Wolves at the Gate

by R. J. Davnall

realised she hadn't actually raised her voice. Why didn't she want Chag to hear that?

  "Does he?" It was hard to tell if Atla's innocent tone was an act. It could be, but the lad certainly believed in his point. "It sounded to me like he didn't know what he was doing."

  She clenched her jaw, feeling the muscles swell and pulse. Not knowing what he was doing shouldn't be an excuse, not for a Gifted, but Chag was a southerner, and a Witness with it.

  "You're the people person." Atla met her eyes squarely for a moment, and she was surprised to see how afraid of her he was. "I think I could handle the law side of it, but you can get the truth out of him."

  Despite herself, she looked over at Chag. He was still hanging in his bonds, but every other pair of eyes in the Hall was on her hushed, huddled conversation with the boy. Well, every other pair of eyes except Rel's. She could hear his footsteps, sharp on the marble floor, fading into the distance.

  Somehow, Atla managed to lower his voice another notch. "He has more information on the Separatists than anyone else alive. Doesn't he? He may be able to help if you can get through to him."

  Where had this string of insights come from? Atla watched her uncertainly for a moment, then seemed to take her silence for approval. He turned and left at a jog. Still off-balance, Pevan turned to Quilo, then to Chag.

  Quilo said, "Will your brother do anything rash?"

  "He won't attack the Court." Her voice felt leaden. "Beyond that, no promises. He might have changed a bit since Vessit, but..."

  "We must proceed without him, then."

  Pevan felt a flicker of déjà vu as she stepped into the annexe where Chag was being held. Though the stonework was white marble rather than the dark limestone she was used to from back home, the cell was just like the one where they'd held the thief in Federas. Chag certainly didn't do anything to diminish the resemblance, sitting slumped on the edge of his cot, eyes downcast.

  A row of stout black bars divided the space down the middle, though here in the Second Realm they wouldn't be iron. There was no door or gate in them. Quilo would probably just wave a hand and they'd vanish when Chag was due to come out.

  There was no seat, so she lowered herself slowly to sit on the ground, back against the wall. Only as she settled into place did Chag actually glance at her, and his gaze fell away again after a moment.

  She frowned at him, wondering if he could feel it without looking up again. "Why didn't you leave with the Separatists?" The question had nagged at her since the half-formal trial the previous evening, and now nestled with the heavy lump of fatigue at the front of her brain. She hated having to sleep in the Second Realm, but there had been no question of going back to the First overnight.

  The question finally seized his attention. "You're that desperate to get rid of me?"

  "I want to know why you stayed." She forced the tension out of her voice. "Having second thoughts?"

  "At this point I think I'm onto at least third. Maybe fifth." A corner of his mouth lifted, but you couldn't call it a smile.

  "Where does that leave Vesta Fentin and Oris Laith?" The two who'd died at Af, one a girl of fifteen and the other a trainee Warder. It was cruel, and Van Raighan took the words like a blow, but those were the deaths on his head. Two people, dead because Chag loved Pevan, and that was to say nothing of the Gift-Giver and Guards he'd killed in his earlier theft.

  Without looking up, he muttered, "The town was supposed to be safe."

  "What?"

  "The Separatists secured the Sherim. Lienia waited on our side to make sure nothing came through while the Ward was down." Finally, he held his head up, met her eyes. She was surprised at the weight in his bitter stare. "The Wilder at Af was already in the First Realm when we put the plan in motion. The town hadn't issued an alert."

  "You think that excuses you?" She could tell he didn't, but the heat in her needed an outlet.

  He stood, sharply, as if to come to the bars, but then turned his back instead. "I don't know what I think. Are you dead-set against the Separatists?"

  "I can't make this decision for you, Chag." Looking up at him from the floor made him seem a long way off.

  "Why not?" The edge of petulance in the little man's tone made her roll her eyes. "You're the expert, aren't you?"

  Pevan said nothing, instead easing herself to her feet. Then, feeling awkward just standing there in the cold, hard, white room, she walked up to the bars. Chag picked up on some scuff or rustle that she made and turned. The lines pain had etched in his face made him look as ancient as Quilo.

  It was hard to find anything like mercy for the thief now. Holding her voice low, she said, "If you're not going to be on my side because it's the right side to be on... If everything you do is for me... How can I respect that?"

  "I love you." He said it like a prayer, as if the words made the air around them holy. As if it was the answer to everything.

  She found herself grimacing, fighting back a rush of something that might have been tears or anger. "You killed people for me! How do I live with that? Where will you draw the line?"

  "No-one was supposed to die." The look on his face was probably a mirror of hers. "Delaventrin Saw no deaths. If he had, I wouldn't have done it. I swear it."

  "You were willing to help the Separatists even though it meant another Realmcrash. Just because it meant a path that led to me."

  "I- No... I- " His mouth kept working silently for a while before he stopped and looked down at his hands. "You really don't think Separation is worth the price?"

  Pevan felt a place inside her go calm, like a wind suddenly dying. Inside that place, thought was clearer. "Can we risk it, with the Abyss like it is? Even if we can trust the Separatists, and you're right that people can prepare for Realmquakes and we don't have to worry about electronics and all that stuff, the First Realm is falling apart. Can it take the shock?"

  "Okay. But it's right overall, isn't it?" There were tears in his eyes. "I mean, we're better off without the Second Realm, if it can be done safely, aren't we?"

  She shook her head slowly, sadly. "I don't think so, Chag. I might not be in the majority in this, but I am what I am, and without the Second Realm I wouldn't be that. Do you really think people are that unhappy with the Treaty? Down South, I mean?"

  He took a short, shallow breath, half-way to a sob. "Shouldn't they be, though? I don't think people think about it. But the Second Realm is dangerous. You know that. How many people die in Federas every year to Wildren?"

  "None," she snapped, a flash of heat racing through her veins. "We haven't had a civilian casualty in almost fifty years."

  "What about Gifted?"

  "That's different." Her answer was automatic, but then she had to look away, her mind feeling like it had run into a wall as she looked for justification.

  "Really?" Chag's tone took on an edge that suggested he was recovering fast. "You don't care that Temmer and Dieni are dead? How many Gifted have you lost, Pevan?"

  "They wouldn't have changed things." She spoke through gritted teeth, trying not to give ground. "Death is part of the job."

  "I don't remember swearing that in my oath." He held steady, eyes dark.

  "Oh, come on." She put as much heat as she could pull up into the words, trying to cover up the hollow sense that he had a point. The oath didn't actually say that you pledged your life. Everybody knew that was what it meant, though. Didn't they? "Things can't be that different in the South. We take the risks so the civvies don't have to. That's what we're here for. Given the dangers, how could swearing to uphold and defend mean anything else?"

  "No, it's... I..." He deflated.

  More gently, trying not to sound too mocking, she said, "You knew what you were getting into when you swore. Do you really expect me to believe you weren't a little bit excited?"

  The thought actually seemed to pain him. He looked at her, face pinched.

  "All Gifted feel the same." She frowned, then tried to turn it into a sardonic grin for Chag's
sake. "Well, maybe not all. A few women who get Gifted maybe don't want to be heroes. Jashi's a bit like that, it's what makes her so good. The rest of us, though... you remember when I saved you from those Noncs? Back when we first met?"

  His frown didn't vanish, but it changed shape. "What's that got to do with anything?"

  "The first thing you did after we landed was burst out laughing. Remember?" Pevan knew the feeling well, had understood it instantly; a rush of fierce joy and relief. It was the same sensation as you got when pushing off a cliff-top, just as your wings first bit into the air and defied the inevitable death-plunge. "You did the same when we got here, yesterday."

  "That was hysteria. Wasn't it?"

  She leaned forward, resting her arms along two of the bars, one eyebrow raised. "The laughter had to come from somewhere." She felt the first fingernail-stroke of a fresh uncertainty. Had she been wrong? Could Chag really not have felt, as he spoke the carefully-chosen words of the oath, that moment's pride, the heat of conviction... the Rel-ness of being Gifted, really. If there was one way in which her brother was the perfect Gifted, it was that.

  Maybe the shadow of Chag's brother had held him back. By accounts, Rissad was a Gatemaker worthy of the North, Pevan's equal. Maybe that had smothered Chag's pride. And yet, when he talked about Rissad, it never seemed to be outright envy in the little man's voice. He spoke about his brother as if he were a standard to aim for, a totem, a rival to beat, not an untouchable monolith.

  He seemed about to speak, but she cut him off. "You liked that it put you on level footing with Rissad, didn't you?" The question came out sharp rather than teasing, but the way his face hardened suggested he wouldn't have found it amusing.

  "I should never have tried to compete with him." There was lead in his tone.

  "Really?" She kept her voice hard, not wanting to let him slide into self-pity. "Or should you just have thought through what you did to compete a bit more?"

  His eyelids flickered, just once, the faintest of cracks in his stony mien. He crossed to the bars in short, shuffling steps, his motions so studied and careful, so fragile, that it seemed a performance. Still leaning forward, Pevan found herself less than a foot from his face, studying his eyes and the rough, stubbly skin of his malnourished cheeks. His arms came up half-way, and she thought he might be about to reach through the bars and slide his hands around her waist. Instead he took hold of the bars, his hands just below her elbows. A shiver ran through her all the same.

  "You don't blame me for wanting to compete with him?" He asked, voice halting and muted.

  "Of course not." She made the words taut rather than cheerful, feeling his need for dignity. She softened, though, as she continued, "It'll make you a better Gifted. It keeps me and Rel on our toes all the time."

  Face still eerily, mournfully blank, Chag said, "I made some terrible decisions."

  "So unmake them."

  "How?" He shook the bars, or rather shook himself against the bars. The total effect of the gesture was a lock of his hair sliding lower on his forehead. Pevan, leaning on the same bars he held, felt nothing. Voice stinging, he went on, "You may have noticed I'm not in a position to do very much."

  "Do what you can, then." She couldn't keep all of her irritation out of her tone. "And stop being so petulant about it."

  "What can I do?" He threw up his hands.

  "Where have the Separatists taken Taslin? What do they plan on doing next? If we go after them, will we walk into a trap?"

  "I don't know!" He started to turn away, then caught himself. He met her eyes again, something desperate and fearful in the lines of his face. "Would you trust my answers, anyway?"

  The question settled on her like a heavy coat. She looked down, but that placed her eye-line at an unfortunate level, so she half-turned to one side. Picking her words even more slowly than she needed to, she said, "I trust you to stop me if I'm walking into danger. The rest you're going to have to earn."

  He nodded. "I don't think they took Taslin to the white cave. They still think they can win Rel over, though."

  "Then they're fools." She straightened, folded her arms.

  "Fools with a Clearseer." His tone was grim. "If Rel's going to rush off again, you can bet there'll be a trap waiting."

  Pevan felt a rush of heat, old reflex urging her to defend her brother. She mastered it, though. "If he's rushed off and got himself into trouble again, I'll-"

  "You'll what?" Chag cut her off.

  "Probably do something very rash and thoughtless." She threw him a grin, saw his face lighten in response. "Which means there's no point thinking about it just yet. I'm going to go and check on Rel. Wait here."

  "What else am I going to do?" His question followed her out of the annexe.

  Minutes later, she was gasping for breath as she pelted down the hall towards the cells. She'd managed to hold to a stiff walk the whole length of the Great Hall, just, until the doors hid her from Quilo. She couldn't be sure he wouldn't have some other way of knowing, of sensing that she was about to act, but she'd done her best.

  She burst into the annexe and stood, panting, as the door bounced noisily off the wall. Chag shot to his feet, face grey. He said, "He's gone?"

  "Of course he's gone, you ass." She couldn't keep the anger out of her voice, but Chag seemed to sense it wasn't really directed at him. "Atla, too."

  "The kid can take care of himself. He's good." Chag's tone matched his face, firm but calm.

  "And if the Separatists kill him?" Pevan's gut writhed. Breathing felt like trying to swallow a rasp. "They don't want him for anything."

  The little man gave a slight shake of his head. "If they killed him, the Gift-Givers would have to act. It would be a breach of the treaty."

  "The Gift-Givers won't do anything. Quilo as good as wrote Rel off for dead."

  "And you?" Chag folded his arms, one eyebrow mirthlessly raised. "Surely you have more faith in your brother. He has Clearsight on his side too, remember."

  Pevan reached out to grab the door and slam it shut. "As he's very fond of reminding me, it's next to useless to try to See the Second Realm."

  "His intent will be as much a mystery to Delaventrin." Chag's face hardened. "I thought you didn't want to do anything rash."

  She bit back a surge of anger and approached the bars. "I can't just do nothing."

  "What can you do?" He stepped up to face her. "Even if they've lured him to the white cave, can you get there from here?"

  "I..." Her jaw clamped shut, frustration pulling tight through her. She wrapped her hands around the bars, fingernails digging into the balls of her thumbs. "You know he's going to do something stupid. There's no Dora or Dieni to bail him out this time. It's me or nothing."

  Chag covered her hand with his own, sending a tingle through her fingers. When he spoke, his voice hovered somewhere between pained and exhausted, and somehow it was just right to massage some of the tightness from her eyes. "I know, I know. I don't like the thought of sitting around waiting for bad news either, but what else can we do?"

  It was surprisingly easy to ignore his touch. She met his eyes, dragging up enough fire for a quirked eyebrow. "We, huh? You're just going to waltz out of there, are you?"

  "Do you want me to obey the Gift-Givers or not?" There was an edge to the words that took some of the humour out of them. "Bad things happen when I don't."

  "Yeah, when they're right about stuff." A thought struck her. "Wait, when you were here with Fate... You took the Gift back to the Separatists, didn't you?"

  His face changed, cheeks falling, frown fading. His eyes left hers, and a chill in her fingers told her he'd lowered his hand. "I wasn't 'here with' Fate. He was waiting for me when I got here. He took me back to the cave once he was done getting me into trouble."

  "You didn't come here with him?"

  "No, I said that back in the Hall. Didn't I?" He shrugged. "The Separatists sent me here to spy on the Gift-Givers. Fate intercepted me on my way in, somehow." />
  "They sent you here?" Pevan's heart leapt again, the rush half fear and half hope. "So you know a way back to them?"

  "Don't make me do this, Pevan." Pain in his tone. Would he refuse to tell her? How would she get it out of him? He said, "How can I ever go back home if I run away now? We'll be outlaws for good."

  The question caught her off-guard. It was hard to remember that, apart from her, he hadn't seen a friendly, human face in half a year. And yet... She smiled. "You aren't worried about how I'm getting us out of here?"

  Some subtle tension ran through him, not quite a shiver, not quite a swallow. "I'm serious. I want to go home someday. I'd rather not add any more to the justice I'll face when I do."

  "And if the Separatists destroy the First Realm?" She put venom into the words. "We have to do everything we can to disrupt them. If they get a human Clearseer, that will be the end of us all. There's a chance Delaventrin won't understand that we've switched sides. We have to act now."

  "You're going to get us both killed." There was grim resignation in Chag's tone.

  "Oh, like you'd want to live on without me anyway."

  "Insufferable woman." He glared at her, then sighed. "Can you really get us out of here?"

  "We'll find out soon enough." She rolled her shoulders, stretching them loose. "Where does your route set off from? Can you Witness it?"

  He raised his hand, palm up. The bubble of the Witnessing slid into reality above it, colours flickering in its depths longer than seemed normal. For a moment, Pevan felt a chill finger of dread stroking through her guts, but then the image began to resolve. Chag said, "You know this is a bad idea."

  "Shut up." She fixed the view of the Court in her mind as best she could. It looked like it was somewhere up on one of the spires, but being able to picture it should be enough to get a Gate to the right place. If Gateways could even be made to work in the Second Realm. The Court was supposed to be like the First Realm, at least.

  Before she could worry about that, though, she had to get Chag out. She grabbed hold of two clear patches of floor, one either side of the bars, and tried to spin a Gateway between them. Alien Realmspace - it had the texture of undercooked mushroom - resisted, bouncing back as if she hadn't got the Gates aligned properly. She gritted her teeth and fought harder, until the floor wobbled under her feet. Chag made an awkward, throaty sound.

  Scrunching her eyes closed, Pevan forced the two mouths of the Gate together. The world reeled, throwing her sideways, but the Gateway snapped into place. She could feel Chag passing through it as a lump that squeezed through the centre of her mind, and then he was catching her, and they were stumbling into the wall, shoulders first. Somehow, he kept her head from bouncing off the stonework.

  The room sprang back into place as she let the Gate go, and they bounced off another surface that might have been a wall but was more likely ceiling. Only Chag's weight on top of her told her that she'd hit the ground first. Skinny as he was, his bones dug into her all