He touched Arrhan with his heels and curbed the mare's nervousness with a pat on her sweating neck. His hand was shaking.
Reason enough, he thought, as he passed between the doors that towered either side of him, greater than Ra-Morij's very walls. He could not see what images were on the inside: he dared not take his eyes from where they were going, into an aisle of vast pillars wanly lit with shafts of sunlight from above.
There was a second set of doors before them, far down that forest of stone.
They were closed.
Did we expect more? he asked himself, and breathed the air of the shadow that fell on them, a dank chill the worse after the noon warmth outside. He heard the clank that heralded the sealing of the doors behind them, and steadied Arrhan, who shied and danced under him. The blaze-faced bay jerked and jolted at lead, fighting it. Shod hooves clattered and echoed on pavings, under the machine-noise of iron and chain and ratchets.
And the ribbon of daylight which lay wide about them, narrowed and vanished with the meeting and sealing of the doors at their backs.
The horses settled, slowly, in a profound silence.
Footsteps sounded within the forest of pillars. A qhal in black armor, his silver hair loose around his shoulders, walked out into their path, into a shaft of light.
It was not the only footfall in the place. But the pillars hid what else moved about them.
"My lord Warden," Chei said, as the roan fought the rein.
"South-warden?" Seiyyin's Warden asked. He was not young nor old. The face might have been carved of bone, the eyes of cold glass.
"Yes, my lord," Chei answered him—youth's form and youth's face; but that was not what sat his horse facing this grim lord. "I was Qhiverin Asfelles."
"With?"
"Rhanin ep Eorund, once Taullyn Daras, and Hesiyyn Aeisyryn, under my orders, in the performance of my office, with persons traveling under my seal. We are escorting this lady and her companion to Mante."
The lord Warden's eyes traveled past the others to Vanye and to Morgaine, and lingered, unreadable and cold. "These are the Outsiders."
"They are, my lord. I urge you speak civilly to them. It was a mistake they ever came through Morund-gate, and due to their falling in with humans, and due to lies humans have told them, there have been costly misunderstandings. This lady is a warden herself, and she is not well-pleased with the things she has met on her way."
Wise man, Vanye thought, light-headed with the pounding of his heart. Chei, get my lady through this and I will be your debtor, I swear it.
And, O Heaven, the Warden's cold eyes shifted toward them with the least small fracture in his command of the affair.
Not a stupid man either. Nor one incapable of shifting footing. "Where are you warden, lady?"
Morgaine rode a little forward; Vanye moved instantly to stay beside her.
"Where I am warden," Morgaine said, "and more than warden—is something between your Overlord and myself. But I thank you, my lord, if I am about to meet more courtesy than has been my experience on this journey. It will do a great deal to mend matters."
For a long moment the Warden was silent. Then: "We will advise the authorities in Mante," the Warden said.
"I would suggest—my lord—you advise Skarrin himself, and do not waste my time with 'authorities' and deputies. He is the one who can say yes or no, he is the one to whom your 'authorities' have to appeal if they are not utter fools, and I assure you, lord Warden, he will be better pleased if you do not bring my affairs to him through a succession of subordinates, not all of whom need to know my name or my business, for your safety, my lord Warden."
It was very still in the vast hall.
Then: "I pray you," the Warden said, "leave your horses to my deputies and accept my hospitality. Advise me of whatever complaints you have, with names where you may know them. Our lord will see justice done."
A cold crept through the sudden warmth, a sense of meshes closing. "It is a trap," Vanye murmured in his own tongue. "Liyo, I beg you, no."
"My lord Warden," Morgaine said gravely, gently, "I should fear then—for your own well-being. I am not a comfortable guest. The Warden of Morund and his men are in my custody, as I think your lord will sanction when he hears what I have to say. The South-warden has come into more knowledge of my business than your lord may like, as it is. And he has created difficulties for me. I have promised him if he makes amends and if his lord will release him, I will take him and his men with me, and save their lives. But I am not disposed to leave this world with an entourage of half your lord's councillors and his wardens. I advise you in all earnestness, my lord of Seiyyin Neith: my affairs are secret, and I have told you enough already to put you at some risk. Do as I tell you. Send this message directly to your lord: Morgaine Anjhuran is here to see him, under circumstances you may explain to him."
"Anj—"
Morgaine spelled it. "Be precise. Be very precise, my lord. Do you understand? Your safety and his are in question."
"I—have no direct contact with the high lord. I can gain it. It will take time. I beg you—step down, rest your horses, let us offer you food and drink—"
"We will wait here."
"A drink, at least—"
"We have our own supplies, my lord. We trust your hospitality includes haste."
"My lady." The Warden looked profoundly offended, and worried. "It will be some little time. I beg you understand. Stand down and rest. Take it or no, my people will offer you what hospitality we have. Your leave, my lady."
He inclined his head and walked away into the shadows.
They were alone then, and not alone, in this chill place where the smallest move echoed, and the stamp of an iron-shod hoof rang like doom.
"We have disquieted him," Morgaine said quietly, in her most obscure Kurshin accents. "That may be good or ill. Vanye—give me the stone."
He gave it. His heart hammered against his ribs.
"Come," she said, and sent Siptah suddenly forward, down the vacant aisle, toward the sealed doors.
There were running footsteps beyond the columns behind him, a quick spurt that died away in the direction the Warden had gone.
Someone had sped to advise him.
And Morgaine veered off into shadow, the other side of a vast column three quarters of the way down the long aisle, drew in and wheeled Siptah about as Vanye arrived, as Chei and Hesiyyn and Rhanin clattered in close behind him.
"What are you doing?" Chei asked, a young voice, which rose incongruously in pitch.
Light flared, white and terrible as she opened the case of the gate-jewel. It touched columns, faces, the wild eyes of the shying horses—and damped as suddenly as she closed her hand about it, veiling it in flesh, awful as it was.
"Give it to me!" Vanye exclaimed, knowing the feel of it, imagining the pain of handling it this close to Mante. But she held it fast, letting a little of its flickering light escape to strike the stone pillar beside them.
"Watch the surrounds!" she ordered. "Chei—what is our host saying?"
There was no word for a moment, in which Vanye loosed his bow from his shoulder, set its heel in his stirrup and strung it in the strength fear lent.
"He is reporting our presence—our breach of his orders—" Chei said.
"To whom?"
"To whoever is watching—I do not know—I do not know who that would be.—He reports himself in danger. He is going to open the doors. He hopes we will leave—"
"—into their reach," Morgaine said. There was pain in her voice. "Has he sent what I bade him?"
"No—or we have not seen it—"