The Limbreth Gate

‘They work as one,’ Rebeke said portentously. ‘A lesson this High Council could learn from them.’

‘Perhaps!’ Lilae agreed recklessly. ‘And perhaps you can tolerate their disrespectful ways. But have you remembered she is Romni? For that is what disturbs Shiela. Though she and this Vanjin –’

‘Vandien,’ Rebeke corrected.

‘She and this Vandien may most often travel by themselves, but they do frequent the Romni campsites, sometimes to share a day or two of that life. The man is a skilled storyteller. All the Romni know what happened in your halls, and at the sunken temple. The story is spreading, for the Romni have made a song of it. Typical of them, the song is little related to the facts, but boasts only of a Romni and her man who tweaked the noses of the Windsingers, put them in their debt, and walked off without a scratch. Need I remind you that the Romni do not stay in one place? They move about, they meet other Romni, they move on again. The song is spreading. It is known in most of the major towns now, and is becoming a favorite. We cannot tolerate this kind of thing. A properly respectful attitude toward us is the necessary foundation for …’

‘Ridiculous!’ Rebeke did not laugh, but her voice was full of scorn. ‘You would kill her for a song. Perhaps you need the other races groveling at your feet, but I do not. And I have told you before: Ki travels under my shadow. If there is such a song – and I have not heard it – it bothers me not at all. Ki will continue to go her own way, unmolested. If we stoop to slaying her, it will not kill the song. It will only increase our reputation as humorless tyrants. Folk cannot be stopped from singing.’

‘I have heard the song,’ Shiela croaked. Her face was still white but her eyes blazed. ‘And it is more than disrespectful. It smacks of outright rebellion. Perhaps you fancy being the butt of a joke, Rebeke. We do not. Stick to pet wizards and leave the Romni to us.’

No one could breathe in the thick silence. ‘You shall not speak to me of the wizard Dresh,’ Rebeke whispered softly. ‘If you try again, you will find yourself incapable of speaking to anyone about anything.’ Her voice grew stronger, defiant. ‘Need I remind you, any of you, that I am the possessor of the Relic? The last perfectly preserved body of a Windsinger born? Without it, you can start the transformation from lower species to Windsinger, but you cannot complete it. You have not seen it, you cannot know how pathetically inadequate it makes all your carven images. Look at yourselves and look at me. Your bodies need the guidance of your mind and the Relic. But while you take this tone with me, you will not get even a glimpse of it. Until you can be made to see reason, I shall leave you to fumble your way along the path to being true Windsingers. I am nearly there. And I have acolytes in my hall who are closer to true form and purer of voice than most here who call themselves Windmistresses. I am not going to force any of you. You can come around to my persuasion and join me. Or you can stay as you are, and be surpassed, outsung and outgrown, until you are unnecessary to anyone.

‘Perhaps Ki and Vandien were not my willing tools in the recovery of the Relic. That matters little to me. I have it. And it was by Ki’s voluntary aid that I was able to contain the wizard Dresh, and so control him that you now dare to refer to him as my “pet.” So. I shall give you a few instructions. Let her disobey who dares. Listen well. Neither Ki nor Vandien shall be killed. Nor shall I agree to their lives being indefinitely postponed, as you so politely refer to it when you place one in the void. Send your singing Romni a storm or two. Blow in the roofs of a few taverns where this song is sung, if you feel that will prove anything. I have no time to watch your every move. For while you are wreaking your trivial vengeances, I am training the Windsingers who tomorrow will rise up, to show this world what Windsingers used to be. The time will come when we shall rule, not with harshness, but from the fullness of our generosity, and the gratitude of a wind-blessed folk. I fear no singing Romni.’

Shiela looked down once again at the table. Pale lids hooded her eyes, teeth met her lower lip. ‘I regret the rift that has grown between us,’ she said in a low voice. ‘Of what use is the High Council, when the ranks of the Windsingers are sundered? Only under one authority can the winds of the sky blow in harmony. Yoleth is not here, but I think I can offer you this. I give you our word that Ki shall not be killed, nor put in a void. Nor Vandien. Does that satisfy you?’

Rebeke spoke slowly. ‘It would.’ Some thought she was reluctant to be reconciled, and some thought she was mistrustful of the sudden proposal.

‘And, again, though Yoleth is not here, I will be so bold as to ask this. Under what circumstances, what agreements would you allow us access to the Relic? Let your words be tempered by this thought; when you deny us, it is not only the High Council that lacks guidance, but also many young and promising Windsingers in our halls. Will you let the calf die of thirst because the cow has displeased you?’

‘Do not think that has not troubled me,’ Rebeke said, and her voice, for once, was empty of her power. ‘Your words are fair, your request equitable. But I cannot answer it without thought. When I return to my hall, I shall give my mind to it. The High Council will receive a list of what agreements I think essential for the Windsingers to be once more united. Your keeping of your word regarding Ki I will see as an omen of your good will.’

‘You will.’ Shiela was gracious but reserved.

‘I will leave you now. I am trusting that my words will be passed on to Yoleth, and to Cerie, Kadra, and Dorin. Please let them know that I missed them.’

‘We will.’

Rebeke left them without another word. She stepped through the portal of the audience chamber and they listened to her footsteps fading down the hall. The silence that drenched the room was ominous. Shiela was the first to speak. She lifted her eyes from their contemplation of the bare table and aimed them at Lilae. Small fires burned in them.

‘Mark how graciously she leaves us, without even a formal farewell. Do not think, Lilae, that I have overlooked your part today. You speak loudly for one so young, and not well. Shiela tells us this, and Shiela says that. I shall remember.’

Lilae was visibly flustered. ‘But I waited for another to take that part and speak for us. I did not want Rebeke to think we had no reasons for our plan other than to spite her.’

‘Spiting that one would be reason enough for any number of plans. But I shall accept your word that it was only stupidity and not malice that drove you to blather on.’

‘Have I missed Rebeke then?’ All eyes turned to the portal. Yoleth posed there, looking well pleased with herself. Secrets simmered in her eyes.

‘You have. Such a shame. She was so entertaining.’

Yoleth’s eyes roved across the chairs. ‘Dorin, Cerie and Kadra; have they left already, also?’

‘They never arrived.’ Shiela’s eyes met Yoleth’s and traded secrets. ‘Perhaps their summonses went awry.’

‘Perhaps. It is just as well. They are too easily influenced by Rebeke’s boldness. My errands, at least, went well.’

‘But we must not!’ Lilae sat up, going whiter. ‘Rebeke knows all! She says if we harm her Romni, she will never let us look upon the Relic. She says –’

‘What a child!’ Shiela’s voice held no tolerance. ‘Rebeke knows all! It’s a bluff. She knows nothing, not for certain. “The breeze brings me news!” Sheer frippery! Only a fool would be taken in by it. No doubt she has heard something, for some tongues in this room wag overmuch, and out of place. But our plans need not change.’

‘You gave your word.’ Lilae was shaken but determined.

‘We aren’t going to kill the teamster, nor put her in a void. And that’s all I gave my word for.’ Shiela looked away from Lilae. Her eyes locked with Yoleth’s and they reached some agreement.

‘The High Council is dismissed,’ Yoleth announced perfunctorily. ‘You all have acolytes to see to; a better occupation than sitting here and fretting over shadows. And Lilae?’ The young Windmistress turned to look at Yoleth reproachfully. ‘Do not be upset. You are young, and full of ideals. I am old, and full of necessities. But one of my necessities is that I keep Windsingers like you by me, to temper my cynicism with your trusting ways. Put the Romni matter from your mind. Let it be upon my head, not yours. Sing with a clear conscience today. May the wind rise ever obedient to your call.’

‘As to yours,’ Lilae replied formally and left.

After a few moments, Yoleth checked the hall to be sure it was empty. She drew close to Shiela and spoke softly.

‘Exactly what does Rebeke know?’

‘She knows you don’t like Romni singing. She seemed to accept that as your reason. But I would still like to hear the real one.’

Yoleth measured the other Windsinger speculatively. ‘Not yet. But soon I shall tell you all. Be flattered that you know as much as you do.’

Shiela appeared to be on the point of speaking. But she swallowed her first words and only observed, ‘It is hard to put trust where one is not trusted.’

Yoleth only smiled at her.

TWO

Vandien pinched the heavy weave of the fabric between thumb and forefinger. He gave the vest a shake, and the bright colors almost flashed in the afternoon sun. He raised one eyebrow at the woman in the stall.

‘You know my price!’ she reminded him firmly. ‘And you can see it’s worth it. Try it on, and feel the weight of it.’

Vandien obeyed, slipping it on over his loose linen shirt. He rolled his shoulders in it, and tugged the front even. ‘It fits well,’ he grudgingly admitted. ‘But …’

‘But he can’t possibly be serious.’ He turned his head sharply at the amused voice behind him. Ki stood there, her mouth puckered in mock dismay, her arms laden with supplies.

‘I am. And why not?’

‘Blue is your color. And green, yellow, red, and black as well. But not all at once.’

‘Not usually. But last time we stopped with the Romni, Oscar told me that a man who dresses as simply as I do is like a cockerel without feathers. What do you think of this?’ Vandien pulled the front of the vest down straight so that the embroidery of birds, flowers and vines could be admired.

‘I think Big Oscar is right. If you wear that vest, no chicken could resist you.’

He met her laughing eyes with no amusement. ‘I think I like it.’

‘Walk about a bit and think it over before you buy. If you still like it, I am sure it will still be here.’ Ki made her suggestion in a practical voice.

‘I suppose.’ Vandien took off the vest slowly and replaced it on the piles of merchandise. The woman in the stall shrugged at him and rolled her eyes. Vandien gave her a grin she had to answer, and then turned away to Ki.

‘Take some of this stuff, will you?’ she demanded, and began to unload into his arms. ‘Help me carry it back to the wagon. Can you think of anything else we need?’

‘What do you have there?’

She inventoried as she loaded it into his arms. ‘Smoked salted fish; red pomes; tea; honey in that brown pot; that’s a string of onions over your shoulder; lard in the wooden box; cheese, and a square of leather for new gloves.’

Vandien stared down at his load. ‘It all sounds very practical and essential.’ Disappointment dulled his voice.

‘What did you want? Pickled chestnuts and peacock feathers?’ Ki was nettled. She spoke over her shoulder as they edged through the busy market. When Vandien did not reply, she glanced back at him. He had paused at a stall aflutter with gay scarves. Belatedly he remembered her and fell in behind her.

‘No. Nothing like that. I’d just like to see you be a little more impulsive. Enjoy life.’

‘You’re impulsive enough for both of us,’ Ki pointed out.

Vandien shifted his load. They were out of the main press of the market, but Ki had left the wagon and horses behind the inn. Curly dark hair sagged forward onto his brow and fell into his eyes. He blew up at it, but it only tickled the more. ‘You’re just jealous of me,’ he accused her gravely.

‘Indeed.’ Ki juggled her own parcels and slowed to walk beside him. They were nearly of a height, and their eyes met with sparks. ‘I suppose next you will be saying that I secretly desire to wear a vest with trees and birds sprouting all over it.’

‘No, not my taste. You’re jealous of my ability to enjoy life. You tiptoe through your days, worrying about warm underwear and axle grease, while I stride through mine singing. You’re lost all your edges, Ki. You nibble at the dry corners of your life.’

‘Instead of cramming it all into my mouth at once, like some folk we know.’

‘Exactly.’ Vandien bowed his head to acknowledge the compliment. ‘This afternoon – I am quite safe in predicting – you will drink exactly and precisely the three bowls of Cinmeth you permit yourself to consume in a public inn, while I take down as much Alys as they have and I can afford. Isn’t that true? What can you say to that?’

‘Only that I’m glad the wagon is right in the innyard. I detest dragging you through city streets in broad daylight.’

‘Oh, that’s funny,’ Vandien snarled.

‘Truth stings.’ Ki grinned at him smugly. As they reached the wagon, she turned and added her burden to the items he already carried. She climbed up the tall yellow wheel onto the plank seat, and reached back down to receive the supplies from him. ‘Come up here and help me put this stuff away,’ she invited.

‘Do it yourself,’ he growled as he climbed up beside her. She slid open the cuddy door and climbed down into the living quarters of the wagon. The front half of the freight wagon had been closed in to resemble half a Romni wagon. Ki stood in the center of the tidy little cabin and put things away as he passed them to her. A platform covered with hides and blankets was the bed at one end of the room. The cuddy walls were a patchwork of shelves, cupboard, nooks and hooks. A small table folded down under the single tiny window with its greased skin pane. It took only moments for Ki to place every item on its shelf or in its bin. She looked up at Vandien sulking on the seat. She tried to straighten her face to match his.

‘You’re disgusted with me.’

‘I am.’

‘Because I am such a practical, mundane, boring person. Because I go through life immune to impulse and idiocy. Because there is never anything about me the least bit unpredictable.’

‘Well.’ Vandien quailed before the harshness of Ki’s self-indictment. ‘No. Because it’s all there, bubbling beneath the surface, and you refuse to let it out. I’ll tell you what I’d like to do.’ He stepped down into the cuddy and seated himself on the sleeping platform. ‘I’d like to make a day for you such as I’d make for myself.’ Ki raised her eyebrows questioningly, but he plowed on determinedly. ‘We’ll do this.’ He suddenly became almost shy, and covered his hesitation by brushing the curls from his eyes.

‘Yes?’ Ki said encouragingly.

‘Stop interrupting me. How can I think and talk at the same time if you keep interrupting me? We’ll do this. We’ll find a public bath; an old city like Jojorum must have some baths worthy of the name. And we will loll and soak until your little toes are as pink as your nipples.’ He grinned at her, suddenly wicked as his own fantasy carried him away. ‘We will hire a body servant to put up your hair in long soft curls, and weave it all through with fine gold wire and pearls. We will drape you in one long length of cloth of gold, and put slippers on your feet of finest gleaming leather. Green stone earrings to match your flashing eyes, and three plain silver rings on each of your hands.’

‘And then what?’ Ki asked gently when the pause grew long.

‘And then we shall walk through Jojorum together, with your arm about my waist, and folk will gaze on us and remember when this city was young and lusty.’

‘They’d only be admiring your vest,’ Ki teased gently, but she moved to stand close before him, and put her hands on her hips. ‘You know we don’t have the coin to do any of that, other than the bath.’

‘I know. But when I want to do it, I know I want to do it, while you go about pretending you don’t want to do it, because you know you can’t afford it. And that’s the big difference between us.’

‘That makes us good for each other,’ Ki amended. She slipped one hand into her skirt pocket. With the other she caught a handful of the thick dark curls at the nape of his neck. Her gentle pull bowed his head to her. She drew her free hand out of her pocket and shook out a circle of chain and looped it over his head.

‘What’s this?’ Vandien pulled her down to sit on the bed beside him as he fingered the fine silver chain curiously.

‘It’s an impulse. From a friend who doesn’t have many. I knew it was yours when I saw it in the jeweler’s stall.’

Vandien slipped the necklace off to look at it. The chain was silver worked in tiny loops. Suspended from one larger loop swung a tiny hawk. Spread wings, talons and open beak had been chipped in fine detail from some black stone that glistened even in the cuddy’s dim light. A chip of red was its sparkling eye. Ki knew she had chosen well at the sigh that escaped him. He looped it again about his neck. The length of the chain let it rest well below the hollow of his throat.

‘It’s almost lost in the hair,’ she observed.

‘I shall shave that spot on my chest to properly display it,’ Vandien promised.

‘You will not.’ She kissed him so suddenly that her rare token of affection landed only on the corner of his mouth and his moustache. But when he would have been more thorough, she gently freed herself from his embrace.

‘You just remembered you forgot to buy harness oil,’ Vandien guessed sagely.

Ki laughed ruefully at his accuracy. ‘And I need to refill the team’s grainbox. I’ll have to take the wagon to fetch that.’

‘I’ve errands of my own, nearly as dreary.’

‘Such as?’

‘Warm underwear and axle grease,’ he told her solemnly. He rose, keeping his head bent under the low cuddy ceiling. ‘I found a nice little tavern, and left my horse tied in front. It’s called the Contented Duck. As nearly as I could find by asking about, it’s the only place in Jojorum that serves both Alys and Cinmeth.’

Ki nodded. ‘I’ll meet you there, then. But, Vandien.’ He turned back to the sudden worry in her voice. ‘We cannot tarry long. I’ve heard an ugly thing in the streets today: A juggler on a street corner warned me of Rousters. “I can put a long coat over my motley,” he told me. “But a painted Romni wagon is a harder thing to hide.” We’d best be clear of this place before nightfall.’

‘Rousters?’ Vandien looked at her blankly.

‘We’ve been together too long. Sometimes I forget you are not Romni born. The merchants of some towns are not pleased to see a Romni caravan arrive. They call us thieves and worse. But it’s not just the Romni. It’s any traveler with wares to sell that may be cheaper than their own, be he tinker or trader. So the merchants hire Rousters. They’ll come on a wagon in the dead of night, beat the adults, terrify the children, disable the team if they can, set fire to the wagon if they can’t; all in the name of moving on the thieving vagabonds and keeping their fair towns pure.’

Vandien’s dark eyes went black as Ki spoke. Her face held an expression he seldom saw on her. Her green eyes were unseeing as she remembered more than she spoke about. He touched her gently on the sleeve and she was suddenly back with him.

‘Surely they won’t bother us,’ he reasoned. ‘We’re only one wagon, delivering freight.’

‘They don’t care.’ Ki’s voice slashed in, low and savage. ‘They don’t care if you’re selling lace or juggling at a crossroads or doctoring horses. You can just be begging. They roust you along, and not gently. I don’t usually do business with towns that keep them. I’ll be glad to watch the dust of Jojorum settle behind us, and get back to our regular hauls.’

‘All right.’ Vandien agreed so meekly that Ki turned to him in wonder. He gave a snort of laughter at the look on her face. ‘Just as you had your impulse for the year, I am indulging a spree of practicality. We’ll meet at the Duck, have but one drink each, and be on our way. We’ll be clear of Jojorum before nightfall.’

They clambered out of the cuddy and Vandien watched Ki stride off to the innyard’s corral to fetch her team. He shook his head silently. Rousters. He had never thought he would see Ki leave a town with no cargo to haul, and an inn room paid for and not slept in. He turned his own steps back down the dusty streets to the market again.

Just this morning they had arrived, and they would leave before nightfall. A pity. Jojorum had seen better days, but as downtrodden as it was, an old glory peered from its corners and teased Vandien’s curiosity. Ki’s wagon had rolled into the city through a towering arch whose lines were slightly obscured by the many mud swallow nests that clung to it. The tall yellow wheels of her Romni wagon had rolled smoothly over the pavingstones some ancient ruler had thoughtfully laid down for her. A blanket of dust shrouded the street and muffled the hoofbeats of her team. Weeds and grasses sprouted from the cracks between road surface and building fronts. Tall stone buildings frescoed with the faces of forgotten heroes were diminished by the mud brick houses that huddled between and against them, reminding Vandien of the swallow nests. Three of the five fountains they had passed were cracked and dry, but at the fourth one, folk were drawing water and at the fifth, laundry was being sloshed under the watchful eyes of seven marble water spirits that helpfully spewed down the clean rinse water. The last fountain had been set in an ancient courtyard. Dead harp trees were mute before the fallen mansion. Jojorum was a melancholy city that had outlived its days of joys and dabbled now in licentiousness.

Vandien wandered back to the clothing stalls.

‘You’ve come back for the vest, then?’ the proprietor asked.

A gleam of mischief came into his eyes. ‘Have you one that is similar, but smaller? One that would fit the friend that was with me earlier?’

But he was cheated of his jest, for she had nothing gaudy enough to satisfy him. For the second time that day, he gave the merchant a regretful shake of his head and stepped from her booth. He strolled through the market, enjoying the noise and bustle. The long peaceful days of the last haul had chafed his quick spirit. Now here were people and new things to see and buy, and a handful of silver in his purse. He bought a bright yellow scarf to knot about his throat, and a paper of dried spiced fruit to nibble as he wandered from one stall to the next. ‘Pleasure for coin?’ a young woman in pink asked him. He gave her a politely appreciative smile and a slow shake of his head. He meandered on.

At a T’cherian stall he bought and devoured tiny greenish cakes of vegetable bread. A length of yellow ribbon for Ki caught his eyes, and a little pot of soft soap scented with clover. A new leather pouch bound with thongs of red and blue next seduced him. But this last purchase left him with only a few copper bits to put into the new pouch, and thus he knew his shopping was finished. He turned his slow steps back toward the tavern.

‘Pleasure for coin?’ The same girl, or her sister in an identical pink robe. Again Vandien shook his head politely and tried to step past her. But she blocked him, coming so close that he smelled the spicy fragrance of her breath. ‘Pleasure for pleasure?’ she offered him in a softer voice.

Vandien raised his brows at her. He was not an ugly man, though most looked twice at the long scar that made a fine seam down the center of his face. He knew the power of his dark eyes and charming smile, and wasn’t above using them to his advantage. But an abrupt offer like this of such flattering nature was outside his experience. The adolescent portion of him crowed.