ARIADNE KNEW THE MOMENT of Phaedra's death; it howled through her like an icy wind, chilling in its finality. Strangely, she did not feel grief, only a vast sense of relief. At last the threat to her family and her kingdom was at an end. She could relax her lonely vigil. Exhaustion crept up on her then, making her limbs feel like iron, but she could not give into it, not yet. Not until she knew Theseus was safe.
Biting her lip, she pushed herself to her feet. People still milled about the great hall, huddled together in frightened knots, speaking in fearful whispers of dark sorcery and witchcraft. "But the Lady will protect us," one woman was saying to another. "She drove the witch out."
"Do you truly think so?"
"Of course."
She wanted to weep. Such confidence they had in her power to work miracles. They would never know how close she had come to failing. Her power had almost not been enough. Only luck had prevented Phaedra from turning her wrath upon the helpless townsfolk instead of her. You will never know how close you came to death this night, Ariadne told the woman silently, and shuddered.
A hand on her shoulder made her start. "I think you'd better sit down." Pyrrha ordered quietly, but with a commander's implacable tone. "You're white as a sheet. Healing Amnerion can't have been easy. You need to rest."
Ariadne allowed herself to be led to a chair. She slumped gratefully into it. Pyrrha sat next to her. "I know I don't have to say this, but . . .thank you for saving Amnerion. If I had lost him . . ."
"I know." Ariadne laid a soothing hand on the other woman's shoulder. "Believe me, I know. Theseus . . ."
"You love him, don't you?"
"He is the other half of me."
"Then why don't you—" Pyrrha halted, blushing crimson. "I'm sorry, it's none of my business. Sometimes my mouth runs ahead of my brain."
"Marry him?" Ariadne finished. "It's a fair question. But . . .a marriage not based on trust is no true marriage at all. After what I have done, Theseus no longer trusts me."
"But Amnerion told me you had no choice, it was the will of the gods that you leave him then." Her friend protested. "You made a great sacrifice."
"Yes. But I shouldn't have been the one to do so."
Pyrrha snorted. "Men! They think they hold the monopoly on sacrifice! Let a man do what you did, they'd fall all over themselves calling him noble and a hero. But let a woman sacrifice herself . . .Someone ought to break a sword over his royal head. Maybe then he'll see sense."
"Maybe I'll try it."
"Try what?" Amnerion asked, sitting down beside Pyrrha. Ariadne was pleased to note his color was much better.
"Breaking a sword over certain people's heads." Pyrrha answered.
"Not mine, I hope. I've had just about enough for one night."
Pyrrha looked horrified. "I'd never do such a thing to you!" Then she added slyly, "Not right away, anyway."
"Thank you so much, beloved. I'm locking your sword in a chest when we're at home." He growled. "Speaking of thanks . . ." he turned to Ariadne.
The Priestess-Queen held up a hand. "Don't please. It is I who owe you an apology for Phaedra ruining your wedding. If I had acted sooner—"
"Don't be ridiculous!" Amnerion scolded. "Her actions were not your fault. She chose her own path, as did we all. You are not responsible that she chose wrong. Besides, I haven't been to a wedding yet where there hasn't been some kind of brawl. Last one I was at, centaurs carried off the bride. Now there was a real disaster! So I'd say this one was almost . . .ordinary."
Before Ariadne could reply, she heard a familiar voice call, "Amnerion! You're all right, thank the gods!"
Theseus came up to them, a look of profound relief on his face. He clasped Amnerion in a warrior's greeting. "You don't look that bad. She told me she had killed you."
"She was mistaken. Thanks to Ariadne." Amnerion told him grimly.
Theseus turned to face her, his aqua eyes shadowed with regret. "Ariadne . . .Phaedra's dead. She threw herself off the Rock. I couldn't stop her. I'm sorry."
"Don't be. She chose her own death. The woman that died tonight was not my sister. The Phaedra I knew died long ago, when she first gave herself to dark magic." Ariadne whispered softly.
Theseus nodded. Then he turned to Amnerion, "Well, this isn't quite the wedding we'd planned, but at least we're still here to celebrate it, gods be praised. And now, I think we've delayed your wedding night long enough. So why don't you . . .retire? Ariadne and I will handle the rest of this mess."
Amnerion grinned. "That's the best suggestion I've had all night. Right, Pyrrha?"
"Quite." The warrior smirked. "Good night, you two. Pleasant dreams."
Amnerion picked his wife up in his arms and began to walk toward the stairs. "Amnerion, what are you doing? Put me down!" she sputtered.
"Not yet."
Laughter echoed down the stairs, as they ascended to Amnerion's quarters.
Ariadne watched them go, a wistful smile on her face. Then she turned to Theseus. "Did Phaedra . . .say anything before she died?"
"Yes." He nodded grimly. "Something about the Dark Lady's curse falling on the city. Typical priestess nonsense. She lost her powers, after all."
Slowly Ariadne nodded. Yet his words did not reassure her. She knew the power revenge could hold, even after death. Then she shook her head. She did not have the strength to worry about it now. She turned to go.
Theseus caught her arm. "Did you know what she was, Ariadne?" he demanded, anger making his voice rasp. She only nodded mutely. "Damn it, woman, why didn't you tell me? She threatened my kingdom, my friends! I should have known. You could have said something!"
"It was not your problem."
"Poseidon's Holy Trident!" he swore. "A dark sorceress takes up residence in Athens and you say it wasn't my problem! How by the gods grace can you be so—" Then it hit him. "Lady's Eyes, you were trying to protect me from her!"
She looked at him then, and in her eyes burned the same fiery passion that had enabled a young girl to defeat the rampaging monster Minotauros. "My family has caused you enough trouble, I did not want you to have to deal with Phaedra as well. Besides, there was little you could have done to stop her before tonight. She lost her powers because she revealed what she was before witnesses, a circumstance that would have never occurred had you not broken the betrothal contract. I did not know what she was until I scryed deliberately for the taint of dark magic, which I did only after Alethea was nearly killed."
"Phaedra was behind that?"
"Yes. It was she who put the idea into Alethea's head to go look for treasure in those caves. She did it to strike back at you and at me as well."
"And you never told me! Did you think I was incapable of protecting my own daughter?"
"Against a physical threat, no. Against dark magic, yes. You have no defense against it, Theseus, any more than most other mortals. You were not initiated as I was, taught to battle the arcane, you do not possess the Power I do. She would have seized control of your will in less time than it takes to breathe, and once captured she could have made you do—anything. Do not make the mistake of thinking she was soft and helpless, for she possessed Power nearly as great as my own, and she would not have scrupled to use you that way if she had to. The best way to protect you was to keep you unknowing, and shielded, so she could not work magic on you. I did what I had to, what I felt was right."
"Ariadne, Ariadne. Don't you realize that you cannot protect me from everything, no matter how much you wish to? You can't be the guardian for the entire world, no one can. Little goddess, you are only mortal."
"I know. But I can't help myself, any more than I can grow wings and fly. It is something I was born with, like my Gift of empathy. I failed with her, don't you see? I was blind to the truth until it was too late. I allowed her to become what she was! And I could not let you pay for my mistakes!" she whispered, unaware of the tears that trickled down her face. She was so tired. So tired of fighting. She wanted to close her eyes, to sleep, to drift away. A gray mist rose before her eyes, enfolding her in its warm coils.
"Ariadne!" Theseus caught her before she toppled to the floor. "Father of Storms, what's wrong with you?" He cradled her close, feeling frantically for a pulse. He found it, and gasped in relief. It was strong and steady. She was sleeping deeply. Exhausted, he thought. She saved Amnerion with her Gift and used all her strength doing so. And then he had returned and started an argument with her when she could barely stand on her feet. Gods, I am an insensitive bastard. I let my pride get the better of me. Amnerion was right. Someone ought to beat me senseless.
Gently, he brushed a lock of hair from her head. Then he mounted the stairs, making his way to the marble suite of rooms set aside for Ariadne's use. Shoving open the door, he entered. Alethea was already asleep, sprawled on the bed. He carefully moved his daughter over and laid Ariadne next to her.
For long moments he remained staring down at them. How vulnerable they looked, how peaceful. He ached suddenly to join them. But he sensed that Ariadne was not ready, not yet. But soon . . .he kissed her gently, and whispered, "Sleep well, my love."
* * * * * *
Ariadne woke the next morning to a lark singing outside her window, and Alethea's face peering at her from a tangle of bedcovers. "Good morning, Bright Eyes. Did you sleep well?"
"Sort of." The child yawned. "Mama, will Uncle Amnerion be all right? He won't die, will he?"
"No, little one. My magic healed him. He's healthy as a horse." Ariadne hastened to reassure her.
"Good. I hope that when I grow up I have magic like yours, magic that helps people, not the bad kind, like Aunt Phaedra's." the little girl stated firmly. "She was mean. She hurt Uncle Amnerion for no reason. I hope Papa caught her and punished her good for what she did. I wanted to help, but Hylo wouldn't let me. She made me go to bed instead."
Thank the Goddess for that! Ariadne thought. The last thing she had needed last night was Alethea underfoot. Thank goodness Hylo looked out for her, because Ariadne had been in no shape to do so after bringing Amnerion back from the brink of death. "Why don't you get dressed, and then we can have breakfast?"
"All right. Then can we go down to the beach? Let's have a picnic!"
"That sounds like a very good idea." Ariadne said brightly, secretly relieved that she had an excuse to get out of the palace, for there was less chance of running into Theseus that way. Coward! A small voice taunted. She winced, but knew she was not up to another confrontation today. Her nerves were still raw from the last one. It was better to let his temper cool before she sought him out. You'll have to face him eventually. You can't avoid him forever.
Suddenly Alethea said, "Mama, what did happen to Aunt Phaedra? Did Papa put her in prison?"
"No, he didn't. You see, she fell off the Rock before he could do that. She's dead, sweetheart."
"Oh." The child was silent for a long moment. Then she burst out, "I'm glad she's dead! Now she can't hurt anyone any more." Her eyes were very bright. "Am I bad for saying that?"
Ariadne hugged her. "No, no, love. Though it's true you shouldn't want people to be dead. But I understand. Your aunt was very evil, and she hurt a lot of people. But that's over. She'll never hurt you again."
"Will the gods punish her then?"
"Yes, I imagine she will be judged and sentenced for the crimes she committed in life. The gods will give her the afterlife she has earned, of that I am certain. Perhaps she may learn from it and be a better person in her next life."
Alethea snorted. "That'd take a miracle!" then she wriggled out of her mother's arms and continued dressing.
Ariadne smiled wryly. I wish she was wrong, but somehow I think she's right. Phaedra's deeds in this life were so bad that it may take her several to balance the scales. Just then she recalled Theseus's words. She cursed the city, saying the Dark Lady's hand would fall upon it.
A sudden frission of fear crawled up her spine.
She knew that curse, it was an ancient one that used the person's own life force to fuel it and give it power. It fed on the revenge and hatred of the person casting it, and it took on a life of its own, even after the caster's death. She threw herself off the Rock. A willing death. A willing sacrifice. The curse has been activated then.
There is nothing I can do to stop it. I can only wait, and see what form it may take. Then I must deal with it as best I can. But at least I can warn Theseus. I don't want to deal with this alone. Not this time.
"Stay here a minute, will you, Alethea? I'll be right back. I have to tell your father something important." She left her quarters at a dead run.
* * * * * *
They did not have long to wait. Within a week the nature of the curse had manifested. It did not take the form of fire, flood, or violence. No natural disasters occurred. It came in a form that was unseen, a form that was almost impossible to fight against.
For Phaedra had brought the plague to Athens.
The Red Death, as it was called.
It swept through the city like wildfire, indiscriminately striking the young, the old, the healthy. It began with a fever that sapped most of the body's precious water, and then the afflicted broke out in a red rash on the chest and face. The throat swelled and closed, making it nearly impossible to swallow. The fever brought delirium, convulsions, and at last death. All of those symptoms were treatable in and of themselves, but it was the speed of the disease that defeated the healers. It could kill within three days or the patient could linger for three weeks. Most it killed swiftly; those that did not succumb at once had a good chance of surviving. But no known herb or remedy had yet been found to halt the disease once it had begun, and there were few that could combat it in time.
The only thing that could help those stricken recover fully was the healing Gift of the Mother.
At the first sign of the disease, Ariadne and Theseus sent Alethea to safety on Naxos, for that island had few visitors and once told of the plague, they closed their harbor to outsiders. Ariadne, knowing that even her Gift would not be enough to minister to the hundreds who would need it, summoned priestesses from Knossos, all of those most skilled in healing to her aid. Even so, she feared it would not be enough.
Day after day more and more fell ill, and the healers were hard pressed to keep up with the number of patients. They had started a field hospital in the warehouse district nearest the great river, for a source of fresh water was paramount to fighting the fever. Ariadne admitted no one near the ward that was not a healer, for the disease was most contagious at its early stages.
She set her acolytes to boiling willowbark tea, infusions of cherrybark for sore throats, salves of aloe, cornstarch, and honey for the rashes. She made them disinfect their hands and arms in a mixture of boiled rum and astringent herbs and drink an infusion of fern root and spirea seeds in hope that this would strengthen their bodies against the disease. Her precautions worked, for the most part, and few of her helpers fell sick. Those that did succumbed to a milder form and recovered sooner than others stricken. Ariadne ordered the infusion given to the rest of the populace who remained healthy.
Then she worked ceaselessly, filling buckets with fresh water, bathing fevered foreheads, rubbing salve into burning skin, coaxing a patient to swallow a mouthful of willowbark. She used her power on those she judged needed it most, careful not too spend herself too recklessly.
She ached in sympathy for her people's pain, for the trust they felt for her, for her own inability and fear to fight the plague as she wished. She kept careful hold on her empathic Gift, for she knew if she let her guard down, the emotions of all those suffering would be too much for her to handle.
But the effort of doing so gave her a blinding headache, one that she could not stop to treat, for there was always one more who needed her. Her hands became rough and reddened from constant immersion in icy water, her muscles were one long agonizing ache from kneeling at the sickbeds of patients, her eyes stung from the burning herbs of angelica, valerian, and mint that were kept lit to ease the breathing of the patients. She fought the disease with all the medical knowledge at her command, all the herbal remedies she had learned at the temple and those Cleate and Aglaia had taught her, and all the instincts she possessed from a lifetime spent with her healing Gift.
Even so, people died.
The first stricken passed so quickly she did not have time to mourn them, only to see that they were properly burned upon a pyre. But the next wave, those she tended from the beginning, who looked at her with such hope in their fever bright eyes, who faded despite all she could do, those tore at her soul. Worst of all were the children, most of who slipped into delirium within in a day and never awakened. Those she gave of her Gift unstintingly, until her acolytes had to drag her away by force lest she drain herself dry.
Her eyes were red from tears she dared not shed, for fear that once she began she would never stop weeping. Black despair hovered over her like a cloud, threatening to smother what was left of her determination and hope. Bitterly she cursed Phaedra, whose need for revenge and hatred had caused this to happen. "May you rot in hell for an eternity, sister mine!" she spat one day after losing one of Theseus's Falcons to death's cold embrace.
"I quite agree," said a gentle voice at her elbow.
Turning, she stared into the gray bearded face of Acteon, High Priest of Poseidon. "Acteon! What are you doing here?" Fatigue made her voice hoarse and muffled.
"I have a small Gift of healing, not much but enough to ease the pain of those I touch." He explained. "But I am an extra pair of hands and I will do what I can to help you."
"Thank you so much. I only wish I could do more." Tears glittered at the corners of her eyes.
"My child, we all do what we can. Remember, we cannot save everyone."
"I know. It is the first lesson a healer learns how to let one who is beyond help go. But I had forgotten. It is so hard, to watch them die like this. I was never so helpless in my life! I pray to the Mother to help me, but she is silent. Why do the gods let this continue?" she raged.
"I don't know. All we can do is hope it ends soon."
Or there will be no one left alive to mourn us.
Ariadne sighed, rubbing eyes that burned from lack of sleep. "Forgive my short temper, Acteon. I have lost my patience with all save the sick these days."
He patted her shoulder. "There is nothing to forgive. You are exhausted. Get some rest before you become sick as well."
She nodded and made as if to go to the small partition where the healers slept, but then she slipped into another ward when his back was turned. She could not bear to tell him that she was unable to sleep, for when she closed her eyes she dreamed of people calling her, faces of those who had died sobbing and pleading with her to save them, arms reaching out to grab her, shrieking of broken promises. Far better to work than to walk through her nightmares, no matter how weary she was.
The one thing she had to be grateful for was that those she loved most had not yet been stricken with the disease. Mercifully, she had been spared that. But she missed Pyrrha's quick laugh and Amnerion's teasing grin. Most of all she missed Theseus's quiet smile, and the way his aquamarine eyes would light up in amusement, the way his arms had held her as they had danced the night of the wedding. She wished desperately that he were there so that she might share her fear with one who did not expect miracles, who did not see her as a priestess, but a woman. Yet she had made him promise that he would not seek her out, not until she was sure it would be safe. But oh, Mother, I am so weary of being alone. So weary of being strong. The people look to me for answers, for solace, and I can give them nothing.
Shivering, she gathered up her cloak and went to gather more water.
One week later Acteon came to her with an excited look on his face. "Ariadne, I think I've discovered an infusion that lowers the fever rapidly," he told her excitedly. "I've been experimenting with adding goldenrod and valerian in measured doses to willowbark, and those who are not too far along throw off the effects of the fever in a matter of hours!"
"Acteon, you're a genius!" Ariadne cried, and smiled for the first time in weeks. "Tell me the proportions of these herbs, so I can get the acolytes to mixing them immediately."
With Acteon's discovery, it seemed as if the Red Death had lost its grip. Over half of those infected recovered given the infusion in time. It was almost enough to make her believe in miracles.
Until a young acolyte came to fetch her, as she fed water to a sick elderly lady. "My Lady, come quickly, it's Acteon. He collapsed moments ago, I think he's caught the plague."
Ariadne sprang from her seat with a movement so swift the boy saw only a blur of green. "Tend this patient for me!" She snapped. "Where is he?"
"The left hospital ward, Lady."
Ariadne did not bother with more words, but ran as if pursued by demons. There could yet be time. Surely the disease is not too far along. Infusions of the goldenrod mixture will have him right in no time.
Yet a shadow of foreboding clung to her.
When she reached the High Priest's bedside, he was already burning with fever, his skin dry as parchment. His breath rasped in his throat, and she saw to her dismay that the rash had already broken out, covering his chest with red splotches. A sick dread filled her, for she knew with certainty that this was not the early stage of the disease.
He must have fallen ill days ago and never bothered to say so. He was too busy tending to others that he refused to tend himself.
In a voice cracked with grief, she shouted, "Where's that damn goldenrod mixture? I want it here yesterday, blast it all!"
A quaking acolyte pressed a bowl into her hand. She seized it and began trying to get him to swallow tiny portions of it. Even then she knew it was too late. But her determination would not let her quit. She turned the full force of her Gift on him, the fever lessened for a day, then flared back up.
She remained by his side for three days, bathing him with icy water, coaxing him to drink her mixtures. He remained sunk in a deep sleep, never rousing. As she worked, she begged him to fight, to live. "Don't leave me, please. I need you too badly. You must live." Over and over she pleaded with him until her voice was gone, and then she begged with her eyes. To no avail. She sensed the thread of his life was dwindling.
At last he opened his eyes. "Ariadne, child, it is enough. You must let me go."
"Acteon, no! I can give you more medicine. My power will heal you."
"It is too late for that. You and I both know it. I had caught the fever several days before, I knew it but I told myself I could wait one more day to treat it. There were so many others . . . I misjudged the speed of the disease. There is nothing more you can do. I am so tired. I have lived a full life, now my god calls me home. I can see him there, beside me. He waits for me. I am not afraid." His eyes seemed to see through her.
"Acteon, don't go!"
"It is my time. Only your love binds me here. Release me, Ariadne. Let me complete the bargain."
"What bargain? Acteon, I don't understand!"
"You will." He smiled gently. "Promise me that you will marry Theseus. He needs you. Don't let pride keep you apart. Not like I did with one I loved, long ago. Promise me!"
"I promise."
"Good. Now bid me goodbye."
She bent and kissed him. "Go, my friend. May the last embrace of the Mother welcome you home."
Acteon smiled. Then his eyes closed.
For several moments she remained staring down at his still form, her mind was a seething mass of rage, sorrow, and guilt. "What did he mean, complete the bargain? What bargain?"
"The bargain he made with Poseidon." Came a quiet voice. "Actually it was with Zeus, but it really doesn't matter."
She spun around. "Hermes!"
The Master of Shadows smiled sadly, his amber eyes filled with pity. "I'll try and explain. Hecate was very angry at the death of one of her most powerful servants, even though Phaedra betrayed her. She demanded that a death from a worshipper of either Dia or Poseidon be given her to balance the scales. She wanted Amnerion, but Dia refused. They brought the quarrel to Zeus. While they fought, the plague raged unchecked. The rest of us were forbidden to interfere, by Zeus' direct command. At last Poseidon could bear it no longer. He agreed to Hecate's terms, but only if the follower was willing to give up his life in exchange for the cure to the Red Death. He asked many of his priests and priestesses. Only Acteon agreed."
"And you let him?"
"It wasn't my choice. I'm sorry."
"A damn lot of good that does! All this suffering, all this death, and for what? A goddess's pride and need for revenge!" Ariadne glared at the god, nearly beside herself with rage.
"We had no choice. The Balance must be kept. You know that."
"Damn the Balance! And damn you too!"
It was too much. All of her pent up anger exploded from her. Her hand cracked across the god's cheek like a whip.
Hermes remained unmoving, the mark of her hand livid on his skin.
Only then did she realize what she had done. Horrified at her temerity, she began to speak.
He waved her apology aside. "You can hit me again if you feel like it. You've a right to be angry. He was your friend. If I could bring him back, I would."
"Why can't you?"
"I can't bring back a soul who has willingly died. There are Laws even gods must follow. I may break one or two minor rules on occasion, but even I won't tamper with the Balance." He sighed.
"Why are you here, Shadow Master?"
"To tell you of the bargain. And to help you tend your patients." He grinned boyishly. "In case you haven't figured it out, I have a soft spot for mortals. You in particular."
"But—but what about your oath of noninterference?" she stammered.
"That was only while Hecate struck her bargain with Poseidon. It doesn't count for now."
"But won't the others be angry with you? Won't you be in trouble?"
"Probably." He shrugged. "I'm used to it. Zeus will forgive me. Eventually. He always does."
"You don't have to—" she began.
"Yes, I do. I don't like it when people suffer like that. I would have spit on Hecate's bargain. It won't be the first time I've interfered in mortal affairs. And it won't be the last. So, tell me what we need to do. Time's flying."
Ariadne nearly choked. "You're a god! Don't you know?"
"Healing's Dia and Apollo's line. I'm the god of thieves and messengers, remember?" Hermes reminded. "Think of me as your new acolyte."
"I—all right. Thank you, my Lord." Ariadne managed to say. "Here's where we keep the infusions of goldenrod . . ."
Once she got over the shock, she found that Hermes was a wonderful assistant. He was tireless and possessed of endless patience. His innate compassion helped as much as the medicines in making the patients recover. Within a day half of those sick had recovered completely. Most of those had been under Hermes care. With their workload cut in half, Ariadne sent most of her acolytes home.
That was when the god told her in no uncertain terms to get some rest. "You haven't slept right in weeks. Now go to sleep. I can watch the rest of the sick. And don't worry about the dreams. You won't have any. Now do as I say."
Ariadne obeyed, falling into a deep and dreamless sleep the moment her head touched the pillow.
When she awoke, she felt as refreshed as if she had slept several weeks. Upon visiting the wards she discovered all her patients recovered and returned to their homes. Hermes leaned nonchalantly against a wall, whistling cheerfully. "I speeded things up a little," he admitted. "Hera was starting to nag."
"Thank you."
"What are friends for?" His amber eyes twinkled merrily. "Sleep well?"
She nodded. Her eyes took in the empty beds and she realized for the first time that it was truly over. They had beaten the plague. Acteon's sacrifice had not been in vain. She could go home at last. She began to cry.
Hermes wrapped his arms around her, holding her until the storm of grief had run its course. He held her for a long time. At last she managed to get hold of herself. Sniffling, she blinked up at him. She was surprised to see his eyes were wet also.
"All right?"
"Yes."
"Good. I have to be going. Athens is safe again." He smiled at her gently. "It's time you went home. There's someone waiting for you there who's very anxious to tell you something. Something you've waited a long time to hear. Farewell, little Ariadne." His form began to blur. "For now anyway!"
Then he was gone in a sparkle of golden light.
But his golden laughter lingered in the air for days, and forever after all those who came to that hospital claimed to hear it, and it was considered a blessed place. Ariadne named the hospital Acteon's Rest. She was certain Hermes would understand and approve.
Thanks everyone who has read this and left me reviews!! Next chapter will finally see Ariadne and Thesues reconciled.