Page 117 - Folio Only

But he didn't. He didn't bolt, or announce his presence. The only reason
he didn't, however, was because at that precise moment, he inhaled a waft of
vapor coming from inside the grotto, and it changed him forever. 'Vapor' is
perhaps too strong a word for it. A delicate shimmer. You wouldn't notice it if
you didn't know to look for it, and why would you look? The vapor was at first
black, then white, then yellow, then red. It surrounded Ernozio. It found him.
Ernozio heard the most wonderful music. Serene, achingly beautiful.
Rhythmless but flowing, like the rippling of a river or the blowing of the wind.
It brought tears to Ernozio's eyes.

He first thought he was still sleeping, but the tree trunk he was leaning
against was too tangible to convince him otherwise. The Vapor was singing to
him, surrounding him, embracing him, telling him her secrets. Ernozio gave
out an involuntary shiver of ecstasy.

From inside the grotto there was a shout, followed by some grumbling;
something about an open lid letting steam escape, and someone to blame, and
a cracking sound, and someone weeping.

And the Vapor dissipated.

Ernozio was terrified. He had overheard some secret rite of some sort,
the punishment of which was “Certain and Symbolic Death Before the
Populace.” It was too late now. He couldn't announce his presence; they
would kill him. And he couldn't run; he would be overheard most certainly. So
he stayed hidden, motionless, on his back, for hours. The wind picked up, the
rusting in the cypress trees became loud, and Ernozio couldn't hear anymore
from the grotto. He stayed long after the sun had set, long after the crescent
moon began her slide lower in the night sky. After picking his way slowly,
slowly so as to make no noise, he made his way to his room at the edge of the
village where no one had seen him.

117