Chapter Six

Apollonia raced back to the valley, but even on a horse as fast as Diamond, she couldn't escape the fact that she had been gone far too long. Once she had crossed the bridge and entered the fortress proper, night had fallen and the guards had begun to light torches around the complex. Apollonia passed them all without comment and went straight for the stables.

Inside, Joelle was waiting. She stood against the wall, her arms folded, and watched as Apollonia entered sheepishly. She didn't even say anything as Apollonia began taking the saddle off Diamond –– she just watched calmly.

"You can say it," Apollonia finally said as she piled dry grass in Diamond's feed box.

"What do you mean?"

"You're going to harp on me for coming back late, aren't you?"

"I wasn't going to say that," Joelle said innocently. "But now that you mention it, it is a little funny, isn't it? What happened? I thought you were going to come straight back here."

"I took a detour," said Apollonia.

"You didn't go out and investigate whoever was across the lake, did you?" said Joelle, breaking her pose and approaching Apollonia with arms akimbo.

Apollonia shrugged. "I thought I might, but when I got there, he was gone."

"What is wrong with you?" said Joelle. "Why are you suddenly looking for trouble all the time?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"Of course you do! You keep getting into situations with Hylians! What about that one you said you threw off the bridge, but then you didn't, and ––" Joelle threw her arms into the air. "I can't even keep track of it all anymore. Is something going on?"

"I don't know, Jo," Apollonia said, slamming the stall door shut. "I can't explain it."

Joelle let out a sigh. "Fine," she said. "See if I care." With that, she stomped out of the stable and probably all the way to her room.

Apollonia sighed too, and let herself fall into the mound of hay in the corner. What was she doing? She didn't like lying to Joelle, but... she just kept on doing it. She was lying to everyone. Sure, she was Gerudo, she was bred to lie –– but it didn't feel right to keep deceiving her sisters like this. She knew she had to do something. But what?

…...

For two days Dyla thought about Apollonia, their conversation, and what she had done to him. Even as he went about his duty repairing shingles on the apothecary's roof, and his head was filled with the banging of his hammer on wood, he couldn't not think of her and what she had said to him.

The Gerudo –– the way they lived, and why –– fascinated him. He thought over the things Apollonia had told him. He could almost forget the absurdity of actually talking to a Gerudo in such a casual manner. And the kiss. He didn't know what he had been thinking. The spirit had just caught him, he supposed, and he improvised. More surprising was her reaction –– and what she did after that. Dyla persuaded himself not to think about that, though. Apollonia said that they shouldn't meet again, and she was absolutely right. The sting of her slap reminded him of that.

Still...

Two days after their last encounter, Dyla had finished his work for the day and was walking back from the apothecary, he paused in front of the old tavern near the Town Square. Though it was only just before evening, there were already several men inside. Dyla could see them through the double doors that had been propped open to let in cooler air.

You said you lived in the castle town, right? Why, if I lived there, I'd be hitting the tavern every night.

Dyla slung his pack over his back and went inside the tavern. The two open doors didn't help the atmosphere much; the air inside the building was stale and smelled of cheap wine. Through the dim light, Dyla could see a long bar at the back of the room, and a few wooden tables scattered around the rest of the space. The floor was stone, almost the same the street outside, and covered here and there with threadbare rugs.

The bartender, who was lounged against the bar fanning himself with a dishrag, straightened up when he saw Dyla. "Well, hello carpenter," he said. "Haven't seen you in here for a long time."

"I thought I'd stop in for a minute," said Dyla, approaching the bar. There was no place to sit at the bar, so instead he just dropped his pack to the floor and leaned like the other patrons were doing. There were three other men: Dyla recognized the nearest man as one of the market merchants, and the other the baker's assistant. The third, hunched over his drink at the far end of the bar, was too hidden for Dyla to identify. All three of the men were bigger than Dyla –– and a little taller, too. The merchant and the baker's assistant both looked over at him, but said nothing.

"Can I get you something, carpenter?" asked the bartender.

"Sure," said Dyla. He thought for a moment, trying to think of a suitable drink. He didn't like wine, nor ale, nor anything like that. "I will have... one milk," he finally said.

The merchant stared at him, then laughed. "Don't go too crazy, lad," he said, and smacked Dyla hard on the shoulder. The baker's assistant chuckled.

Dyla smiled too, as if he was in on the joke, but said nothing.

"Milk it is," said the bartender. He poured some of the frothy white liquid into an old canning jar and set it in front of Dyla. Dyla tasted the milk: not as fresh or as good as the kind he used to have back in Kakariko Village. But then again, no one could expect the bar to keep a cow in the back room.

As he drank, he listened to the baker's assistant speaking to the merchant about some issue the bakery was having. "All our wheat's coming in just fine, sure," he was saying, "but the Cuccos from the farm next to ours keep comin' in and eating it! And the farmer says it's not his fault what his Cuccos do!"

The merchant shook his head. "You think you have it bad –– well, I was supposed to get in a shipment of goods from down south, and the wagon was ransacked by a bunch of bandits! We could have lost the whole lot of it, if the soldiers hadn't gotten there in time."

"Pity," said the baker's assistant.

Dyla sensed a pause in the conversation –– a place where he could cut in. "Pardon me," he said, and both the men turned to look at him. "Any idea who the bandits were? They weren't... Gerudo, were they?"

The merchant seemed surprised by this. So did the baker's assistant –– and the bartender was listening now, too. "No, lad, they weren't; just some ruffians. Half of them are locked away now. For the love of Nayru, if it had been Gerudo, not only would we have lost everything, everyone would be dead, too!"

"Oh. Well, that's fortunate," said Dyla. "Speaking of Gerudo, you don't happen to know anything about them, do you?"

The merchant stared at him with a puzzled expression. "Are you mad, kid?"

Dyla didn't like being called kid, but he brushed it off and continued, "You know, if anyone's ever met one, or talked to one, or anything like that."

"Why d'you wonder a thing like that?" asked the merchant.

Dyla shrugged. "I don't know, I just ––"

"You're crazy, carpenter," the baker's assistant cut in. "Sure, plenty of Hylians have met a Gerudo before, but they're all in their graves now."

"Don't you know anything?" said the merchant. "Do you think they're real creatures, with real souls? They're banshees. That's how they can slaughter so easily."

"Is that so?" said the baker's assistant, raising his eyebrow.

"That's what I hear," said the merchant. "Of course I've never seen one personally. Then I'd be dead."

"They're not banshees," the baker's assistant said, shaking his head. "My brother-in-law saw one once, from way across their valley. They're women, real women. Of course, they're all women. There's no men, so they all lie with each other."

"In that case," the merchant said warily, "how do they keep from dying out?"

"They kidnap Hylian babies," said the baker's assistant.

Dyla nearly lost it –– he stifled his laughter by snorting into his milk glass. Was this really what the villagers thought of Gerudo? If only they knew how wrong they were.

"Something funny, lad?" asked the merchant, scrutinizing him with tiny eyes.

"Not at all," said Dyla. "I'm just wondering how everyone knows so much about the Gerudo when no one's met one."

"That's not exactly true," said a voice from behind them.

Everyone turned towards the man at the end of the bar, the one who had been slouching over his drink. He was wearing a brown cloak with covered his head and half of his face. He was looking at them now, and Dyla could see a deep brown eye peering out from the man's wrinkled face.

"What's not true, old man?" asked the baker's assistant.

"I've met Gerudo," said the old man. "Several of them, in fact. Contrary to popular belief, they don't always leave their victims dead. Sometimes they just scare them a bit." Here he lowered his hood, and Dyla could see that the man wore a grungy kerchief wrapped around his head, covering one eye. "Sometimes they take something from you," he said, pointing to the bandaged eye, "in exchange for your silence."

An uncomfortable silence had fallen over the bar. No one said anything until Dyla asked, "What happened?"

"A month or so ago," said the old man, "a band of those Gerudo women stole nearly all the fortune I'd amassed over the last decade. Came in and took it, and took my eye, too. I'm glad of it, too. It could have been my head."

The merchant, the baker's assistant, and the bartender all looked disgusted. "A bunch of harpies, all of them," said the merchant. "Someone ought to go into that desert of theirs and flush them out."

"You first," said the bartender.

Dyla knew he had had enough of this for one day. He pulled a few rupees from his pouch and set them on the counter. "This is fascinating and all, but I must be going," he said.

"Hey, come back anytime," said the merchant, "and maybe have two glasses of milk next time." They laughed.

"And watch out for those Gerudo!" added the baker's assistant.

Dyla felt nauseated as he left the tavern. Maybe it was from drinking milk on a hot day, or maybe it was because of what had happened to the old man. Stories about banshees and stealing babies was one thing when no one could back up their own wild accusations, but it was hard to deny something like a missing eye. Dyla tried to picture Apollonia the way she was when they had first met: cloaked in black and purple; furious, vicious; scowling at him and ready to cut his throat, only because he had wandered into the outskirts of their territory. Was that how the rest of the Gerudo were? Because Apollonia didn't seem like that now.

He pondered this as he returned to his house. Though he had promised he wouldn't, he desperately wanted to see her again. And he was determined to figure out a way.

…...

Nearly a week after the incident in the walnut grove, Apollonia prepared herself for a trip into the desert. She waited until dusk to leave. At night the desert air was cooler, and she wouldn't have the sun beating down on her as she made the long walk. The only downside to that, of course, was that she wouldn't be able to see as well where she was going. The desert got awful dark, and she couldn't bring a torch with her –– the wind would put it out in moments.

First she braided her hair, then wound it behind her head so it wouldn't blow free and become dry and tangled. Then she put on a long, airy shift that nearly touched the ground, and covered her head with her hood. Over all of that went her long scarf, pulled up over her mouth and nose to keep the dust out.

With a small pack of supplies and water, Apollonia went to the huge gate at the back of the fortress. Atop a nearby tower, a Gerudo waved at her, then disappeared from sight. In a moment, the gate shuttered, then rose from the ground, creaking, just far enough for Apollonia to slip underneath. Seconds later, once she was on the other side, the gate came crashing back down with a definitive slam. From here on out, there was no turning back.

Her feet sunk into the sand with each step she took, slowing her down. Using Diamond would have been impossible. Because of this, the trip across the desert usually took a whole night to complete. That gave Apollonia a lot of time to think.

She tried to keep her mind on productive things as she walked –– her sister Aelishae, for instance. They had trained for hours yesterday with the bow and arrow. Aelishae was only just learning, and Apollonia wasn't that good to begin with, so there were many mistakes and much helpless laughter as they practiced in the shooting range. Now Aelishae was tucked safely away in her bed, probably dreaming about slaying monsters.

Apollonia thought, too, about Joelle. Ever since their argument in the stables, she hadn't said much to Apollonia. Sure, she was still courteous –– in a cold sort of way –– but it pained Apollonia not to be able to tell her the truth about what had happened in the last few months. Well, that's the way it has to be. They were stubborn, the both of them, and Apollonia supposed that neither of them wanted to be the first to apologize.

The violet-black desert stretched out in front of her like an eternity. All she could do was keep walking. The winds blew in gusts, swirling up dust, so Apollonia was forced to squint her eyes, even though she could hardly see through the darkness anyway. Despite all her layers, sand still crept through her shift and into her shoes. Onward, just keep onward.

Hours later, long after Apollonia's mind had blanked and settled into the rhythm of the desert winds, she saw a ridge in the distance. A huge indeterminate shape rose up from it, but she knew it was the temple. Her heart always perked up when she saw it –– it meant that her long journey was was almost over.

The sun had begun to rise at the Eastern border of the desert as Apollonia reached the temple. Now she could clearly see the gigantic figure carved into the massive slab of rock that formed the front of the temple: the stoic-faced Goddess of the Sand, her hands held out as if beckoning. Guays flew in the air above her, cawing and warning each other of the intruder in their territory.

Here the desert winds weren't so terrible, so Apollonia lowered her hood and took a much-needed drink of water from her supply. Weary, she climbed the two sets of steps in front of the temple and entered the monumental structure with her eyes lowered in respect.

Inside the temple, away from the bright, reflective sand, Apollonia's eyes took a few moments to adjust to the darkness. Her ears roared, trying to cope with the sudden silence inside, away from the fierce desert winds. As shapes became clear, she was flooded with the memories of entering this temple hundreds of times before. Even when she was a little girl, Apollonia came here and explored while her mother reflected silently in the heart of the temple.

Her mother, Varsha, was around here somewhere. She had retired to the temple years ago to be an attendant, ever since she insisted she was too old to be of any use around the fortress anymore. Of course, Apollonia didn't believe that, but when Varsha had decided something, it was done. Now Apollonia set out to find her, feeling a little guilty that it had been so long since her last visit.

Deep in the temple, where the other great statue of the Desert Goddess resided, Apollonia saw a woman sitting cross-legged on a worn cushion, head tilted up toward the Goddess but her eyes closed. Her mother.

Apollonia approached, trying to step quietly, but the padding of her feet on the floor invaded the silence anyway. Varsha opened her eyes and turned. When she saw Apollonia, her face broke into a grin. "Lo," she said, and stood up from her cushion. Varsha's figure was thin and willowy from years of fasts and a lack of sun had drained some of the color her skin. Still, her amber eyes were bright, and –– though it was just a tiny bit blasphemous to do so in front of the Goddess –– she went over and embraced her daughter tightly.

"Sorry I haven't been around," Apollonia began, but Varsha waved away the excuse.

"From what I've heard, you girls have been busy," she said. "Don't worry one bit about it."

Varsha's hair hung loose behind her head, still deep red at the tips but turning silver and white at her temples. Unlike the other Gerudo, who always kept themselves stained and painted, Varsha had given up trying to dye her hair when the gray came. "What brings you here? Any news from the fortress? Oh, but let's go sit down somewhere. You must be tired."

Apollonia nodded gratefully. "Yes, please." The long walk always drained her strength.

Varsha bowed in front of the Desert Goddess before ushering Apollonia to the sleeping chamber at the back of the temple. There were several beds –– and dozens of pillows –– in this room, but right now Varsha was the only one using it. The two women rested on cushions while Apollonia told Varsha about everything going on in the fortress: their recent raids, Aelishae's progress at the training grounds, little things like that. Varsha nodded through all of it, uninterrupting, probably just grateful to hear a Gerudo's voice. It made Apollonia feel even more guilty –– Varsha was alone most of the time, so she didn't even have much to share with Apollonia short of I sat and prayed today. But that was her choice.

Once they were caught up, Varsha offered Apollonia a bed for a while so she could get some sleep, which she did. When she woke, it was midday. The good thing about being a Gerudo was that she didn't need much sleep to return to normal, and after a few hours, Apollonia felt refreshed and aware again.

Apollonia let her mother go about her duties, checking the various rooms in the temples for stray guays or rats and generally keeping everything tidy. In the meantime, Apollonia shuffled around the chamber of the Desert Goddess, too restless to sit and reflect like she was supposed to. She stared up at the Goddess, who, from Apollonia's vantage, seemed impossibly huge and disproportionate. If only she were able to get up to the upper floors of the temple, maybe Apollonia would be able to see the statue properly, but those passages were always locked.

Apollonia sighed and plopped down on a cushion. There was another reason she had come this far other than to visit her mother. She had tried to keep her mind off of it while she walked, but Apollonia couldn't help thinking of it now: the Hylian. The one she had vowed not to see again. Dyla, his name is Dyla. Start calling him by his name.

No, if she gave him a name, she might get too attached to him. Again and again in her mind she went over her stupid actions. Kissing him like that. Stupid, stupid, stupid. She couldn't talk to Joelle –– she was liable to blab to someone that Apollonia was fraternizing with a Hylian. Now, Varsha... she was so far away from the fortress that it might not matter too much. Who would she tell? The rats?

All Apollonia had to do was figure out how to bring up the subject. So far, her mind was a blank.

When in doubt, reflect. Apollonia crossed her legs, closed her eyes, and tilted her head up to the goddess just like she had seen Varsha do. Okay, Goddess. What should I do about this Hylian business?

She waited for a response, but there was nothing. Cautiously, Apollonia opened one eye. The Desert Goddess stood as silent as always, arms outstretched, palms up.

"Oh... forget this," said Apollonia, and went off to find her mother.

Varsha was at the front of the temple, sweeping out the sand that had accumulated just inside the door. She smiled as Apollonia approached. "What are you up to, Lo?"

"I was just... reflecting," said Apollonia. "Sort of."

"Well, that's a start," said Varsha, sweeping another pile of sand out the door. As she did so, a gust of wind came, bringing in another cloud of dust with it. Varsha sighed. "Now here's a job that will never be done."

"Can I help?"

Varsha considered this. "Perhaps if you get the sand out of the corners. That would be helpful."

Apollonia retrieved another worn-out straw broom from her mother's quarters and went to work digging piles of sand from the corners of the entrance chamber. The two women worked silently for a few minutes, neither of them looking at the other, focused on their tasks.

When it seemed like long enough had passed, Apollonia spoke up. "Mother? Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course."

"I was wondering... have the Gerudo always been so solitary? The whole lot of us, I mean."

"We live in the desert, Lo," said Varsha. "No one else in Hyrule does that."

"Yes, but has it always been that way? I suppose I mean..." Apollonia tried not to sound too invested in her question: "Have any of the Gerudo ever been friendly with, oh, I don't know, a Hylian or something?"

Varsha frowned. "I don't know why one would want to," she said. "They're Hylians." She spoke the word as though it tasted bad in her mouth.

"I know, I know. But we speak their language, don't we?"

"Perhaps they speak our language, Lo," said Varsha. "Did you ever think about that?"

As a matter of fact, Apollonia hadn't. "That's beside the point," she said. "Don't you think that in our thousands of years being here, one of us must have talked to a Hylian at some point?"

Varsha turned to look at her. "I think I know what you're getting at, Apollonia," she said.

Apollonia felt her heart drop to the bottom of her stomach. "You do?" she asked.

"Yes," said Varsha. "You're referring to Lord Ganondorf, aren't you?"

Apollonia hadn't given Ganondorf a single, solitary thought in ages. "Yes, I suppose so," she said. What?

Varsha sighed. "I knew that someone else would notice sooner or later," she said. "Sire is always speaking about the Hylians –– talking about allying with them or some nonsense. That's something his father would have never done."

This was the first Apollonia had heard of such a thing. "He's always taking about it?" she asked. "How do you know that, when you're all the way over here?"

For a moment Varsha seemed caught off guard. Then she said, "I was supposed to keep silent on this, I suppose, but Lord Ganondorf has been visiting the temple quite often. I don't know why anyone should care –– in fact, I think it's a good thing that our king takes such an interest in the spiritual ––"

"But what kind of alliance?" asked Apollonia. "Doesn't he know that we rob from the Hylians? They might not want to ally with us."

"I don't know," Varsha said wearily, and picked up her broom again. "You should trust him, Apollonia. He's our leader, and he knows what's best for us. Right?"

Apollonia could only nod at this, and went back to sweeping. Her mother, too, had fallen into silence. All the other Gerudo were enamored by Ganondorf. He's our leader... he knows what's best for us. Apollonia didn't buy it –– there was something strange about him. Even though they were nearly the same age, he acted older. Maybe it was because he had been idolized by hundreds of women since the day he was born. From what she gathered, not even the previous king –– her father, and Ganondorf's, and the father of dozens of the other girls –– had been so revered. Their father. She barely remembered the previous king; she had been so young when he died. She constantly had to remind herself that Ganondorf was her half-brother. So what? If she had any other brothers, she wouldn't think any more of them, either. What was he, after all? A man. And what was every other man a Gerudo had encountered? Useless.

All this fuming about Ganondorf had made Apollonia forget completely about Dyla, and she didn't think of him again until much later, after the work was done. She hadn't gotten an answer out of Varsha about whether Gerudo were ever friends with Hylians –– and Apollonia was too scared to try asking again. It was just too dangerous a thing to ask.

She would just have to consider the trip a bust, and return home answerless.

…...

That evening, Apollonia packed up her things, hugged her mother goodbye, and dressed once more for the desert. Her heart felt heavy as she made her way back to the front of the temple, and her feet dragged against the sandy floor.

As Apollonia walked down the hall past closed doors, she heard faint voices. One was a woman's; the other, a man's.

Apollonia's heart jumped. A man. Either it was an intruder, or Ganondorf. For a moment, Apollonia seriously hoped that it was an intruder. That, at least, she could fight off. But as she approached the end of the hall, she saw that one of the doors was slightly ajar. Apollonia slowed and then paused in front of the open door. She peered inside.

It was dark, except for the light of a single torch near the door. She could smell the fuel burning. Inside, a large, dark figure stood. Ganondorf, for sure. He was speaking to a smaller, curvier figure –– the woman. It took a moment for Apollonia to realize it, but soon she could tell from the Gerudo's shining violet eyes ,and hair more brown than red, that it was Zephyra. Apollonia hadn't seen her in ages, not since their last raid.

What were they both doing here?

Zephyra was speaking too low for Apollonia to discern any words. Then, suddenly, Zephyra's eyes flickered, and she turned to look at the door. Ganondorf did the same.

No doubt they saw Apollonia, but she was so wrapped up in drab cloth that they wouldn't be able to recognize her –– unless they could tell from just her eyes. Swiftly, Apollonia left the door behind and fairly ran the rest of the way down the hall.

It was a relief to enter the hot desert air and get away from the stuffiness from the temple, but even as Apollonia left the Goddess of the Sand behind, her mind was filled with questions. What were they doing there? How long had they been there? Were they speaking about the Hylians? Or maybe about the temple? Could they tell it was her, spying on them? No, she wasn't spying.

It didn't matter. Stop thinking about it, she told herself as she pulled her scarf tighter around her neck and started the slow trudge through the sand, all the way back to the fortress.

Desert Goddess, help me.