Well Of Shiuan Part 9

Roh's hand touched his shoulder, drawing his attention back. His other hand described the circuit of the land, the hold itself.

"I wanted you to see this," Roh said above the howl of wind. "I wanted you to know the compa.s.s of this place. And she will finish it, end all hope for them. That is what she has come to do."

He turned a hard look on Roh, leaned against the stonework, for he had begun to shiver convulsively in the wind. "It is impossible for you to persuade me," he said, and held up his scarred hand to the moonlight "Roh or Liell, you should remember what I am, at least."

"You doubt me," said Roh.

"I doubt everything about you."

Roh's face, hair torn by the wind, a.s.sumed a pained earnestness. "I knew that she would hunt me. She was always our enemy. But from you, Nhi Vanye i Chya, I hoped for better. You took shelter from me. You slept at my hearth. Is that nothing to you?"

Vanye flexed his fingers on the corded hilt of the sword, for they were growing numb with cold. "You are supposing," he said hoa.r.s.ely, "what pa.s.sed between Roh and me-what was surely common knowledge throughout Chya-and I do not doubt you had your spies. If you want me to believe you, then tell me again what Roh told me last in Ra-koris, when there was none to hear."

Roh hesitated. "To come back," he said, "free of her."

It was truth. The unexpectedness of it numbed him. He leaned against the stonework, ceasing even to shiver, and abruptly turned his face from Roh. "And it might be that Roh counseled with others before saying that to me."

Roh pulled him about by the shoulder, grimacing into the wind.

"So you could say, Vanye, for any other thing you might devise to try me. You cannot be sure, and you know it."

"There is one thing you cannot answer," Vanye said. "You cannot tell me why you are here in this land. Roh would not have fled the road we took; he had no reason to-but Liell had every reason. Liell would have run for his life; and Roh had no reason to."

"He is here," Roh said, a hand upon his heart. "Here. So also am I. My memories-all are Roh's-they are both."

"No," he said. "No. Morgaine said that would not happen; and I would rather take her word than yours-in any matter."

"I am your cousin. I could have taken your life; but I am your cousin. You have the sword. There is no witness here to say it was no fair fight-if the Shiua lords cared. You are already known for a kinslayer many times over. Use it. Or listen to me."

He flung off Ron's hand, blind as a turn of his head brought his own shorn hair into his eyes. He shook it free, stalked off across the battlements, stood staring down into the squalor of that courtyard, the wind pushing at his back, fit to tear him from the edge and cast him over.

"Nhi Vanye!" Roh called him. He turned and looked, saw Roh had followed him. He stubbornly turned his head toward the view downward, toward the paving and the poor shelters huddled against the keep walls. He felt the breaking of the force of the wind as Roh stepped between it and him.

"If you are kinsman to me," Vanye said, "free me from this place. Then I will believe your kinship."

"Me? And care you nothing for that child that came with you?"

He looked back, stung, unable to argue. He affected a shrug. "Jhirun? Here is where she wanted to be, in Shiuan, in Ohtij-in. This is the land she wished for. What is she to me?"

"I had thought better of you," Roh said after a moment "So, surely, had she."

"I am ilin. Nothing else. There are human folk here, men, and so she can survive. They have."

"There are men," said Roh, and pointed at the squalid court, where beasts and men shared neighboring quarters. 'That is the lot of men in Ohtij-in. That is their life, from birth to death. Men now. Tomorrow the rest that survives in this land will live in that poverty, and the qujal-lords know it. Of their charity, of their charity, Nhi Vanye, these lords have let men shelter within their walls; of their charity they have fed them and clothed them. They owed them nothing; but they have let them live within their gates. You-you are not so charitable-you would let them die, that girl and all the rest. That is what you would do to me. The sword's edge is kinder, cousin, than what is waiting for all this land. Murder-is kinder."

"I have nothing to do with what is happening to these people. I cannot help them or harm them."

"Can you not? The Wells are their hope, Vanye. For all that live and will live in this world, the Wells are all the hope there is. They had no skill to use them; but by them, these folk could live. I could do it. Morgaine surely could, but she will not, and you know that she will not Vanye, if that ancient power were used as it once was used, their lot would be different. Look on this, look, and remember it, cousin."

He looked, perforce. He did not wish to remember the sight, and the faces that had raged wildly beyond the guards' pikes, the desperate hands that had reached through the grate. "All this is a lie," he said. "As you are a lie."

"The sword's edge," Roh invited him, "if you believe that beyond doubt."

He lifted his face toward Roh, wishing to see truth, wishing something that he could hate, finding nothing to attack- only Roh, mirror-image of himself, more alike him than his own brothers.

"Send me from here," he challenged him who wore the shape of Roh, "if you believe that you can convince me. At least you know that I keep my sworn word. If you have a message for Morgaine herself, then give it to me and I will deliver it faithfully-if I can find her, of which I have doubts."

"I will not ask you where she is," Roh said. "I know where she is going; and I know that you would not tell me more than that. But others might ask you. Others might ask you."

Vanye shivered, remembering the gathering in the hall, the pale lords and ladies who owed nothing to humanity. A fall to the paving below was easier than that. He stepped forward to the very edge, inwardly trying whether he had the courage.

"Vanye," Roh cried, compelling his attention. "Vanye, she will have little difficulty destroying these folk. They will see her, they will flock to her, trusting, because she is fair to see-and she will kill them. It has happened before. Do you think that there is compa.s.sion in her?"

"There has been," he said, the words hanging half soundless in his throat.

"You know its limits," said Roh. "You have seen that, too."

Vanye cursed aloud, flung himself back from the battlements and sought the door, sought warmth, fought to open it against the force of the wind. He tore it open, and Roh held it, came in after him. The torches in the hall fluttered wildly until the door slammed, Roh dropped the latch. They remained on opposite sides of the little corridor, facing one another.

"Say to them that you could not persuade me," Vanye said. "Perhaps your hosts will forgive you."

"Listen to me," said Roh.

Vanye unhooked the sheathed sword and cast it across the corridor; Roh caught it, mid-sheath, and looked at him in perplexity.

"G.o.d forgive me," Vanye said.

"For not committing murder?" Roh said. "That is incongruous."

He stared at Roh, then tore his eyes from him and began to walk rapidly down the corridor, descending the ramp. There were guards below. He stopped when their weapons levelled toward him.

Roh overtook him and set his hand on his arm. "Do not be rash. Listen to me, cousin. Messengers are going out, have already sped, despite the storm, bearing warnings of her throughout the whole countryside, to every hold and village. She will find no welcome among these folk."

Vanye jerked free, but Roh caught his arm again. "No," said Roh. The guards stood waiting, helmed, faceless, weapons ready. "Will you be handled like a peasant for the hanging?" Roh whispered in his ear, "or will you walk peaceably with me?"

Roh's hand tightened, urged. Vanye suffered the grip upon his arm, and Roh led him through the midst of the guards, walked with him down the windings of the corridors; and they did not stop at the door of the room that confined Jhirun, but went farther, into a branching corridor, that seemed to lead back to the main tower. The guards walked at their backs, two bearing torches.

"Jhirun," Vanye reminded Roh, as they entered that other corridor.

"I thought that was a matter of no concern to you."

"She is a chance meeting," he said. "And no more than that. She set out looking for you, hoping better from you than she had where she was: the measure of that, you may know better than I. You were kind to her, she said."

"She will be safe," said Roh. "I also keep my word."

Vanye frowned, glanced away. Roh said nothing further. They entered a third corridor, that came to an end in a blind wall; and in a narrow place on the right was a deeply recessed doorway. Shadows ran the walls as the guards overtook them, while Roh opened the door.

It was a plain room, with a fire blaring in the hearth, a wooden bench by the fire, table, chairs. And Hetharu waited there, Bydarra's dark-eyed son, seated, with a handful of others likewise seated about him-pale-haired men, although only Hetharu seemed so by nature, his long locks white and silken about his shoulders. He leaned elbows upon his knees, wanning his hands at the fire; and by the fire stood a priest, whose brittle, bleached hair described a nimbus about his balding head.

Vanye stopped in the doorway, confused by the situation of things, so important a man, so strangely a.s.sorted the company. Roh set his hand on his shoulder and urged him gently forward. The guards took up stations inside and out as the doors were closed and the gathering became a private one. Helms were removed, revealing faces thin and pale as those of the higher lords, eyes as dark as Hetharu's: young men, all that were gathered here, save the priest, furtive in their quiet. There was the brocaded finery of the lords, the martial plate-and-scale of the men-at-arms, the plainness of the furnishings. Guards had been posted outside as well as within the room. These things touched uneasily at Vanye's mind, warning of something other than mere games of terror with him. The gathering breathed of something ugly, that concerned the qujal themselves, powers and alliances within their ranks.

And he was seized into the midst of it.

"You woo nothing of him?" Hetharu asked of Roh. Roh left Vanye's side and took the vacant bench beside the fire, one booted foot tucked up, disposing himself comfortably and at his ease, leaving Vanye as if he were harmless.

In peevish insolence Vanye shifted his weight suddenly, and hands reached for daggers and swords all about the room; he tautened his lips, a smile that rage made slight and mocking, and slowly, amid their indecision, moved to take his place beside Roh on the bench, near the fire's warmth. Roh straightened slightly, both feet on the floor; and the look in Hetharu's eyes was angry. Vanye met that stare with a stubborn frown, though within, he felt less than easy: here was, he thought, a man who would gladly resort to force, who would enjoy it.

"My cousin," said Roh, "is a man of his word, and reckons that word otherwise bestowed . . . although this may change. As matters stand now, he does not recognize reason, only the orders of his liege: that is the kind of man he is."

"A dangerous man," said Hetharu, and his dark, startling eyes rested full on Vanye's. "Are you dangerous, Man?"

"I thought," said Vanye slowly, with deliberation, "that Bydarra was lord in Ohtij-in. What is this?"

"You see how he is," said Roh. And on faces round about there was consternation: guilt, fear. Hetharu glowered. Vanye read the tale writ therein and liked it less and less.

"And his liege?" asked Hetharu. "What has he to say of her?"

"Nothing," said Roh. And in their long silence, Vanye's heart beat rapidly. "It is of little profit," said Roh, "to question him on that account I will not have him harmed, my lord."

Vanye heard, not understanding, not believing Roh's defense of him; but he saw in that moment that a hint of caution appeared in Hetharu's manner-uncertainty that held him from commanding Roh.

"You," said Hetharu suddenly, looking at Vanye, "do you claim to have come by the Wells?"

"Yes," Vanye answered, for he knew that there was no denying it.

"And can you manage them?" the priest asked, a husky, quiet voice. Vanye looked up into the priest's face, reading desire there, not knowing how to deal with the desires that gathered thickly in this room, centered upon him and upon Roh. He did not want to die; abundantly, he did not want to die, butchered by qujal, for causes he did not understand, that had nothing to do with him.

He did not answer.

"You are a Man," said the priest "Yes," he said, and noticed that the priest carried a knife at his belt, curious accoutrement for a priest; and that all the others were armed. The priest wore a chain of objects about his neck, stone and sh.e.l.l and bone-familiar-Vanye realized all at once where he had seen such, daily, along with a small stone cross, profaned by nearness to such things. He stared at the priest, the rage that he could maintain against armed threat ebbing coldly in the consideration of devils, and those that served them-and the state of his soul, who served Morgaine, and who companied with a human girl who wore such objects about her neck.

Only let them keep the priest from him. He tore his gaze away from that one, lest the fear show, lest he give them a weapon.

"Man," said Hetharu, looking on him with that same fixed stare, "is this truly your cousin?"

"Half of him was my cousin," Vanye said, to confound them all.

"You see how he tells the truth," Roh said softly, silk-over-metal. "It does not always profit him, but he is forward with it: an honest man, my cousin Vanye. He confuses many people with that trait, but he is Nhi; you would not understand that, but he is Nhi, and he cannot help this over-nice devotion to honor. He tells the truth. He makes himself enemies with it. But in your honesty, cousin, tell them why your liege has come to this land. What has she come to do?"

He saw the reason for his presence among them now, how he had been, in his cleverness, guided to this. He knew that he should have held his peace from the beginning. Now silence itself would accuse, persuasive as admission. His muscles tautened, mind numbed when he most needed it. He had no answer.

"To seal the Wells forever," Roh said. 'Tell me, my honest, my honorable cousin-is that or is that not the truth?"

Still he held his peace, searching desperately for a lie, not practiced in the art. There was none he could shape that could not be at once unravelled.

"Deny it, then," said Roh. "Can you do that?"

"I deny it," he said, reacting as Roh thrust at him what he most wanted; and even as it slipped his lips he knew he had been maneuvered.

"Swear to it," Roh said; and as he began to say that also: "On your oath to her," Roh said.

By your soul: that was the oath; and their eyes were all on him, like wolves in a circle. His lips shaped the words, knowing the effort for useless, utterly useless; on his soul too was his duty to Morgaine, that bade him try.

But Roh set his hand on his arm, mercifully stopping him, leaving him trembling with sickness. "No," Roh said. "Spare yourself the guilt, Vanye; you do not wear it well. You see how it is, lord Hetharu. I have shown you the truth. My cousin is an honest man. And you, my lord, will swear to me that you will set no hand on him. I bear him some affection, this cousin of mine."

Heat mounted steadily to Vanye's face. There seemed no profit in protesting this baiting defense. He met Hetharu's dark and resentful eyes. "Granted," Hetharu said after a moment, and glanced at Roh. "He is yours. But I cannot answer for my father."

"No one," said Roh, "will set hand on him."

Hetharu glanced down, and aside, and frowned and rose. "No one," he echoed sullenly.

"My lords," said Roh, likewise rising. "A safe sleep to you."

There was a moment of silence, of seething anger on the part of the young lord. Surely it was not accustomed that Bydarra's son receive his dismissal from a dark-haired guest. But fear hovered thickly in the room when Roh looked at them all in their turn: eyes averted from his, to one side and the other, pretending to find interest in the stones of the floor or the guarded door.

Hetharu shrugged, a false insouciance. "My lords," he said to his companions. "Priest."

They filed out with rustling brocade and the clash of metal, those slim fair lords with their attendant guard, half-human-until there was only Roh, who quietly closed the door, making the room again private.

"Give me the sword again," Vanye said, "cousin."

Roh regarded him warily, hand on the hilt. He shook his head and showed no inclination to come near him now. "You do not seem to understand," Roh said. "I have secured your life, and your person, from some considerable danger. I have a certain authority here-while they fear me. It does not serve your own cause to fight against me."

"It is your own life you have secured," Vanye said, and arose to stand with his back to the fire, "so that they will not try me too severely and find your kinsman is only human."

"That too," said Roh. He started to open the door, and hesitated, looking back. "I wish that I could persuade you to common sense."

"I will go back to the room where I was," Vanye said. "I found it more comfortable."

Roh grinned. "Doubtless."

"Do not touch her," Vanye said. Roh's grin faded; he faced him entirely, regarded him with an earnest look.

"I have said," Roh said, "that she would be safe. And she will be safer-apart from you. I think you understand this."

"Yes," Vanye said after a moment "I would help you if you would give me the means."

"Good night," Vanye said.

Roh delayed, a frown twisting his face. He extended his hand, dropped it in a helpless gesture. "Nhi Vanye-my life will end if your liege destroys the Wells-not suddenly, but surely, all the same. So will everything in this land . . . die. But that is nothing to her. Perhaps she cannot help what she is or what she does. I suspect that she cannot. But you at least have a choice. These folk-will die, and they need not"

"I have an oath to keep. I have no choice at all."

"If you had sworn to the devil," Roh said, "would it be a pious act to keep your word?"

Unthought, his hand moved to bless himself, and he stopped, then with deliberation completed the gesture, in this place of qujal, where priests worshipped devils. He was cold, inside.

"Can she do as you have done?" asked Roh. "Vanye, is there any land where she has traveled where she is not cursed, and justly? Do you even know whether you serve the side of Men in this war? You have an oath; you have made yourself blind and deaf because of it; you have left kinsmen dead because of it. But to what have you sworn it? Do you wonder what was left in Andur-Kursh? You will never know what you wrought there, and perhaps that is well for your conscience. But here you can see what you do, and you will live in it. Do you think the Wells have kept these folk in misery? Do you think the Wells are the evil? It was the loss of them that ruined this land. And this is the likeness of Morgaine's work. This is what she does, what she leaves behind her wherever she pa.s.ses. There is nothing more terrible that could befall you than to stay behind where she has pa.s.sed. You and I know it; we were born in the chaos she wrought in our own Andur-Kursh, Kingdoms fell and clans died under her guidance. She is disaster where she pa.s.ses, Nhi Vanye. She kills. That is her function, and you cannot prevent her. To destroy is her whole purpose for being."