Hollyika had seized the hapless Keeper, who wriggled like a rabbit in her grip. 'I'll balance your damn Gate for you!' she roared in a voice made sodden by the heavy air. With one arm she jerked him from his feet and held him aloft. Impending disaster howled in Vandien's mind. Sigmund beneath him sensed it as well, and with a shouldering shove that pushed his brother through the Gate, he plunged out as if he were coming out of a flooded river fording. But Vandien was not quite clear of the Gate when he felt the red air within it grow suddenly thin. He had a brief image of the Keeper flung back to the Limbreth side, tumbling through the air, to suddenly wink out of the Gate. For a second he heard Hollyika's roar of laughter and saw the flash of her grin.
Then agony crushed her. Blood started from her ears and nose, and the black horse screamed like a woman. The Gate was falling, collapsing in a ruin that was both more and less than stone. The very blackness of the night fell in on itself, making a darkness that no light could pierce. Hollyika's aggressive determination alone was not enough to hold the Gate in existence; but it was barely enough to drive Black on, to spring nearly clear of it before he sank to the ground. Rocks the size of clenched fists rained down upon them. A choking dust of ancient stone filled the air; Vandien couldn't see Ki. He sprang from Sigmund and gripped Hollyika, but even the strength of terror was not enough to drag her free. A rock between the shoulders flattened him onto her and he became her unintentional shield against the debris that followed. For a small eternity the wall fell, and then a silence as heavy covered them with mercy.
'Did they get through?' A voice as loud as a roaring wind was in Vandien's ear and shaking his shoulder as well. He rolled to face it, and then recoiled from the inhuman visage so close to his own. He had seen those blue and white eyes before; the memory didn't reassure him. He opened his lips to speak but coughed rock dust instead.
'Did they get through?' The voice persisted, but Ki's voice, calm as a summer's day, was the one to answer. 'I caught a glimpse of them on the other side, before she threw the Keeper at them. They were clear, and Dresh was farther from the collapse than we were.'
Vandien rolled over slowly. Rebeke straightened up from shaking him, and gave him enough space to come to his feet. Ki just looked at him, without a touch or word, but her sunken eyes were full of regrets.
'So they're through. And the Gate can never be reopened. I suppose I am relieved.' Rebeke's words seemed almost Human; uncertainty gave the tuned instrument of a Windsingers voice a mortal tone this night.
Ki stepped forward, and Vandien watched her eyes roving over the fallen masonry. A whole section of the wall had gone down, exposing a flat expanse of yellow plain, with a few straggly trees. The pile of rubble did not seem enough to account for such a gap.
Belatedly, he recalled Hollyika. The horse was groaning, but she was still. To his surprise he found Rebeke helping him to drag her from the saddle. Relieved of her weight, Black made an attempt to stand. It was pitiable to watch, but he finally levered himself upright, his head drooping down until his nosenearly touched the street. He trembled and sweat began to stain the black coat; but he seemed, miraculously, unhurt.
'Is she alive?' Vandien asked Rebeke as the Windsinger stooped over Hollyika.
'You ask that question about a Brurjan?' Was that a trace of humor in the trained voice? 'They're nearly as hard to kill as Romni. She's stunned, and her hearing will never be the same. But she will live to let you know she feels no debt toward you.'
'I'll never understand why she did it. What did she gain by bringing Ki through?' He stopped at the strange look Rebeke gave him. 'They weren't going to let Ki through, you know. That was their bargain with us. That we could pass the Gate if we left Ki behind.'
'Was it? A great one for bargains, the Limbreths. I hope they think this one has been shrewd, for it is the last one they will make with this world.'
'What was your role in this?' Ki asked suddenly in a flat voice.
'One that need not concern you, for I had no wishes for your well-being. You were a pawn in someone else's gambit, as usual.' The words were slighting, but they held one another's eyes. Rebeke moved toward Ki, to free her still bound wrists.
Hollyika's eyes slid open. With a roar she clapped her hands over her ears and rocked back and forth. Rebeke glanced about the streets. Dawn was not far away; the less evidence left, the better.
'Bring her horse,' she told Vandien sharply. With a strength he found incredible, the slender Windsinger pulled the Brurjan to her feet and began to walk her away.
TWENTY-ONE
Mickle's kitchen was a friendly place of well-worn comfort. In the oldest of Human traditions, it was a separate room of the house, closed off from the bedlam that currently raged through the rest of it. Vandien sat in a darkened corner of it and tried to shut his mind off.
He could hear Jace and Chess down in the cellar as they dragged about beds and chests to make room for Jace to sleep. Rebeke had banished them there, insisting that Mickle kindle enough lights in the rest of the house for her to work by, and commandeering his bed for Hollyika. Hollyika and Mickle were currently engaged in a shouting match over whether she would drink the milk and eat the nourishing stew he had brought her, or whether she really would get up out of the bed and break his neck first. Vandien was betting on Mickle at this point. The old man's determined nagging brought a tiny smile to his face, but it died there.
Ki sat at the table, staring down at her hands. Vandien looked at her, and then away. Mickle had insisted that they all must eat, in his dismay and delight at a houseful of folk coming in at dawn, and had so laden the table that there was scarce room to sit at it. In all the bustle and shouting, Vandien alone had marked how Ki had drifted from room to room in the house, now looking at Hollyika as Rebeke worked over her, now wandering through the kitchen and out into the courtyard, to stand staring at the dawn breaking over the city. Long had she stared up at the streaking colors of the sky, until Mickle had foundher and, taking her arms, brought her in and put her at the table. Then she had eaten, fruits and bread in tiny bites, as if she had forgotten how to eat. She ignored the slice of meat he forked onto her plate, disdaining even that part of the bread that had soaked up its juices. But wine she had taken, one glass, and then a second, and again, until Mickle wisely and silently left the bottle at her elbow.
Vandien too had eaten, but in quantity more than pleasure. He felt the weight of the food in his stomach. Like a sated wolf, his body now bade him curl up and digest. Sleep beckoned seductively as a time free of thinking. He watched Ki pour another glass of wine, her eyes following the last red drops into her glass. Not by word nor touch nor flicker of eye did she acknowledge him. He sought out the dawn in the courtyard.
A high wall surrounded it, and the grey of early day filled it. A great oven, monument to Mickle's days as a baker, squatted in a corner of the manicured garden. A few cherished fruit trees were already drooping in the early heat. Full sun this day would be scorching.
Vandien sat down beside the door and leaned back against the wall of the house. He tipped his head back so full light fell on his face, shining dimly through his closed eyelids. It was warm on his face, and he willed his mind to blank sleep.
A voice jarred him from it. Rebeke was speaking inside the kitchen. 'I'd take it as a favor if you went far from this place, and spent the rest of your life being inconspicuous.'
'I don't know that I owe you any favors.' Ki's voice was slow, not drunk but softened. 'I recall that you said it was not goodwill toward me that got you involved.'
'No. It wasn't. But it was definitely the ill will of others toward you that started the whole chain of events, so perhaps you owe me for stopping them.'