Torrent works in Double Bladed Axe, the adventure shop of the Labyrinth Market. He dresses like all the hired heroes in billowy white sleeves, tight leather tunic, and leggings cut on the bias to show off muscles. Everyone can see he's a hero, everyone but his daughter.
       "I've got to leave," Torrent tells the owner. "To check on my daughter."
       The owner takes down a leather pouch labeled Manticore Labyrinth. "Gotta fix the safety feature on this."
       "I can be back in an hour." Torrent wads up a parchment price list, realizes what he's done, and tries to smooth it out.
       A damsel in embroidered gauze enters the shop. She glances at the Greek palace decor, the marble columns, the fresco of a minotaur. She sniffs and leans across the counter to study the leather pouches hung on pegs, each pouch labeled with oak gall ink. "I'll take the Dragon Labyrinth," she says. She slaps a handful of Libra coins onto the marble counter. "But I want to try it out first, and I want a hero to rescue me. Make that two heroes. I've got my own heroes at home, of course."
       "Of course, of course," Torrent's boss assures her. He's a big bald man who seems to inflate whenever a rich customer walks in. The heroes joke that someday he'll burst, scattering gobbets of poison through the shop. He hands her a leather pouch.
       Embroidered Gauze upends the leather pouch. The contents clatter onto the marble floor, converge, and grow into the mouth of a cave. The damsel steps through and disappears. Her honeysuckle perfume lingers in the shop.
       "Torrent and Shadow Blaster," snaps the shop owner. "Give her ten minutes and go in after her."
       "My daughter stomped out this morning," Torrent tells the owner, desperate enough to admit a private worry. "I'm not sure where she went."
       "See that sign above the labyrinth pegs?" the owner asks. "The one that says 'Safe Adventures'? The one you signed a contract to guarantee?"
       Torrent doesn't answer. He knows what comes next.
       "If you go out that door, you'll never see that sign again. I'll find another hero."
       Torrent pays three librae a week to rent a tiny house. No other shop needs a hero, so he can't afford to give up this job.
       The shopkeeper bustles out to the back room with the Manticore Labyrinth.
       "Come on, Shad," says Torrent, "If we impress the customer, maybe Old Puffer will let me go."
       Shadow Blaster re-laces her boot. "What happened with Jannazalia?"
       "She slammed the door and shouted, 'Sugar Plum is for babies.' What if she didn't go there?"
       "Your little girl growing up?" Shadow Blaster punches his arm, and they step through the portal into a gloomy cavern.
       "Zalie took two librae from my jar of dried peas," says Torrent. "If she needed money, she could have asked. The labyrinths at Sugar Plum don't cost that much for day use."
       Torch-lit passages lead in all directions. He inhales the air at the mouth of each passage and stops at the largest opening. "Customer went this way. Honeysuckle scent." He grabs a torch. As they jog along, he says, "Zalie wore taupe this morning. Always used to wear a royal blue gown with magenta and lime-green flowers. Hand-me-down, of course."
       "I've been through it all." Shadow Blaster checks the scent at an intersection, and they choose a winding passage. "My daughter spent years at Labyrinths for Wayward Teens, and she's alright now. Owns the Flat Rainbows shop."
       They navigate a checkerboard, stepping only on the squares with dragon eyes. Torrent shivers. "Labyrinths for Wayward Teens. They named that shop to mock parents. Zalie swore she'd never go in there."
       "How long ago was that, Torr?" Shadow Blaster's grin animates the wrinkles around her eyes and down her cheeks. "She'll be fine."
       Torrent shrugs, miserable. "She's only twelve."
       They rope up and jump over a chasm, one after the other. "How did Embroidered Gauze get across this?" Torrent asks.
       Shad coils the rope and slings it over her shoulder so it slashes between her breasts. "The artificer set traps to go off whenever a hero approaches. He doesn't like heroes."
       They follow the scent of honeysuckle, ignoring blind passages, dodging vicious knives, kicking aside broken skulls and melted armor, and leaping on wet boulders to cross a raging underground river lit only by algae on the cavern walls. They pause outside the central chamber to catch their breath and arrange their sweat-dampened sleeves so their muscles show to advantage. They each strike a heroic pose and enter.
       The dragon perches on a high crag, breathing fire and poisonous fumes. Below, the damsel sits chained to a rock, twiddling her thumbs. "What took you so long?" she demands. "I could get lung damage from this air. I'm not sure this is the right labyrinth for me."
       "We're sorry we took so long," Torrent apologizes. The last thing they need is a customer complaining about them.
       "And we'll carry you out," Shadow Blaster offers. "Usually, that costs extra."
       "Well, alright." She sniffs. "But it's got to be him."
       Torrent grunts and hoists Embroidered Gauze into his arms while Shad cuts through the chain. The customer's gown is scratchy, and Torrent wonders how she can stand wearing it. They can move faster with him carrying her, get back sooner, and then he can slip out and find Zalie.
       The dragon roars and lunges down at them, so they have to duck. Another delay. He shifts the damsel so he can draw his knife.
       "Wait," says Shadow Blaster. "If we slay the dragon, this labyrinth won't be worth a shilling. You go on, and I'll distract the dragon."
       So Torrent jogs back the way they came. The damsel squirms in his arms, and he almost drops her into the river. "You're soaking wet," she complains. "Is this sweat?"
       "Yes, it's sweat." He tries not to gasp. This has to look easy, rescuing the damsel.
       "You stink," she says.
       "Sorry." He doesn't dare argue with her.
       Shadow Blaster catches up with them just as they reach the portal, and they charge out triumphantly. It would be a grand display, but the owner is still in the back room. By the time he trundles out, inflating as he comes, the damsel has hopped down, and Shad is holding the pouch open for the labyrinth to compress and reenter.
       "I'll buy it," the damsel says. She and the owner go to the back room to arrange the details.
       "Can you cover for me?" Torrent asks.
       "Of course," says Shad. "Twelve is a difficult age, but she really will be OK."
       "Thanks. I owe you."
       Sugar Plum Confections is at the other end of the Labyrinth Market. Torrent pushes open the wooden door and then has to catch it as it bounces back. He tends to be too forceful. Or things are flimsy. A group of customer kids sit cross-legged in a circle around the owner. "I'm looking for Jannazalia," says Torrent.
       "I'm not a nursemaid," the owner snaps.
       "No, of course not," Torrent tries to soothe her. "She came here this morning, and I'm sure she's in one of your labyrinths." He isn't sure at all. He longs for the days when Jannazalia would cling to him and scream, "Don't go to Double Bladed Axe, Dehdeh." Now, she barely nods when he leaves. Things might have been different if he'd been able to stay home with her after his wife died.
       "She's not here," says the owner.
       "Maybe you were busy when she came in."
       "You thick-headed hero. I'll tell you in one-syllable words. Jan na za li a is not here."
       Torrent does feel thick-headed, doesn't want to know, but asks, "Where else would she be?"
       "Try Wayward Teens."
       Sweet Zalie would never go there, but he has to check, just to prove to himself that she isn't there. Wayward Teens is the only labyrinth shop he's never been in, but he's heard rumors from parents of older children.
       "Look, it's the Ancient Mariner," calls a mocking voice when he enters the dark shop.
       For a moment, he's back in his own teen years when he was never smart enough, brave enough, or good-looking enough. He shakes off the feeling and looks around.
       A dozen teens stand in small clusters, wearing dark colors in a smoky room. Zalie isn't among them, and Torrent's hands unclench. But she might be in one of the labyrinths.
       Three portals stand open: an arch made of peacock feathers, a Mobius strip wavering in midair, and a giant clock on a curving base that tips over and rights itself every five seconds. A girl not much older than Zalie totters out of the clock, her eyes blank. She shakes herself and sinks into a chair, grabs a beer tankard and downs it.
       "I'm looking for the owner," Torrent says. Torrent is a hero. He shouldn't be afraid of kids.
       A girl tilts her head toward a lanky youth about eighteen. He's sitting on a stool, hunched over a crucible, white-hot over smoldering coals. Acrid fumes, tangible and dark, rise from the crucible. Torrent approaches. "Hello?"
       The boy doesn't look up. He draws the dark fumes into strands with two fingers and a thumb, weaving threads of smoke around a ruby, capturing it in a tightening mesh. As each thread dissipates, he spins a new one, twining it around the gem, holding it captive.
       "I'm looking for my daughter." Torrent tries to keep the desperation out of his voice. "Is she here?"
       "Are you a customer?" the boy grunts. "Because otherwise, I'm busy."
       "Maybe I could buy something," he says, but he doesn't have extra money.
       The peacock portal shudders. Three kids stumble out, two boys supporting a third, his arms thrown over their shoulders, his body limp, his eyelids rimmed gold, chartreuse, and violet. His eyes bulge out, an unreal azure with no pupil, only a glint of light reflected from the crucible.
       "Someone help him," shouts one of his companions. "This new labyrinth is dangerous. We just went through the portal, and we found Degryn coming out."
       The teens stir and shift to look at the stricken boy. No one moves to help him. "We can't call his parents," someone says. "If they see him like this, the Labyrinth Council will shut down this shop."
       The other helper looks at Torrent. "You're a hero," he pleads. "You've got to go into the labyrinth and find out what ruined him. You've got to help him."
       Torrent squeezes his shoulder blades together, hears his muscles shift. "I'm here to find my daughter," he says. "I don't work here."
       The owner glances up from his work. The ruby has disappeared inside a cocoon of smoke strands. "I'll help you find your daughter," he says, "but first, you have to rescue this boy. And you can't report this safety glitch to the council." He sets the cocoon in a box, lifts an emerald onto the wire support, and wraps a dark strand around it.
       Torrent stands irresolute. "Everyone knows this shop is dangerous. Parents, the council, everyone. You should have been shut down years ago."
       The owner doesn't look up. "Your choice," he says. "You'll never find your kid without me."
       The empty pouch on the floor is labeled Peacock Splendor. Torrent approaches the iridescent portal. The arrogant feather-eyes dare him on, and he steps through the arch.
       A wrought iron screen blocks his way. He's been in enough labyrinths to know what to do, what it will cost him. On a table beside him, a golden bowl contains entry tokens. He picks up a teal ball. For a moment, he's holding hands with little Zalie, splashing into a deep puddle in a shower of rain, laughing.
       Torrent presses the ball through the iron mesh and it oozes out gray on the other side. He knows he's lost a memory but can't remember what. The gate swings open long enough for him to pass through, then slams behind him.
       The place reminds him of the Minotaur Labyrinth in Double Bladed Axe: gloomy stone walls, just enough light to see passages branching away. He regains confidence as he jogs along. Whatever happened to the azure-eyed boy, this is just an ordinary labyrinth, nothing he can't handle.
       A peacock with fanned plumage appears in a side passage. Torrent heads toward it. All the labyrinths work that way. He'll have to defeat it, appease it, or entice it before he can get to the center.
       The bird doesn't move as Torrent approaches. The head tilts down and away so it can look at him, an absurd bird with a bright blue tuft bobbing above its head.
       He stops a foot away. The peacock slowly twists its neck until it looks up at him with one eye, a lapis lazuli globe, and one glistening spark at the center. But there's no light source to ignite that spark, nothing to reflect. Torrent tries singing to the bird, but it doesn't move. He offers it a shilling, a crumb of bread, a piece of string, all the contents of his pocket.
       He draws his knife. He'll have to kill the peacock, even if it means ruining the labyrinth. If that's the only way to rescue the boy, he'll do it, and then he can find Jannazalia. The kids could have done it themselves. It shouldn't take a hero. He's killed harpies, manticores, demons, and vestigial roots, but killing a defenseless bird feels wrong.
       Best to do it fast so the creature won't suffer. He slashes right through the neck, jumping back to avoid the spray of blood. There is no spray of blood. A red streak follows the path of the knife, and the flesh and feathers knit back together. The peacock never shifts its gaze.
       Torrent laughs. The bird is no obstacle. He's been tricked by the glassy stare, tricked into believing he can't pass. He seizes the bird, a firm grip on both sides of its body, and lifts it as he would lift a chicken. Its feathers scrape the wall as he swivels to set it behind him.
       He takes two steps forward, and there in front of him is the bird, plumage spread to block his way, its bulging eye gleaming up at him. He can't move the creature, he realizes now, but feathers are flimsy. He parts the gaudy-eyed fan with his hands, knuckles together, pressing outward as he would open a curtain. He tries to step over the bird through the V-shaped opening, but his foot stops, the toes stinging as if he'd kicked a wall. He backs away.
       He remembers the eyes of the stricken teen, and now he knows what to do. He has to trade away an eye to continue. Sacrifice labyrinths are illegal in the Labyrinth Market, but gamblers and adventure seekers foster illicit commerce. Does the shop owner know what's in this labyrinth? Evidently not, since he wants Torrent to fix the problem.
       Torrent would gladly give an eye for his daughter. He slices off the tip of a tail feather, holds the eye in his palm for a moment, then lays it over his left eye, iridescent side out. The feather dissolves.
       Pain gouges under his eye, and he feels the eyeball leave him, forced through a hole too small. Then it's gone. He touches his cheek. Blood should be gushing from his eye socket. His face is dry except for one drop of moisture. A tear?
       The peacock shimmers. The damaged tailfeather reforms, this time with a human eye, Torrent's eye, and now Torrent sees four tailfeathers tipped with human eyes, two from the stricken boy, his own, and one other.
       Torrent blinks as his vision adapts to his new eye. The greens and blues of the peacock darken and disappear, replaced by violet and black. In the darkness, purple strands radiate out from a glaring head. The plumage eyes turn purple, all but the human eyes, now ringed with white.
       The bird turns sideways, and Torrent slides through the narrow passage, pressing against the corridor wall to avoid touching the spectral fan. He looks back over his shoulder. Now, the bird blocks the way out. He'll have to pass it again to leave the labyrinth.
       He brushes off his leather tunic, rolls his shoulders, and tugs down the cuffs of his sleeves. Leave future problems to the future; that's the hero's way. He jogs forward, then slows to a walk, then stops at an intersection, unsure which way to go.
       He's nauseous. His eyes don't match. He covers his peacock eye and the corridors look as they did before. He covers his own eye, and now he sees a purple strand in the darkness leading to the left. Torrent follows the purple way marker. At every intersection, he covers his human eye and chooses the eerie light. And at last, he reaches the center.
       He knows it's the center because glowing violet walls form a circular chamber. There's a blur in the center of the chamber, but he can't see what it is. He walks up to it and tries to touch it, but his fingers pass through. He covers his human eye, and the blur disappears. He covers his peacock eye and now he can make out an insubstantial frame hovering in the air, the bottom at knee level, the top as high as he can reach. He still can't grasp it, and within the frame, he sees only the floor and the glowing wall -- with a dark shape silhouetted against it.
       Torrent tries to step through the frame, but he ends up standing where he began. So he circles around the frame and comes to a girl slumped on the floor. She looks up, a shadowed human eye and a peacock eye paired in a pale face. Jannazalia.
       He kneels next to her and moans, "What have you done?"
       She sits up and glares at him, a flash of purple. "What have I done? You're gone all the time."
       He closes his eyes so he won't have to see the peacock eye. "Do you remember exploring the Creek Labyrinth? I let you say which way to go, and you found the swimming hole. We both splashed in, clothes and all."
        "All you do is remember. You only loved me when I was little, and you want me to stay a baby."
       "You're only twelve years old," Torrent wails. He opens his eyes. "If you had to sneak away to Wayward Teens, why couldn't you try the Mobius Labyrinth or even the Clock Labyrinth? I could have gotten you back. But no. You chose a sacrifice labyrinth. You destroyed your life, and now you've destroyed mine. Did you think I wouldn't come after you?"
       "Like I'm a possession? Like you own me, and you want me back?"
       "I want to rescue you."
       "Yes," she snaps, "because you're a hero, and I'm useless."
       "You always wanted to be a hero like me."
       "And you always said no. I was too little." Jannazalia jumps up and stomps to the center of the chamber, next to the shimmering frame.
       "Let's go, Zalie," Torrent pleads. "Together, we'll find a way out."
       "Through him?" The peacock now blocks the only exit from the chamber.
       Torrent covers his human eye as if he can protect it, but the only way out of the labyrinth is to sacrifice another eye. If he carries Zalie piggyback, can he sacrifice his eye and keep her remaining eye safe?
       "There are words etched into the frame," says Zalie, "but I can't read them."
       He turns back toward the ghostly frame. "I don't see words."
       "Because you're old," she says. "I can't reach that high, but you can."
       At first, Torrent feels nothing, not even the frame. He closes both eyes and now there's a whisper of texture. He imagines finding his way through turning passages to a place where he can touch the frame. His fingers brush wood grain: soft wood eroded between thin, hard lines. Deeper indentations cut through the grain, words carved into the wood. You can only defeat me with two human eyes.
       He snatches his hands away and opens his eyes. "It's no good."
       "What does it say?"
       "It's a taunt."
       "And you let a taunt stop you? I thought you were a hero."
       "A hero is no use here."
       Jannazalia huffs. "Dad, just tell me what it says."
       "You can only defeat me with two human eyes. But no one gets here with two eyes, so no one can defeat the labyrinth."
       Zalie stares at him, girl and peacock. He tries to memorize her one remaining hazel eye with green flecks and bright lines like a creek.
       She whispers, "We have two human eyes." She touches the cheekbone below her hazel eye and then his cheek.
       She's right. He crouches beside her so his right eye is next to her left, two human eyes gazing together. The frame solidifies. Together, they step through, his right foot and her left.
       The frame cracks, splinters. The peacock whirls around them, a blur of azure, gold, chartreuse, and violet. Eyes fly out of its plumage. Feather eyes and human eyes. The labyrinth dissolves around them.
       They stand again in the smoky shop, and the stricken boy thanks them, his vision restored. The owner looks up from his crucible and nods.
       Torrent turns to face Jannazalia. For the first time in years, they see each other with human eyes.