Fires of Azeroth

by C. J. Cherryh

  "It cannot make any difference. It changes nothing."

  "Liyo."

  "I warned you it could not make any difference… Roh or Liell; no difference."

  "But Roh—"

  "Let me alone a time. Please."

  His control came close to breaking. He had said too much, too painful things, and she shrugged them off with that. "Aye," he said thickly, and thrust his way to his feet, seeking the cold, sane air outside. But she rose and prevented him with a grip on his wrist. He would hurt her if he struck out in his anger; he stood still, and the tears broke his control. He averted his face from her.

  "Think of something," she hissed fiercely. " Think of something that I can do with this gift you have brought me."

  He could not. "His word you would never take. And that is all there is…

  his word, and my faith that it is worth something. And that is nothing to you."

  "You are unfair."

  "I make no complaint of you."

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  "Keep him prisoner? He knows too much… more than you, more perhaps than Merir… in some things more than I, perhaps. I cannot trust that much knowledge… not with Liell's instincts."

  "At times… at times, I think there is only Roh. He said the other was only in dreams; and perhaps the dreams are stronger than he is when there is nothing near him that Roh remembers. He says that he needs me. —But I have no knowledge of such things. I only guess. Perhaps I am the one who forced him to come here to you, because when he is with me… he is my cousin. I only guess."

  "Perhaps," she said after a moment, "your instinct in that guess is not so far amiss."

  There was a clutching pain in him. He turned and looked at her, looked into her gray eyes, the face that was utterly qhalur. "Roh has said… again and again… that you know all these things very well— and by your own experience."

  She said nothing, but stepped back from him. He did not mean to let it go this time.

  "I do not know," she whispered at last. "I do not know."

  "He says that you are what he is. I am asking you, liyo. I am only ilin; you can tell me never to ask; and the oath I took to you does not question what you are. But I want to know. I want to know."

  "I do not think you do."

  "You said that you were not qhal. But how do I go on believing that? You said that you had never done what Liell has done. But," he added in a still voice difficult to force against the distrust in her eyes, "if you are not qhal— liyo, are you not then the other?"

  "You are saying that I have lied to you."

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  "How can you have told me the truth? Liyo, a little lie, even a kindly lie at the time… I could understand why. If you had told me you were the devil, I could not free myself of the oath I had given you. Perhaps you meant it for kindness in that hour. It was. But after so long, so many things— for my peace—"

  "Would it give you peace?"

  "To understand you— yes. It would. In many ways."

  The gray eyes shimmered, pained. She offered her hand to his, palm up; he closed his over it, tightly, a manner of pledge, and he marked even in doing so that her fingers were long and the hand narrow. "Truth," she said faintly. "I am what Hetharu is: halfling. A place long ago and far from Andur-Kursh… closed now, lost, no matter. The catastrophe did not come only on the qhal; they were not the only ones swept up. There were their ancestors, who made the Gates." She laughed, a lost and bitter laugh. "You do not understand. But as the Shiua are out of my past, I am out of theirs.

  It is paradox. The Gate-worlds are full of that. Can what I have told you give you peace?"

  Fear was in her look… anxiety, he realized numbly, for his opinion, as if she needed regard it. He half understood the other things, the madness that was time within gates. That anything could be older than the qhal… he could not grasp such age. But he had hurt her, and he could not bear to have done that. He let go her fingers, caught her face between his hands and set a kiss beside her lips, the only affirmation of trust he knew how to give. He had believed her a liar, had accused her, assuming so, so surely that he could dismiss such a lie and forgive, understanding her.

  And he did not. A pit opened at his feet, to take in all his understanding.

  "Well," she said, "at least thee is still here."

  He nodded, knowing nothing to say.

  "Thee surprises me sometimes, Vanye."

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  And when he still found no answer, she shook her head and turned away across the little shelter, her arms folded tightly, her head bowed. "Of course you came to that conclusion; there was nothing else you could think. Doubtless Roh himself believes it. And for whatever small damage it could do— Vanye, I beg you keep it to your knowledge, no one else's. I am not qhal. But what I am no longer has any meaning, not in this age.

  Not in Shathan. It no longer matters."

  "Liyo—"

  "I would not have you believing that I knew Roh's nature. I would not have you thinking I sent you against him, knowing that. I did not. I did not, Vanye."

  "Now you have me between two oaths. Oh Heaven, liyo. I was thinking of Roh's life, and now I am afraid of winning it. I do not… I swear I do not try to pull against your good sense. I do not want that. Liyo, protect yourself. I should never have questioned you; this is not how I would have persuaded you. Do not listen to me."

  "I know my own mind. Do not shoulder everything." She tossed her head back, thin-lipped, and looked at him. "This is Nehmin. You will see it as I have seen it; I am not anxious to spill blood in this place. We are far from Andur-Kursh… far from every grudge it had… and I pity him. I pity him, even as Liell— though that is harder: I knew his victims. Give me time to think. Go to sleep a while. Please. There is at least something of the night left, and you look so tired."

  "Aye," he agreed, though it was less for weariness than that he would not dispute her, not now.

  She gave him the mat by the east wall, her own. He lay down there with no real desire of sleep; but the ease it gave sent a sudden heaviness on him, so that he cared not even to move. She drew the blanket further over him, and sat down on the mat beside him, leaned there against the post, her hand over his. He shivered for no reason— if he had taken a chill he was too numb to feel it. He let his breath go, flexed his fingers against hers, enclosed them.

  Then he slept, a hard, swift darkness.

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  Chapter 15

  She was gone in the morning. There was food there, milk and bread and butter, and slices of cold meat. Written in a dab of butter on the side of the pitcher was a Kurshin symbol, the glyph that began Morgaine.

  Safe, she meant. He ate, more than he had thought he could; and there was water heated for him over the coals. He bathed, and shaved… with his own razor, for his personal kit was there: they had recovered it from Mai, surely; and his bow was laid there with his armor, and other things that he had thought forever lost. He was glad— and dismayed, to think that they might have risked themselves, she and Lellin and Sezar, to recover them.

  But her own weapons were still standing in the corner, and it began to trouble him that she stayed so long, unarmed. He went outside, unarmored, to see whether she was in sight: Siptah was gone too, though the harness was not.

  Then a movement caught his eye, and he saw her coming back, riding down the slope, bareback on the gray horse, a strange figure in her white garments. She slid down and wrapped the tether-line over a branch, for she had been riding with only the halter. Her face had held a worried look for an instant; but she put on a different face when she looked up at him… he saw it and answered it with a faint smile, quickly shed.

  "We have a little trouble from the outside this morning," she said. "They are trying us."

  "Is that the way to go looking for it?" He had not meant his voice to be so sharp, but she shrugged a
nd took no affront. The frown came back to her eyes, and they fixed beyond, back the way she had come.

  He looked. Three arrha had followed her, and a Man walked with them, a tall man in green and brown, coming from the shadow of the trees.

  It was Roh.

  * * *

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  They brought him to the front of the shelter and stopped: they laid no hand on Roh in their bringing him, but he had no weapons either. "Thank you,"

  Morgaine told the arrha, dismissing them; but they withdrew only as far as the rocks near the shelter.

  And Roh bowed, as lord visiting hall-lord, with weary irony.

  "Come inside," Morgaine bade him.

  Roh came, passed the curtain which Vanye held aside for him. His face was pale, unshaven— and afraid, although he tried not to show it. He did not look as if he had slept.

  "Sit down," Morgaine invited him, herself settling to the mat by the brazier, and Roh did so on the opposite side, cross-legged. Vanye sank down on his heels at Morgaine's shoulder. An ilin's place, which said what it might to Roh. Changeling, he thought uneasily, for the sword was unattended in the corner, and Morgaine unarmed: he had at least placed himself as a barrier between Roh and that.

  "Chya Roh," Morgaine said softly. "Are you well?"

  A muscle jerked in Roh's jaw. "Well enough."

  "It took me some argument to bring you here. The arrha were minded otherwise."

  "You usually obtain what you want."

  "Vanye did speak for you— and well. None could be more persuasive with me. But counting all that— and my gratitude for your help to him, Chya Roh i Chya— are we other than enemies? Roh or Liell, you have no love for me. You hate me bitterly. That was so in Ra-koris. Are you the kind of man who can change his mind that thoroughly?"

  "I hoped you would be dead."

  "Ah. Truth from you. That does surprise me. And then what would you?"

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  "The same that I did. I would have stayed…" His eyes shifted to Vanye's and locked, and his voice changed. "I would have stayed with you and tried to reason with you. But… that is not how it came out, is it, cousin?"

  "And now?" Morgaine asked.

  Roh gave a haggard grin, made a loose gesture of the hands.

  "My situation is rather grim, is it not? Of course I offer you my service. I should be mad not to. I do not think that you have any intention of accepting; you are hearing me now to satisfy my cousin's sensibilities; and I am talking to you because I have nothing left to do."

  "Because Merir and the arrha turned a deaf ear to you last night?"

  Roh blinked dazedly. "Well, you did not expect me not to try that, did you?"

  "Of course not. Now what else will you try? Harm Vanye, who trusts you?

  Perhaps you would not; I almost believe that. But me you never loved, not in any shape you have worn. When you were Zri you betrayed your king, your clan, all those men… when you were Liell, you drowned children, and made of Leth such a plague-spot, such a sink of depravity—"

  Terror shot into Roh's eyes, horror. Morgaine stopped speaking, and Roh sat visibly shivering… gone, all pretense of cynicism. Vanye looked on him and hurt, and set his hand on Morgaine's shoulder, wishing her to let him be; but she did not regard it.

  "You do not like it," she murmured. "That is what Vanye said— that you had bad dreams."

  "Cousin," Roh pleaded.

  "I shall not call it back for you," she said. "Peace. Roh… Roh… I shall say nothing more of it. Be at peace."

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  Roh's hands, shaking, covered his face; he rested so a moment, white and sick, and she let him be. "Give him drink," she said. Vanye took the flask she indicated with a glance, and knelt and offered it to him. Roh took it with trembling hands, drank a little. When he was done, Vanye did not leave him, but held to his shoulder.

  "Are you all right now?" Morgaine asked him. "Roh?" But he would not look at her. "I have done you more harm than I wished," she said. "Forgive me, Chya Roh."

  He said nothing. She rose then, and took Changeling from the corner…

  withdrew from the shelter entirely.

  Roh did not look at that, nor at anything. "I can kill him," he breathed between his teeth, and shuddered. "I can kill him. I can kill him."

  For a moment it made no sense, the rambling of a madman; and then Vanye understood, and kept hold of him. "Cousin," he said in Roh's ear.

  "Roh. Stay with me. Stay with me."

  Sanity returned after a moment. Roh breathed hard and bowed his head against his knees.

  "Roh, she will not do that again. She saw. She will not."

  "I would be myself when I die. Can she not allow me that?"

  "You will not die. I know her. I know her. She would not."

  "She will manage it. Do you think that she will ever let me at her back where you stand, or rest when I am near her? She will manage it."

  The veil shadowed, went back. Morgaine stood in the doorway. "I am afraid I hear you," she said quietly. "The veils do not stop much."

  "I will say it to your face," Roh said, "syllable by syllable if you did not get it clear. —Will you not return the courtesy, to me— and to him?"

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  Morgaine frowned, rested Changeling point down on the floor before her.

  "I will say this: that there is some good chance it will make no difference what I will and will not." She nodded vaguely westward, at the other wall.

  "If you want to walk through that woods and take a look at the riverside, you will find enough Shiua to make any quarrel we have among ourselves quite pointless. What I say I would say if Vanye were not involved. The kindnesses I attempt generally come to worse than my worst acts. But murder sits ill with me, and…" She lifted Changeling slightly from the floor and rested it again. "I have not the options of fair fight that a man has; nor would I put that burden on Vanye, to deal with you in that fashion. You are right; I cannot trust you as I do him. I do not think I could ever be persuaded to that. I do not want you at my back. But we have mutual enemies out there. There is a land about us that does not deserve that plague on it… and you and I made it, did we not? You and I created that horde. Will you share in stopping it? The fortunes of war—may make it unnecessary to concern ourselves about our… differences."

  Roh seemed dazed a moment… and then he set his hands on his knees and laughed bitterly. "Yes. Yes, I would do that."

  "I will not ask an oath of you or take one, no great one: it would bind me to an honor I cannot afford. But if you will give your simple word, Roh—

  I trust you can bind your other impulses."

  "I give it," Roh said. He rose, and Vanye with him. "You will have what you want of me. All… that you want of me."

  Morgaine's lips tightened. She turned and walked to the far wall and laid down Changeling, gathering up her armor. "Do not be too forward in it There is food left, probably. Vanye, see he has what he needs."

  "My weapons," Roh said.

  She looked at him, scowling. "Aye, I will see to that." And she turned again and began working into her armor.

  "Morgaine kri Chya."

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  She looked up.

  "You… did not bring me from Ra-koris; I brought myself, I. You did not aim that horde at this land. I did, no other. And I will not take food or drink or shelter of you, not— as matters stand. If you insist, I must; but if not— then I will take it elsewhere, and not inflict any obligation on myself or on you."

  She hesitated, seeming stunned. Then she walked over and flung back the veil to the outside, waved a signal at the arrha who waited there. Roh left, pausing to offer a bow of courtesy; Morgaine let fall the veil after him, and lingered there, leaning her head against her arm. After a moment she swore, in her own tongue, and turned away, avoiding his eyes.

&nbs
p; "You," Vanye said into that silence, "you did as much as he would have asked of you."

  She looked up at him. "But you expect more."

  Vanye shook his head. "I regard you too much, liyo. You are risking your life in giving what you have. He could kill you. I do not think so, or I would not have him near you. But he is a risk; and I know how you feel.

  Maybe more so. He is my cousin. He brought me here alive. But… if… he is overmuch tempted, liyo, then he will lose. I know that. What is more, he does. You have done the best thing you could do."

  She bit her lips until the blood left them. "He is a man, your cousin. I will give him that."

  And she turned and gathered up the rest of her armor, put it on with a grimace of discomfort. "He will have his chance," she said then. "Armor and bow: little use for anything else if this is like the last time… until they reach the rock itself. We are in no small danger."

  "They are prepared?"

  "Some of them are well up the Silet, the tributary river to our south; the force at Narnside began moving across to our bank at dawn."

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  "You permit this?"

  She gave a bitter laugh. "I? Permit? I fear I am not in charge here. The arrha have permitted it, step by step, until we are nigh surrounded.

  Powerful they are, but their whole mind, their whole conception of the problem, is toward defense, and they will not hear me. I would have done differently, yes, but I have not been able to do anything until recently.

  Now it comes to the point that the only thing I can do is help them hold this place. It has never been a matter of what I would choose here."

  He bent and gathered his armor from where he had left it.

  * * *

  They saddled the horses, not alone Siptah, but Lellin's and Sezar's, and gathered up all that they might need if it came to flight. What was in Morgaine's mind remained her own; but he reckoned in his own thoughts what she had told him, the isolation by wood and water of the area that was Nehmin, and the Shiua possessing the rivers that framed their refuge. All the area about them was tangled and wooded, and that was a situation no Kurshin could find comfortable; there was no place to maneuver, no place to run. The horses were all but useless to them, and the hill was too low to hold.