Daphne curled her hair around a finger into a golden coil. Zuriga was supposed to be here, now. Any minute someone was going to come around the corner and-
A black figure seemingly glided to her, like a shadow. It was Zuriga.
"What took you so long?" Daphne whispered frantically.
Zuriga stared at her, her brown eyes serene, unwavering pools. But Daphne knew how to read them: charred edges, so Zuriga was irritated. Well, that was fine with Daphne; Zuriga deserved it for worrying her. But even with that on her mind, she could see the lake lying underneath. She shuddered. What had happened?
"I am not late. You are early," Zuriga said simply. Daphne shivered. Zuriga always made her jumpy, but she had to know. Zuriga's knowledge was a rushing stream, beckoning, waiting to be drunk. And Daphne was thirsty. She had never had water before, and she had never needed it. But now, after that first taste, she did-it was as if she had walked in a desert all her life.
Zuriga continued. "And this is no longer a safe place to talk. Time grows short, Daphne, and the stakes are too high to risk."
She always spoke like that, talking in riddles. Her truth was so jumbled up in words that it took hours for Zuriga to get a point across. The charred edges sometimes looked ready to burst into flame. And sometimes they did.
Zuriga reached out for Daphne's hand, and as she took it Daphne felt a chill run through her. But it was a nice chill-like a cool breeze on a hot day. She closed her eyes.
Zuriga stood before her, but not as Daphne remembered her. She wore a dress of white silk, and her eyes were bright and unclouded by the dark shadow that always hung over her.
"Where are we?" Daphne asked, looking around her. "Is this your world?"
"We are where we should be," she said, sounding like the old Zuriga again. She sighed, shaking her head. "I am sorry, Daphne. We are in neither your world nor mine. We are in the 'should be' world. A model for the future . . . or maybe of the past. A world before the separation. The world after the Melding."
Daphne closed her mouth on a second question. It was a riddle again-well, sort of. She didn't get all of it, but understanding seemed just beyond her grasp, whereas before it had seemed miles away.
"Why are we here?"
"We are here because you must know, but no one else can. You are-" Zuriga stopped. Her emotionless face was suddenly filled with sympathy.
"What?" Daphne asked, dread flooding into her. "What am I?"
"I wish it was not I who must tell you," Zuriga said. "Yet there is no other . . ." Her lips were grim. "It is an honor, but a burden. How I do know that," she muttered.
"What?" Daphne asked again. Do I really want to know? "What?"
