Fires of Azeroth

by C. J. Cherryh

  "If I have troubled you," Lellin said, "forgive me."

  "I loved my cousin." It was the only answer he knew how to give, although it was more complicated than that simple word. Lellin answered nothing, and left him when he turned off on the last aisle to the tent he shared with Morgaine.

  He found his hand on the Honor-blade he carried: Roh's… for the honorable death Roh had been given no chance to choose, rather than become the vessel for Zri-Liell. An oath was on him to kill this creature.

  Lellin's hope shattered him, that the only kinsman he had yet living… still might live, entangled with the enemy who had killed him.

  He entered the tent and settled quietly in the corner, picked up a bit of his armor and set to adjusting a lacing, working in the near dark. Morgaine lay staring at the ceiling of the tent, at the shadows that flickered across it. She cast him a brief look as if she were relieved that he was back without incident, but she did not leave her own thoughts to speak with him just then. She was given, often, to such silences, when she had concerns of her own.

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  It was false activity, his meddling with the harness— he muddled the lacing over and over again, but it gave him an excuse for silence and privacy, doing nothing that she would notice, until the trembling should leave his hands.

  He knew that he had spoken too freely with the qhal, betraying small things that perhaps it was best not to have these folk know. He was almost moved to open his thoughts utterly to Morgaine, to confess what he had done, confess other things: how once in Shiuan he had talked alone with Roh, and how even then he had seen no enemy, but only a man he had once owned for kinsman. The weapon had failed his hand in that meeting, and he had failed her… self-deceived, he had reasoned afterward, seeing what he had wished to see.

  He wanted now desperately to seek Morgaine's opinion on what Lellin had said to him… but deep in his heart was suspicion, long-fostered, that Morgaine had always known more of Roh's double nature than she had told him. He dared not, for the peace which was between them, challenge her on that, or call her deceitful… for he feared that she had deceived him.

  She might not trust him at her side if she thought his loyalties might be divided, might have misled him deliberately to have Roh's death: and something would sour in him if he learned her capable of that. He did not want to find out such a thing, more than he longed to learn the other. Roh's nature could make no difference in his own choices; Morgaine wanted Roh dead for her own reasons, which had nothing to do with revenge; and if she meant to have it that way, then there was an oath to bind him: an ilin could not refuse an order, even against friend or kinsman: for his soul's sake he could not. Perhaps she thought to spare him knowledge… meant her deception for kindness. He was sure it was not the only deception she had used.

  There was, he persuaded himself at last, no help for himself or Roh in bringing the matter up now. War was ahead of them. Men died, would die— and he was on one side and Roh on the other, and truth made no difference in that.

  There would be no need to know, when one of them was dead.

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  Fires of Azeroth

  Chapter 4

  By night, fires blazed fearlessly throughout the camp, and in a clear space there burned a common-fire, where songs were sung to the music of harps.

  Men sang tunes that at times minded one of Kursh: the words were qhalur, but the burden of them was Man, and some of the tunes seemed plain and pleasant and ordinary as the earth. Vanye was drawn outside to listen, for their tent was near to that place and the gathering extended to their very door. Morgaine joined him; and he brought out their blankets, so they might sit as most did in the camp, and listen. Men came and brought them food and drink along with all the others as they sat there, for dinner was prepared in common as in Mirrind, and served in this fashion under the stars. They took it gratefully, and feared no drug or poison.

  Then the harp passed to the qhalur singers, and the music changed. Like wind it was, and the harmony of it was strange. Lellin sang, and a young qhalur woman kept him harmony, that ranged the eerie scale fit to send chills coursing down a human back.

  "It is beautiful," Vanye whispered at last to Morgaine, "for all it is not human."

  "There was a time when thee could not have seen it."

  It was true, and the realization weighed on him, the more when he considered Morgaine, who saw beauty in what she came to destroy… who had always been able to see it.

  This will pass, he thought, looking out over all the camp of qhal and Men.

  It will pass when she and I have done what we came to do, and killed the power of their Gates. It cannot help but change them. We will destroy all this no less than we shall destroy Roh. It saddened him, with that sadness he had often seen in Morgaine's eyes and never understood until now.

  There came a stirring at their backs. Morgaine turned, and so did he; it was a young Woman who bowed to speak with them. "Lord Merir sends," she whispered, not to disturb the listeners nearby. "Please come."

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  They rose up and followed the young Woman, delaying to put their blankets inside, and Morgaine took her weapons, though he did not. Their guide brought them into Merir's tent. One light burned there, and within were only Merir and a young qhal. Merir dismissed her and the Woman, so that they were quite alone.

  Both trust and power, it was… that this frail elder received them thus; Morgaine bowed courtesy, and Vanye did.

  "Sit down," Merir offered them. He was himself wrapped in a cloak of plain brown, and a brazier of coals smoldered at his feet. Two chairs sat vacant, but Vanye took the floor out of respect: an ilin did not insult a lord by sitting on a level with him.

  "There is refreshment by you, if you wish," said Merir, but Morgaine declined it, and therefore Vanye refused it also. His place was comfortable, on the mat nearest the brazier, and he settled at his ease.

  "Your hospitality has been kind," said Morgaine. "We have been served all that we can use; your courtesy encourages me."

  "I cannot call you welcome. Your news is too grim. But for all that, your steps lie easily on the forest; you bruise no branch nor harm its people…

  and therefore we make place for you here. For the same reason I am encouraged to believe that you do oppose the invaders. You are perhaps—dangerous to have for enemies."

  "And dangerous to have for friends. I still ask nothing more than leave to pass where I must."

  "Secrecies? But this is our forest."

  "My lord, we perplex each other. You look on my work and I on yours; you create beauty, and I honor you for that. But not all that is fair is trustworthy. Forgive me, but I have not come so far as I have by scattering all that I know to every wind. How far, for instance, does your power extend? How much could you help me? Or would you be willing? And the Men here: do they support you out of love or of fear? Could they be 57

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  convinced to turn on you? I do doubt it, but my enemies are persuasive, and some of them are Men. What skill have these khemi of yours in arms?

  Things here look to be peaceful, and it might be that they would scatter in terror from the first moment of conflict; or if they are practiced in war, then where are your enemies, and what would befall me at their hands if I took your part? How is this community of yours ordered, and where are decisions made? Have you power to promise and to keep your word? And even if the answer to all these questions should please me, I am still reluctant to let this matter pass into other hands, which have not fought this battle so long or so hard as I."

  "Those questions are direct and very apt. And I do read much of the nature of you and your enemies in the suspicions you hold of us. I do not think that I like that accounting. As for answers… my lady, that someone has passed the Fires and come here frightens me in itself. We have not found it good to make use of that passage."

  "Then you are wise."

  "Ye
t you have done so."

  "Our enemy has no reluctance in the matter. And he must be stopped. You know of other worlds. You are too knowledgeable of the Gates not to know where they lead. So you will understand me if I say that the danger is to more worlds than this one. This is a man who will not scruple to use Gates recklessly in all their powers. How much more need I say to a man who understands?"

  A great fear crept into Merir's eyes. "I know that much passing of that barrier may work calamity. One such disaster came on us, and we abandoned use of that passage, and made peace with Men, and gave up all that tempted us to that evil. So we have remained at peace… and there is none hungry but that we will feed him, none harmed— no thief or murderer nor abuser of his people. We live in the consciousness of what we can do… and do not. That is the foundation on which all law rests."

  "I was at first amazed," said Morgaine, "that here qhal and Men are at peace. It is not so elsewhere."

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  "But it is the only sanity, lady Morgaine. Is it not very evident? Men multiply far more rapidly than we. Shorter lives, but ever more of them.

  And should we not have respect for that abundant vitality? Is it not a strength, as wisdom is a strength, or bravery? They can always overcome us… for war with them we can never win, not over the passing of much time." He leaned forward and set his hand on Vanye's shoulder, a gentle touch, and his gray eyes were kind. "Man, you are always the more powerful. We reached beyond our knowledge in bringing your kind among us, and though you were not the beginning of our sorrow, you have the power to be the end-all of it… save we make you our adopted sons, as we have tried to do. How is it that you travel with lady Morgaine? Is it for revenge for your kinsman?"

  The heat of embarrassment rose to his face. "I swore her an oath," he said: half the truth.

  "Long ago, Man, there was your like here. You are reckless in your lives, having so much life. But we took khemi, and that life agreed well with such Men and left others free to lead quiet lives in the villages. The hands of the khemi administer justice and do unpleasant things that want doing, and sometimes brave things, risking themselves in the aid of others. Such recklessness is natural to Men. But when a qhal dies young, he often leaves none behind him, for once and perhaps twice do we bear, and that after some years. In hostile times our number shrinks rapidly. It is always in our interest to keep peace, and to deal fairly with those who have such an advantage over us. Do you not see that it is so?"

  The thought amazed him; and he realized how seldom he had seen children of the qhal, even among halflings.

  Merir's hand left his shoulder, and the old lord looked across at Morgaine.

  "I shall lend you help, lady, asked or unasked. This evil has come, and we must not let it touch Shathan. Take Lellin with you, him and his khemeis. I send my heart with you. He is my grandson, my daughter's child, of a line that is fast fading. He will guide you where you will to go."

  "Has Lellin consented in this? I would not take anyone who did not clearly reckon the danger."

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  "He asked to be the one, if I reached the conclusion that I should send someone."

  She nodded sorrowfully. "May he come home safely to you, my lord. I will watch over him with all the force that I have."

  "That is much, is it not?"

  Morgaine did not answer that probing, and silence hung between them a moment. "My lord, I asked you once for help to reach the master-hold, that would control the Gate at Azeroth. And I still ask that."

  "Its name is Nehmin, and it is well defended. I myself would not be allowed to pass there freely. What you ask of me is— more than difficult."

  "That comforts me. But Roh's allies spend lives recklessly, and they will simply spend them until they have broken its defenses. I must have access there."

  Merir sat a moment, the fires of the lamp leaping upon his downcast features. "You ask power over us."

  "No."

  "But you do… for with your hand there, you have choices, regarding more than your enemy. Perhaps you would choose what we would choose… but you are utterly a stranger, and I wonder if that is likely. And might you not, in that power, be as deadly to us as the enemy you fight?"

  Morgaine had no answer, and Vanye sat still, fearful, for Merir surely understood… if not the whole truth, surely truth enough. But the old qhal sighed heavily. "Lellin will guide you; and there will be others along the way who will help you."

  "And yourself, my lord? Surely you will not be idle… and should I not know where you will be? I have no wish to harm you or to expose you to the enemy by mistake."

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  "Trust to Lellin. We will go our own way." He rose stiffly. "The Mirrindim were amazed at your map-making. Bring the lamp, young Vanye, and let me show you a thing that may help you."

  Vanye gathered up the lamp from its hook and followed the ancient qhal to the tent wall. There was a map hung there, age-faded, and Morgaine came and looked on it.

  "Here is Azeroth," said Merir, stretching forth his hand to the great circle in the center. "Shathan is all the forest; and the great Nam and its tributaries feed the villages— see: each has accessible water. And this is a walk of many days— Mirrind is here."

  "Such circles cannot be natural."

  "No. In some places the trees fail, and yet there is water; and Men have cleared the rest. And where forest fails too much, thy have planted hedges and thickets to change the land so that trees may grow and wild things have their place. The circles are orderly and boundaries between farm and forest are thus distinct. It gives quiet passage for our folk… we do not like the open lands; and Men do, who farm and herd. Also…" he added, and laid his hand on Vanye's shoulder, "it has prevented war and strife over boundaries. Once men rode in great hordes where they would, and there was war. They endangered us… but the vitality of Shathan itself is even greater than that of Men; they turned fire against us, and that was worst…

  always we are vulnerable to that kind of attack. But the woods regrew in the end; and the barricades of hedges were maintained by Men who sheltered with us. We are not the only forest or the only place where such a thing has been done; but we are the oldest. There are places outside, where Men have run to themselves, and make wars and ruin and— in some places— make better things, beautiful things. Of these folk too we have hope, but we cannot live as their neighbors; we are too fragile. We cannot admit them here above all, to the place of power; that must remain outside their reach. The sirrindim, we call them, these Men outside; they are horsemen and avoid our forests. But do you perceive why I am distressed, lady Morgairte, with the like of the sirrindim suddenly camped about Azeroth?"

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  "Nehmin is one dire concern, and I suppose that it is somewhere close about Azeroth, though I do not see it on your map. But the Narn itself…

  could become a threat, a road to lead them through your heart."

  "Indeed you do see. It leads too close to the land of the sir-rindim. It is a threat much beyond Mirrind… we do see that. In war, we would swiftly decline and die. The invaders must be held in Azeroth… above all they must not open a way to the northern plains. Of all directions they might have gone, that is the most deadly to us… and I think that is the direction they will choose, for you are here, and they will surely find that out."

  "I understand you."

  "We will hold them." There was sorrow etched deep in the old qhal's face.

  "We shall lose many of our numbers, I fear, but we shall hold them. We have no choice. Go now. Go and sleep. In the morning you will go with Lellin and Sezar, and we shall hope that you keep faith, lady Morgaine: I have shown you much that could greatly harm us."

  She inclined her head, respecting the old qhal. "Good night, my lord," she murmured and turned and left. Vanye replaced the lamp carefully on its hanging chain near the old lord's chair, thi
nking of his comfort, and when the aged qhal sat down, he bowed too, the full obeisance he would have shown a lord of his own people, forehead to the ground.

  "Man," said Merir gently, "for your sake I have believed your lady."

  "How, lord?" he asked, for it bewildered him.

  "Your manner— that you are devoted to her. Self-love shows itself first that qhal and Man cannot trust one another. But neither you nor she is afflicted by that evil. You serve, but not because you fear. You affect the manner of a servant, but you are more than that. You are a warrior like the sirrindim, and not like the khemi. But you show respect to an elder, and him not of your blood. Such small things show more truth than any words.

  And therefore I am moved to trust your lady."

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  He was stricken by this, knowing that they would fail that trust, and he was frightened. All at once he felt himself utterly transparent before the old lord, and soiled and unclean.

  "Protect Lellin," the old qhal asked of him.

  "Lord, I will," he whispered, and this faith at least he meant to keep. Tears stung his eyes and choked his voice, and a second time he inclined himself to the mat, and sat back again. "Thank you for my lady, for she was very tired and we are both very weary of fighting. Thank you for this time you have given us, and for your help to cross your lands. Have I leave to go, my lord?"

  The old qhal dismissed him with a soft word, and he rose and left the tent, sought Morgaine's in the dark, on the rim of the gathering. The merriment there still continued, the eerie sounds of qhalur singing.

  * * *

  "We shall both sleep," Morgaine said. "And the armor is useless. Sleep soundly; it may be some time before we have another chance." He agreed, and put up a blanket for a curtain between them, suspended from the cross-pole; gladly he stripped of the armor, and of clothing, wrapped himself in a blanket and lay down, and Morgaine did likewise, a little distance away on the soft furs provided for their beds. The makeshift curtain did not reach the floor, and the light of the fires outside cast a dim glow within. He saw her gazing at him, head pillowed on her arm.