They had not, after all, overtaken Liell. There lay the road. Nothing moved upon it They seemed alone in all the land.
"It is too fair," said Erij, "too open. I should feel naked upon that road, by daylight."
"By night?"
"That seems the only good sense."
"I can tell you better," Vanye said, persistent to the last. "That you let me do this."
Erij stared at him and seemed to estimate him, so fearful in his own expression that fear of discovery wound itself through Vanye's belly.
Almost he expected some harsh words, some flaring suspicion.
"What is it?" Erij asked, his tone curiously earnest. "What is it you expect down there? Has she warned you?"
"Brother," said Vanye, "the both of you have me by oath; and if my proper liyo is alive and with them… I have one responsibility to Morgaine, another to you. Between the two of you, you will be the death of me, and I could think more clearly if there were not the two of you in one place, about to go for each other's throats."
"I will give you this much," said Erij, "that if she does not seem to need killing, I will not. I have never killed a woman. I do not like the idea."
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"Thank you for that," Vanye said earnestly.
And then, thinking of Liell: "Erij. If it comes to being captured— die.
Those tales of Thiye's long life are true. If they took you, your body would go on ruling either in Ra-hjemur or Morija, but it would not be your soul in it."
Erij swore softly. "Truth?"
"For my sake, you have an ally if Morgaine is alive. Help me set her free and our chances of living become a thousandfold better."
Erij merely stared at him, hard-eyed.
"I am almost as ignorant as you are," Vanye protested. "I do not know the half of what is contained down there. I think she does. And for her own sake she would take our side. It is sure that no one else would. If you are going to start by killing our only possible ally in this business, or in keeping her helpless, well, then, you might as well tie me hand and foot before we go, since I am hers for a time yet… the hands, of which her science is the mind in this matter: and you would be wiser if you made use of both."
Erij gave him no answer, yet it seemed he thought seriously about his words, and they rode down together into a wooded place where they could no longer see the valley.
"We will rest here a time," said Erij, "and come in by night. Will Thiye resist Liell's entry?"
"I do not know," answered Vanye. "I think Morgaine thinks Thiye once was master and Liell his servant, at least at Irien; and that they had some falling-out. But if Liell brings Morgaine to Thiye, she may be the key that opens doors for him. And then, I think, if the same ambitions move qujal as move human men— which I do not know— then there may be treachery, and we may have either Thiye or Liell to deal with, whichever one wins the throw. I think perhaps Liell has waited a very long time to find some key that would admit him to Ra-hjemur. But this is my 207
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estimation: Morgaine said nothing of her own reckoning of their plans."
He added, as Erij sat still upon his horse, listening, "I am not sure that Thiye is qujal or whether he is not simply some human man who employed a qujal for a servant and is now about to reap his reward for meddling; meddler is what Morgaine called him, and ignorant, and the Witchfires have no healthful effect on anything living. For some reason, if rumor is true, at least, he has let himself grow old. So Thiye may not be qujal at all, and I know that Morgaine is not, whatever you believe— but Liell is. That is the sum of it, Erij. Thiye is the matter of my oath, but I extend that oath to Liell most of all: and in good sense, you will let me do that."
"You wish to free the witch, that is what."
"Yes. But in doing that, I will kill Liell, who is a threat to both our causes, and I want your help in it, Erij. I want you to understand that I have business in Ra-hjemur beyond Thiye, and that freeing Morgaine would not be treachery against you."
Erij slid down. Vanye did not, and Erij looked up at him, face drawn against the winter sun. "There is one clear point in all of this: you will guard my life and help me take Ra-hjemur for myself. That is the sum of matters."
"You have taken my oath," Vanye said, miserable at heart. "I know that that is the sum of matters."
* * *
There was no moon, and clouds had moved in. There was that help, at least. Ra-hjemur sat upon a low, barren hill, a citadel surely of the qujal, for it was simply a vast cube, unadorned, untowered, without protecting ring-walls or any defense evident to the eye. A stony path ran up to its gate; no grass grew upon it, but then, no grass grew anywhere on the hill.
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They crouched a time by the bend of the knoll where they had left their horses, merely surveying the place. There was no stir of life.
Erij looked at him as if seeking his opinion.
"The sword can breach the door," Vanye said. "But beware of traps, brother, and mind that I am behind you: I do not care to die by the same chance that Ryn did."
Erij nodded understanding, then slipped from cover, seeking other shadows, Vanye quick to follow. They came not directly up the road to the gate, but up under the walls, and in their shadow, to the gate itself.
It was graven with runes upon its metal pillars, but the gate was iron and wood, like the door of many an ordinary fortress; and when Erij drew Changeling and touched its black field to the joining of the doors the air sang with the groan of metals. The doors parted their joinings, and the pillars too, and stone rumbled, loosed from its supports. Dust choked them, and when it cleared a mass of rubble partly blocked the entry.
Erij gazed but a moment at the destruction he had wrought, then clambered over the rubble and sought the echoing inside of the place, which burned with light no fires supplied.
Vanye hurried through, asweat with dread, snatched up a sizable rock in the process, and as Erij started to look back at him, smashed it to Erij's helmeted skull. It was not enough. Erij fell, but still retained half-senses and heaved up with the blade.
Vanye saw it coming, twisted to evade the shimmer, kicked Erij's arm so that it wrung from him a cry of pain, and the sword fell.
He snatched it up then, gazed down on his brother, whose face was contorted with fury and fear. Erij cursed him, deliberately and with thought, such that it chilled his blood.
He took the sheath from Erij, who did not resist him; and upon an impulse to pity for Erij, he cast down Erij's own longsword.
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Arrows flew.
He heard their loosing even before he whirled and knew they had come from the stairs, but Changeling in his warding hand made an easy path to elsewhere for the arrows, and they both remained unharmed. He knew the sword's properties, had seen Morgaine wield it, and knew its uses in ways Erij did not. Erij would as likely have taken an arrow as not.
And perhaps Erij understood that fact, or understood at the least that continuing their private dispute could be fatal to them both: Erij gathered up the longsword with but a glowering promise in his eyes, and rose, following as Vanye began to lead the way.
Killing a man from behind was an easy matter, even were he in mail; but Erij needed more hands than one: he risked everything on it.
And quickly he dismissed the threat of Erij from his mind, overwhelmed by the alien place. Breath almost failed him when he considered the size of the hall, the multitude of doors and stairs. Morgaine had sent him here ignorant, and there was nothing to do but probe every hall, every hiding place, until he either found what he was seeking or his enemies found his back.
Save that, held straight before them, Changeling gave forth a brighter glow, and when lifted, sent a coursing of impulses through the dragon-hilt, such that it seemed to live.
Carefully, Erij treading in his wake, he took the stairs to the level above.
They
found a hall very like the one below, save that at its end there was a metal door, of that shining metal very like the pillars of the Witchfires.
Changeling began to emit a sound, a bone-piercing hum that made his fingers ache; it grew stronger as he neared it. He ran toward that gate, figuring speed their best defense against a rally from Hjemurn: and froze, startled, as that vast door lightly parted to welcome him.
And startled more by the sight of gleaming metal and light that stretched away into distance, glowing with colors and humming with the power of the fires themselves. Changeling throbbed, his arm growing numb from holding it.
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The field directed at its own source of power would effect the ruin of all the Gates.
The pulsing of conflicting powers reached up his arm into his brain, and he did not know whether the blade's wailing was in the air or in his own outraged senses.
He lifted it, expecting death, found instead that it did not much worsen, save when he angled it right. Then the pain increased.
"Vanye," Erij shouted at him, catching his shoulder. He saw stark fear on his brother's face.
"This is the way," Vanye said to him. "Stay here, guard my back." But Erij did not. He knew his brother's presence close behind him as he entered that hall.
He understood now: it greatly disagreed with Morgaine's careful nature, to have expected him to carry out so important a thing with so few instructions. There had been no need: the sword itself guided them, by its impulses of sound and pain. After a time of walking down that glowing corridor of qujalin works, the sound wiped out other senses until nothing but vision was left.
And in that vision stood an old man, hairless and wrinkled and robed in gray, who held out hands to them and mouthed silent words, pleading.
Blood marred his aged face.
Vanye lifted the sword, threatening with that dreadful point, but the vision would not yield, barring their path with his very life.
Thiye, some sense told him: Thiye Thiye's-son, lord of Hjemur.
All at once the old man fell, clawing at the air, and there was an arrow in the robes at his back, and the red blood spreading.
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A figure stood clear of the hall behind, gray and green, the young lord of Chya, lowering his bow. With sudden, breathless haste, Roh started toward them, slinging his strung bow to his back.
Vanye sought Changeling's sheath at once, hope surging in him. The sudden silence in the air as that point found its proper haven was overwhelming: his abused ears could hardly hear Roh's voice. He felt Roh's eager hands grasp his arms, distant even from that sensation.
"Vanye, cousin," Roh cried, ignoring the threat of his blood-enemy Erij who stood beside, sword in hand. "Cousin, Thiye— Liell— they are at odds. Morgaine escaped them both, but—"
"Is she alive?" Vanye demanded.
"Alive, aye, well alive. She has the hold, Vanye. She means to destroy it.
Come, come, clear this place. It will tumble down stone from stone.
Hurry."
"Where is she?"
Roh's eyes gestured up, toward the stairs. "Barricaded up there, with her weapons in her possession again, and willing to kill anyone who comes within range. Vanye, do not try to reach her. She is mad. She will kill you too. You cannot reason with her."
"Liell?"
"Dead. They are all dead, and most of Thiye's servants are fled. You are free of your oath, Vanye. You are free. Escape this place. There is no need of your dying."
Roh's fingers tugged at him, his dark eyes full of agony; but of a sudden Vanye broke the hold and began to run toward the stairs upward. Then he looked back. Roh hesitated, then began to run in the other direction, vanishing quickly toward the safety of the downward stairs, a wraith in green. Erij cast a look in either direction, as if torn between, then raced toward the ascending stairs, longsword in hand, pointed it at Vanye, his eyes wild.
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"Thiye is dead," Erij said. "He is dead. Your oath to the witch is done.
Now stop her."
The fact of it hit him like a hammer blow: he stared helplessly at Erij, owning the justice of his claim, trying to think where his obligation truly lay. Then he shook off everything and suspended thought: his duty to either one lay in reaching Morgaine with all possible speed.
He turned and ran, taking the steps two at a time, until he came up, breathless, into yet another hall like the one below.
And confronted Morgaine, as Roh had warned him, hale and well and facing them both with the deadly black weapon secure in her hand.
"Liyo!" he cried, flung up his empty hand as if that alone could ward off harm, and with the other cast Changeling at her feet.
"No!" Erij cried in fury, but bit off further protest as Morgaine smoothly gathered the sheathed blade up, yet keeping the black weapon trained upon them. Then she lowered it.
"Vanye," said Morgaine. "Well met."
And she joined them, and began to descend the stairs from which they had come, carefully, trusting Vanye at her back; of a sudden he surmised what she sought thus cautiously.
"Thiye is dead," he said.
Her gray eyes cast back an unexpected look of agony. "Your doing?"
"No. Roh's."
"Not Roh's," she said. "Thiye freed me— that being his only hope of defeating Liell and keeping his life. He gave me this slim chance. I would have saved his life if I could. Is Roh down there?"
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"He ran," said Vanye, "saying you meant to destroy this place." Horrid suspicion came over him. "It was not Roh, was it?"
"No," said Morgaine. "Roh died at Ivrel, in your place."
And she raced them down the stairs, pausing only to be careful at the turning, and came into that dread hall of qujalin design.
It was empty, save for Thiye's sprawled corpse in a widening pool of blood.
Morgaine ran, her footsteps echoing upon the floor, and Vanye followed, knowing that Erij was still with them, and little caring at the time. Anger seethed in him for Liell's mocking treachery with him; and dread was in him too for what Morgaine might intend with these strange powers.
She reached the very end of the hall, where there rose a vast double pillar of lights, and her hand abandoned the sword upon the counter an instant, while she wove a sure, practiced pattern among the lights. Noise thundered from the walls, voices gibbered ghostlike in unknown languages. Lights flared up and down the pillars, and began to pulse in increasing agitation.
She made it all cease, as quick as a move of her hand, and leaned against the counter, head bowed, like one who had suffered some mortal blow.
Then she turned and lifted her head, her eyes fixed earnestly on Vanye's.
"You and your brother must quit this place as quickly as you can," she said. "Liell spoke the truth in one thing: it will be destroyed. The machine is locked in such a way I cannot free it, and Ra-hjemur will be rubble in the time a rider could reach Ivrel. You are free of your oath. You have paid it all. Good-bye."
And with that she brushed past him and walked quickly down the long aisle alone, headed for the stairs.
"Liyo! " he cried, stopping her. "Where are you going?"
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"He has locked the Gate open on a place of his choosing, and I am going after him. I have not much time: he has a good start on me, and surely he has allowed only what he thinks enough time for himself. But he is timid, this Liell: I am hoping that he has given himself too much grace, too much margin."
And with that she turned again, and began to walk and more quickly, and at last to run.
Vanye started forward a pace. "Brother," Erij reminded him. He stopped.
She vanished down the stairs.
When the last sound of her footsteps was gone he turned again, of necessity, to face the anger in his brother's face. He went down upon the chill floor an
d pressed his forehead to it, making the obeisance his oath made due Erij.
"Your humility is a little late," said Erij. "Get up. I like to see your eyes when you answer questions."
He did so.
"Did she tell the truth?" Erij asked then.
"Yes," said Vanye. "I think it was the truth. Or if you doubt it, at least doubt it from a day's-ride distance from here. If you see it still standing after that, then it was not the truth."
"What is this of Gates?"
"I do not know," he said, "only that sometimes there is another side to the Witchfires and sometimes not, and that once she goes, she will be nowhere we can reach. I am sorry. It was not a thing she explained clearly. But she will not be back. Ivrel is a Gate that will close when this place dies, and after that there will be no more Witchfires, no more Thiyes, no more magics in the world."
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He looked around him at the place, for that complexity was like the living insides of some great beast, though its veins were conduits of lights and its heart and pulse glowed and faded slowly.
"If you do not want to die, Erij," he said, "I suggest we take her advice and be as far from here as possible when it happens."
* * *
The horses were where they had left them, patiently waiting in the gray dawn, cropping the sparse grass as if there were nothing unusual in the day. Vanye checked the girths and heaved himself up, and Erij did the same. They rode the open and faster road this time, pausing for a view of the great cube of Ra-hjemur, which looked, with its breached gate, like a creature with a mortal wound. Then they set out together for Morija.
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