by Janet Morris
“And when they were in the northwest,” interjected Sereth, “Chayin had no longer need to make war upon himself.”
We turned down that taernite undertunnel, torchlit, rank with mold and seepage, in which the dharen bred yits and incarcerated evildoers.
“How did you get the falsehood past Khys?” I wondered.
“It was no falsehood. The rebellion was real enough, only was it mine. I but stayed at my hest. Crux did the rest.”
“You used me against him,” I accused. Chayin had told me twisted truths, that Khys might take them from my mind.
“He used you against us,” Sereth said, his eyes upon the cells, each as we passed it.
Man sound came to us from somewhere down the shadowy hall.
Keep number thirty-four lay open. As we passed it, Chayin spoke of what concerned him.
“I have paid highly for this domain you spurn,” he said, toneless, to Sereth. “When I conceived this investment, after returning to the south from my helsar training, it seemed meet. I thought then that I had not given you couch-gift. It seemed fitting at the time. I would have avenged myself upon him then if neither of you lived. I am not one to judge men, other than myself.”
Sereth stopped in the hall. “I do not take your meaning.”
“We are all very different from what we were. I see in that difference a sameness. If you will not have the Lake of Horns, that is your affair.” They stood opposite each other in the hall. Then Chayin purposefully moved to Sereth’s side. “Come back with me into the south. Roam the Taken Lands. Regent for me—all that is mine is yours. Or raise threx upon Mount Opir. The grass is good there.”
“Yes, the grass is good there,” said Sereth quietly. They embraced, and I turned away. From the low-numbered cells, jiasks advanced in a group. Before each cell they paused, opened, inspected.
And I knew that he considered it, as did I, and that such a move would sate the heart and salve the spirit in each of us. A part of me screamed silent assent, but I could not force the words out. His decision, and his alone, it was. And from that decision would spring all that might be seen when the crux time cleared away. I had done my part—I had brought him here.
We met the knot of jiasks before keep twelve.
Among them was the Menetpher who had taken me. I grinned at him, safe between the cahndor and Sereth. He grinned back. My fingers found the tiny holes the huija had chewed from my upper arms. They were quiet, awaiting Chayin’s word.
He gave it. He bade them find all those who bore bands of restraint and put them together. The cell checks, he assured them, could wait. From their leader he got the keys. And Jaheil, he ordered them seek, and invite to the dharen’s keep at sun’s set. Also he inquired of them about hulions. None had seen even a single one of the great winged carnivores. Hulions’ favorite food is threx. He singled out that man who had first taken me, and another, and bade them organize a watch for the beasts. The men, dismissed to their tasks, scattered.
As Chayin chose a key and tried it, Sereth bade him not fret over hulions.
Chayin grunted, his shoulder to the warped door. The swollen wood protested its way across the stone.
Dellin and M’tras sat as far from the door as they could, huddled together under the gallery’s shadow, against the wall. Their frames showed some signs of cursory interrogation, Parset style.
I looked up at the gallery. None stood there. But there was a razor-moon upon the stone, one edge dulled reddish brown. I got it from Dellin’s mind, even as Sereth took up the weapons; as he scrutinized them, where they sat watching. Jiasks, three, had taken time for oejri-anra, a target game played with razor-moons by men with the skill to make them return to hand after they are cast. In these close quarters, the game had been a true test of skill, with Dellin and M’tras the live targets. The flesh wound M’tras had sustained lay upon his right thigh. That had been after they had been questioned.
Neither man moved. Their eyes lay upon us. They did not cower or plead or accuse or resist. They awaited.
By M’tras’ side, upon the stone, lay two ors. One was open.
Sereth squatted down before them, spinning the razor-moon absently. Dellin stared from the cahndor to Sereth, to me. He thought of what we had done to him, when last the three of us had held his person. His eyes locked upon the cahndor with such abject terror that Chayin smiled. M’tras just observed. He did not know enough to be frightened.
The cahndor leaned against the curving wall. Sereth called me, and I went to his side.
“Estri tells me,” he said to Dellin, “that you were with her when she was removed from the Lake of Horns. Chayin seeks vengeance for the murder of his couch-mate. I seek some reason to keep you from his hands. If you have any suggestions upon this matter, I will hear them.”
Chayin growled something unintelligible and shifted his stance against the wall. I smiled at M’tras encouragingly. Dellin closed his eyes and said nothing.
Chayin leaned over and spoke in his ear. He shivered. Then he told all he knew of what had taken place: of Khys’s appearance before him, his flight from the dharen’s wrath, M’tras’ plan to destroy the hides, the crippling of the ship upon the sphere of restraint that now encircled Silistra. That point, and what Khys had done with the crew of the Oniar-M, and with the ship itself, took Sereth’s interest.
“Chayin,” he interrupted Dellin’s telling, “it seems that we will indeed hunt, and together. I have long desired to see what rises across the Embrodming.”
“I would welcome your sword. Though it lies heavy upon me, I must discharge my obligation to Liuma’s shade.” That kill smile flashed over him, a moment out of hiding. I thought of Khys’s words to the M’ksakkans when he released them into the wilderness, that Chayin would doubtless come to hunt them.
Sereth turned back to Dellin. “Are you telling me we are rid of M’ksakka and her confederates?”
“All I know is what he told me. Our people had a set to get off-planet. At the end of that time, the barrier became impenetrable from within, as well as without. If it is true, you are by now looking at the last two off-worlders upon Silistra.”
“And why did he make you the exception?” snarled Chayin.
“I have no idea,” said Dellin.
“He wanted them to take helsars,” I supplied. “Dellin’s uncle became M’ksakka’s adjuster when you killed Mossennen.” It was to Sereth I spoke as the pieces fit together in my mind. “He wanted them to remain here until they had mastered sufficient skills of mind to return to their own planets. They are both high on their worlds, Dellin by blood, M’tras by skills. They are his envoys, the ongoing perpetrators of his hests upon the time. Look at the hesting text. It is for such as M’tras it was written. In time they will bear Khys’s works home with them.”
M’tras, hearing this, sat forward, his hand upon the ors by his side. He shook his head violently, as if his ears had taken water.
“Estri,” warned Sereth, “I have told you once: Khys’s wishes do not concern me.” Thereupon, Sereth found M’tras of interest. “You seem no M’ksakkan,” he remarked. “What is your world?”
“Yhrillya.”
“And how do you find Silistra?” Chayin also spoke to him.
“Inhospitable,” M’tras said, his black-ringed eyes, circled with bruise, steady.
“You are chaldless,” Chayin observed. “When speaking to chalded, it is customary to include some form of title or name.” He drummed his fingers upon the fire-gem hilt of the blade that had been the dharen’s.
“But tell me the proper form of address, and I will use it,” said M’tras carefully in his stilted Silistran. I knew then that Chayin, for whatever reason, would not kill him.
Chayin, most pleasantly considering the circumstances, gave his titles.
I shifted beside Sereth, recalling what M’tras had done to me.
At their bidding, M’tras told them what he had done. He told it well, with the directness of a man who takes pride in his craft
. How he had come to be upon the commission, he did not explain. But all else he told them, even that I had seemed to him small in the hips.
Sereth, at the last comment, laughed. I stared at him, that off-worlder in whom Sereth had taken interest.
“I have your ijiyr,” I said softly to M’tras. “If you would ever regain it, watch your tongue.”
Perhaps Sereth and Chayin sensed some obscure siblingship with M’tras. I found in myself no echo of it.
The cahndor came and took hold of my arm. I shook off his hand.
“Take her out in the hall,” said Sereth sharply to Chayin, who obeyed him.
“I cannot stand it,” I hissed at him, leaning against the passage wall.
“You will doubtless find the strength,” Chayin predicted.
“What care you?” My limbs shook, and my head throbbed.
He grinned. “It has been long since I have seen him so well.”
“You did not take revenge upon M’tras for Liuma.”
“M’tras looks of more worth than Liuma. And there are the others.”
“What should I do?”
“Be silent. He will do what he will do. Just wait.”
“What brought it to this?” I found my vision blurred.
“We did,” said Chayin, taking me against him.
We stood thus a time. Down the hall came tiasks, singing, their bladders full and plump. Chayin commandeered one and bade me drink. I did so, also taking the uris he offered up. With it came to me the remembrance that Sereth had this day used uris, and that such was not his custom.
I had just handed it back when Sereth took his leave of Dellin and M’tras.
“I bade him seek us in the south if he wishes,” said Sereth. His eyes seemed a stranger’s.
“M’tras? Good. He is worth having.” Chayin released his hold, stepped from my side.
“You have something of his,” Sereth said to me.
“You have it. I had it. It is with the dharen’s papers.” I snarled it, without volition.
Sereth and Chayin exchanged glances.
“Would you do me service?” asked the Ebvrasea very softly, of Chayin.
“As ever,” Chayin replied.
“You meet with Jaheil at sun’s set. Consider this: there is no need for a dharen upon Silistra. The council is dead. The slitsa’s fangs have been pulled. The outside world will not crumble if there is no rule from the Lake of Horns. The value of such manipulation by a group of elite inbreds is questionable. The blood has value, I have been told. Good. Take those women and men that please you, and use them in the south. The gene pool will be widened.”
“Just leave it?”
“Wreak some dissolution. Take the finest women, breed them. Reap what spoils you choose. But leave not enough of the Lake of Horns that they may rebuild empire. You need not kill them, those you find unworthy of the crell pits. Perhaps they will become a city. Let them, with your leavings, instigate a Well. Let them, like the rest of Silistra, do work. Let them flee, or stay, I care not. I would see the place torn stone from stone, and its inhabitants scattered to the edges of the world.” He grinned bleakly. “But it would take too long.”
“That is your will?”
“It is. We must break the pattern, lest Khys with his hests continue to control us. I am no caretaker of his designs. I do not intend to implement them.”
“But you will go with me across the Embrodming?” Chayin pressed.
“Yes, I will do that.”
I studied him in the light of what he had revealed. When speaking of the lake-born, his bitterness had rattled like death in his throat. I well recalled what Khys had said to him: that his sperm was inferior, that he was not fit to breed one such as I. I shivered. My hips found the stone wall of the corridor. It was as damp and slick as my skin.
“You will not go with me to Jaheil?”
“No, not yet. Do me another service.”
“Name it.”
“Seek Miccah, the high chalder. See that he, or some other if he is dead, leads you to the bands of restraint. Key and close them all. There are none left capable of producing them, thanks to Estri.”
Chayin looked at me. Then he nodded. “It has a certain fitness,” he remarked. “Think upon which of the Taken Lands would suit you.”
Sereth smiled. They exchanged a grip, one of five turns. It was the jiasks’ grip of triumph. The cahndor strode away. The torchlight fired his rana skin bronze as Estrazi’s. “At moon’s rising, where will you be?” Chayin called back over his shoulder.
“Attending to the discipline of a certain crell I have come to possess. You are welcome to assist me.” Sereth took up a lock of my hair.
“I will have a meal set. Such undertakings are often lengthy,” the cahndor laughed.
“You would not,” I said, incredulous.
He wound the length of my hair around his fist, by it pulling me toward him. I had thought, when I suggested we view Dellin and M’tras, that he would be apprised of the injustices around him and make reparations. He had not been. Rather he had determined that Silistra had no need of a dharen.
His hand, at the nape of my neck, tightened painfully. “Estri, cease this,” he said, his eyes intent. There had been, when he spoke with Chayin, laughter there. Now I saw none.
I stared up at him. “I thought you did not read women’s thoughts,” I accused.
His other arm went around me. My head was pressed to that wound he had so recently taken. My body knew his. I ignored it, making myself stiff.
He picked me up and carried me down the cells. “Not when I can help it,” he said. “Woman, what is wrong with you?”
And then when I did not answer: “What is this sudden thirst of yours for fitness? Are you some lake-born?” He found the cell he had sought. His old one. He laid me upon the rushes and closed the door.
I knew, though shadows masked him, that he was slouched against it, his arms crossed over his chest.
I sat up on the lake rushes. They were damp and fraught with jabbing ends.
After a time he came and stood over me. My eyes, adjusted to the scant light from the tiny oblong window, saw his hesitation as he disrobed.
I found I sat upon my heels. I realized it when he knelt before me and took my palms from where they rested on my thighs. His anger was for Khys, and his teachings, but I felt it in his driving use. He held my hands from me in that first wordless couching. It was a thing of claim and conquest, of need pent too long, and under him I wept, praying to I knew not what that he would find in me that thing he sought.
And it came to pass that I spoke much truth for him there, in his cell. I had come here once and tried to free him. I had proffered my aid. Failing that, I had offered my use. Did I not think him Khys’s match, he had asked me. He recalled it, reminding me of what he had told me then; when he chose, he would take me.
I spoke to him of how it had been for me: that I had dreamed of him, so often; that even unknowing myself, I had known his touch more than Khys’s; that my body had never failed to recollect him, even when my mind did not. And I marked his light, deft touch in my mind.
There came a moment in that couching when he also spoke of what concerned him. It was not until he had, to his satisfaction, reclaimed my flesh. I lay with my head in his lap, my lips tracing an old scar. In my heart, at that time, there was no ease.
“I have a problem with you,” he said, very low. “You question me. If I am fit. If I am right. You risked yourself and all our lives when you tried your skills on Khys’s council. If Carth had died, Chayin and I would be yet in bands. I told you long ago, when first you revealed yourself, that you must not initiate precipitous actions.”
I said nothing. “At that time, I was seriously concerned with the problems such skills might engender. Now I have similar skills, and I am still not unconcerned.
“Estri, if it had not been for you, I would have dealt long ago with Khys. It was his possession of you that held me back. You have come, like
the lakeborn, to regard men with too much concern to the color of their skin and the nature of their ancestors.”
Then I did speak. “I wrote a critical essay for the dharen upon that subject. Carth tore it up.” Sereth spat a single word of condemnation, sufficient in his sight for Khys, Carth, and the written word.
“Let me make this clear. I fared reasonably well against Khys. My sense of fitness is not impaired. I know what I am doing. I expect no less from you now than I expected upon Mount Opir.”
I recalled it, that time. In all things had I deferred to him.
“You struck out at Chayin with mind. If you try such a thing with me, I will not be so easy upon you as he might.”
“I love you,” I whispered, my lips against his thigh.
“And I have lost many enths of sleep over you. I intend to lose no more. I know you are confused. Things will become clear to you. Seek the sort.”
I kept silent, in fear of his displeasure.
Exasperated, he pushed me from him. “Estri, speak your mind. How dare you be so affrighted of me?” he growled, shaking me by the hair.
“I have lost the habit,” I said when I could. And: “Please, this is not what I seek with you.” I wanted nothing else but him. And yet the current of the time clashed us together like unmanned derelicts upon a full-roused sea.
“If you can, relearn it. I do not fear your thoughts or your skill.” He pulled me onto his lap. “To own a thing, one must make use of it.”
His hands upon me are not a thing that can be described. Beside his touch, all others’ pale spectral. “I will settle for no less than I have ever demanded from you,” he informed me twice more.
“Take your reparations,” I begged him. “I am yours, crell without doubt.”
Later we walked the dharen’s tower, enquieted, arms around each other’s waists. He sensed my fretfulness, and allowed that he would teach me the shield that served both him and Chayin so well. I rested my head against his shoulder as we came upon the third-floor landing.
The night’s stars were framed in the darkened keep’s window. He led me there, not allowing the ceiling stars to glow.