CHAPTER XXIII
				 PENITENCE

	I opened my eyes and looked around.  I was someplace strange and new, and 
I didn't care for it.  I sniffed the air and padded around, exploring my odd 
surroundings.  On three sides the place was surrounded by something that felt 
like rock, but was too smooth and straight.  Unnatural.  The last side, where 
the enterance to this strange cave should have been, there was an odd 
phenomenon that I'd never encountered before.  The air looked strange, and 
was hard and smooth to the touch, much like the other three sides.  Very odd, 
something that can be seen through but not passed through.  Even the water 
can be passed through.  I could think of nothing like it in my experience.  
Two strange creatures came and stopped in front of the strange barrier of 
air.  One of them was vaugely familiar, and then understanding came to me.  
These creatures were somehow connected to me being here.  Enraged, I lept, 
only to encounter the barrier again.  Dazed, I shook my head to clear it and 
tried to stand.

			 **********************

	I woke, and found that my reality picked up where the dream left off.  
Only now my hands were manacled, as well.  Great.  A Republican prison.  Just 
guessing, I figured that they were a lot harder to break out of from the 
inside.  
	"Ah, I see you are awake.  Very good, we can begin now."  I turned to 
see who had spoken.  A black-hooded figure sat before me, and I assumed he 
was a sorcerer. 
	"Begin what?" I asked.
	"Why, your rehabilitation, of course.  We must teach you not to 
pretend to godhood."
	"Come off it.  We both know that I'm no demon.  If I were, we'd 
probably be working together.  I know all about you Purifiers and your bloody 
sorcery."
	"Yes, you have shown indications of having sorcerous powers.  I've 
been assured that these powers have been neutralized.  That leaves us free 
to pursue your rehabilitation."
	"I don't need any 'rehabilitation'.  I already know I'm not a god, 
and I am NOT a deamon!"  The Purifier shook his head sadly.  
	"Denying it will get you nowhere.  Your powers are useless, now, and 
you can't escape from your Trueform.  So, if you aren't a deamon, what are 
you?  Surely you aren't trying to claim humanity, yes?"
	"I'm a leonoid.  I'm flesh and blood, just like anyone else."
	"And you just happened to be in the company of another, just like 
you?  I assume you have a good explaination for her, too?"  I jumped at him 
as far as the manacles would allow, growling and snapping like a wild thing.
	"You leave her alone!  Where is she?"  I demanded.
	"My, my, temper, temper.  You won't get anywhere acting like that.  
Your friend is elsewhere, being given the same course of treatment.  Not to 
worry, we don't intend to harm either of you.  However, we cannot continue 
to allow you to blaspheme by pretending to be gods.  You've done the 
Easterners incalculable damage by twisting their minds and perverting their 
hearts."  If I hadn't known better, I could have sworn that this man actually 
believed this nonsense.
	"We have done no such thing!  I told you, I'm not a deamon and I've 
never pretended to be a god!"
	"Oh, no?  Then perhaps you can explain why you were in one of the 
Easterners' pagan temples, right after we detected a surge in diefic--or 
rather, deamonic--power use?"
	"Our friend, a priest of the goddess Shani, teleported us there.  
Surely, you do not believe Shani is a deamon?"
	"I've never heard of her.  Is that your friend's name?  Perhaps your 
little goddess Shani will be more receptive to our treatment."  The hooded 
man stood, and stepped out of the cell, closing the door behind him.  "I'll 
be back again later," He informed me through the bars, "Do try to get some 
rest.  You look like you've been through the Torment of Judgement."  With 
that, he left me alone with my thoughts.  He said that they'd negated my 
powers, and it appeared he was telling the truth.  When I was enraged, I'd 
felt no hint of any power other than physical lying within me.  For once, I 
found myself wishing that I knew more about my powers and how to control 
them.  I wondered if this loss was temporary or permanent and how long it 
could be before my power would return.  
	"Look on the bright side," spoke the hated voice from beside me, "At 
least you still have me."  I turned to see my nemesis sitting beside me.  I 
managed a weak, mirthless chuckle.
	"Great.  Things weren't bad enough, now I have to deal with you, too?  
Whatever I did to deserve this, I hope I enjoyed it."
	"Relax.  I'm here to help.  If you want me to, that is."
	"I'm afraid I need help that's a little more substantial than a 
hallucination can offer."  My dark twin smiled.
	"I'll take that as the beginnings of acceptance." He held up a red-
outlined paw to forestall my protests. "No, don't worry about it.  We can 
talk more later."  He began to fade away.  "After all, you aren't going 
anywhere, now are you?"  With that, he was gone.  Having nothing else to do, 
I sat, and pondered my situation.  No inspiration was forthcoming, however.
	I woke with a start as I heard the rattling of a key in the door.  
Looking up, I saw, not the black robed figure I'd expected, but a timid 
young boy.  He noticed me stirring, and pressed himself against the wall in 
fear.
	"There is no need to fear.  I am not the deamon they say I am, and 
besides that, I am securely chained to the wall."  The boy didn't seem to 
understand what I was saying, but my tone was apparently soothing enough 
that he relaxed a little.  He placed a dish on the floor, and slid it toward 
me, careful to stay out of my reach.  When the dish was close enough, he gave 
it a last little shove with the edge of his foot, and then quickly retreated 
again.  I stretched as far as the manacles would allow, and inspected the 
dish.  It was partitioned down the middle, with water on one side, and some 
sort of ground meat in the other.  Well, I mused, at least they were planning 
to feed me better than Shalloc did.  That thought led to another, and I 
quickly inspected the food and discarded a suspicious looking yellowed-white 
tablet from the bowl.  Satisfied, I made short work of the food, and finished 
half of the water.  When I was thus somewhat sated, I returned my attention 
to the boy, who was doing his best to avoid it as he made his way stealthily 
toward the door.  The sound of my voice halted him for a moment.
	"Thank you." I said, and with a strange bleating sound, almost sheep-
like in tone, he fled.  Apparently, the boy was not an avid conversation-
alist.  I resumed my previous musings.  It struck me as very strange that 
these Purifiers, being sorcerers and having so many powerful mind-warping 
spells, would need to try and drug me, especially since my powers had 
abandoned me.  The more I thought about it, the stranger it seemed.  I fell 
asleep, still mulling it over.
	Sometime after I'd awakened, on what I took to be the next day, the 
black robed fellow returned, to once more attempt to convince me to "repent", 
as he put it.  I listened to him preach and prattle, and this time I applied 
all of my senses to determining anything I could about him.  To my surprise, 
he gave every indication of being exactly what he said he was, an honest man 
earnestly seeking to pursuade me from a perceived wrongful path.  I couldn't 
get it to make sense, no matter how I looked at it.
	"Suppose, for a moment, that you are wrong." I replied to his latest 
arguments, "And I am not a deamon.  How, then, could I prove this to you?  
Your mind is already set, and there is no question in your mind that I am 
what you say I am.  Think of this: If you were in my position, what would 
you do?"
	"I would repent, of course, and renounce myself, before all those 
whom I have wronged.  It would be the only just and proper thing to do."  I 
shook my head.
	"No, no, you don't get it.  Assuming that you were in these chains, 
you, a man, not a deamon, not a would-be god, but a plain ordinary man 
mistakenly imprisoned.  How could you prove yourself?  Where would you 
begin?"
	"That, deamon, is utter nonsense.  Only the guilty are ever punished.  
The Law is just and fair, and the Truth is all powerful."
	"You may believe that your law is just and fair, and Truth, yes, is 
powerful, but the instruments of the Law, those who carry it out, are but 
ordinary men, as fallable as you or I.  No matter how fair you believe your 
courts to be, as long as they involve human judgement, there will always be 
the possibility that the innocent are punished and the guilty will go free!"  
I was surprised to sense a momentary glimmer of hesitation in his manner.  He 
quickly shook it off, of course.
	"You will not tempt me with your clever words and forked-tounge lies, 
deamon.  The Law is the will of the People, the rightful rulers of the land 
and the executors of true Justice.  I suppose, deamon, it is only natural 
that you would wish us to come to your temples, to recieve your judgement 
instead of determining our way for ourselves.  But our great leader, Androjo, 
has put an end to that.  Now we mortals follow our own council, and only our 
peers may judge us."
	"And I take it elves and dwarves are not included or welcome in this 
glorious utopia?"
	"Nonsense!  We have done everything we can to assimilate them into 
the New Order.  The dwarves, who formed an uneducated underclass in our 
society, have been given a usefull position as the strength and backbone of 
our economy.  As for the elves, we offered them a place in society.  In 
response, they spread plauges and famine, poisoning our lands so that our 
crops wither and die, and our children fall sick.  They were offered a 
chance to dwell in peace, and they made their choice.  Our only recourse was 
to drive them from our borders.  Vandalism and treason cannot be allowed, 
after all."
	"Was it vandalism and treason to revolt, then, during the Famine 
Rebellion?"  This was a new thought, and it caught him off guard.
	"But... That was different!  We merely sought redress for the wrongs 
heaped upon us by an uncaring government."
	"Perhaps the elves felt they were doing the same.  IF they did these 
things at all, which I doubt.  It takes no magic to start a plague, or blight 
your crops.  These things have happened often enough in the past, haven't 
they?"
	"Of course.  But those were natural occurrences, and they passed.  
Why, even the creatures of the forest are starving, so long and terrible has 
our suffering been!"
	"The game is sparse because hungry farmers have depleted their 
numbers to fill the mouths of hungry children.  The rest of the animals 
sought safer, more peaceful lands to haunt.  There is no magic here.  The 
land is barren because you have ignored all traditional wisdom, and worked 
the land until it can support no life.  Again, this is no magic, no witchery, 
no deamonic intervention.  All of these were brought about by your own hands.  It is your 
own government, your sterile, godless philosophy that is to blame.  I..."  
The black robed man struck me across the face, knocking the words from my 
mouth.
	"Thou foul deamon of the darkest Hell, thou shalt not tempt me with 
thy blasphemy!  Your lies are glib, and your tongue very smooth.  A man of 
lesser faith might doubt after speaking with you, but my faith is strong.  
None may speak evil of the Holy State!" 'Holy State?' I wondered to myself, 
unable to respond to the insult of his daring to strike me as I would have 
liked to.  'What madness is this?'
	Aloud, I said, "I did not mean to offend you.  I know nothing of this 
'Holy State' you speak of.  I am, after all, an Easterner, and we know 
nothing of such things there."  The robed one closed his eyes and gathered 
his composure.
	"Of course, you are correct in this.  I should not have taken council 
of my anger.  I warn you, however, do not blaspheme against the Republic 
again.  As to your ignorance as an Easterner, I shall see to it that you 
have the opportunity to correct that.  You are, I presume, of sufficient 
learning to comprehend letters?"
	"I can read Eol Common, yes."  He nodded.
	"As I thought.  I will have the enlightened works brought to you.  
Surely, their holy eloquence will reach you if anything will."
	"I look forward to it."  Oddly enough, I did.  Rattling the fetters 
that bound me was a very boring way to pass the time.  "And speaking of 
enlightenment, I don't know your name.  How should I refer to you?"  He 
laughed.
	"I know better than to tell my name to one of your kind, deamon.  If 
you must, call me Penitence.  It is not my true name, and thus, you will gain 
no power by knowing it.  I believe our time for today has drawn to an end," 
How he could tell this was beyond me, for there was no way of telling time 
in that sunless pit, "I will leave you to think of your sins, and perhaps, 
to think of Penitence."  He left, chuckling to himself.  
	The time weighed heavily on me.  With no light but the dim, guttering 
light of a torch, set in the wall opposite my cell, the minutes seemed to 
stretch out into whole days in themselves, and I continually chafed at the 
knowledge of my captivity.  My muscles almost ached with the urge to move, to 
run and leap and hunt.  The only relief from the tedium and torment were the 
visits of Penitence, which I came to look forward to, despite my best 
attempts to the contrary.  Part of me realized that this was part of the 
attempt to break me, making me grateful to him for relieving the boredom.  
But that part was small and distant compared to the reality of the darkness 
surrounding me.
	"It doesn't have to be this way." My voice, huskier, more cruel, said 
from beside me, "You could be free in a heartbeat, if you wanted it."
	"Go away." I moaned, hating the sound of despair in my voice, "You 
are only a hallucination.  There is nothing you can do."
	"Oh no?  Ask your black-robed friend about the lillies.  Tell him 
Magra sends her regards."
	"What are you talking about?"
	"For that, you'll have to ask the Priest of State.  He'll know what 
you mean."
	"And be further convinced that I'm a deamon.  No thanks."
	"What harm could it do?  Think!  If I am speaking gibberish, then 
there is nothing to fear.  If I am not, then all you need do is accept me 
and you will be free!  Judge for yourself, is the risk worth it?"  Before I 
could answer, he was gone.  I resolved to put him from my mind, and ignore 
his offers.
	That proved to be easier to say than to do.  His words returned to 
my thoughts no matter how hard I tried to force them away, and the more I 
considered the dilemma he presented me with, the more I came to see that I 
had little choice.  And I needed to know, for my own sake.  Was he real, or 
only a remnant of the Mists, brought back by the misery of my situation?
	I delivered his message to Penitence, who turned pale at the mention 
of the lillies.  When I mentioned Magra, though, he turned a bright red.  I 
missed his choked answer, and sat, stunned, until he left.  My mind whirled 
with unanswered questions, and in the pit of my stomach there was an un-
familiar cold knot of fear.  I felt his presence next to me suddenly, and a 
chill washed over me.
	"How?" Was all I could think to ask.  He shrugged.
	"I am a part of you that you hide from yourself, the part that you 
locked away when you woke in this cursed land.  I have access to powers you 
don't even dream that you have.  Finding an uncomfortable memory from the 
Robed One's past was not difficult."
	"And you can get me out?  And Diana?"  I had to know for sure.  "How 
can I trust you?"
	"I am a part of you.  Would I lie to myself?" I snorted.
	"Why not, apparently I've been lying to myself all along, haven't I?"
	"True.  Let me put it this way, then.  What choice do you have?"
	"True." I allowed.  He stretched his arm towards me, once again 
offering his alliance.  I brushed him away.  "Not now.  I need time to 
think."  His face--my face--contorted in anger.
	"Then you shall have it in plenty!"  He vanished, and I wondered if 
my hesitance might not have cost me my chance at freedom.  I languished in my 
cell, and thought of Diana, and I wondered what price I might pay for my soul.