The Limbreth Gate tkavq-3

by Megan Lindholm

  'I am growing impatient.' Rebeke spoke coldly. 'Did not Yoleth and the others know the hour set for this meeting?' Rebeke stood motionless upon the black stone floor of the High Council chamber. She refused to pace, or even to shift her feet. If the High Council wished to be so discourteous as to deny her a chair, she would not let them enjoy her discomfort.

  Five of the nine High Council Windmistresses returned her look. Their eyes were emotionless. They could have been statues gowned in deep blue and placed upon white chairs. The dull white High Council table was shaped in a half circle. Rebeke stood at the focus of all eyes, surrounded by stony gazes. She turned her head slowly, meeting each set of eyes in turn.

  'When will the others arrive?' she demanded again.

  Shiela shrugged. Her seat was to the right of the center chair, which was empty. 'How can we say? You gave us little enough notice that you wished to speak to us. Your action is unusual enough, to say nothing of the hour you have chosen. Dawn hasn't even warmed the fields. Besides, the High Council is accustomed to summoning the Windsingers they wish to address. Not the other way round. Lately, any summons we have sent to you has been ignored. Will you pretend surprise that others return your rudeness?' Shiela sniffed delicately through her narrow nose.

  Rebeke did not flinch. She met Shiela's words silently, staring her down. The faces of the Windmistresses were impassive, but Rebeke could feel their uneasiness like a small cold wind. They did not like to look at her. She was more Windsinger than any of them. She had left her Human form behind like cast-off clothes. The shape of the ancient race was nearly fulfilled in her, and their legendary powers as well. She possessed already what they still strove after. But it gave her no beauty in their eyes.

  Her blue cowl was tall above her brow. The blue and white of her eyes had gone flat. A swelling in the center of her face was a memorial to a once patrician nose. Her mouth was lipless, the corners nearly reaching the hinges of her jaws. The lissome movements of her arms within her loose sleeves suggested that the structure of her elbows and wrists had changed. The High Council could have forgiven the changes in her physiognomy. But they could not forgive the power that thrummed through her voice when she uttered the slightest word. Rebeke made certain they did not forget it.

  She let the silence vibrate. 'Yoleth,' she said at last, 'would certainly take pleasure in refusing to meet with me. But Cerie and Kadra and Dorin; were they even informed of my request?' Shiela stiffened. 'It is not the place of a Windmistress to question the High Council. Nor do we have to account to you for our whereabouts. You wished to speak to us. We have a quorum. Speak.'

  'I shall, but not because you command it. I will speak because I have no time for your petty intrigues. I have other things to attend to. Yet well I know that if I do not speak now, you will later plead ignorance, and make me out to be the unreasonable one. So I will speak swiftly now, and you will listen. Listen and remember.'

  Rebeke stared slowly around at the semicircle of hostile faces. 'At least I need not wonder if I have your attention,' she said mirthlessly. She lifted her right hand abruptly and took a perverse pleasure in the flinching of the two Council members nearest her. 'The wind has brought me rumors. Do not think I jest or exaggerate when I say the breezes bring me news ...'

  'Superior abilities are never an excuse for the misuse of power!' Shiela cut in angrily.

  'Silence!' Rebeke's voice was gentle, but its power rocked the room. Shiela went white as if she lacked air. 'Ignorance is never an excuse for rudeness. As I was saying, the wind has brought me rumors. There is the Romni teamster, called Ki. You are all aware that she lives and travels under my shadow. Not my protection, nor my indulgence. My shadow. She is mine to rebuke, or mine to ignore. You have been warned to leave her alone. But the wind rumors say that you plan to do her evil. Will any of you deny this?'

  Shiela took in air, but could not speak. A slender Windmistress, one of the young ones at the far edge of the table, shifted uneasily. Rebeke put her gaze upon her. Like was the newest of the Council members, with the face of a young Human maiden, lightly scaled. Her lips were still full and rosy with the blush of Humanity. 'I will speak for us,' she ventured timidly. 'Unless there is another who feels she can speak better.' She glanced about the table, but no other Windmistress moved or spoke. Shiela stared at the white table surface.

  'Please speak then,' Rebeke invited her courteously. Her tone was markedly more tolerant as she looked upon the young Windsinger. Lilae drew in a deep breath; her eyes darted to Shiela, and then back to Rebeke.

  'The matter of Ki the Romni has been brought before us. Shiela spoke of it at the last calling of the Council. We are aware that Ki was your' ? Lilae fumbled, seeking a word for what she wished to express - 'servant, in the recovery of the sole Windsinger Relic. We suppose you feel some debt of gratitude to her for aiding you to recover so important a treasure.' Lilae was becoming more certain of herself with every word. 'But perhaps you have not considered the other side of the coin. With the wizard Dresh she was able to force her way into our halls. She was a party to the slaying of Grielea, a Windsinger much honored among us, if not beloved to you.' Rebeke's smooth brows knit, and Lilae's voice shook slightly as she hastily continued. 'And it is said that she helped you to regain the relic, not to please us, but to spite the villagers that would not pay what they owed her. Or would not pay her friend. The reports aren't clear.'

  'They work as one,' Rebeke said portentously. 'A lesson this High Council could learn from them.'

  'Perhaps!' Lilae agreed recklessly. And perhaps you can tolerate their disrespectful ways. But have you remembered she is Romni? For that is what disturbs Shiela. Though she and this Vanjin ?'

  'Vandien,' Rebeke corrected. 'She and this Vandien may most often travel by themselves, but they do frequent the Romni campsites, sometimes to share a day or two of that life. The man is a skilled storyteller. All the Romni know what happened in your halls, and at the sunken temple. The story is spreading, for the Romni have made a song of it. Typical of them, the song is little related to the facts, but boasts only of a Romni and her man who tweaked the noses of the Windsingers, put them in their debt, and walked off without a scratch. Need I remind you that the Romni do not stay in one place? They move about, they meet other Romni, they move on again. The song is spreading. It is known in most of the major towns now, and is becoming a favorite. We cannot tolerate this kind of thing. A properly respectful attitude toward us is the necessary foundation for ...'

  'Ridiculous!' Rebeke did not laugh, but her voice was full of scorn. 'You would kill her for a song. Perhaps you need the other races groveling at your feet, but I do not. And I have told you before: Ki travels under my shadow. If there is such a song - and I have not heard it - it bothers me not at all. Ki will continue to go her own way, unmolested. If we stoop to slaying her, it will not kill the song. It will only increase our reputation as humorless tyrants. Folk cannot be stopped from singing.'

  'I have heard the song,' Shiela croaked. Her face was still white but her eyes blazed. And it is more than disrespectful. It smacks of outright rebellion. Perhaps you fancy being the butt of a joke, Rebeke. We do not. Stick to pet wizards and leave the Romni to us.'

  No one could breathe in the thick silence. 'You shall not speak to me of the wizard Dresh,' Rebeke whispered softly. 'If you try again, you will find yourself incapable of speaking to anyone about anything.' Her voice grew stronger, defiant. 'Need I remind you, any of you, that I am the possessor of the Relic? The last perfectly preserved body of a Windsinger born? Without it, you can start the transformation from lower species to Windsinger, but you cannot complete it. You have not seen it, you cannot know how pathetically inadequate it makes all your carven images. Look at yourselves and look at me. Your bodies need the guidance of your mind and the Relic. But while you take this tone with me, you will not get even a glimpse of it. Until you can be made to see reason, I shall leave you to fumble your way along the path to being true Windsingers. I am nea
rly there. And I have acolytes in my hall who are closer to true form and purer of voice than most here who call themselves Windmistresses. I am not going to force any of you. You can come around to my persuasion and join me. Or you can stay as you are, and be surpassed, outsung and outgrown, until you are unnecessary to anyone.

  'Perhaps Ki and Vandien were not my willing tools in the recovery of the Relic. That matters little to me. I have it. And it was by Ki's voluntary aid that I was able to contain the wizard Dresh, and so control him that you now dare to refer to him as my pet. So. I shall give you a few instructions. Let her disobey who dares. Listen well. Neither Ki nor Vandien shall be killed. Nor shall I agree to their lives being indefinitely postponed, as you so politely refer to it when you place one in the void. Send your singing Romni a storm or two. Blow in the roofs of a few taverns where this song is sung, if you feel that will prove anything. I have no time to watch your every move. For while you are wreaking your trivial vengeances, I am training the Windsingers who tomorrow will rise up, to show this world what Windsingers used to be. The time will come when we shall rule, not with harshness, but from the fullness of our generosity, and the gratitude of a wind-blessed folk. I fear no singing Romni.'

  Shiela looked down once again at the table. Pale lids hooded her eyes, teeth met her lower lip. 'I regret the rift that has grown between us,' she said in a low voice. 'Of what use is the High Council, when the ranks of the Windsingers are sundered? Only under one authority can the winds of the sky blow in harmony. Yoleth is not here, but I think I can offer you this. I give you our word that Ki shall not be killed, nor put in a void. Nor Vandien. Does that satisfy you?' Rebeke spoke slowly. 'It would.' Some thought she was reluctant to be reconciled, and some thought she was mistrustful of the sudden proposal.

  'And, again, though Yoleth is not here, I will be so bold as to ask this. Under what circumstances, what agreements would you allow us access to the Relic? Let your words be tempered by this thought; when you deny us, it is not only the High Council that lacks guidance, but also many young and promising Windsingers in our halls. Will you let the calf die of thirst because the cow has displeased you?'

  'Do not think that has not troubled me,' Rebeke said, and her voice, for once, was empty of her power. 'Your words are fair, your request equitable. But I cannot answer it without thought. When I return to my hall, I shall give my mind to it. The High Council will receive a list of what agreements I think essential for the Windsingers to be once more united. Your keeping OF your word regarding Ki I will see as an omen of your good will.'

  'You will.' Shiela was gracious but reserved.

  'I will leave you now. I am trusting that my words will be passed on to Yoleth, and to Cerie, Kadra, and Dorin. Please let them know that I missed them.'

  'We will.'

  Rebeke left them without another word. She stepped through the portal of the audience chamber and they listened to her footsteps fading down the hall. The silence that drenched the room was ominous. Shiela was the first to speak. She lifted her eyes from their contemplation of the bare table and aimed them at Lilae. Small fires burned in them.

  'Mark how graciously she leaves us, without even a formal farewell. Do not think, Lilae, that I have overlooked your part today. You speak loudly for one so young, and not well. Shiela tells us this, and Shiela says that. I shall remember.'

  Lilae was visibly flustered. 'But I waited for another to take that part and speak for us. I did not want Rebeke to think we had no reasons for our plan other than to spite her.'

  'Spiting that one would be reason enough for any number of plans. But I shall accept your word that it was only stupidity and not malice that drove you to blather on.'

  'Have I missed Rebeke then?' All eyes turned to the portal. Yoleth posed there, looking well pleased with herself. Secrets simmered in her eyes.

  'You have. Such a shame. She was so entertaining.'

  Yoleth's eyes roved across the chairs. 'Dorin, Cerie and Kadra; have they left already, also?'

  'They never arrived.' Shiela's eyes met Yoleth's and traded secrets. 'Perhaps their summonses went awry.'

  'Perhaps. It is just as well. They are too easily influenced by Rebeke's boldness. My errands, at least, went well.'

  'But we must not!' Lilae sat up, going whiter. 'Rebeke knows all! She says if we harm her Romni, she will never let us look upon the Relic. She says ?' 'What a child!' Shiela's voice held no tolerance. 'Rebeke knows all! It's a bluff. She knows nothing, not for certain. The breeze brings me news! Sheer frippery! Only a fool would be taken in by it. No doubt she has heard something, for some tongues in this room wag overmuch, and out of place. But our plans need not change.'

  'You gave your word.' Lilae was shaken but determined.

  'We aren't going to kill the teamster, nor put her in a void. And that's all I gave my word for.' Shiela looked away from Lilae. Her eyes locked with Yoleth's and they reached some agreement.

  'The High Council is dismissed,' Yoleth announced perfunctorily. 'You all have acolytes to see to; a better occupation than sitting here and fretting over shadows. And Lilae?' The young Windmistress turned to look at Yoleth reproachfully. 'Do not be upset. You are young, and full of ideals. I am old, and full of necessities. But one of my necessities is that I keep Windsingers like you by me, to temper my cynicism with your trusting ways. Put the Romni matter from your mind. Let it be upon my head, not yours. Sing with a clear conscience today. May the wind rise ever obedient to your call.'

  'As to yours,' Lilae replied formally and left.

  After a few moments, Yoleth checked the hall to be sure it was empty. She drew close to Shiela and spoke softly.

  'Exactly what does Rebeke know?'

  'She knows you don't like Romni singing. She seemed to accept that as your reason. But I would still like to hear the real one.'

  Yoleth measured the other Windsinger speculatively. 'Not yet. But soon I shall tell you all. Be flattered that you know as much as you do.'

  Shiela appeared to be on the point of speaking. But she swallowed her first words and only observed, 'It is hard to put trust where one is not trusted.'

  Yoleth only smiled at her.

  TWO

  Vandien pinched the heavy weave of the fabric between thumb and forefinger. He gave the vest a shake, and the bright colors almost flashed in the afternoon sun. He raised one eyebrow at the woman in the stall.

  'You know my price!' she reminded him firmly. 'And you can see it's worth it. Try it on, and feel the weight of it.'

  Vandien obeyed, slipping it on over his loose linen shirt. He rolled his shoulders in it, and tugged the front even. 'It fits well,' he grudgingly admitted. 'But ...' 'But he can't possibly be serious.' He turned his head sharply at the amused voice behind him. Ki stood there, her mouth puckered in mock dismay, her arms laden with supplies.

  'I am. And why not?'

  'Blue is your color. And green, yellow, red, and black as well. But not all at once.'

  'Not usually. But last time we stopped with the Romni, Oscar told me that a man who dresses as simply as I do is like a cockerel without feathers. What do you think of this?' Vandien pulled the front of the vest down straight so that the embroidery of birds, flowers and vines could be admired.

  'I think Big Oscar is right. If you wear that vest, no chicken could resist you.'

  He met her laughing eyes with no amusement. 'I think I like it.'

  'Walk about a bit and think it over before you buy. If you still like it, I am sure it will still be here.' Ki made her suggestion in a practical voice.

  'I suppose.' Vandien took off the vest slowly and replaced it on the piles of merchandise. The woman in the stall shrugged at him and rolled her eyes. Vandien gave her a grin she had to answer, and then turned away to Ki.

  'Take some of this stuff, will you?' she demanded, and began to unload into his arms. 'Help me carry it back to the wagon. Can you think of anything else we need?'

  'What do you have there?'

 
She inventoried as she loaded it into his arms. 'Smoked salted fish; red pomes; tea; honey in that brown pot; that's a string of onions over your shoulder; lard in the wooden box; cheese, and a square of leather for new gloves.'

  Vandien stared down at his load. 'It all sounds very practical and essential.' Disappointment dulled his voice.

  'What did you want? Pickled chestnuts and peacock feathers?' Ki was nettled. She spoke over her shoulder as they edged through the busy market. When Vandien did not reply, she glanced back at him. He had paused at a stall aflutter with gay scarves. Belatedly he remembered her and fell in behind her.

  'No. Nothing like that. I'd just like to see you be a little more impulsive. Enjoy life.'

  'You're impulsive enough for both of us,' Ki pointed out.

  Vandien shifted his load. They were out of the main press of the market, but Ki had left the wagon and horses behind the inn. Curly dark hair sagged forward onto his brow and fell into his eyes. He blew up at it, but it only tickled the more. 'You're just jealous of me,' he accused her gravely.

  'Indeed.' Ki juggled her own parcels and slowed to walk beside him. They were nearly of a height, and their eyes met with sparks. 'I suppose next you will be saying that I secretly desire to wear a vest with trees and birds sprouting all over it.'

  'No, not my taste. You're jealous of my ability to enjoy life. You tiptoe through your days, worryingabout warm underwear and axle grease, while I stride through mine singing. You're lost all your edges, Ki. You nibble at the dry corners of your life.'

  'Instead of cramming it all into my mouth at once, like some folk we know.'

  'Exactly.' Vandien bowed his head to acknowledge the compliment. 'This afternoon - I am quite safe in predicting ? you will drink exactly and precisely the three bowls of Cinmeth you permit yourself to consume in a public inn, while I take down as much Alys as they have and I can afford. Isn't that true? What can you say to that?'