The Door Into Fire (16 page)

“Yeah. But I have to go.”

Freelorn nodded. “You
have
gotten a little too big to sit on.”

The sudden bittersweet memory rose up in Herewiss: the day after Herelaf died, and Herewiss drowning in a dark sea of pain and self-hatred, wanting desperately to kill himself. Trying and trying to do it, first with the sword that had killed Herelaf, then with anything that came to hand—knives, open windows. Freelorn, filled to overflowing with exasperation, fear for Herewiss, and his own pain, finally knocked Herewiss down and sat on him until the tears broke loose in both of them and they wept to exhaustion, clutching each other.

“I have,” Herewiss said, setting the memory aside with a sigh.

“Well, then, I’m coming with.”

“Of course,” Herewiss said.

Freelorn’s eyebrows went up. “You sneaky bastard—”

Herewiss grinned. “It was a good way to make sure you realized what you were getting into before you said yes.”

Freelorn grinned back. “I’m still coming with you.”

“And the rest?”

“They’re with me. We couldn’t stop them from coming along. This is better—much better than you going alone.”

“Yes, it is.”

(And what am I, then?) Sunspark said indignantly.

(An elemental, Spark. But people need people.)

(I don’t understand that. But if you say so…) It went back to its grazing.

“And besides,” Herewiss added, “I can use someone else who’s well-read in matters of Flame and such—you may see things about the place that I wouldn’t.”

“I don’t want to see any ‘things.’”

“Lorn, please.”

“Did you talk to Segnbora?”

“Yes. Interesting person. She should be of great help to us too. How did she happen to join up with you? She didn’t mention.”

“Oh, it was in Madeil. It was how I found out that my surcoat had gone. We were in this inn, drinking quietly and minding our own business, when in come a bunch of king’s guardsmen looking for me! Well, we ran out of there with the guards chasing us in five different directions. I went down a dead end, though, and the one who’d followed me cornered me there, and a moment later we were at crossed swords. I was pretty hard pressed—he was a lot bigger than I was, and a shade faster. And all of a sudden this shadow with a sword in its hand just melts out of the alley wall, and
fft!
the guy sprouts a hand’s length of steel under the breastbone. It was her; she’d followed me from the inn. There she stands, and she bows about a quarter of a bow, and says, ‘King’s son of Arlen, well met, but if we don’t hurry out of here you’re shortly going to be neck-deep in dungeon, with King Dariw’s torturer dancing on your head.’ I thought she had a point.”

“I could see where you might, yes.”

“So off we go, back to the inn again. Up she goes, cool as you please, and gets our things from our rooms. The innkeeper sees her, and he says, ‘Madam, if you please, where are you going with those?’ and Segnbora smiles at him and says, ‘Sir, if you want every skin of wine or tun of ale in your place to get the rot, ask on. Otherwise—’ and out the door she goes, gets the horses from the stables and rides off. We met her a few streets away and got ourselves out of there in a hurry.”

Herewiss raised his eyebrows, amused. “Why did she do it?”

“I asked her. Seems she’s related to one of the Forty Noble Houses. She said,
‘They
may not hold by the Oath, but
I
do, by Goddess—’ I believe her.”

“I get the feeling you can.”

Freelorn smiled. “Well, this venture will be safer with all of us along. Damn, I hope you’re right about the doors! Suppose there was one into another Arlen where I’m king—”

“You’d be there already. And how would you feel if you were king, and another Freelorn popped out of nowhere to contest your claim to the throne?”

“I’d—uhh.”

“—kill the bastard? Very good. Better stay here and do what you can with
this
world.”

Freelorn looked at Herewiss and smiled again, but this time his eyes were grave.

“Come on,” he said, “let’s give them a hand with dinner.”

•

Stars shone on them again; this time the warm constellations of spring: Dolphin and Maiden and Flamesteed and Stave. The Lion stood near the zenith, the red star of its heart glittering softly through the still air.

They held one another close, and closer yet, and found to their delight that nothing seemed to have changed between them.

A soft chuckle in the darkness.

“Lorn, you remember that first time we shared at your place?”

“That was a long time ago.”

“It seems that way.”

“—and my father yelled up the stairs, ‘What are you dooooooooing?’

“—and you yelled back, ‘We’re fuckinnnnnnnnnnng!’”

“—and it was quiet for so long—”

“—and then he started laughing—”

“Yeah.”

A silence.

“You know, he really loved you. He always wanted another son. He always used to say that now he had one...”

Silence.

“Lorn—one way or another, I’m going to see you on your throne.”

“Get your Power first.”

“Yeah. But then we get your throne back for you. I think I owe him that.”

“Your Power first. He was concerned about that.”

“Yes... he would have been. Well, we’ll see.”

A pause. A desert owl floated silently overhead and away, like a wandering ghost.

“Dusty?”

Herewiss started . No one had called him by that name since Herelaf’s death.

“What?”

“After I’m king—what will you do?”

“I haven’t the faintest idea.”

“Really?”

“I haven’t thought about it much. I don’t let myself.

—Heal the sick, I guess, talk to Dragons—make it rain when it’s dry—travel around, walk the Otherworlds—”

There was a sinking silence under the blankets; suddenly disappointment and fear flavored the air like smoke. Herewiss was confused by the perception. His underhearing sometimes manifested itself at odd moments, but never without reason.

“Dusty— Don’t forget me.”

“Forget you? Forget you! How do I forget my loved? Lorn, put it out of your mind. How could I forget you? If only fr—”

Herewiss cut himself off, shocked, hearing the thought complete itself inside his head:
“—from all the trouble you’ve caused me—”

“From what?”

My Goddess. How can I think such things? What’s the
matter
with me!!
“—from all the distance I’ve had to travel to get into your bed…”

Freelorn made a small sound in his throat, a brief quiet sigh of acceptance. “I’m glad you did,” he said.

“Again?”

“Why not? The night is young.”

“And so are we.”

Whatever may be said of the Goddess, this much is certain: She enjoys a good joke. For proof of this, examine yourself or any other member of the human race closely—and then laugh along with Her.

Deeds of the Heroes,
18, vi

“I thought you said it was just another fifteen miles.”

“Well, I thought it was…”

“Maybe the river changed its banks.”

“The Stel? Unlikely. Maybe I got us lost.”

“Likely.”

The eight of them rode along through country that was becoming increasingly inhospitable. The gently rolling scrub country of southern Steldin had given way to near-desert terrain. It was afternoon, and hot. A steady, maddening east wind blew dust into their eyes, and into their horses’ eyes, down their collars and up their sleeves, into their boots and even into their undertunics. Even the most casual movement would sand some part of the body raw.

Herewiss sighed. For the past two hours Freelorn had been straining his eyes toward the horizon, swearing at himself for having lost the river. He had been abusing himself so skillfully that Herewiss, in exasperation, had joined in and helped him for a few minutes. Now he was regretting it.

“Lorn, the Dark with it,” he said. “You
can’t
lose the Stel. If you just go east far enough, you’re bound to run into it.”

“It is possible,” Freelorn said tightly, “to lose just about anything.”

“Including your mind, if you work at it hard enough. Lorn, relax. Worse things could happen.”

“Oh?”

“Certainly. A cohort of Fyrd could find us. Or the Dark Hunt. Or the Goddess could sneeze and forget to keep the world in place, and we’d all go out like candles. Don’t be so grim, Lorn. It’ll work out all right.”

Freelorn’s poor Blackmane, half-blind with the dust, sneezed mightily and then bumped sideways into Sunspark. Herewiss’s mount didn’t respond, but Blackmane danced away with a whicker of scorched surprise, nearly throwing Freelorn out of the saddle. He regained his balance and looked suspiciously at the stallion.

“None of our horses care much for that one of yours,” he said. “What happened to Darrafed?”

“She’s home.”

“Dapple?”

“He was with me partway. I sent him back.”

“Is that safe?”

Herewiss laughed. “Safe? Dapple? He’ll probably rescue a princess on the way home.”

“Where did this one come from, then?”

“I don’t know,” Herewiss said, which was certainly the truth. “I found him.”

“I know that look,” Freelorn said. “You’ve got a secret.”

Herewiss said nothing, and tried to keep from smiling.

“Sorcerers,” Freelorn said in good-natured disgust. “Well, have it your way. Where the Dark is the river?!”

“It’ll be along. Lorn, you didn’t tell me. What were you doing in Madeil?”

“Oh ... I was meeting a man who was supposed to know a way into the Royal Treasury at Osta. He had been there as a guard some years back, but he moved to Steldin when my father died and everything was going crazy.”

“Did you meet him?”

“Oh, yes. That was what we had been at the tavern for. It was about half an hour after he left that the guards came in.”

“Why were you still there?”

Freelorn looked guilty. “Well . . . it had been so long since any of us had a chance to get really drunk.”

“So you did it there in the middle of a city, with all those people around who you didn’t know? Lorn, you know you get talky when you’re drunk ... What if you’d let something slip?”

Freelorn said nothing for a second, said it so forcefully that Herewiss went after the unspoken thought with his underhearing to try to catch it:
...talk about being drunk,
it said in a wash of anger,
...what about Herelaf?
And then it was smashed down by a hammer of Freelorn’s guilt.
How can I think things like that? Wasn’t his fault.

Herewiss winced away.
Even Lorn,
he thought. And then,
Goddess, did I do that? If this is the kind of thing I’d be doing with the Power, maybe I’m better without it.

“I’m sorry,” he said aloud. “Lorn, really.”

“No—you’re right, I guess. But we did find out about the way into the Treasury—there’s a passage off the river that no one knows about.”

“What about the guards who are there?”

“There aren’t many left who know about it—all the lower-level people have been replaced by mercenaries, and many of the higher levels left in a hurry when Cillmod had me outlawed. They could see the way things were going. At present that entrance isn’t being guarded.”

“What sort of things do they have there?”

“No treasure, no jewelry—just plain old money. My contact said that there are usually about fourteen thousand talents of silver there at any one time.”

“What are you thinking of?”

“My Goddess, you have to ask?”

“No... not really. Lorn, do you think you have any chance to pull this off?”

Freelorn hesitated for a long moment. “Maybe.”

Caution?!
Herewiss thought.
He’s being
cautious?
I’m in trouble.

“Are you
sure
those are rocks?”

“Yes. Lorn, how many people do you think you’re going to need to get into the place?”

“Oh... my own group will be enough.”

Ten would be better,
Herewiss thought glumly,
and twenty better still. More realistic, surely.
“Don’t do it,” he said out loud.

“Why not? It’s the perfect chance to get enough money to finance the revolution—”

“Your father should be an example to you,” Herewiss said tiredly, “that no one supports a dead king.”

“A what?”

Herewiss sighed. “I’d like to see your plans before you go ahead and do it,” he said. “Maybe I’ll come with and help you. But Lorn!—I don’t believe that six people are going to be enough.”