Exile's Gate (11 page)

She gave him a sudden sidelong glance.

He gave a little lift of his shoulder. No frown was on her face, but that, he thought, was because there was a witness.

"I will have a word with thee," she said, and motioned off toward the streamside.

But: "I do not think there is overmuch to say," he said, and did not rise. "I am
ilin.
Ask. I will do it. Steal a horse? That is nothing. Perhaps I should take Morund. You hardly need trouble yourself."

"Thee is unreasonable!"

"I do not think I am
unreasonable. Everything you wish, I will do. Can a man be more
reasonable? Take Morund. Better that than walk in there.
Far
better
than drag this poor man in there, since you are set on stirring up a
trouble we could ride around. We have come this far on this man's
advice. Take the rest of it, I say, and go where he bids us go, and let
us go around this place."

For a moment she did not
speak. There was sullen anger in the look she gave him. Then: "Oh, aye,
and trust to luck and half a score human bands, shall we?"

"Better luck than this Gault,
liyo.
And what will we, do general murder? Is
that
what
you want? It is what you lead us to. Someone will die, likest myself,
since I have to shield you. I have a bruise the size of my fist on my
right shoulder—"

"Whose fault, that?"

"—and a man by me I do not
trust; or we do trust him, enough to let him free where he could cry
alarm; or we do murder outright on this man—Which is it, do we kill
him, do we tie him to a tree for the wolves and his enemies to find, or
do we trust him to go free? Or if we trust him for that, why in
Heaven's sweet reason do we not trust him down the back trail
ourselves, and take ourselves clear of this damnable place before we
raise hue and cry from here to the north?"

She rose abruptly to her feet and walked off. It left him Chei's frightened stare.

"We are having a dispute," Vanye said, "regarding the ease of finding horses."

Chei said nothing at all.
He looked from one to the other of them, and for a long while Morgaine
stood by the streamside, arms folded, staring off into the gathering
dark.

Vanye buried their fire, and went down to wash the single pan they had used.

"Thee confuses me," Morgaine said, standing behind him as he rinsed the pan. "Thee considerably confuses me."

It was not, precisely, what he had expected her to say.

"Then," he said, "we confuse each other."

"What will you?"

That was not the question he was prepared for either—or it was the earnestness of it which confounded him.

"What will
you?"
He
turned from the stream, for he sensed her precisely where she was, her
back turned to their prisoner and the horses; and all manner of
mischief possible. "I have no idea—"

"Thee does not kneel."

"I am washing the cursed dish," he retorted, "and you have your back to the man. Do you trust him that much?"

"Now thee is watching. I
trust
that thee is watching. What will thee? To let him free? Ride in among his folk, on his guidance?
Or
do we kill him or leave him for the wolves?"

"Ah. I thought it was his oath we trusted."

She drew in a sharp breath,
and said nothing at all as he got to his feet. They were of a height.
He stood lower on the bank. And for a long moment he did not move.

"Or," he said, "do you think we should
not
trust
his guidance? Lord in Heaven, you took his oath. Did you count me so
lightly? I do not recall my pledge was much different."

"Thee is
Kurshin,"
she
said, and recalled to him what he had forgotten: that it was more than
the language she spoke, that she was, perhaps to a greater extent than
he had thought—Andurin, out of the woodland cantons of his own land.

"You will not let me
remember it," he said, and jutted a clenched jaw toward the man who
waited by the dead fire. "He is human. But it is not considering my
scruples you took his oath. You deceived him and you refused to confide
in me. Why?"

"I do not deceive you."

"You do not tell the truth."

"Thee
pleaded for his life."

"
I
had as soon have left him at the last camp, where he had some choice where to go.
I
had as soon gone further west from the beginning and come up through the hills."

She pressed her lips
together in that way she had when she had said all she would. So their
arguments tended to end—himself with the last word, and Morgaine lapsed
into one of her silences that could last for hours and evaporate at the
last as if there had never been a word of anger.

But always Morgaine did as
she would—would simply ride her own way, if he would not go with her;
there was no reasoning with her.

"I will get your cursed horse," he said.

She drew a sharp breath. "We will go
his
way, by the trails."

He felt his face go hot. "So we walk turn and turn."

"I did not ask that."

"That is a wounded man. How much do you think he can do?"

"I am willing to wait here. Did I not say as much?"

"Wait here! With the enemy over the next hill!"

"What would you?"

Now it was he who found no
words. He only stood there a moment, half-choked with anger; then bowed
his head and walked on past her, back to put the pan with their gear.

Chei looked at him with the
same bewilderment, his eyes jerking from one to the other—lastly toward
Morgaine, who came and sat down on her heels beside them.

Vanye sat as he was a
moment, jabbing at the ground with a stick between his knees. "I
reckon," he said mildly, "that we could make the back trails. If Chei
and I rode and walked by turns."

Morgaine rested her arms on
her knees, her brow on the heels of her hands. Then she dropped her
arms and sat down cross-legged. "Myself," she said, "I am not of a mind
to be inconvenienced by this Gault of Morund."

A touch of renewed panic hit him.
"Liyo
—"

"On the other hand," she said, "your suggestion is reasonable. Unless our guide knows where we might find horses, otherwise."

"Not except we raise the countryside," Chei said in a faint voice.

"How far a journey—clear of his lands?"

"By morning we are clear."

Vanye rested the stick in
both his hands, "In the name of Heaven," he said in the Kurshin tongue,
"he will tell you whatever he thinks will save his life: he was wrong
this morning, and we rode under sun and in the open."

"Trusting him is thy advice, and first it is aye and then nay—which do I believe?"

"I am a Man. I can trust
him without believing him. Or trust him in some things and not in
others. He is desperate, do you understand. Wait here. I will go and
steal you a horse."

"Enough on the horse!"

"I swear to you—"

"Vanye—"

"Or lord Gault's own cursed horse, if you like! But I should not like to leave you with this man.
That
would be my worry,
liyo.
Leaving you here, I
would
tie
him to a tree, and I would not take his word how far it is across this
cursed lord's land. I will tell you what I had rather do: I had rather
do without the horse, strike out due west, far from here, and come
north well within the hills."

"Except it needs much too long."

"
Too long, too long—God in Heaven,
liyo,
it
needs
nothing but that we ride quietly, carefully, that we arrive in our own good time and disturb no one. I thought we had agreed."

"He named a name," Morgaine said.

"What, he? Chei? What name?"

"Skarrin, in Mante. This lord in the north."

His heart clenched up. "Someone you know?"

"Only an old name. We may be in great danger, Vanye. We may be in very great danger."

For a moment there was only the sound of the wind in the leaves.

"Of what sort?" he asked.
"Who?"

"In the north," she said. "I am not certain, mind. It is only a very old name—and this northlord may be an old man,
very
old,
does thee mark me. And once he knows his danger, there are measures he
might take which could trap us here. Does thee understand me?"

"Who is he?"

"
I do not know who he is. I know
what
he
is. Or I guess. And if I bind this man by oaths and any promise I can
take from him—I do not loose him near that gate behind us, does thee
understand? From Morund I might gain something. From Morund I might
draw this northlord south, out of reach of his own gate. But thee may
be right—there is the chance too that this Gault is mad, and that there
is no dealing with him."

"With a man who feeds his enemies to wolves?"

"With a
devil,
there
is dealing—sometimes far easier than with an honest man. And by
everything Chei has told us, there are Men enough among the qhal and
not the other way about, so we need not worry for thy sake. But thee
says trust this Man, and trust ourselves to his folk—"

"I did not say that!"

"What does thee say? Leave
him? Kill him? Is that what thee is asking? Or ride on with him? We are
too far into this to camp, and if this lord Gault finds us skulking
about without his leave, that brings us to a fight or to Morund-gate,
under worse terms."

Vanye raked his hair out of
his eyes, where it fell forward of the braid, and raked it back again,
resting his elbows on his knees.

In Andur-Kursh, Men would shoot a qhal on sight.

"Has Chei ever heard my other name? Did you by any chance tell it to him?"

"I do not know," he said,
dismayed. "The one the Shiua used?" And when she nodded: "I do not
know. I think not. I am not sure. I did not know—"

"Do not speak it. Ever. And do not ask me now."

He glanced at Chei, who
stared at him and at her as his only hope of safety—his life, Chei
surely sensed hung in the balance in this dispute he could not follow.
It was a sensible man, Vanye thought, whose eyes followed all their
moves, but who had the sense to hold his peace. "He is surely wondering
what we say—Heaven knows what he understands of us—but in God's good
mercy,
liyo
—"

She rose and walked back to Chei; and he rose and followed.

"Can you walk?" Morgaine asked in the qhalur tongue, looking to Chei. "Do you think you can walk through the night?"

"Yes," Chei said.

"He is telling you anything
he thinks he must," Vanye said in the other. "He fears you. He fears to
refuse any qhal, that is the trouble with him. Let him ride and I will
walk, and let us go the trails he says he knows, quietly as we may.
That is my advice. That is all the advice I have. Quickly and quietly,
and without bruising a leaf. It is
Men
here I
had rather trust. And you know that it is not my human blood makes me
say it: I had no such feeling in the arrhend, and you well know it."

"My conscience," she named
him. "And has thee forgotten—it is a world's honest men who will always
fight us. I dread them, Vanye, I do dread them, more than the Gaults
and all the rest."

"Not here," he said with conviction. "Not here,
liyo.
Nor, let me remind you, in my land, where you found me."

"Ah, no. Thee saw only the
end of it. In Andur-Kursh I did my very worst. And most I killed were
my friends." It was rare she would speak of that. There was a sudden
bleakness in her face, as if it were carved of bone, and as if there
were only the qhal-blood in her and nothing else. "But thee says it:
this is not Andur-Kursh. Thee trusts this man, and I had rather be
where I know what a man stands to gain—have I not said I have no
virtue? But so be it. I do not say I have always been right, either. We
will go his way."

He was frightened then, with a fear not unlike the moments before battle.

The north, she had said—an
old
enemy. And he argued against her instincts which had saved them a hundred times over, however unlikely her choices.

Heaven save them,
who
in this land could know her name, when they had never passed this way in their lives, nor had aught to do with the people of it?

"We are going on," he said
to Chei, who looked at them with bewilderment. "I will walk. You ride.
My liege thinks it too much risk to venture Morund for a horse."

There was still the bewilderment in Chei's eyes. And gratitude. "She is right," he said, in innocence.

He did not want to take it for omen.

He went up to the ridge and fetched the horses down. He saddled them, and arranged their gear.

"Get up," he said then to
Chei, who waited, no more enlightened than before. "I am leading the
horse. From time to time we will trade places."