Gate of Ivrel

He crept along the wall to that position, caught the stablescent of horses.

Large bodies moved within.

"Liyo!"he hissed into the dark. Nothing responded. He eased his way inside, the pale glimmer of Siptah to his left, to his right, blackness.

"Do not move," came Morgaine's whisper. "Vanye, thee knows I mean it."

153

Gate of Ivrel

He froze, utterly still. Her voice was from before him. Someone— he judged it to be Ryn— moved from behind him, put his hands at his waist and searched him cursorily for some hidden weapon before taking hold of the sword belt. He moved his head so that the strap could pass it the more easily: he was unaccountably relieved at the passing of that weight, as if he had been in the grip of something vile and were gently disentangled from it and set free.

Ryn carried it to her: he saw the shadow pass a place of dim starlight. For his own part his knees were trembling. "Let me sit," he asked of her. "I am done, liyo.I have been night and day in the saddle reaching this place."

"Sit," she said, and he dropped gratefully to his knees, would gladly have collapsed on his face and slept, but it was neither the place nor the moment for it. "Ryn," she said, "keep an eye to the approaches. I have somewhat to ask of him."

"Do not trust him," Ryn said, which stung him with rage. "The Nhi would not have made him a gift of the sword and set him free for love of you, lady."

Fury rose in him, hate of the youth, so smooth, so unscarred, so sure of matters with Morgaine. He found words strangled in his throat, and simply shook his head. But Ryn left. He heard the rustle of Morgaine's cloak as she settled kneeling a little distance from him.

"Well it was thee spoke out," she said softly. "A dozen or so have tried that way these past two days, to their grief."

"Lady." He bowed and pressed his forehead briefly to earth, pushed himself wearily upright again. "There is a large force, either on its way or here already. Erij covets Thiye's power, thinking he can have it for himself."

"You cried at me not to trust him," she said, "and that I did believe. But how do I trust you now? Was the sword gift or stolen?"

154

Gate of Ivrel

What she said frightened him, so much as anything had power to frighten him, tired as he was: he knew how little mercy there was in her for what she did not trust, and he had no proof. "The sword itself is all that I can give you to show you," he said. "Erij drew it; it killed, and he feared to hold it. When it fell, I took it and ran— it is a powerful key, lady, to gates and doors."

She was silent for a moment. He heard the whisper of the blade drawn partway, the soft click as it slipped back to rest. "Did thee hold it, drawn?"

She asked that in such a tone as if she wished otherwise.

"Yes," he said in a faint voice. "I do not covet it, liyo, and I do not wish to carry it, not if I go weaponless." He wished to tell her of the men of Myya, what had happened: he had no name for it, and saw in his mind those lost faces. In some deeper part of him, he did not want to know what had become of them.

"It taps the Gates themselves," she said, and moved in the dark. "Ryn, do you see anything?"

"Nothing, lady,"

She settled back again, this time in the dim starlight that fell through the crack, so that he could see her face, half in shadow as it was, the light falling on it sideways. "We must move. Tonight. Does thee think otherwise, Vanye?"

"There are archers on the height out there. But I will do what you decide to do."

"Do not trust him," Ryn's voice hissed from above. "Nhi Erij hated him too well to be careless with him or the blade."

"What does thee say, Vanye?" Morgaine asked him.

"I say nothing," he answered. Of a sudden the weariness settled upon him, and it was too much to argue with a boy. His eyes stayed upon Morgaine, waiting her decision.

155

Gate of Ivrel

"The Nhi gave me back all but Changeling," she said, "not knowing. I suspect, that some of the things they returned were weapons: they recognized the sword as what it was, but not these others. They also gave me back your belongings, your armor and your horse, your sword and your saddle. Go and make yourself ready. All the gear is in the corner together. I do not doubt but that you are right about the archers; but we have to move: all this coming and going of yours ca

He felt his way, found the corner and the things she described, the familiar roughness of the mail that had been his other skin for years. The weight as he settled it upon him was greater than he remembered: his hands shook upon the buckles.

He considered the prospect of the ride they would make, down that throat of a pass, and began to reckon with growing fear that there was not enough left in him to make such a ride. He had spent and spent, and there was little more left in him.

It was not likely, he thought, that they would escape from this unscathed: Myya arrows were a sound that had come to strike a response in his flesh.

He had escaped too many of them, in Erd and in Morija. The odds were in favor of the arrows.

Morgaine came upon him, sought his hand, took it and turned his wrist upward. The thing that hit was like a weapon, unexpected, and he flinched.

"Thee does not approve," she said. "But I will have it so. I have little of that to spend: unlike my other things, the sun does not renew it, and when it is gone, it is gone. But I will not lose thee, ilin."

He rubbed at the sore place, expecting a wound, finding none, and begi

I will not lose thee,ilin.

156

Gate of Ivrel

She had lingered in this snare in Morija because of Changeling.He knew that in his heart and did not blame her. But there was in that word a small bit of concern for the ilinwho served her, and that, from Morgaine, was much.

He set to work about his preparations with the determination that he would not be lost, that so long as he had a horse under him he would make it down the pass and into Baien's hills.

They had three horses: Siptah; the ungrateful black, who tried to bite and desisted sullenly with a rap of the quirt along his jaw; and Ryn's dun horse, hardly fine-blooded, but long in the legs and deep in the chest.

Vanye estimated that the beast might hold the courses they set, at least as long as need be; and the youth could ride: he was Morij, and Nhi.

"Leave the harp," Vanye protested when he saw the thing slung on the youth's back, as they led their horses out into the starlight. "The rattle of it will kill us all."

"No," said the youth flatly, which was what one might expect of Nhi Ryn Paren's-son. And rather than snatch it from him and delay for argument, Vanye cast a stern look at Morgaine, for he knew that the boy would heed her word.

But she forebore to do anything, and, effectively set in his place, Vanye led the black after Siptah's tail, until they were at the comer. There was a gate to be opened: he led the black to that point and heaved back the rusty bolt, shouldered it wide; and Morgaine and Ryn thundered through, Vanye only an instant slower, springing to the saddle and laying heels to the animal. Siptah's white tail flipped gay insolence as the big gray took the retaining wall, warning Vanye what he had forgotten over the years: that there was a jump there. Ryn took it; his own black gathered and jolted down to a landing, skidding downslope, haunches down like a bird in landing, for the grass was wet.