O my lord, Jhirun murmured in pity, and numbly he looked at himself and saw how the armor had galled his water-soaked skin, his linen shirt a soaked rag, rubbing raw sores where there had been folds. He rose, wincing, stripped it off and dropped it to the floor, shivering in the cold air.
Among the clothes on the table he found several shirts, soft and thin, that came of no fabric he knew; he disliked the feel of the too-soft weaving, but when he drew one on, it lay easily upon his galled shoulders, and he was grateful for the touch of something clean and dry.
Jhirun came, timidly searching among the qujalin gifts for her own sake. She found the proper stack, unfolded the brown garment uppermost, stood staring at it as if it were alive and hostilea brown smock such as the servants wore.
He saw, and sworesnatched it from her hands and hurled it to the floor. She looked frightened, and small and miserable in her wet garments.
He picked up one of the shirts and a pair of breeches. Wear these, he said. Yours will dry.
Lord, she said, a tremor in her voice. She hugged the offered clothing to her breast. Please do not leave me in this place.
Go dress, he said, and looked away from her deliberately, hating the appeal and the distress of herwho looked to him, who doubtless would concede to anything to be reassured of his lies.
Who might the more believe him if she were thus reassured.
Unwed girls of the countryside of Andur and of Kursh were a casual matter for the uyin of the high clanspeasant girls hoping to bear an uyos bastard, to be kept in comfort thereafter: an obligation to the uyo, a matter of honor. But therein both parties knew the way of things. Such a thing was not founded in lies or in fear.
Lord, she said, across the room.
He turned and looked at her, who still stood in her coarse peasant skirts, the garments held against her.
The tread of men approached the door outside, an ominous and warlike sound. Vanye heard it, and heard them pause. Jhirun started to hurry to his side.
The bar of the door crashed back. Vanye looked about as it opened, whirling a chill draft into the room and fluttering the fire; and there in the doorway stood a man in green and brown, who leaned on a sheathed longswordfronted him with a look of sincere bewilderment.
Cousin, said Roh.
Chapter Eight
Roh, Vanye answered, and heard a rustle of cloth at his left; Jhirun, who drew closer to him. He did not turn his head to see, only hoping that she would stay neutral. He himself stood in shirt and breeches; and Roh was armored. He was weaponless, and Roh carried a longsword, sheathed, in his hand.
There had been no weapons in the room, neither knife with the food nor iron by the fire. In desperation Vanye reckoned what his own skill could avail, a weaponless swordsman against a swordsman whose primary weapon had been the bow.
Roh leaned more heavily on the swords pommel and shouted over his shoulder a casual dismissal of the guards in the corridor, then stood upright, cast wide his arm in a gesture of peace.
Vanye did not move. Roh tossed his sword and caught it midsheath in one hand; and with a mocking flourish discarded it on the table by the door. Then he came forward several paces, limping slightly, bearing that sober, slightly worried expression that was Rohs very self.
And his glance swept from Vanye to Jhirun, utterly puzzled.
Girl, he said wonderingly, and then shook his head and walked to a chair and sat down, elbows upon the chairs arms. He gave a silent and humorless laugh. I thought it would be Morgaine. Where is she?
The plain question shot through other confusions, making senseRohs presence making sense of many matters in Ohtij-in. Vanye set his face against him, grateful to understand at least one enemy, and wished Jhirun to silence.
She is, Roh said, hereabouts.
It was bait he was desired to take: he burned to ask what Roh knew, and yet he knew bettershifted his weight and let go his breath, realizing that he had been holding it. You seem to have found welcome enough here, he answered Roh coldly, among your own kind.
I have found them agreeable, said Roh. So might you, if you are willing to listen to reason.
Vanye thrust Jhirun away, toward the far corner of the room. Get back, he told her. Whatever happens here, you do not want to be part of it.
But she did not go, only retreated from his roughness, and stood watching, rubbing her arm.
Vanye ignored her, walked to the table where the sword lay, wondering when Roh would move to stop him; he did not. He gathered it into his hands, watching Roh the while. He drew it part of the way from the sheath, waiting still for Roh to react; Roh did not move. There was only a flicker of apprehension in his brown eyes.
You are a lie, Vanye said. An illusion.
You do not know what I am, Roh answered him.
Zri... Liell... Roh... How many names have you worn before that?
Liell, sardonic master of Leth, whose mocking humor and soft lies he well knew: he watched sharply for that, waited for the arrogant and incalculably ancient self to look out at him through Rohs human eyesfor that familiar and grandiose movement of the hands, some gesture that would betray the alien resident within his cousins body.
There was nothing of the like. Roh sat still, watching him, his quick eyes following each move: afraid, that was evident. Reckless: that was like Roh, utterly.
He drew the sword entirely. Now, he thought. Now, if everbefore conscience, before pity. His arm tensed. But Roh simply stared at him, a little flinching when he moved.
No! Jhirun cried from across the room. It came near loosing his arm before he had consciously willed it; he stayed the blowjolted to remember a courtyard in Morija, and blood, and sickness that knotted in him, robbing him suddenly of strength.
With a curse he rammed the sword into sheath, knowing himself, as Roh had known him.
Coward, his shorn hair marked him. He saw the narrow satisfaction in Rohs eyes.
It is good to see you, Roh said in a hollow, careful voice. Nhi Vanye, it is good to see any kindred soul in this forsaken land. But I am sorry for your sake. I had thought that you would have used good sense and ridden home. I never thought that you would have come with her, even if she ordered it. Nhi honor: it is a compulsion. I am sorry for it. But the sight of you is very welcome.
Liar, Vanye said between his teeth; but the words, like a Chya shaft, flew accurately to the mark. He felt the wound, the desperation of exile, in which Rohanyone who could prove that the things he remembered had ever existedwas a presence infinitely precious. The accents of home even on an enemys lips were beautiful.
There is no point in quarreling before witnesses, said Roh.
There is no point in talking to you.
Nhi Vanye, said Roh softly, come with me. Outside. I have sent the guards elsewhere. Come. He rose from the chair, moved carefully to the door, looking back at him. Alone.
Vanye hesitated. That door was what he most earnestly desired, but he knew no reason that Roh should wish him well. He tried to think what entrapment Roh needed use, and that was none at all.
Come, Roh urged him.
Vanye shrugged, went to the fireside, where his armor lay discardedslung his swordbelt over his shoulder and hung the sword from it, ready to his hand: thus he challenged Roh.
As you will, Roh said. But it is mine; and I will ask it back eventually.
Jhirun came to the fireside, her eyes frightened, looking from one to the other of them: many, many things she had not said; Vanye felt the reminder in her glance.