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Temple of Marek?  In Addah?  Addah was virtually synonymous with Il.
    Sure enough, the few people who came out to meet them wore the neat, simple white of Marekite disciples.  Melkin dismounted respectfully, as did Cerise and Loren.  Ari, stubborn, just moved his horse in to hear what was being said.
    “ How can we help you?” one of the strangers asked, cool, courteous, and obviously not shocked to see travelers.  Several other disciples in the background didn’t even glance up from their work.
    “ We’re looking for the nearest Addahite settlement,” Melkin asked with what might be considered gruff courtesy, with a little imagination.
    The man gave a small, tight laugh.  “As you know, I’m sure,” he said with an edge to his voice, “such things are hard to find, as Addahites are never anywhere on a permanent basis.  Believe me, we have looked, so as to bring these poor, base creatures learning, and knowledge, and true order.”
    Melkin, obviously not interested in irrelevant issues of evangelism, simply waited.  Ari wondered if he was the only one aware of that faint sense of patronizing sanctimony.  Most Northerners never seemed to notice, but Melkin was a whole different breed of cynical.
    After waiting for a moment—what, for him to agree?—the disciple eventually conceded, “The nearest sheepfold lies about a day’s ride along the First Path here.  No guarantee it will be occupied, as most of the flocks have moved to higher pasture by now.”  He had a definite don’t-get-your-hopes-up shrug to his shoulders.  “May I ask your business?”
    “ Cerise,” Melkin prompted, turning and mounting up.
    She blinked.  “Er, Queen’s business.” Glancing with just a hint of reproach at Melkin, already turning his roan, she leaned forward with a gracious smile and clinked several tirna into the disciple’s hands.  “For your good work here.”  He seemed completely unaffected, moving on to take Loren’s offering—who realized belatedly he should be giving one, and had to scrounge hurriedly in his moneybag—with smooth efficiency.  The Empire was so great, it was said, because Marek was so organized, adept, and full of common sense that he wouldn’t have his people any other way.  Privately, Ari thought all the clinking coins didn’t hurt either.
    Their horses started to climb again as Melkin led them on, and Ari’s spirits seemed to rise with the land.  The ground began to drop away from them on one side or the other, and the vastness, the stillness, the great, majestic beauty completely surrounding them brought with it a heady timelessness.  It was as if nothing was happening that hadn’t happened before, as if all of Ari’s problems were faint and far away and inconsequential, petty puffs of air in the great winds of the Ages.
    They hobbled the horses when the sun was straight up—Rodge wasn’t even interested in learning, doing more than a little hobbling himself—then stretched out in the sunny little meadow.  Some of the packed foods were more perishable than others, and Banion nodded approvingly as Ari and Loren pulled the bread, cheese, and the ripened fruit out of their bulging saddlepacks.  Cerise sat waiting to be served and Melkin and Kai talked quietly with their eyes on the road ahead and their backs to the group.
    “ Some cheese, Rodge?” Loren asked solicitously.
    “ I’m a little bitter right now,” Rodge observed hostilely, chucking a clod of dirt at him.
    “ Keep that dirt out of the food,” Melkin cracked as he and Kai joined them.  He swept a scathing, truculent glare around the gathered group, and Ari felt resentment stir in his guts.  He felt like a boy, still needing disciplining by his elders.
    Perhaps in defiance of the surly quiet, he asked, “How can there be a Temple of Marek in Addah?”  Both Loren and Rodge stopped mid-bite to stare at him.  He never spoke in public unprompted.  Master Melkin didn’t seem the least disposed to