The Faces and the Masks
by Marie Brennan
In every labyrinth in Vraszan stand the Faces and the Masks.
They differ in their materials: some wood, some clay, some metal, some stone. They differ in their details, though the general appearance is the same: the abundant petals of the Face of Roses, the shattered pieces of the Mask of Chaos, the elderly wrinkles of the Face of Ages, the skeletal grin of the Mask of Bones. They stand in pairs around the labyrinth path, each Face with its corresponding Mask, the good and the ill of the deities they represent.
One thing is the same, no matter where you go: the Faces have eyes, and the Masks do not.
When worshippers come and make their offerings, they slip coins into the open mouths of the Faces and the Masks, which fall into a common box. But their prayers--ah, those are kept separate. To the Faces people whisper thanks for their good fortune, and hopes for the blessings they wish might come into their lives. While to the Masks...
To the Masks they speak only of horror and suffering. Illness, grief, loneliness, injustice. All their fears and sins and hurts, everything they want to escape or avert or atone for with their offerings and their prayers.
The Faces have eyes. They can see the people come and go, witness human life in all its complexity. But the Masks are blind, and they hear only what people say to them.
