The Seventh Gate (The Seven Citadels ) (23 page)

Kerish could see them now, standing by a
window in the Governor's Palace in the last of the light. They both looked thin
and worn and Forollkin's shoulder was bandaged.

“You would know, “ repeated the Queen, “if
the hope of Galkis was dead.”

“Hope?” exclaimed Forollkin. “Hope is in
the future. Viroc needs a Saviour now.”

“It has you.” Kelinda held out her hands.

Forollkin gripped them. “Yes, it has me,
and I can hardly remember what we're fighting for.” He smiled wearily. “Kelinda,
you're not even Galkian, but it's you I think of to remind me that what we have
is worth saving.”

He drew her into his arms and stroked the
pale copper hair.

Kerish tried to strip the jungle from his
thoughts and reach out to enfold them. Borne up by Tebreega's power, he thought
for a moment that he had succeeded.  Forollkin's head jerked back.

“What is it?” asked Kelinda.

“Nothing,” murmured Forollkin. “Just for a
moment I thought . . . I must go. I have to oversee the work at the South Gate
. . .”

They were fading; sound first and then
sight. Scarlet and blue blotted out the vision.

Then Tebreega was refastening her cloak and
Kerish saw that Gidjabolgo was staring at him questioningly.

“Are you answered?” asked the sorceress.

Kerish nodded.

“Well I am not,” muttered Gidjabolgo. “I
saw nothing but an odd look on your face.”

“They are  both safe,” said Kerish
gratefully.

“They?” The Forgite's face was contorted in
mock surprise. “Our Lord Commander must have more sense that I gave him credit
for.”

Kerish winced. Gwerath had let him give her
so little. Even now, he had no right to mourn for her longer than Forollkin
did.

“I see that my brother and I can still give
you cause for amusement.”

“I can only approve of those who snatch
what they can,” answered Gidjabolgo. “I have done the same myself.”

Indignant screeches suddenly disturbed the
glade. The travelers turned to see the tall ungainly form of a banebird, half
concealed in the undergrowth beyond the pool.

“Ignore it if you can,” said Tebreega,
settling down among her beasts again. “It is only here to watch us. In
themselves they are not dangerous.”

“They proved dangerous to us,” murmured
Kerish, “and all the people of Jenoza fear them.”

“As they fear me.” Tebreega's massive hands
ruffled the fur along a monkey's back. “Yet the banebirds use no weapons except
those they find within their victims. All they do is show you what they've
learned about you.”

Gidjabolgo grimaced and Kerish tried not to
remember the sound of his own laughter. “Yes, but what are they?” he demanded.

The sorceress lazily waved her wand at a
group of birds who began a chorus to welcome approaching night.

“The banebirds are gatherers, chiefly
gatherers of dreams. You might call them thieves, for they take more than men
are willing to show to the world.”

“The people of Jenoza speak of
`bird-dreams',” began Kerish.

“Their sleeping minds are brought into the
jungle. The Jenozans remember little and are safe enough,” said Tebreega. “It
is the gifts given in return that are dangerous. City of Dreamers . . . it is
not an idle name. During my childhood in Joze I was sent dreams from the
Forbidden Jungle. In me the feelings they awoke were used to good purpose, but
it is not always so.”

“But who sends the dreams?” asked
Gidjabolgo impatiently.

“You have travelled beyond the Forbidden
Hill,” answered Tebreega. “You have visited Gultim, Roac and the island of
Vethnar. Can you not guess?”

“We have seen the pictures in the caves of
Gultim,” began Kerish. “so we know the lands were not all empty when men came
into Zindar,”

“No, not even Galkis,” said Tebreega
solemnly, “yet they were sparsely populated compared to the great days of the
Empire of the Ferrabrinth. Already their numbers were diminished by wars and by
lack of desire to bring young into such a world. Vashordek, the mightiest of
their cities, was powerful still, but closed in on itself, nurturing its
destruction. You saw its ruins north of the Forbidden Hill. Elsewhere they
still live, withdrawn from man in places such as Everlorn, among the Rocks of
Lind, and here in the Jungle of Jenze.”

“But why do they shun us?” demanded Kerish.
“Why do they keep themselves secret?”

“Secret?” Tebreega scooped up a monkey who
was licking out one of the bowls and tickled it unmercifully. “Not to all. The
Emperors of Galkis have always known what lay beyond their boundaries. It is
written in
The Book of Secrets
and the High Priests can guess what it is
they see when the covered statues of Joze are revealed. In the beginning, all
the newcomers knew that they were not alone and they kept to agreed
territories. As they stayed in seclusion over the centuries, the Ferrabrinth
became legends or nightmares. Finally, they were forgotten except in those
places that bordered their domains. Even there the memories are tangled.”

“In the caves of Gultim, there were
pictures of men confronting creatures . . .” began Gidjabolgo.

“There was one great encounter, “ answered
the sorceress. “It ended in death, for the Ferrabrinth cannot be quickly or
easily understood. Men seized on what was worst in their nature. That is the
danger when peoples meet. The Ferrabrinth had begun to learn from their past
mistakes and to change. They feared that if they shared their knowledge, 
humans might copy those mistakes. Shubeyash proved them right. Also, because
they do not understand us either, they were afraid of what we might do to them.
I don't mean through acts of violence but simply by living and thinking so
differently. Down the centuries they have watched the world from their
sanctuaries and tried to understand humankind. In Jenze, they created a clumsy
image of themselves, the banebirds, to spy on the people of Jenoza. They sent
out their own thoughts to the city of Joze, in the form of dreams, to see how
they would be interpreted. What they learned did nothing but puzzle and disturb
them. Then I came to the Jungle of Jenze.”

Tebreega shook back her heavy hair and
rubbed her brow. “For centuries I have tried to understand the Ferrabrinth and
to explain my own people to them. It is a hard task. To master their language
took the lifetime of an ordinary mortal. For all my years, I am only one person
and I cannot explain everything. The Ferrabrinth have learned as much as they
can through me; now I need helpers with a curiosity as great as a banebird's
and a ceaseless appetite for marvels. My part is ending. Prince II-Keno could
not stay, for he was born to rule Galkis, and Prince Kerish-lo-Taan has his own
quest. Alas, poor sorceress!”

Tebreega suddenly rose, spilling half a
dozen creatures from her ample lap. “But that's enough for one night. Enough.”
She pointed her wand at the spying banebird and it crashed away through the
undergrowth. “Don't mind them. Show them a mirror and they'll stare at
themselves till their feathers fall.”

“Did the Ferrabrinth take our dreams too?”
asked Kerish.

“Of course,” Tebreega grinned, “though what
they made of them, Zeldin only knows. Tonight you can sleep more peacefully.
They do not penetrate Tir-Jenac. The Ferrabrinth have given me that much
privacy.”

The night had fallen but there were stars
shining down on Tir-Jenac.

“I must work,” said Tebreega. “There are a
few things I should make for you. Tomorrow you will need to be clear-headed, so
you must sleep.”

Tebreega withdrew into her pavilion.

Kerish and Gidjabolgo washed again in the
crystal pool and, after several undignified attempts, climbed into the hammocks
slung from lower branches. Gidjabolgo was soon asleep and snoring. Kerish lay
looking up at the golden casket and thinking of Gwerath until long past
midnight.

*****

The travelers were startled awake by
monkeys and squirrels rocking the hammocks, as they clambered up to smother
Tebreega's guests with ticklish affection. Then the sorceress herself appeared
with bowls of dried fruit softened in some potent liquor. Butterflies hovered
about her, their delicate beauty cruelly highlighting her heavy graceless
movements and sad scarred face. Kerish sat up quickly, setting the hammock
swinging perilously again. The animals in his lap dug their claws into him and
chattered in protest.

“You are trying,” said Tebreega placidly, “to
think of a redeeming feature. My hair is lovely, you could say that,
sweetheart, but there is no need. “

She was laughing at him.

“Since you are the guardian of a key, your
mind must be a remarkable feature.”

“Oh, I am very proud of my mind,” answered
Tebreega, “though not of my heart. You are tired still. Your eyes are dark with
it.” She gently touched his cheek with her strong fingers. “You've not much
further to go. Get up when you have eaten, we must talk.” Tebreega took the
second bowl to Gidjabolgo. “Wake up, friend sharp-tongue, not only the blind need
leading.”

She gathered up an armful of squirrels and
strode away too fast to hear the Forgite's impolite rejoinder. Kerish rocked
the hammock gently as he ate, one hand absently caressing a monkey who had
designs on his breakfast. He was tired, it was true, but some of Tebreega's
calmness had rubbed off on him. Now the last key was within reach, his quest no
longer seemed so urgent.

Kerish finished his fruit and tumbled out
of his hammock. He saluted Gidjabolgo who was sharing his breakfast with a
fresh crop of squirrels and strolled across to the pool where Tebreega was
scrubbing at the dishes from the previous night's feast. Kerish knelt down to
help her.

“What, a Prince of the Godborn waiting on a
humble Galkian maid? Never! Besides, do you know how to clean a dish?”

“I have learned a few things since I left
the Golden City,” said Kerish mildly.

“Courtesy for one,” answered Tebreega and
yielded him the dishes.

She squatted down, resting her head on her
thick, mottled arms and studied him.

“Forbearance too. A virtue I still haven't
acquired. You may ask if you wish.”

Kerish did not look up from the bowl he was
polishing dry. “Lady, will you give me your key?”

“The other sorcerers all have their high
purposes,” began Tebreega softly. “Elmandis has his kingdom and Ellandellore is
his heir. Vethnar has his library and Saroc and Sendaaka have their love, which
is purpose enough for most lives. All of them still feel the desire for life. I
do not.”

“Lady,” protested Kerish, “surely your task
here, teaching the Ferrabrinth and learning from them, is more important to
Zindar than anything the others have done.”

“The task is important,” agreed the
sorceress, “but I am not. As I told you, my work is nearly done. Don't think I
am unhappy. I have peace here and I value that too much to destroy it by
clinging on too long. I will take you to the Valley of the Rocks again and
afterwards we will consider the key.”

Kerish heard Gidjabolgo approaching. “Lady,
there is one other thing. I could never have reached Tir-Jenac without Gidjabolgo.
He deserves so much and I have no means of rewarding him.”

“You are mistaken there,” murmured
Tebreega, “but go on.”

“He has asked a boon from all the sorcerers
we have visited, but none of them would grant it without impossible conditions.
Please, give him what he desires,” said Kerish earnestly, “and if there is a
price, let me pay it.”

“You know what his desire is?” asked the
sorceress.

“It is not hard to guess,” admitted Kerish,
“but it would be better if he told you himself.”

“Told her what?”

The Forgite was only a few steps away.
Tebreega rose to meet him and Kerish followed her.

“Your Prince says that there is a request
you would make to me. Name it.”

“I'll leave you . . .” began Kerish.

“It doesn't matter anymore,” snapped
Gidjabolgo. “Either she'll grant it and you'll see for yourself, or this is the
last time of asking. Stay and enjoy yourself. Sorceress, take away my ugliness.
Make me handsome enough for women to drool over and men to turn sick with
jealousy. If you can do for me what you've failed to do for yourself, take away
my ugliness.”

“I will,” answered Tebreega.

“And the conditions?” demanded Gidjabolgo. “What
small impossibility will you set in my way?”

“I have no conditions, only two requests,
and those you may refuse.”

“Name them,” said the Forgite warily.

“I will work the change you ask for,”
promised Tebreega, “and let you see yourself, but before it is made permanent I
wish to tell you a story. Secondly, I want you to ask Kerish-lo-Taan how he
sees you, both before and after the change. All you have to lose is a little
time.”

“What cause have I to trust you?” asked
Gidjabolgo.

“None,” said Tebreega. “Make your choice.”

“All right,” muttered the Forgite. “Since I
was born a fool, all right.”

“Come here then, and receive your desire.”

Cautiously he approached the sorceress.
Tebreega untied her cloak and passed her wand over it seven times.

“Kneel!” she ordered. “It may hurt a little
at first. I will take the pattern from your thoughts. You would hardly trust my
idea of handsome, would you?”

Clumsily the Forgite knelt, staring past
her to where Kerish stood. Tebreega cried out three times and dropped the cloak
over Gidjabolgo.

The Forgite screamed. Kerish ran forward
but the sorceress stilled him with a gesture. Gidjabolgo tried to throw off the
cloak but it enveloped him and the screams were muffled.

“When the self-image is so strong,”  said
Tebreega, “it is hard to tear it away.”

Smothered in scarlet feathers Gidjabolgo
writhed across the glade to Kerish's feet and then lay still.