Belladonna

walk here," Yoshani added quietly. "That this place reflects a piece of my heart."

    And mine? Michael wondered, almost staggered by the power of wanting that to be true.
    Yoshani raised a hand and pointed. "There is the path. It is not much further now."
    For a few steps, the only sound was their shoes on the path.
    "Do most people know about the world's ... odd behavior?" Michael asked. "I've never met anyone in Elandar who knew about this." No one who had admitted it, he amended. But they all knew about people who had walked between the Sentinel Stones and disappeared forever. Crossed over to another landscape. That's how Sebastian and Teaser had explained walking across an ordinary-looking bridge and ending up in another part of the world. Did all the Sentinel Stones work the same way? How could these bridges have existed in Elandar for centuries without anyone but the Merry Makers remembering how they worked?
    Maybe people didn't want to remember. Maybe it's time for people to remember once again.
    "It is not odd behavior, Michael," Yoshani said. "It is the nature of Ephemera." He stopped walking and stared at the land in front of them. "And no, most people do not understand our world. They are protected from its nature — and their own — by the bedrock of the Landscapers' hearts. But because they have lived in the part of the world that was most shattered by the war between the Dark and the Light, there are many people here who understand the truth."
    "And what is the truth?"
    Yoshani turned and placed a hand on Michael's chest. "That no matter how much you know about the world and its vastness, the only landscapes you can truly see are the ones that resonate with your own heart." He stepped back. "Come. The border is at the end of that path."
    A shiver went down Michael's spine. He'd met Yoshani a few minutes after he crossed the bridge into Sanctuary, and had trusted the man on sight. But when he'd explained his purpose, something had flickered in Yoshani's dark eyes. That flicker hadn't altered his trust in the man, but it did worry him — especially after Yoshani explained that he'd have to cross over to another part of Sanctuary in order to continue his journey.
    Now the border — and another piece of the world — was at the end of the path. At least there was comfort in knowing he wouldn't be leaving Sanctuary just yet.
    "What's that?" Michael asked when they reached a statue of an otterlike being standing upright and wearing an open, full-length coat or robe. The top of the statue reached his chest, which reminded him of the Merry Makers because they stood at about that same height. And even though the creature looked benign, seeing something else that looked humanlike but wasn't human made him very uneasy.
    "That is a River Guardian. They built their homes in the face of the gorge and have tended the River of Prayers for as far back as their race has memories. Their magic is very powerful and has become part of the currents of the river, even beyond the landscape they call home. Just stay on the path and walk past the statue. That will take you to their part of Sanctuary."
    Michael hesitated. "Can you come with me?"
    Yoshani studied him. "I can accompany you a little further on the journey if you like."
    "I would like. Very much."
    Yoshani smiled, "Come then." He walked past the statue and vanished.
    Michael hurried after Yoshani, not wanting to get lost or left behind. But when he passed the statue and found himself in another part of Sanctuary, he forgot about his companion and the reason for this journey. Forgot about everything because the river pulled at him, the clash and harmony of its songs commanding all his attention.
    Yoshani grabbed Michael's arm to keep him from moving closer to the rushing water. "This river runs through many landscapes and, even here in Sanctuary the banks are not always safe."
    Power, Michael thought as he stared at the river. He'd never felt such a powerful flow of water. Some' parts of it looked tame and no deeper than an easily waded stream, and the dainty waterfalls that spilled from small slate islands were restful to the eye and heart. But the rest of it ...
    "It's a battle," he whispered, his eyes drawn to the places where the current seemed to fight itself, and the speed of the river mesmerized him until the lure of becoming part of it was almost irresistible.
    "Michael."
    He still couldn't take his eyes off the river, was almost deaf to everything except