Cerie's eyes narrowed. 'Perhaps that is the secret satisfaction behind her smile these days. What can it do?'
'I don't know. The Limbreth uses it through a Keeper to call folk into its world, or to summon folk from its own world into its service. The Limbreth claimed no knowledge of what Yoleth would use it for; she asked for it and got it. I had the strangest feeling that they were disclaiming responsibility for it.'
'So Yoleth's wind blows strongest this time. I am sorry, Rebeke.'
'Yoleth wins nothing,' Rebeke hissed. 'I did not give up so easily. I asked them what was possible, then. They were quick to offer me Vandien and a Brurjan for their own folk, or any two I wished to be rid of. I received the distinct impression that Vandien had made a nuisance of himself over there. Of the Brurjan I know nothing, except that she is no use to them, being unsuitable for their visions, and having a nasty temperament as well.'
'I know nothing of any Brurjan sent through.' Rebeke smiled sourly. 'I wonder how much Yoleth has done that the Council is unaware of.'
'Did you agree to the exchange they offered?'
'Certainly not. If Vandien annoys them, all to the better. It may make them more willing to strike a bargain. I told them that without Ki, I would make no trades. I bid them ask of me what gifts they would to make the trade possible. They refused me totally.' Rebeke fastened her strange eyes on Cerie. 'Sending Ki through has had a side effect Yoleth scarcely planned. The Limbreth is exceedingly pleased with her. Its contacts with Humans in the past have been rather limited. Who can say when last that Gate was used? The Limbreth has had to be contented with what was offered; rather ordinary folk, if villainous. But in Ki they have found the exceptional, and they won't surrender her. Guess what it is about Ki that intrigues them so?' Rebeke challenged wryly.
'I'm sure I have no idea. A commoner person I couldn't imagine.' Cerie sipped from her glass.
'On the surface. But if she were truly so common, Yoleth would never have put her through the Gate. The Limbreth senses in her the aura of a Windsinger, and delights in her unconscious sensitivity to the network of life and power around her. The Limbreth looks forward to consuming a Windsinger.'
Rebeke fell quiet, but Cerie looked more uncomfortable every moment.
'Rebeke,' Cerie ventured. 'Why not let it go? Are the Romni teamster and her man worth all this effort? Show your displeasure with the High Council in another way. Deny them access to the Relic. Charm the winds away from them. Send a peasant-killing wind to rage through their holdings.'
'No!' Rebeke's refusal was vehement. 'That would teach them nothing new. They already know that to cross me means my ill will. What they must learn now is that they cannot cross me, cannot infringe on my will in any matter. I said the Romni teamster would be allowed to roam in peace, and so she will. Ki will be returned to this world. They shall learn what the power of a full Windsinger is.'
The might and majesty in her voice had grown to fill the chamber. A chill ripple of wind rose from the very floor, fluttering the robes of the two Singers. Rebeke breathed harshly for a moment; then she drew in a deep breath and with it her temper.
'I am sorry, Cerie. I should not vent my anger on you, who has given me more than an egg and a place to use it. I know what the Council will say of our little consultation. I know it will not go easy on you. But be sure you have made the right choice. My cloak will be over you, and my winds will be at your back, when I am come fully into my own.'
'I believe you, Windsinger.' But somehow the belief was small comfort. 'Yet you say that Ki will be returned. How?'
Rebeke measured her carefully. When she spoke, her words came slowly. 'I threatened them. I told them first that they could name a price for the return of Ki. They demurred. Then I told them that they would return Ki and Vandien, or pay my price for them. I threatened to go to the Gatherers.'
If Rebeke had suggested going to the moon, Cerie's look could not have been more incredulous. 'They will know it for an idle threat. It is impossible.'
'No. It is not. I can and would do it. A speaking egg, I have come to discover, has more ability than we have guessed. Its possible range was suggested to me when I wished to make contact with the Limbreth,and now I am sure my source was correct in his claims. I could inform the Gatherers of the Limbreth's Gate-making.'
'And us? Do you believe we would go unscathed?' A rising note marred Cerie's controlled voice.
'No. I don't think that we would. But that is the chance I would take, just as Yoleth put us all at risk when she helped to open the Gate. I cannot let this pass; I cannot let Yoleth believe she can dare more than I. She - no, all the Council - must see me as ruthless as herself. Let them respect me for the danger I can create, if not for my skills.'
'And until then, we all hang in the balance.' Anger vied with fear in Cerie's voice, and Rebeke put a steadying hand on her shoulder.
'We will not dangle for long. I urged the Limbreth to decide swiftly; three of our days I gave him. The Limbreth scoffed at me, of course. I was told that I misjudged the importance of myself and my world, if I supposed the Gatherers would even be interested. But in the same breath, the Limbreth claimed suddenly that any trade was impossible, because of the state of the Gate. They fear to use it, they said. I gather that they have opened it in that location too many times, and Vandien tore it when he went through; what is left of it is like an old, reopened wound, thick with scar tissue. But I believe they can open it one more time. My will is very strong, and I could help more than any other ever has in the making of a Gate. We can open it, even if it may be for the last time; in fact that suits me. If I can force this trade, I want no chance of future ones. I do not fancy Limbreths with an acquired taste for Windsingers. Let the Gate between our worlds heal and scar over permanently. I shall not mind at all.' Rebeke picked up her glass of wine and drained it, refilled both their glasses and drank again. 'I am still wearied, Cerie. And I ask myself, do I have the courage and the will for this struggle? The closer I come to it, the more I question myself. A Windsinger, I believe, should be above this sort of skullduggery, but I am not a full Windsinger yet. Some of my weakness I can blame on my coming to my training late in life, and some I shall blame on my youth's companions. But most I shall blame on the times we live in. Perhaps by my ruthlessness I can create a world and time when Windsingers can be all they should be. Perhaps the girls who now wear white and lisp their platitudes by rote will someday say, Rebeke, she was a wicked old thing, but the first true Windsinger in a long time!' Her tone was as light as a jest, but Cerie did not smile. She clasped her hands inside her sleeves to still their trembling and agreed, 'These are, indeed, dreadful times to be living in.'
SEVENTEEN
The road had gone bad. Vandien leaned forward on the seat, peering past the sweating greys. But he couldn't see what had caused this sudden marshy stretch, nor how far ahead of him it lasted. Hollyika, of course, was nowhere in sight.
Vandien sent shivers of encouragement down the traces to the team. There was an irony to this, he realized, as there had been to all his journey beyond the Gate, but it didn't make him smile. Usually he was the one who got impatient with the wagon's slow pace and galloped ahead to spy out the lay of the land, while Ki sat on the high seat and sweated the team through the tough spots on the road. Now he sat with his shirt sticking to him as the greys slogged forward through sucking black mud.
The road had taken them down the length of the Limbreth valley, past their soldierly row and then around a shoulder of the hills; after that, with every plodding step the team took, the road seemed to getworse. The grass and moss on either side of this part of the road were yellow-grey, withering away. It was the first blight that Vandien had noticed in the Limbreth world. He chewed at the ends of his untrimmed moustache as he watched the greys hunch their shoulders against their collars. The road had been hard and good, right up until the moment they passed out of sight of the Limbreths. Their gems still glowered dimly in the sky behind them. One wheel lurched suddenly down into a soft spot. 'Damn!' roared Vandien, but the team dragged on steadily and the wagon walked up out of it. Vandien wiped sweat from his forehead and peered up the road. It was veering back to the hills in a steady climb; that grade and the softening roadbed might be more than the team could handle, and there was no sign of the road getting better.