Wind From the Abyss

by Janet Morris

  I told it to him. He slid down upon the rushes, his weight making them sigh and rustle. The chain upon him hissed. I wished it was over, decided. He asked me of the method and manner of the confrontation. He asked of M’ksakka. Not once did his gaze lighten upon me, not for one instant did I see in him what I had come here seeking.

  When he was finished questioning, he bade me leave. Silent, I did his will.

  The arrar, upon seeing my face and my early exit, did not press me to then fulfill my commitment.

  “Sereth,” I had pleaded, “let me serve you.”

  “One last time? No. When I want you, I will take you,” he had answered. “Now, get from my sight. I have need of rest.”

  The time, I thought as Ase led me to the guarded exit, is obstinate in the extreme. I would have been elsewhere than Khys’s keep awaiting Carth that morning. But that was where Ase delivered me.

  He stood about, reluctant to leave.

  “I will give you service,” I said to him, at the lintel. “But not in the dharen’s keep, with Carth’s arrival imminent.” He stood over me, very blond and lakeborn.

  “We will see to it,” he agreed, “at a more convenient time.”

  “You did not aid me for my use,” I accused him.

  “No, nor did you seek the Ebvrasea for his. But you are right. I sought something from the moment, something it failed to provide.”

  “I, also, got less than I had envisioned from that encounter.”

  “Doubtless,” he said, leaning upon the door frame, “if the moment had been more fruitful, you would not have been here for Carth.” He squinted, pointing down the hall. I then saw Carth.

  “Truth,” I said, my voice as wry as his. “Perchance we will do better in the circle. I, for one, am far beyond my depths in these matters.”

  As Carth approached, it seemed to me that he bore my destiny with him, a dark mantle that devoured light all around him. Carth walked in shadow, though the day came in the windows and the ceiling stars attended their task. I heard Khys’s voice, inward, asking from me composure, notwithstanding the message Carth would bear.

  “You will excuse me?”

  “Surely. I have a book to read,” he said with a self-effacing grin.

  “Upon hesting, no doubt.” I picked it from his mind.

  “Tasa,” he said. Unwilling to meet Carth, was the blond arrar. He pushed himself away from the wall and was gone down a bifurcation in moments.

  I shivered and awaited Carth, now first of Khys’s council.

  “Have you taken up with the opposition?” he snarled, pushing me roughly before him into the keep.

  “Khys is not yet returned,” I said, shaking free of him. Calm, I reminded myself, in the face of Carth’s terrifying temper.

  “The dharen has asked me,” I managed through clenched teeth, “to try to maintain an atmosphere of normalcy in which he may function with minimal distraction. You are not helping.” I sat upon the edge of the couch. Carth paced the mat before me as if Chayin’s spirit had suddenly come to inhabit his flesh.

  He snorted. “You would maintain that atmosphere from beneath the soil? I was apprised of Ase’s intent while resting, so strong was it. And yours also. Do you think he did not know your scheme? He awaited it, that he might have cause to bring in another of his master’s hests.”

  “Are you telling me Ase sought my life in the undertunnels?”

  “As surely as you sought his,” said Carth, stopping in mid-pace to glare.

  I shrugged. “It did not work for either of us. Sereth awaits Khys’s return. Chayin also seeks no help. Why? What possesses them?” I unbuckled the weapons belt, laid it by.

  “Their maleness, I imagine.”

  “Maleness makes a man crave his own execution?”

  Carth’s fists found his hips. Derision twisted his features. “Why does a man reach his limit at one time and not another? I know not. With Sereth, I might guess it related to you and what you have become.”

  “Let us not discuss what I have become. I had more than enough of such instruction this evening past.”

  “But with Sereth, it is only a guess. In crux, little is revealed. He places his hests. They are not ineffectual. His skills are not as ours. You have seen the attenuated effect of the band of restraint upon him. True Silistran he may be, or a picture of what our children’s children will become. Under these circumstances, with Khys bound by his own word to give him the chance he gave Gherein, his skills may aid him,”

  “You took him. How can he stand against such forces as Khys can command?” I whispered, seeing him, his wounds still heavy upon him, cold and defiant in his cell.

  “Ten arrars and I went to the taking of those two. Sereth disdains helsar skills as weapons. And well he may, since none of mine could even slow him with mind. He demanded and received physical battle from us. His shielding protects him from all but steel or stra.” Through Carth’s memory I saw it: Sereth and Chayin, cornered upon the third floor. They bore that day no smiles upon them. Between Sereth’s legs was a corpse cleaved down the middle. The spilled organs made gory mud about their feet. Sereth had extended his shielding to Chayin, or the cahndor had learned its workings. Through it, periodically, did Chayin reach out with his mind. One stroke, that of contained turbulence, swept Carth off his feet and dashed him against the corridor wall. And I saw them taken in the rush of nine against them. Four more I saw die there, two by the cahndor in one desperate blade flash. From that stroke Chayin did not recover, but tumbled senseless atop the last man he had downed. And the five of them then took their leisure with Sereth. I broke the link. That I would not see.

  “I am distressed,” said Carth, “by your concern for them. Have you no feelings for Khys? You have long since ceased being a woman to Sereth. A symbol, you are, of his failure and diminishment and loss.”

  “Back to what I have become? Carth, I will not hear it. What I am, you and Khys have made me. What that is, I do not know. What offends the cahndor and Sereth, if offense it is, is beyond my understanding. But I have never understood fitness as it is propounded by men. I care not. I have feelings for Khys. They are mixed, in many areas. Of one thing I am sure. He has ruled overlong from the Lake of Horns.”

  Carth sought the window, his back to me. His voice came very soft. And it was filled with grief. “Shaper’s spawn, we may see soon the end of that rule. And it would be a great loss, if such should come to be. It is a pity that none could give you perspective. But then”—he sighed—“we had perspective. It did us little good. You have served Estrazi’s purpose. Khys dreamed you so weak and fragile that he might dally with you, forewarned, and come to no harm. He took a dream and made it real. But in those lands he became lost. And I wonder if he will wake in time.” He turned and faced me, his hands clutching the still. “The child,” he said, “is gone.”

  I looked at him, filled with thoughts of Chayin and Khys and Sereth and crux, not understanding. Then his words took meaning. I smiled at his dour and careworn face. I stretched and rose. In my seeing, I had been upheld. Crux notwithstanding, I had received the match I sought—that of presage with time-spawned moment. Our departure from the Lake of Horns, I had seen. And where we were bound—that also had been shown to me. But though I had preguessed the reason, I had not fitted it in its temporal position.

  Calm, Khys had begged of me. Calm would I give him. He, who had known even that my unauthorized seeking of Sereth would move Carth to attend me before his return, would have my most diligent assistance in these matters.

  “Do you have no tears to shed for your son?” demanded Carth incredulously.

  “He was mine to bear, only. Upon this subject, I gave Khys warning. Fear does not become you. Khys doubtless has his reasons. If you love him as deeply as your profess, give him the respect he is due. He has not yet fallen. Let us all save our tears for that event, lest we invite into the time that which we least desire.” And he did not choose to hear my sarcasm, but only nodded and sank down upon th
e alcove cushions to await the dharen’s return.

  The sun sought the apex of its travel, I sought the sort. Through great fogs and mires of crux I plowed on. And came, eventually, to a recollection. All that I had learned about blood debts and fitness I reviewed. Upon a certain scale, I weighed what had passed between me and the arrar Ase while the both of us were intentioned on the other’s death. And the unclaimed blood he still owed me, from that service I rendered him as we stood witness for Khys and Gherein, came clear to my mind; and even what that might mean, in consideration of a lesson Sereth had once provided.

  Upon a time, I had held a man’s life. His name was Lalen gaesh Satemit. He had been a crell, late of the city of Stra. He had come to be mine, among other possessions, when I had taken up the chald of the tiask Besha. I had freed him. He had later proved himself more than willing to decapitate me at Sereth’s whim. And I considered Sereth and Chayin, in their cells. And M’tras, whose life had come into my hands. And I began to understand what service I might render, and what I might not. But I did not heed those lessons well enough, thinking them only what they seemed, insight into what had occurred. That enlightenment, intended as instruction and preparation. I devalued and misconstrued. Only did I determine that I must beware Ase, and keep a light hand upon M’tras. Not that with Sereth and Chayin and what they hested, I must not interfere.

  Carth’s eyes, boring holes into my scalp, obtruded into my concentration. “Your puerility never ceases to amaze me,” he said, still acrimonious after our long silence.

  “I suggest that you cease seeking within me, since what you find puts you in ill humor.”

  What he muttered then was unclear.

  “Tell me of hulions,” I suggested. I rose and circled the keep, all but the alcove where Carth sat. Noticing the things I had ordered, there upon the gol-slab table, I gathered them up.

  Carth made no answer. I shrugged and took the parcels unopened to Khys’s wardrobe. I would not have opened them before Carth. On my way, I snatched up the blooded blade, explaining that Khys had found me a circle partner. While within, I exchanged the hide tunic for the white tas. It covered completely the breech and band. “White, and no other color upon you,” the cahndor had ordained. Also, did I get the cloak lined with white brist from my pile, and from its peg the true Shaper’s cloak. Khys, I thought, would favor it for this journey. And I took up for him second-best leathers. He would not want, I was sure, to go overdressed. Those things I draped over my arm, then took to couch, arranging his on its left and mine upon its right.

  Carth watched me, his face creating expressions that have gone ever nameless.

  When I had finished, I sat at the couch’s foot, upon my heels, as Khys preferred. I faced Carth, and that spot between us where the dharen would come to be.

  Carth read thoughts. I gave him, then, some to read.

  “Estri ...”

  “Carth, if I am as little in your sight as I am in theirs, then surely I can free the smallness within to work its will.” I had considered, for his benefit, certainties I had about what would momentarily come to be. I took satisfaction in his ashen face even as it faded from view, replaced by Khys’s form.

  “Have you a message for me?” he demanded of Carth with asperity.

  “Yes, dharen.” Carth rose, suddenly awkward.

  “You know it,” he said. Then: “The child is gone, none knowing whither. It was at the moment of Gherein’s death, when all were busy with its experience. It was not soon discovered, and longer was taken in its reporting. Those who might be considered negligent are in holding—”

  “There is no negligence,” Khys broke in. “None are to be held to account for this. Carth, after all I have done with you, do you still prejudge so blindly? Must there always be a ready culprit at hand, accessible? Who will hold the Weathers to account? What sentence will you impose upon the wind from the abyss? Can you contain crux in a band of restraint? Carth, I seek more from you than I can presently find. I pray you, make yourself ready for the weight you will come to bear. I have no more time to cede you. Get upon it!”

  Carth half-ran from the room. I sat dazed, nearly drowned in the waves of his indignation.

  “You found it necessary to test out my truths upon the Ebvrasea. Did he uphold me?” He sought the couch. At its side he stripped off his robe, garbing himself in those things I had selected.

  “You know that he did,” I said softly. “Nothing may be changed.” He had told me: Sereth and Chayin awaited their moments. He knew them. He knew their sense of fitness. And he had spoken to me of it, when I could not chase thoughts of them from my mind. And of how they regarded me, he had spoken. I had been loath to believe him. All had gone as Khys must have known it would. My ambivalence rose within me, choking and sweet in my throat. He seemed loose, relaxed, his attention upon his fittings. But I felt him, searching.

  “Does what you see please you?” I asked, my concern for him receding before his intrusion.

  “You have your moments,” he grunted. “It remains to be determined whether you can manage as long a string of them as the time demands. Do not fight so what rises within you. It may be all you have for sustenance soon enough.”

  “What mean you?”

  “Only that. Make ready.”

  I set about it. “Do you want me as more than witness?” I ventured.

  “I cannot say yet. If your sire holds you as lightly as you hold your son, you may be in some small danger. Keep your skills well about you. It could come to be that I am not available to aid you.” He took seat upon the couch, then lay back. His molten eyes were distant, further than the bronze ceiling scales. “You should be prepared to make your way back alone.”

  “Do you crave release from your duties, to speak so?” I managed. My fingers upon the cloak fittings had gone numb and stupid.

  “There is little danger of altering this time by an ill-spoken word or two. Would that it were so simple. Crux obscures, has obscured, will obscure, those specific truths with which we are about to become concerned. Most often, one may reach out beyond the point of blindness. I cannot make that connection. From that I can suppose a number of things, but I will not. Leave it at this: I might win what I seek. I will perhaps win other than what I seek. And I may trade for it what I have sought in the past. Or I may lose outright. It is crux.”

  “Have you a meeting place in mind?”

  “An encounter point has been determined between us.” He pushed up on his elbows, His chin tucked in. “If I should temporarily lose track of you, be assured that at my convenience I will again take you up.” He lay back upon the couch once more. “You may go armed.”

  I declined. I could find no sense in bearing stra into such a battle. I sought the parcel that had been delivered to me. Even with pelted cloak and leather and wool upon me, I was cold. I leaned there in the wardrobe, my shoulder against the smooth northern thala. It was the most familiar of colds. I wondered if ever I would be without its portentous breath on my neck.

  From behind, his arms encircled my waist. The strength of him, gathering for the moment, came clear. His readiness was staggering. I twisted in his grasp, pressing against him.

  He chuckled, holding me.

  If he went so greatly armed and was still unsure, what small fraction of the necessary skills might I bring to bear?

  In that time I came again to meet my ambivalence, and with no success. He only ran his hands over my back. He may have sought me, or the sort, or that which was about to commence. I know not. I knew then only that I could not raise my hand against him. Nor was it necessary. I had already done all that was needed, merely by being what I had been bred to be.

  And Khys, who surely knew, only pulled me closer. If I had been he, I would have killed me. But therein perhaps lies the difference between the male and the female conception, that difference that was made once and for all understood to me in what was to follow. But not then did I know it, except in the way that all things, if only to themselves
, admit their singularity to be dependent upon the effluence of their sex.

  Then I only stood passive with him, aroused but in no way wanting his use, my thought bounding from him to Sereth to the cahndor and back like a bondrex in a Dritiran capture pit. The view from one place was no less forbidding than from any other. It occurred to me that they might all kill each other and leave me free. I doubted that I would survive, upon the next thought, if such came to be the case.

  “Khys,” I whispered, “reassure me. This calm you have demanded is as elusive as the sevenfold spirit.”

  “About whom or what?” he said. Because my cheek was pressed against his leather and my hair had fallen over my face, I could not see him. But his words gave message of the tiny quirking of his lips.

  I stepped back from him as far as his arms allowed.

  “That you will live long enough to give Sereth the satisfaction of destroying you,” I snapped, twisting free of him. There was a time when he would have dropped me screaming to my knees for less. That time was passed.

  “I cannot,” said Khys levelly.

  I stared at him, blinking angrily. My tears brought that smile upon him.

  I whirled and shouldered by him into the keep proper. Out the doors and into the hall I stumbled, seeking composure and a moment’s respite. Before the hulion tapestry I halted and awaited him. It mattered not to me how the dharen ended. Or even if he did not. So I bespoke my heart. But my ears heard the falsehood and rejected it.

  By the time he collected me, I had regained a semblance of calm. But only that. He regarded me, his eyes narrowed. He said nothing.

  We walked the blue and green squares to the stairs and down them. I recall every one. Clear and sharp was the single path of crux. His grip light on my arm down the two flights, we wordlessly traversed the main hall.

  In the audience room, upon the symbol that Khys shared with Estrazi and his Shaper kin and the Mi’ysten children, he extended his hand. I took it, his right in my left.

  “Remember, mark you the route.”