Rather justified the urge to leave here, didn't it: Even if what awaited her on the Other Side was nothing like she remembered from her small slice of freedom, she would have choices to make on her own.
Verily, it was a strange curse to have been born and yet not have a life to live. Short of killing her mother, she was stuck herein, and however much she hated the female, she wasn't going to take that trail. She wasn't sure she'd win in such a conflict, for one thing. For another . . . she had already disposed of her sire. Matricide was not an experience that held any new or particular fascination for her.
Oh, the past, the painful, wretched past. How awful to be stuck here with an infinite, bland future whilst burdened with a history that was too awful to dwell on. Suspended animation had been a kind gift when measured up against this torture--at least in the frozen state, her mind hadn't been able to wander and tangle with things she wished hadn't transpired, and things she would never get to do--
"Would you care for some victuals?"
Payne looked over her shoulder. No'One was in the archway of the room, bended into a bow with a tray in her hands.
"Oh, yes, please." Payne shook off her moribund musings. "And won't you join me?"
"I thank you kindly, but I shall serve you and depart." The maid put the provisions down on the window seat beside Payne. "When you and the king set to your physical conflicts, I shall return to collect--"
"May I ask you something?"
No'One bowed again. "But of course. How may I be of service?"
"Why have you never gone on to the Other Side? Like the others?"
There was a long silence . . . and then the female gimped over to the pallet on which Payne slept. With shaking hands, No'One straightened the bedding into a precise order.
"I have no particular interest in that world," she said from under her robing. "I am safe here. Over there . . . I would not be safe."
"The Primale is a Brother of stout arm and fine dagger skill. No harm would e'er befall you under his care."
The sound that drifted out from the hood was noncommittal. "Circumstances have a way of spinning into chaos and strife there. Simple decisions have ramifications that can be shattering. Here, everything is in order."
Spoken as a survivor of the raid that had taken place in this sanctuary some seventy-five years ago, Payne thought. Back on that horrible eve, males from the Other Side had infiltrated the barrier and brought with them the violence that often existed in their world.
Many had died or been hurt--the Primale at the time included.
Payne looked back out at the static, lovely horizon--and at once understood the female's thinking, and yet wasn't swayed by it. "The order herein is precisely what galls me. I would seek to avoid this kind of falsity."
"Can you not leave when you wish?"
"No."
"That is not right."
Payne's eyes shot over to the female--who was now at work refolding Payne's modified robes. "I never expected you to say something counter to the Scribe Virgin."
"I love our dearest mother of the race--please do not misunderstand. But to be imprisoned, even in luxury, is not right. I choose to stay herein and ever will--you should be free to go, however."
"I find myself envying you."
No'One seemed to recoil under her robes. "You must never do that."
" 'Tis true."
In the silence that followed, Payne recalled her conversation with Layla by the reflecting pool. Same exchange, different twist: Then, Layla had been the one to envy Payne's lack of desire when it came to sex and males. Here, it was No'One's contentment with inertia that was of value.
And 'round and 'round we go, Payne thought.
Turning her head back to the "view," she regarded the grass with a jaundiced eye. Each blade was perfectly formed, and precisely the right height such that the expanse was less a lawn than a carpet. And the result was not gotten by mowing, of course. Just as the tulips stood in their beds with everlasting blooms upon their slender stalks and the crocuses were perpetually unfurling and the roses were always fat-headed with petals, so too were there no bugs or weeds or disease.
Or growth.
Ironic that it appeared to be all cultivated and yet was attended to by no one. After all, who needed a gardener when you had a god capable of engineering everything to its best state--and keeping it there.
In a way, that made No'One a miracle, didn't it. That she had been allowed to survive her birth herein and permitted to breathe the nonair, even though she was not perfect.
"I don't want this," Payne said. "I truly do not."
When there was no comment, she looked over her shoulder . . . and frowned. The female had left as she had come in, without noise or fuss, leaving the surroundings bettered by her careful touch.