Chapter Thirty-Seven
Kate asked, "What about the gate?" She and Rhiana had finished wrapping the body of Errga for transport back to Glenraven. They had carried it down the stairs and placed it next to Val and Callion, who were propped against the hallway wall, still bound and helpless. Kate's backpack chafed, and she shrugged against the straps, trying to make the pack more comfortable. Kate wanted to feel terrible grief for the warrag's senseless death, but all she could find within herself was a vague, muzzy regret; Rocky's death had cut her deeper. She felt guilty for her feelings; the sentient warrag, who had been both husband and father, and whose death would cause pain to those who had loved him, had to mean more than the death of a dumb, if beloved, animal. But she could not change her heart, nor make herself feel the things she thought she ought to feel.
Tik sat with his back against the opposite wall watching them, sobbing, with the cooler full of Rhiana's spell-bombs resting between his outspread legs. "He was my friend—my finest and truest friend—and now he's gone. Gone."
Kate moved to the window and stood staring out at the street, wondering when any of the neighbors were going to notice that something bizarre was going on. "We've done what we came here to do. We have the Watchers and Callion, we've found the traitor—"
"I am not a traitor," Val interrupted. "I didn't do anything!"
Rhiana, still in Lady Smeachwykke mode, said, "That will be all from you, or I will make you wish you had died instead of poor Errga."
"But I love you, Rhiana."
"Don't lie, damn you. Don't lie to me now, you murderer."
Kate picked up where she'd been interrupted by raising her voice. "And since we've done those things, now you should be able to go to Glenraven and force the closing of the Rift."
"Except the book is dead."
Both Rhiana and Kate glared at Val, who glared back, unrepentant.
"So I ask," Kate said, determined to make her point, "how do we create a gate?"
Callion looked up at them. "It would be more a question of finding it than of making it," he said. His voice was soft, with a burr that Kate found surprisingly pleasant. "There is one here."
"In the house?" Rhiana asked.
"I found it convenient to travel between places in the Machine World without being observed. It was pleasant to be able to get money from banks any time I needed it, for example, and I found being able to drop into grocery stores in the dark of night, once the stocking clerks had gone home, gave me…" he smiled, showing sharp, small teeth "…gave me an excellent selection at a remarkable price."
"I can see where it would," Kate said.
"The problem," Rhiana told him, "is that we don't just need any gate. We need a special gate, one that will take us through Glenraven's barrier."
"They're all the same, gates are," Callion said. "Any gate will take you anywhere, if only you know how to get there. The trick with getting to Glenraven from here is that you have to be able to picture the place you want to go perfectly in your mind. You won't be able to feel the place, as you would a location within this world, and you won't be able to lock on to an anchor. You'll have to hold the gate there on the strength of your vision alone—and that can be a tricky thing. The same holds true for going from Glenraven to here."
"Why are you telling us this?" Rhiana said.
"Because I am old and tired and I want to go home. And I've come to discover that the…Watchers…aren't as tame as I thought they were. They got away from me the other day in spite of everything I could do to contain them. I'm sure you're aware of the results."
"We noticed them, yes," Kate said.
He nodded. "Most people did. But you asked why I would help you. I assume, since you haven't already killed me, that I am to be tried when I am back home."
Rhiana said, "The Watchmistress herself will try you, and the Council of Glenraven with her."
He nodded. "That is as I expected. Well." He smiled a weary smile. "If it gets me home and lets me stay there, I will trust my life to the justice of the Watchmistress. I am weary of the Machine World and its smells and its noises and its constant hurrying bustle. I long for the dark quiet of the forests I knew as a child and the mountains and the sounds of bells from the villages. I long for people who do not count the time by seconds but by seasons."
Rhiana was nodding her head as she listened to him. "I understand this. I can't say what the sentence of the council will be," she told him. "I promise you it will be just."
"That's all I ask."
Kate said, "Then we need to find the gate, and we need to get you home. And then I need to get home so that I can take care of things." She glanced at her watch. The hands showed a quarter to ten. "In fact," she said, "it isn't too late to make a phone call. I could call Paul at home to let him know I'll be coming back tomorrow." She looked at Callion. "May I use your phone?"
"Of course." He managed a courtly nod.
"I thought you would go back with us," Rhiana said. "To Glenraven."
"Why?" Kate shook her head. "I would love to see this world of yours, but I need to take care of things back home. I need to let people know that I didn't run away. I need to stand up for myself and let them see that I didn't do anything wrong, and that the people who tried to hurt me weren't these wonderful pillars of the community; that they were scum. I can't do that from here, and I can't do it from Glenraven."
Rhiana nodded. "I suppose I will have to be grateful that you've helped us as long as you have."
Kate managed a small smile. "It turned into more than I bargained for." She hurried down the hall to the kitchen, where she'd seen a phone hanging on the wall.
"Paul," she said when he answered, "I just wanted to let you know I'll be driving home tonight—should be there tomorrow morning. I'll get things straightened out then, and when I do, I'd really like for you to stay on working for me—"
He cut her off. "I don't know that you want to come back right now," he said. "I don't know that you want to come back at all."
"Of course I do. Peters is my home. I have a house there, my work—"
"Kate…Peters evidently isn't as taken with you as you are with it." Kate heard strain in his voice, and something that sounded like fear.
"What's wrong? What's happened?"
"Sometime last night, arsonists burned your house down. And your barn. The horses died—they were fine when I went out to feed and water them and clean their stalls at seven, but some of your neighbors called the fire department when they saw flames sometime around nine. By then it was too late. I didn't know anything about this until the sheriff's department called me looking for you. They didn't find any notes, no crosses on the front lawn, nothing like that—they know it wasn't any of the men who were charged with assaulting you, because all three of them have independent alibis. They said the arson looked like a professional job. Nothing is there now but ashes, Kate. Nothing."
Kate stared at the phone, not breathing, not thinking, just numb. "No," she said at last. "That isn't true. You're joking."
"I'm not. I wouldn't joke about something like that. And when the sheriff came by to talk to me this morning, he was wondering if you owed a lot of money that you couldn't pay back, or if the store had been in trouble."
"No!" Kate felt the tears welling in her eyes. What little she had left from her past was in that house. The photographs of her dead brother, of the rest of her family, of herself as a child back before life got so complicated; the reminders of Craig, the pieces of her life since him that were promises she'd made to herself to get back on her feet, to keep on living, to keep on finding reasons to enjoy each day. Everything she owned had been inside of that house. None of it could be replaced. Her family was as far gone from her as if they were dead, her brother and Craig were dead, the child she'd been no longer existed. Now none of it remained.
Her past had ceased to exist in any place or form except her own mind. And they were going to try to say she'd destroyed it all herself?
&nbs
p; "No," she whispered. "I want it all back."
"I'm sorry," Paul said. "I really am. I told the sheriff your business was doing fine and you didn't owe your suppliers or anything. I took him and a couple of police officers and the insurance adjuster into the shop and showed them your books for the last couple of years and your orders and your bank statements. I think they were convinced that you didn't pay someone to burn the place down. As they were leaving one of them asked the other if he thought you might have done it just so you wouldn't have to bother with selling the place before you moved away. But I don't think they believe that. You'll probably be able to get your insurance money."
"I wasn't going to move away," Kate said. "I was just down here helping out a friend. That's all."
"I think the way everyone here sees it, Kate, is that you have problems of your own that you should have been taking care of first. That the time to run away to Florida wasn't when you'd made complaints that got three men arrested."
"I didn't run away!" She glared at the phone, helpless and furious at the same time. "Though I suppose it looks like I did." Kate leaned against the wall, trying to picture her neat little house, into which she'd poured so much of herself, reduced to ashes and charcoal.
"If you're going to be here tomorrow morning," Paul said, "I suppose I could call around and line up a hotel room for you. I'd offer to let you use our guest room, but we're in the process of repainting right now—"
"Thanks anyway," Kate said. "I need to think about things. I think I'll stay here just a little longer."
"Well, yeah, I figured you probably would." Paul said, "Give me a number where I can reach you. I know the police and everyone will want to talk with you."
"There isn't going to be a number. When I get things figured out, I'll call them."
"Right. If you don't stay in touch, Kate, this is going to look a lot worse for you."
"Fuck that."
"Do what you want, of course. I've got the shop boarded up so that no one will break in. Your rent and utilities on the place are paid through the end of the month. You'll want to get your things out of there before that, though, so Mrs. Tabor can fix the place up to rent to someone else."
Kate closed her eyes. "I'll keep that in mind."
When she went back to the hallway, she couldn't look at Rhiana or Tik. She said, to no one in particular, "I guess I'll be going to Glenraven with you, just for a while."
Tik surprised her. He said, "I've been thinking. You were right to say you needed to stay here and fix your life. You're a good person, and even if the people in your town don't believe that now, they will. But only if you make them see it. And running to Glenraven won't make them see it, Kate."
"It doesn't matter." She managed to meet his eyes. "Someone burned my house down last night. The barn, too." She looked at Rhiana. "Your horses are dead, yours and his." She shrugged. "I lost everything that really mattered to me last night. I suppose I'll have to go back and get my leather tools and my books and my orders and customer list from the shop—assuming someone doesn't destroy those before I get back, too. But I'm not really in a hurry anymore. I don't have anyplace to go."
Tik studied her out of his one good eye, and she thought she saw tears welling up there. "That isn't right. You're a good person, Kate. I like you."
Rhiana came to her side and patted her on the back. "I'm so sorry, Kate. None of this would have happened if you hadn't been helping us."
"I don't know. Maybe it would have. Maybe they would have burned me inside of my house instead of burning it down while I was gone. Maybe I'm alive because I helped you."
"I'm still sorry." Rhiana gave her a quick squeeze. "Maybe in Glenraven you'll find something better than what you had. You'll find friends there who will stand beside you instead of running away at the first sign of trouble. I'm your friend. Tik is your friend. You already have more there than you have here."
"Maybe I do." She turned away. "But I was happy with what I had."
She stared at the wall for a moment. She could do nothing to bring back what she'd lost. It was gone, and she didn't have the time to mourn it. She and Rhiana still had to find the gate that would take them to Glenraven; they still had to deal with Callion and Val and the Watchers. She couldn't say her personal problems were insignificant next to the problems she and Rhiana faced together, but they couldn't take priority.
"So how do we locate this gate?"
Callion said, "You're going to have to speak it into existence. It should manifest where you call it. Just see it in your head and touch your finger to the place where you want it to be."
Rhiana said, "I think I can do that. I know what a gate is supposed to look like—I should be able to bring one to me. And I've thought of the place I know most perfectly. I am almost sure I can take us there safely, even though I won't have an anchor and won't be able to see what I'm doing."
"The magic-blindness from the blast hasn't worn off yet?" Kate asked.
"No. I'm afraid perhaps it's permanent."
"You might be right. It hasn't worn off for me either," Callion said. "That was a fearsome blast you loosed."
Tik started to say something, then chuffed and shook his head.
"What, Tik?" Kate asked.
"I confess myself surprised that you would use a weapon that would hurt you as much as it hurt your enemy."
Kate said, "Think of it as leveling the playing field."
"Your method seems to have worked. Now everyone is blind."
"Is that right, Val?" Rhiana asked. "Are you magic-blind, too?"
Val said nothing.
Kate turned to Tik. "We'll still get you home," she said softly. "We'll make sure you don't have to suffer for their treachery."
Rhiana said, "Let's not wait any longer. I can picture the place now, Kate. I have it in my mind. If you can find your magic and pass it to me as you did when we healed Tik, I'll bring us that gate."
Kate dug deep inside herself and found the part of her that was still strong and determined, even after the latest disaster. She used that core to reach out and bring in the power Rhiana needed. When she made it as real to herself as she could, she took Rhiana's hand.
Rhiana stood like a marble statue, her chin lifted, her eyes closed, not even seeming to breathe. The air around her began to waver in a circle that grew large enough for the biggest of them to step through. The circle glowed, the light becoming brighter and stronger, and finally she opened her eyes and reached out a finger, and a dark circle appeared in the center of the brightness; it expanded outward until only a rim of brilliant white light glowed like a ring of fire around the fathomless black of the tunnel into otherwhere.
"You did it," Callion said. "You have some promise as a wizard, girl. Some real promise."
Rhiana looked grim. "Quickly, into the gate. Tik, you'll have to carry Val. I'll carry Callion—he's the lightest. Kate, you're going to have to get Errga's body."
"I can do it."
"Don't let go of your line to the magic," she added. "Or we'll lose my destination, and end up somewhere else or nowhere at all."
"I won't let go."
Tik, carrying Val, stepped in first. Rhiana struggled, but managed to drape the Aregen over her shoulder; she stepped into the blackness, too. Kate grabbed the cooler full of magical bombs and shoved those in, then took one end of the bloody sheet that covered Errga and dragged it behind her. She heard voices shouting "Hurry! Hurry!" though she could not see anyone inside of the tunnel.
Errga's body was heavy—much heavier than she'd expected. She braced her legs and leaned backward to get the sheet sliding across the tiles.
The corpse finally slid well, she was at the mouth of the tunnel, and then she saw the paper bag sitting against the wall, looking like nothing important. "Shit!" She jumped out of the way of the tunnel, got behind Errga, shoved his corpse into the mouth of the gate, and ran back for the bag. The circle of light began to waver as her hands clutched the rough brown paper. She turned again
, ran back, still hearing the calls of "Hurry, hurry!" but fainter, and jumped into the darkness, wondering as she did if she would ever find the other side.
The walls around her billowed. She couldn't see anyone—the inside of the weird gate glowed with a crawling, pearlescent light that only emphasized the instability of her surroundings. She gripped the bag tighter. The sensation of forward motion mixed with an absence of gravity and the spinning walls around her to create in her the certainty that she was not moving forward at all, but was falling downward from a terrible height and at a hellish speed. She bit her lip to keep from crying out and tasted the hot metallic spurt of her own blood.
Then a circle of black raced toward her, and in it she could make out unevennesses in darkness that she hoped indicated Tik and Rhiana ahead of her. Without warning the blackness simultaneously enveloped her and spit her out, and she fell forward, disoriented, into the center of a room full of staring people.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
"Rhiana!"
"Mother!"
"Lady Smeachwykke!"
"Oh, godsall, you're not dead nor tortured nor locked up in a prison!"
Rhiana sagged from Callion's weight; her seneschal rose from his place at table, rushed to her side, and relieved her of the burden of the Aregen.
"No," she said. "I'm not dead, but I've done much and seen much, and I bring us both friends and enemies."
Tik stood at her side with Val in a crumpled heap at his feet. The cooler full of bombs popped out of the gate, and an instant later, the body of the warrag, wrapped in its blood-smeared sheet but still unmistakably a corpse. A moment later, Kate appeared, stumbling, looking pale and sick in the glow of the firelight, hanging on to the paper bag with both hands.
Rhiana realized what she held and for a moment she felt as sick as Kate looked. They'd almost left without the Watchers.
"I brought them," Kate said. Then she seemed to really see her surroundings for the first time. Her eyes grew round and her mouth dropped open as she looked upward at the corbelled vaults and stone pillars of the great hall. She turned slowly, her eyes glancing from the harlequin windows pierced by a thousand spears of the long light of early morning; to the long trestle tables at which the great and near-great of Ruddy Smeachwykke had been, until moments earlier, breaking bread; to the huge stone fireplaces at either end of the hall, in which fires burned brightly.
Marion Zimmer Bradley & Holly Lisle - [Glenraven 02] Page 24
