unsheathed in his hand. "Are you well, Wedge?"

"If you ask me that once more, I may discover how to kill in anger." Wedge says calmly. "I am Halifirien Wedge. I am not Yama, nor am I his shearjashub."

"Forgive me," says Threnody, with no sign of remorse. "Wedge, do you sense anyone coming? Any large forces paying attention to this place? Is He coming home?"

Before answering, Wedge studies his companion, who is circling the room as a moth circles flame, as if seeking a foeman for the sword Dyrnwyn. He whispers, too softly for Threnody to hear and know the bitterness, "I shall do this thing for thee, though it cost me my life and my soul." He pauses, laughs out loud making Threnody pause to look.

"I shall do this thing for ME!" Wedge yells, and then he closes his eyes.

The Paths of the Dead are not Fallen. Wedge now sees how Yama has hidden their continued order by turning down the power to nearly nonexistent levels, and letting entropy rule rather than his mind. There is no mind. There is a mind? It has left recently, but it is here in different form.

"Threnody!" yells Wedge. "The Paths are no longer Turf! Yama WAS killed here and he did lose his absolute control. Now I have equal ability to control the environment here. This is no longer Turf, and it is no longer Yama's, but it is still cohesive as a plane."

"Don't say the baby's name, Vic." says a new voice. A man in red stands in the doorway.

"'For he hears you yet, somehow,'" quotes Threnody. When Wedge recognizes Death, his face becomes grey and still as the stone of the floor. His breathing restarts after a moment.

"Hail Deathgod," says the Phoenix," nodding but holding Dyrnwyn before him. The sword bursts into flame like a torch..

"Hail life," says Deathgod, lifting an empty palm high. "Notice the difference."

"Leave us be," says Lifegod to Deathgod.

"You must leave me be, Phoenix." says Death. "Please consider. You are uninvited guests in my home. I have lost a life and my home." Threnody shifts position to stand between Death and Wedge, perhaps fifteen feet from each. This causes a smile, but no comment from Death.

"Where is Ko?" says Wedge, moving slightly aside to gaze directly upon Death.

"In a room up the hall." says Death. He turns his face away. "He tried to save me from the Wrathman. Maybe he did." Death sighs, and seems unhappy.

Then abruptly Death regards Wedge again, as if for the first time. "Welcome back."

"Take us to him," commands Wedge. he meets Death's glance and they hold stance. Three seconds pass. Five. Threnody cries out, and moves away from the path between their eyes. Death smiles, and his gaze flickers. He looks not to Threnody, but the blade he bears.

"We both have changed," says the Deathgod to Wedge. "Grown wiser."

"Count on it." says Wedge. trying to stay on his feet, trying not to sway too much, trying not to reveal the depth of his dizziness.

"Both of us," repeats Death, turning his back and retreating down the corridor. "Come," he calls from out of sight. Threnody glances to Wedge, who smiles weakly and rubs his eyes. Wedge's head throbs in pain with each heartbeat.

Threnody follows Death warily and flutters his fingers for Wedge to Follow. A dead woman stands motionless in the hallway outside the Throne Room. Death stands in the seventh doorway back. The doors to the other six rooms are closed.

The dead woman is a half-elf, apparently slain by a blade in the throat, striking just below her wooden torc. She is dressed in a white tabbard, the robes of a high-ranking Coven Master, Archdruid, or Great Druid. A wooden 'thammay' knife is sheathed in ivory and tied in her hemp belt. Her green eyes follow Threnody but pay no attention to Wedge.

The Phoenix stops to peer into her eyes. He reaches up to place the back of his hand against her cheek. He lowers his face a moment and lifts it again. Threnody moves his hand behind her neck, pulling her face to his. "Live once more," whispers the Phoenix, and he kisses her lips. She gasps and falls to her knees. Threnody releases her gently and walks towards Death.

Wedge puts a hand on the woman's head as he passes her by, saying "Welcome back."

Death studies the sobbing woman a long moment. Threnody stops just out of sword reach and waits. Death looks to the weapon, and he says "That's one." Deathgod proceeds the others into the seventh room.

Threnody enters without pausing, but Wedge stops in the doorway. It is a square room, some twenty feet across with a vaulted stone ceiling. In the center is a funeral bier made of the same grey stone as the walls and floor. There is a body atop it, a god's body, in full state. A bowl lies at his feet on the stone table of the bier. Death leans casually against the far wall.

The God of Improvement appears laid out in a fresh white robe, gold-trimmed and perfectly tailored. The God's hands are clasped before him. He is clean-shaven, manicured, his black hair oiled and combed to perfection. His skin is tanned and ruddy, as if he were simply resting or sleeping. He is smiling.

There are no wounds that Wedge can see; Ko looks as he did pulling Wedge from the Paths the moment before the Wrathman attacked.

The Phoenix is at Ko's side. He leans close, studying details of the body, but not touching it. Dyrnwyn is still unsheathed, held between Threnody and Death.

"You may take one more," says the Deathgod from the far wall of the chamber.

"This one," Threnody says, not looking up from his examination.

"That is Wedge's decision." says the Deathgod. "You chose in the hall."

"This one," Wedge says, looking at Death.

"That's two," says Death, nodding. He swiftly stands upright, making both living men jump and stand wary. Death smiles thinly but moves no closer. "Sorry you can't stay, but I've got things to do, places to go-"

"-Brick walls to bump into," finishes Wedge. Death nods to him.

Threnody gathers up the God's body one arms without elegance in his attempt to keep Dyrnwyn at the ready. A weak voice from the hallway calls out, "The bowl. take the bowl."

Wedge looks back to the pale face of the woman. She nods and gasps, still on the floor. She gestures with one weak arm back to the room. "The Golden Bowl of the Buddha." Wedge turns back to the room.

Death stands patiently as Threnody juggles the body. After three minutes, Wedge finally steps to the bier and lifts the wooden bowl, places it under his arm. The men back out into the hall where the druid is now standing, holding herself shakily upright against the wall: sheer will against failing flesh. Even after staring down the Deathgod, Wedge feels a sense of awe at her feat.

"Phoenix!" cries Death, in the seconds before Threnody summons the living to another place. "We have business to discuss, you and I. The clergy must have ways to reward resurrection to the faithful dead. Please return alone at your convenience and we shall discuss the operation of the mortal coil in this Brave New World."

Wedge realizes that he is not at the Fountains of Paradise when he sees the familiar walls of Dolbadarn. Threnody has summoned them to the sturdy castle, and those are Eressea and Tollenkov approaching warily.

Wedge tries to summon the strength he found when he faced Death, but fails in the face of his parents. "I can't help you with those dreams," says Threnody.

-mgg & DAR