Vanye.
He wakened to the grip of Morgaines hand on his arm, startled out of a sleep deeper than he was wont.
Get the horses, she said. The wind was whipping fiercely at the swaying branches overhead, drawing her fair hair into a stream in the darkness. It is close to dawn. I let you sleep as long as I could, but the weather is turning on us.
He murmured a response, arose, rubbing at his eyes. When he glanced at the sky he saw the north flashing with lightnings, beyond the restless trees. Wind sighed coldly through the leaves.
Morgaine was already snatching up their blankets and folding them. For his part he left the ring of firelight and felt his way downslope among the stones of the ruins, across the narrow channel and up again to the rise where the horses were tethered. They snorted alarm at his coming, already uneasy at the weather; but Siptah recognized him and called softlygray Siptah, gentler-mannered than his own Andurin gelding. He took the gray and Jhiruns homely pony together and led them back the way he had come, up again into the ruins.
Jhirun was awake. He saw her standing as he came into the firelight, opened his mouth to speak some gentle word to her; but Morgaine intervened, taking the horses. I will tend them, she said brusquely. See to your own.
He hesitated, looking beyond her shoulder to Jhiruns frightened face, and felt a deep unease, leaving her to Morgaines charge; but there was no time for disputes, and there was no privacy for argument. He turned and plunged back into the shadows, making what haste he could, not knowing against what he was racing, the storm or Morgaines nature.
Dawn was coming. He found the black gelding a shadow in a dark that was less than complete, although the boiling clouds held back the light. He freed the horse, hauled firmly on the cheekstrap as the ungentle beast nipped at him, then in his haste swung up bareback and rode back with halter alone, down across the stream and up again among the trees and the ruins.
He was relieved to find Jhirun calmly sitting by the dying fire, wrapped in her brown shawl, eating a bit of bread. Morgaine was doing as she had said, tending to Siptahs saddling; and she bore Changeling on her shoulder harness, as she would when she judged the situation less than secure.
I have told her that she is coming with us, Morgaine said, as he alighted and flung the blanket up to the geldings back. He said nothing, unhappy in Morgaines intention. He bent and heaved the saddle up, settled it and reached under for the girth. She seemed agreeable in the matter, Morgaine said, seeming determined to draw some word from him on the subject.
He gave attention to his work, avoiding her eyes. At least, he said, she might ride double with me. She has a head wound. We might give her that graceby your leave.
As you will, said Morgaine after a moment. She rolled her white cloak into its oiled-leather covering and tied it behind her saddle. With a jerk of the thongs she finished, and gathered up Siptahs reins, leading the horse toward the fire, where Jhirun sat.
Jhirun stopped eating, and sat there with the morsel forgotten in her two hands. Like something small and trapped she seemed, with her bruised eyes and bedraggled hair, but there was a hard glitter to those eyes nonetheless. Vanye watched in unease as Morgaine stopped before her.
We are ready, Morgaine said to her. Vanye will take you up behind him.
I can ride my own pony.
Do as you are told.
Jhirun arose, scowling, started to come toward him. Morgaine reached to the back of her belt, a furtive move. Vanye saw, and dropped the saddlebag he had in hand.
No! he cried.
The motion was sudden, the girl walking, the sweep of Morgaines hand, the streak of red fire. Jhirun shrieked as it touched the tree beside her, and Vanye caught the geldings bridle as the animal shied up.
Morgaine replaced the weapon at the back of her belt. Vanye drew a shaken breath, his hands calming the frightened horse. But Jhirun did not move at all, her feet braced in the preparation of a step never taken, her arms clenched about her bowed head.
Tell me again, Morgaine said softly, very audibly, that you do not know this land, Jhirun Elas-daughter.
Jhirun sank to her knees, her hands still clenched in her hair. I have never been further than this down the road, she said in a trembling voice. I have heard, I have only heard that it leads to Shiuan, and that was before the flood. I do not know.
Yet you travel it without food, without a cloak, without any preparation. You hunt and you fish. Will that keep you warm of nights? Why do you ride this road at all?
Hiuaj is drowning, Jhirun wept. Since the Wells were closed and the Moon was broken, Hiuaj has been drowning, and it is coming soon. I do not want to drown.
Her mad words hung in the air, quiet amid the rush of wind, the restless stamp and blowing of the horses. Vanye blessed himself, the weight of the very sky pressing on his soul.
How long ago, asked Morgaine, did this drowning begin?
But Jhirun wiped at the tears that spilled onto her cheeks and seemed beyond answering sanely.
How long? Morgaine repeated harshly.
A thousand years, Jhirun said.
Morgaine only stared at her a moment. These Wells: a ring of stones, is that not your meaning? One overlooks the great river; and there will be yet another, northward, one master Well. Do you know it by name?
Jhirun nodded, her hands clenched upon the necklace that she wore, bits of sodden feather and metal and stone. She shivered visibly. Abarais, she answered faintly. Abarais, in Shiuan. Dai-khal, dai-khal, I have told you all the truth, all that I know. I have told everything.
Morgaine frowned, and at last came near the girl, offering her hand to help her rise, but Jhirun shrank from it, weeping. Come, said Morgaine impatiently, I will not harm you. Only do not trouble me; I have shown you that... and better that you see it now, than that you assume too far with us.
Jhirun would not take her hand. She struggled to her feet unaided, braced herself, her shawl clutched about her. Morgaine turned and gathered up Siptahs reins, rose easily into the saddle.
Vanye drew a whole breath at last, expelled softly. He left his horse standing and went to the fireside, gathered up his helmet and covered his head, lacing the leather coif at his throat. Last of all he paused to scatter the embers of their campfire.
He heard a horse moving as he turned, recoiled as Siptah plunged across his path, Morgaine taut-reining him to an instant stop. He looked up, dismayed at the rage with which she looked at him.
Never, she hissed softly, never cry warning against me again.
Liyo, he said, stricken to remember what he had done, the outcry he had made. I am sorry; I did not expect
Thee does not know me, ilin. Thee does not know me half so well as thee trusts to.
The harshness chilled. For a moment he stared up at her in shock, fixed by that cold as Jhirun had been, unable to answer her.
She spurred Siptah past him. He sought the ponys tether, half blind with shame and anger, ripped it from its branch and tied it to his own horses saddle. Come, he bade Jhirun, struggling to keep anger from his voice, with her who had not deserved it. He rose into the saddle, cleared a stirrup for her, suddenly alarmed to see Morgaine leaving the clearing, a pale flash of Siptahs body in the murk.
Jhirun tried for the stirrup and could not reach it; he reached down in an agony of impatience, seized her arm and pulled, dragged her up so that she could throw her leg over and settle behind him.
Hold to me, he ordered her, jerked her shy hands about his waist and laid spurs to the gelding, that started forward with a suddenness that must have hurt the pony. He pursued Morgaines path, only dimly aware of branches that raked his face in the passage. He fended them with his right hand and used the spurs a second time. One thing he saw, a pallor through the trees, fast opening a lead on him.