Exile's Gate (24 page)

If they had begun the day
with aching heads, Vanye reflected, their misery was surely complete by
now. He was even moved to pity for them—not enough that he turned his
back on them, but he brought them some of the wood, and brought them
burning tinder in a wedge between two sticks, and left them to nurse it
along and to go out in the rain if they wanted more firewood in the
night: "My charity," he said dourly, "stops at the shelter's edge."

Thereafter Eoghar and
Patryn took their turn out in the driving mist, wood-gathering, and he
went back to Morgaine and the brothers, loosed his armor buckles and
his belts, tucked himself up in his wet cloak next the fire, and rested
with Chei and Bron, close by Morgaine as she boiled up tea, his back
against the rock and his left shoulder next the dry leaves of the woven
branches which made one wall of their shelter.

Outside, the horses
complained of the rain, and Siptah snorted his displeasure either at
two wet strangers wandering about outside or at the geldings picketed
apart from him and the mare.

The wood-gatherers returned
with their arms full, before their fire died. Inside, under the shelter
of the stone overhang and the woven walls, the warmth increased. By the
time there were a few coals and the first pannikin of tea had boiled,
there was a closer, less peevish feeling in the air and Chei had
unfolded himself somewhat and ceased to shiver.

There was smoked meat,
fowl, venison, and the bread they had taken from the camp: they did not
use their carefully prepared trail rations while there was that choice,
and with food that would not last there was no stinting. There was tea
to warm them; and by their own fire at the opposite and shallower end
of the shelter, Eoghar and his cousins saw to their own supper with the
supplies they had brought.

"Ah," Chei said with a
little wince when he had drunk his cup, and he sighed as he leaned back
against the rock wall by his brother. Bron pushed at him with an elbow,
grinned, and Chei pushed back, then clapped Bron on the shoulder in a
brief embrace, a glance, a quick and tender look passed between them
such as brothers might exchange, who found each other alive against all
expectation.

Then Chei burst into tears,
and turned his face into Bron's shoulder, and the two of them held each
other fast, at which Vanye found himself the fire to look at, and then
Morgaine's face—as she looked distressedly toward him, and then found
occupation for her hands with repacking.

There was no cursed place
for privacy, except the rain. And Chei fought hard for his dignity, who
was, Heaven knew and events had witnessed, not prone to tears.

After, Chei bent and rested
his forehead on his knee, his braids covering his face, for a long time
in which he met no one's eyes. Only Bron's hand rested on his back,
until he wiped fiercely at his eyes.

It was safety did that to a
man. That was all. The lifting of some terrible burden. The knowledge
of trial passed. As if this place, with the rain beating down and the
wind whipping outside, offered what the secure camp had not.

Freedom, perhaps. Or a brother's life.

"I am all right," Chei
declared, and wiped his eyes and drew a breath and clasped his hands on
the back of his neck, taking his wind.

Bron held him by the
shoulder and rocked at him. There was a sheen on Bron's eyes too, as he
rubbed Chei's back and wound his fingers in Chei's hair and tugged at
it with a familiarity from which Vanye averted his eyes in
embarrassment.

But perhaps they felt they had found kin.

"You did not know," Morgaine said, "that your brother was there. Truly."

"No," Chei said, a small, quick breath. And looked up, as if he then understood that question. "I swear I did not."

"But took us to land you knew—to friends' territory."

A frightened shift of
Chei's eyes mistrusted the listeners. But there was the waterfall to
cover their voices. "Ichandren's. My own lord's."

"Ah," Morgaine said, and
did not glance at Eoghar herself; and Vanye dared not, putting it
together, how Arunden who held a sick man in debt, had moved right
gladly into a dead ally's lands.

"This Arunden seems quick to gain," he muttered.

"From everything," Chei said fiercely. "He is known for it."

"I had wondered," Morgaine
said in a low voice, "how we happened to find Bron. Coincidence is the
most remote chance in all the world—good coincidence even rarer. I do
not trust men who seem to have it all about them. And strokes of luck
are worst of all."

It was honesty. When
Morgaine became obscure it was an offered confidence. Honesty with her
was one thing and the other. It was Chei she meant, and Chei she looked
at, and Chei looked confused as a man might. "I—do not think I have had
luck, lady, except you brought it."

"Any man might have been
there, at the gate. Luckier for your friends if we had been a fortnight
earlier. It is finding Bron I mean."

"I had no hope of it," Chei
said earnestly. "I only went home. I wanted no more mistakes. I
thought—I thought—there was no way to get through without meeting
ambush. When you told me—what you told me—I knew there was hope in
talking. So I did not try to slip around the long way. I brought you up
the short way, and took no pains to be quiet, you were right, lady. But
we were dead, the other way. It was all I could do."

"And did not tell me."

There was long silence. Chei looked at her, only at her, and his face was pale in the firelight.

"But you did not know," Morgaine said, "that Bron was there."

"No, lady. On my soul, I did not know."

"He could not have known," Bron said. The fire snapped, wet wood; and scattered sparks.

"Arunden took you up," Morgaine said.

"I fell in the fighting," Bron said. "Arunden's folk came down to collect the gear. To
steal
anything they could. That is what they are."

"Gault's men leave their enemies' gear?" Vanye asked. "For others to take up?"

"This time they did," Bron
said, and drew a long and shaken breath. "I do not know why. Probably
they had wind of Arunden's folk close by. They took up prisoners—I saw
them. I fainted then. I thought they would gather up weapons and they
would find me alive and finish me. When I woke up it was one of
Arunden's men had found me, that is all I know. And Gault's men had
taken none of my gear."

"You were fortunate," Morgaine said. "Did I not just say how I abhor good fortune?"

Bron looked anxiously at Chei, last at Vanye, a worried look, a pleading look.

"It is truth," Bron said. "That is all I know."

Vanye shifted position,
having found his arm cold from the wind gusting through the woven-work.
He found his heart beating uncomfortably hard. "Arunden was an ally of
your lord's?"

"We were ambushed on our
way to join with him. The qhal may have known he was there—" The
thought seemed to come to Bron then. His mouth stayed open a moment.
His eyes darted and locked.

"And withdrew," Morgaine said.

Bron had nothing to say. He darted a look of his own Eoghar's way and back again. Chei's breath was rapid.

"No one would—" Bron said.

"You say yourself, changelings are not uncommon. A man too close to qhalur lands, a scout, a hunter—"

"We are not that careless!"

Heaven save us,
Vanye thought. And aloud: "Is your enemy without guile? Or luck?"

Both the brothers were
silent. At their own fire, Eoghar and his cousins talked among
themselves, voices that did not carry over the water sound.

"It would be easy, then," Morgaine said, "for messengers of all sorts to come and go. From the camp, for instance."

"We do not know it is so!" Chei said.

"No," Morgaine said. "It might be coincidence. Everything might be coincidence."

Bron exhaled a long slow breath. "A treaty with Gault?"

"Possibly," Morgaine said, "you were only fortunate. There
is
chance in the world. It is only very rare—where profit is concerned."

Bron ran his fingers back
through his hair and rested, his hands clenching his braids. Then he
looked at Vanye and at Morgaine. "Are you, after all, from Mante? Is
this something you
know?
Are you having games with us?"

"We are strangers,"
Morgaine said. "We are not from Gault and not from Skarrin. We do not
know this land. But of treachery and of greed we have seen altogether
too much. Perhaps it has occurred to you—that there is profit to be
had. We do not withhold it. Anything, you can gain from us, take. We
will have no need of power in this world. Do you want Gault's place? Or
any other—take it."

Bron caught a breath.
"Everything," he said in a faint voice, "that Chei has told me about
you I believe. I never—in all my life—In all my life, I never—never
knew I would—come to—to owe—"

"A qhal?" Morgaine asked.

Bron swallowed the rest of
that speech. His face was bone-white, his pain-bruised eyes set on her
as if he could not find a way to move. "But," he said after, "it is you
I will follow. I do not think we will live long. I do not think we will
live to see Mante. But for what you did for my brother I will go with
you; for what you did for both of us, I will do everything I can for
you. I do not deny I am afraid of you. There is a cost—to serving
qhal—and I do not know what you would choose, between us and others.
But what you say you will do—if you seal the Gates—is a chance for
every man alive; and we never had one till this. It is
worth
a life. And mine is spun out longer than I expected, since Gyllin-brook. Chei's, too. Where else shall we find a place for us?"

Morgaine looked at him
long; and turned then and began to pack away their belongings. "I do
not know. But I would you could find one." She looked up at them. "When
we reach the road, turn back. Go somewhere far, and safe. Two more
humans will be a hazard to me—only that much more likelihood that
someone will know me for a stranger."

Chei had opened his mouth
to protest. He shut it as she spoke and he caught a breath. "But," he
said then, "they would take us for the Changed, that is all. There is
no reason not."

"It is that common."

"Half the qhal in Morund—have human shape."

"So," she said softly, and
her frown deepened and darkened. She put a last packet into the
saddlebags and wrapped the ties tight. "They are using the gates that
often."

"I do not know," Bron said, looking as bewildered as his brother. "I do not know how often they come and go."

"No one knows," Chei said.
"None of us go south. When they want to come and go—they use
Morund-gate. They do not need to ride through our land."

"Frequently?"

"Maybe—several times a year. I do not know. No one—"

"So a message has already gone to Mante."

"I think that it would
have," Chei said. "When the woods burned. I think they would send for
that. Gault is not friendly with Mante. With his lord. So they say."

"Rumor says," Bron amended. "Men who come and go off Gault's land. Some do, still."

"Too much here is tangled,"
Morgaine said; and Vanye shifted his mailed and weary shoulders back
against the rock and picked up the thongs that depended from his belt,
beginning to braid three of them.

"As to changelings," Vanye
said, "we do not do that, with friend or enemy. You are safe with us,
as safe, at least, as we are. And we intend to reach Mante, and go
beyond it. But that—that, has no return. You should understand that. My
lady advises you turn back. There is reason. You should listen to her."

There was silence after,
except a discordant muttering from Eoghar and his cousins, about their
separate fire. A little laughter drifted from them, about their own
business. Doubtless Chei and Bron were distressed. He did not look up.

"Lady," Chei said.

"For your sake and ours," Morgaine said firmly.

Again there was silence,
long silence, with only the noise from the other fire where, Vanye saw
with a shift of his eye, the three clansmen had unstopped what he
reckoned was not a waterskin, and began to pass it about. He did not
like it. He did not want the quarrel now, either, with unhappiness
enough in their camp.
"Liyo,"
he said in a low voice and when he had her attention, shifted his eyes to indicate the matter.

She frowned, but she said
nothing. They were not boisterous at the other fire, only men taking
their ease of the dark and the rain in a way as old as men on any earth.

And finally: "I do not understand you," Chei said.

Vanye jerked the braiding
loose and looked up at him, frowning. "There is Hell between the gates,
Chei, and we will ride through it. There is a new earth the other side,
but fairer or fouler than this one, neither of us knows. Heaven knows
how the worlds are ordered, but the gates bind them together in ways
dangerous for all life. When we are gone it will not be the same sun
that rises over us. That is all I understand of it. But that is where
we will be—as if we were dead, Chei, and the other side of Hell, and
you cannot go back or change your minds then, and nothing you knew will
be true. That is what will become of you. This land is your home. And
fair or foul, it is what you understand. Think on that. And you still
will not know the extent of what will happen to you. Nothing you know
will be true."