The Door Into Fire

And then Freelorn eased himself out of the saddle. Herewiss went slowly and calmly to meet his friend—

—and was hugging him hard before he knew what happened, his face crunched down against Freelorn's shoulder, and much to his own surprise, tears burning hot and sudden in his eyes as Freelorn hugged him back. Fire-in-Heaven, did I really miss him that much? I guess I did . . .

(So where are the progeny?) said someone in the background.

(Sunspark, what within the walls of the world are you talking about?) Herewiss said, prolonging the hug.

(That wasn't union? I thought you had changed your mind and decided to go ahead. You give off discharges like that just for greeting each other? Isn't that wasteful?)

(Sunspark, later.)

They held each other away, and Freelorn was laughing, and sniffling a little too. 'Goddess Mother of us all, look at you!' he said. 'You're bigger than you were. You cheat, dammit!'

'No, I don't. Lorn, your mustache is longer, you look like a Steldene.'

'That was the idea, for a while. Look at the arms on you! That's what it is. What the Shadow have you been doing?'

'I'm a swordsmith,' Herewiss said. 'I hammer a lot. If you want to look like this, you can, but it'll take you a year or so. That's how long I've been at it. Lorn, you twit, what's the use of trying to look like a Steldene if you're going to wear that around?' He nodded at Freelorn's black surcoat, charged with the Arlene arms, the white Lion passant guardant uplifting its great silver blade.

'Who's gong to see it out here?'

'That's not the point. You were wearing it in Madeil, weren't you?'

'No — my other one got stolen out of my saddlebag. Let me tell you what happened—'

'I can imagine. For such an accomplished thief, you get stolen from awfully easily. How many times have I — oh, never mind, come on, sit down and tell me. Tell me everything. We haven't talked since — Goddess! — since not last Opening Night, but the one before. When you came to the Wood.'

'Yeah.' They sat down by a chair-sized boulder and put their backs on it. Herewiss slid an arm around Freelorn's shoulders. 'Let's see, let's see—' Freelorn chewed his mustache a bit. 'After we left the Wood, we went west a ways — stayed in the empty country north of Darthis until spring came. And then south. We made a big wide detour around Darthis, didn't even cross the Darst until Hiriden or so—'

'That is quite a detour. Any trouble?'

'No. That was the interesting thing, though. One Darthene patrol stopped us and I was sure they knew who I really was. I lied splendidly about everything, though, and they let us go. You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?'

Herewiss laughed softly. 'Oddly enough, I would. My father has been exchanging letters with Eftgan recently, and the queen is not happy with Cillmod and the cabal in Arlen. Not at all. She told Hearn in one letter that she considers the real Arlene government to be in exile. Right now she doesn't dare openly support or recognize you; she's so new to the throne, and the Four Hundred are still unsure of her. But because of the Oath of Lion and Eagle she feels obligated to do something for you. Those guards may or may not have known who you were — but if they did, they had orders to let you pass unhindered. You're safe in Darthen, so long as you don't make yourself so visible that they have no choice but to notice you.'

'What about public opinion?'

'I think that may have influenced her a little. Most of Darthen is in outrage over Cillmod having the gall to break Oath. Especially the country around Hadremark, where a lot of people went homeless after the burning, and all the crops were ruined. But Eftgan's hands are tied. She can't really move against Arlen, or she'd be breaking Oath herself. She's strengthened the garrisons on the Arlid border, but there are ways to sneak past those. She even went so far as to ask the human Marchwarders in Darthen to talk to the Dragons, ask their help — but the answer is pretty unlikely to be the same as usual. The Dragons won't get involved.'

'Granted.'

'So in a way, you're her best hope. The story running in Darthen seems to be that you're alive and traveling around to raise force so that you can get Arlen back. The people seem to approve. They want the Lion's child back on the throne again, as much for their own welfare as for yours.'

Freelorn nodded. '"Darthen's House and Arlen's Hall,"' he recited. ' "share their feast and share their fall—

Forlennh's and Hergotha's blade are of the same metal made, and the Oath they sealed shall bind both their dest'nies intertwined—"' Herewiss finished, '"Till the end of countries, when Lion and Eagle come again." 'You always did like that one.'

'I recite it nightly,' Freelorn said with a somewhat sour expression, 'and hope that both our countries live through this interregnum.'

They'll manage, I think. But after you went south, what?'

'We went a little more to the west, nearly to the Arlene border—' Freelorn went on, telling of a close encounter with a large group of bandits, but Herewiss wasn't really listening. He nodded and mm- hmmed in the appropriate places, but most of his mind was too full of the sight and nearness of Freelorn — the compactness of him, the quick brilliant eyes and fiery temperament, the bright sharp voice, the ability to care about a whole country as warmly as he could about one man.

Herewiss suddenly recalled one of those long golden afternoons in Pry don castle. He had been stretched out on Freelorn's bed, staring absently at the ceiling, and Freelorn sat by the window, picking at the strings of his lute and trying to get control of his newly changed voice. He was singing the Oath poem with a kind of quiet exultation, looking forward to the time when he would be king and help to keep it true; and the soft promising melody wound upward through the warm air. Herewiss, relaxed and drifting easily toward sleep, was deep in a daydream of his own — of a future day brightly lit by the blue sun of his own released Flame. Then suddenly he was startled awake again by a shudder of foreboding, a cold touch of prescience trailing down his spine. A brief flicker- vision of this moment, lit by a fading sunset instead of the brilliance of mid-afternoon. The same poem, but not sung; the same Freelorn, but not king; the same Herewiss, but not—

'—and left them in our dust — What's the matter? Getting cold?'

'No, Lorn, it was just a shudder. The Goddess spoke my Name, most likely.'

'Yeah. So, anyway, we left the south-east and came back this way. Stopped at Madeil, and that's where my surcoat got stolen.'

'Your good one, I suppose.'

'Yeah. I don't seem to have much luck with them, do I? They've probably sold it for the silver by now. But word of whose it was got out, and evidently the Steldenes have been feeling the weight of Cillmod's threats, since they sent all those people after us. I didn't believe it. I said to myself, when they came piling up outside that old keep, I said, "Time to call in help." Which I did. Goddess, what a display that was.'

'Thank you.'

'Are you all right? I mean, that messenger, and the fireball, and the Lion — oh, the Lion! That was beautiful. Beautiful. Just the way He always looks to me.' 'Oh. You see Him regularly?'

'Shut up! You know what I mean. But are you all right?'

'Just a touch wobbly — it'll pass in a couple of days. I never did anything on that scale before. In fact, I didn't know I had it in me. I.guess I found out . . .'

Freelorn laughed softly. 'I dare say. But listen: what have you been doing?'

Herewiss shrugged, trying to think of some way to put a cheerful face on a year's worth of broken swords, wasted time, and pain. He couldn't, and anyway, Freelorn would have caught him at it.