Bargain us a refuge, she had ordered him before she sank into delirium, however you can. He knew that it dishonored her, to abandon him, but he knew the compulsion there was in Morgaine: she lived for that, and for nothing else, her face set toward Hjemur. She would gladly spend his life if it would set her safe at Hjemurs border: she had said that in her own words.
When I have fulfilled my service with her, he offered, trying that, I will come back to Morija.
No, said Erij.
Then, he said at last, for such a bargain you owe me fair payment: swear that she will go from here with all that is ours, horses and weapons and provisions adequate to see her to any of our borders she chooses: and let her ride free away from the very gateno double-dealing.
And for your part? asked Erij. If I grant this, I will have no curse from you or from her?
None, said Vanye; and Erij named his oath and swore: it was one that even a half-Myya ought to respect.
And Erij left. Vanye was overcome with cold thereafter and knelt on the hearth, feeding the wood in slowly, until the blaze grew intense. The room was still. He looked into the shadows beyond the light and saw only Handryss things. He had never much credited the beliefs that the unhappy dead hovered close about the living, though he served one who should have been dead a century ago; but there remained a chill about the room, a biding discomfort that might be guilt, or fear, or some power of Handryss soul that lingered here.
Eventually there was a clatter in the courtyard. He went to the slit of a window and looked out, and saw the black and Siptah saddled, saw men about them.
And, aided by two men, Morgaine was brought down and set upon her horse. She scarcely had the strength to stay the saddle, and caught the reins with an awkward gesture that showed she had almost dropped them.
Anger churned in him, that she was being turned out in such condition. Erij meant for her to die.
He forced his shoulder through the narrow opening, shouted down at her. Liyo! he cried, his voice carried away on the biting wind. But she looked up, her eyes scanning the high walls. Liyo!
She lifted her hand. She saw him. She turned to those about her, and the attitude of her body was one of anger, and theirs that of embarrassment. They turned from her, all save those that must hold the horses.
Then he grew afraid for her, that she would take arms and be killed, not knowing the case of things.
The matter of a bargain, he shouted down at her. You are free on his oath, but do not trust him, liyo!
It seemed then she understood. She suddenly turned Siptahs head and laid heels to him, putting him to a pace headed for the gate, such that he feared she would fall at the turning. The black that had been Liells followed, jerked along by the rein made fast to Siptahs saddle. There was a pack on the blacks saddlehis own gear.
And one other followed, before the gate swung shut again.
Rvn the singer, harp slung to his back, spurred his pony after her. Tears sprang to Vanyes eyes, though he could not say why; he thought afterward that it was anger, seeing her take another innocent as she had taken him to ruin.
He sank down by the fireside again, bowed his head upon his arms and tried not to think of what lay in store for him.
Father died, said Erij, six months ago. He stretched his legs out before the fire in his own clean and carpeted apartments, which had been their fathers, and looked down where Vanye sat cross-legged upon the hearthstones, unwilling guest for the evening. The air reeked of wine. Erij manipulated cup, then pitcher, upon the table at his left hand, by gesture offered more to Vanye. He refused.
And you killed him, Erij added then, as if they had been discussing some distant acquaintance, in the sense that you killed Handrys: Father grew morbid over Handrys. Kept the room as you see it. Everything the same. Harness down in the stablethe same. Turned his horse out. Good animal, gone wild now. Or maybe gone to the wolves, who knows? But Father made a great mound down there by the west woods, and there he buried Handrys. Mother could not reason with him. She fell ill, what with his moodsand she died in a fall down the stairs. Or he pushed her. He was terrible when he was in one of his moods. After she died he took to sitting long hours out in the open, out on the edge of the mound. Mother was buried out there too. And that was the way he died. It rained. We rode out to bring him in perforce. And he took ill and died.
Vanye did not look at him, only listened, finding his brothers voice unpleasantly like that of Leth Kasedre. The manner was there, the casual cruelty. It had been terrible enough when they were children: now that a man who ruled Nhi sat playing these same games of pointless cruelty, it had a yet more unwholesome flavor.
Erij nudged him with his foot. He never did forgive you, you know.
I did not expect that he would, Vanye said without turning around.
He never forgave me either, said Erij after a moment, for being the one of us two legitimate sons that lived. And for being less than perfect afterward. Father loved perfectionin women, in horsesin his sons. You disappointed him first. And scarred me. He hated leaving Nhi to a cripple.
Vanye could bear it no longer. He turned upon his knees and made the bow he had never paid his brother, that of respect due his head-of-clan, pressing his brow to the stones. Then he straightened, looked up in desperate appeal. Let me ride out of here, brother. I have duty to her. she was not well, and I have an oath to her that I have to keep. If I survive that, then I will come back, and we will settle matters.
Erij only looked at him. He thought that perhaps this was what Erij was seeking after all, that he lose his pride. Erij smiled gently.
Go to your room, he said.
Vanye swore, angry and miserable, and rose up and did as he was bidden, back to the wretchedness of Handryss room, back to dust and ghosts and filth, forced to sleep in Handryss bed, and wear Handryss clothes, and pace the floor in loneliness.
It rained that night. Water splashed in through the crack in the unpainted and rotting shutters, and thunder cracked alarmingly as it always did off the side of the mountains. He squinted against the lightning flashes and stared out into the relief of hills against the clouds, wondering how Morgaine fared, whether she lived or had succumbed to her wound, and whether she had managed to find shelter. In time, the rain turned to sleet, and the thunder continued to roll.
By morning a little crust of snow lay on everything, and Ra-morijs ancient stones were clean. But traffic back and forth in the courtyard soon began, and tracked the ground into brown. Snow never stayed long in Morija, except in Alis Kaje, or the cap of Proeth.
It would, he thought, make things easier for any that followed a trail, and that thought made him doubly uneasy.
All that day, as the day before, no one came, not even to supply him with food. And in the evening came the summons that he expected, and he must again sit with Erij at table, he at one side and Erij at the other.
This evening there was a Chya longbow in the middle of the table amid the dishes and the wine.
Am I supposed to ask the meaning of it? Vanye said finally.
Chya tried our border in the night. Your prediction was true: Morgaine does have unusual followers.
I am sure, said Vanye, that she did not summon them.
We killed five of them, said Erij, self-pleased.
I met a man in Ra-leth, said Vanye, thin-lipped, the while he poured himself wine, whose image you have grown to be, legitimate brother, heir of Rijan. Who kept rooms as you keep them, and guests as you keep them, and honor as you keep it.