The Limbreth Gate

by Megan Lindholm

  Slower and slower they plodded. Sigurd bunched up on Sigmund’s heels, and Vandien became aware of Ki’s voice speaking. How long she had been talking he didn’t know, but she was speaking to him. Her tone was calm and reasonable, her words weighted and barbed.

  ‘… Dragged me from one of your impulses to another. Never content to let me live my own life in my own way, were you? In the Pass of the Sisters, you turned death aside from me, even though I was ready to accept and even welcome that end. But no, all-seeing Vandien decided it wasn’t right for me then. You moved in on me, upsetting my life and routine, making me more than ever a stranger among my own people. You with your loud and rowdy ways, never aware of when a man should be silent or when gravity is more seemly than a callous laugh. How often have your foolish ideas slowed me when I had a goal to hasten to? You with your fine words of companionship and sharing; do you call this respect for one another’s wishes? The only reason you want me is so that there will be someone to play mother to the child you still are. Someone to be responsible for your silliness, to look to the morrow and make your decisions for you. There is no caring in that.’

  Vandien bowed to her words and to the rain. They fell on him, eroding him. The greys plodded ever slower; he could not keep his eyes from darting back to her. Every word fell coldly and clearly in his ears, demoralizing as the rain. The pain was almost hypnotic. Much of what she said he could not deny. He absorbed the abuse numbly.

  ‘You damn fool! Do I have to put a lead on your horse too, so we all go like a line of blind beggars?’ Hollyika pushed her horse into his, and gave him a quick shot to the ribs that was neither gentle nor jesting. ‘Wake up! I’m as weary as you, but we have to push on. I looked back and couldn’t even see you in this muck. Do you want to get lost?’

  ‘Aren’t we already?’ Vandien asked dully. Hollyika didn’t answer. She had become aware of Ki’s low monologue and was listening in fascination. ‘She’s come back to herself a bit,’ she said as Ki paused for breath. ‘Seems a bit sharper and nastier than what a Limbreth would inspire her to say. A bit more personal, too. When you’re in their hands, personal memories blur to a mist. But she seems to recollect your times together well enough. Whew! What a bastard you’ve been to her; wonder why she kept you. Listen, you!’ This last was to Ki in a grim voice. ‘Shut your mouth for a minute and listen to me. You hoped to get him to slip you loose, didn’t you? A few kicks in the pride like that, and most men would let go. But I don’t have any pride for you to trade on, and I’m the one who holds you. Pass that on to your Limbreths. And pass them this, too. I’ve thought things out rather thoroughly, riding through this crud. Here’s the offer. They let us find the Gate, then we let you go. But if we don’t find it damn quick, I’m going to start taking blood from you. I’m hungry, and my control slips when I’m hungry - and from you, too, if you try to interfere. Get your hand off that rapier hilt. I’ll take the lead rope now. If you don’t pay better attention, the only thing you’ll loose is yourself. Move!’

  Vandien didn’t. His hand remained on the hilt where it had lightly fallen at the beginning of Hollyika’s threat. He still gripped the lead line. He turned eyes on her that were darker than the blackness around them.

  ‘Don’t get stupid on me now, Vandien. It’s the only way out.’

  Vandien swallowed but remained silent and motionless, waiting for her to make a move. His heart hammered as he tried not to figure the odds against him. She was closer to Ki than he was. Her knife would be in her before he could move, unless he could figure a way to draw the attack to himself first.

  ‘Vandien.’ Ki’s voice was as hoarse as it had earlier been clear. ‘Please. Don’t. You’ll only get us both killed.’

  ‘And that matters to you? First sensible thing we’ve heard out of you. A little more water might do you good, if we had the time. But we don’t. And you, with the rain running into your mouth and soaking into your skin. Try to use your own brain. Listen to her. Don’t be stupid.’

  Vandien’s grip on the rapier had firmed. He strained his eyes, trying to be aware of every small move the Brurjan made. But the night was dark, the falling rain muffled the softer sounds of her movements, and her horse was shifting restlessly under her. As her stout forearm lashed out and cleared him from his horse, he realized belatedly that she had been guiding her horse in with small commands from her heels. He lit in briars and mud, struggling to rise and draw his weapon at the same time. But Hollyika’s horse was already between him and Ki, its eyes shining wickedly. ‘Did you tell the Limbreths yet?’ Hollyika pressed Ki, and when there was no reply, she leaned down to grip her by the hair. ‘Did you tell them?’ she snarled, yanking her head up so she saw the bared knife before her eyes.

  ‘Yes!’ Ki gasped. ‘I don’t need to tell them. They hear all, they know all.’

  Vandien had stepped lightly as they spoke, working his way around her horse. But Hollyika swung her attention back to him, and with a curse sent her beast lunging at him. He retreated, the treacherous briars tripping him. He fell heavily onto his back, clutching his rapier before him. The horse was coming on, but Ki’s voice suddenly cried out, ‘The Gate! The Gate!’

  Vandien waited for death, the rain splashing on him, his rapier a tiny sting that would only madden the horse that loomed over him. But the Brurjan had checked at Ki’s cry. She glared angrily down at Vandien, and glanced back to Ki. Ki shook her head to fling the wet hair from her face. ‘Over there!’ she cried, tossing her head in the direction.

  ‘I’ll be damned. They came around pretty quick.’

  The Gate was visible as a red shining through the trees. The light was dim, a blackened red, but in this place of darkness it shone like a beacon. Hollyika’s teeth flashed suddenly at Vandien in a menacing smile. ‘Get up!’ she laughed at him. ‘We’re getting out of here.’

  ‘What about me?’ Ki gasped. ‘Let me go. At least, let me sit up.’

  Hollyika appraised her silently as the rain fell all around them. ‘Let her up,’ she grunted at last to Vandien.

  He scrabbled to his feet, still keeping an eye on the black horse, and moved to Ki. Sheathing his rapier, he drew his belt knife and cut the bonds at her ankles. He eased her down onto her feet, holding her upright until she could take her own weight. She gripped the torn shoulder of his shirt to keep her balance.

  ‘Water?’ he asked her softly.

  She shook her head slightly. Then she sighed and nodded regretfully. ‘The rain is only enough to tease. My throat is so dry I’d drink anything. All my ribs feel cracked.’

  ‘Bruised is all, more likely.’ He grabbed the waterskin for her and unstoppered it. Hollyika sat on her horse sullenly, watching Ki sip, and then take a mouthful. She pushed the skin back abruptly into Vandien’s hands. ‘Tastes like swamp muck,’ she complained, but her voice was stronger.

  Vandien opened his mouth to speak, but Hollyika cut in. ‘Put her back on the horse.’ She had already taken Sigurd’s lead line and was toying with the end of it. Vandien boosted Ki up, but she had to scramble for her own seat among the bags strapped to the big grey. Ki gave a nod when all was settled, and Vandien moved to Sigmund.

  ‘I think Ki is feeling …’

  ‘Oh , shut up!’ Hollyika snapped. ‘What you think and what she feels have no bearing on anything. The Gate is there. Follow me.’

  It proved to be farther off than expected. Or perhaps, Vandien mused to himself, it is retreating before us as we go. The fancy didn’t please him. They followed the light like a kitten after a string. Was the Limbreth toying with them to gain time to muster a large force of peasants? He had no inkling of just how far the powers of the Limbreth reached. Had they, as Hollyika suspected, sent the rain that drenched them, in the hopes of discouraging them into obedience? The road had certainly fallen to their will, and the farmers. He crouched low over Sigmund’s neck, trying to keep clear of the low branches that threatened to sweep him off. They followed no path at all now. Hollyika led them in and out o
f thickets; the horses stumbled over roots and pushed through low brush. The red light grew ever larger, but was always slashed by tree trunks and branches. Vandien stared ahead at it, until he saw it even when he blinked.

  NINETEEN

  You heard me, Rebeke. They don’t wish to go back now. Neither of them. You don’t have to believe me, though. You can ask them for yourself, as long as you’re careful not to tire Jace. She’s the sickly one now. The boy has come around fine. He’s a quick learner, that one. You should see the place he’s made for himself down cellar. Remember how you used to knead the dough for me? Well, that boy …’

  ‘Where is Jace?’ Rebeke cut in smoothly. She was in no mood to be reminded of a past that was no longer connected to her present, but Mickle marked the worry lines alien to the smoothness of her Windsinger countenance. Changed as she was, he could still read the weariness and tension that weighted her.

  ‘Have a cup of tea first,’ he suggested boldly. ‘Or a sip of wine.’

  Rebeke almost turned to the caring in his voice. Why shouldn’t she? A cup of wine at table with the old man, forget for just a while about Limbreths and Gates and the balancing of worlds. No. Time was power, to be seized now or surrendered forever. ‘I cannot, Mickle,’ she said in a soft but fully melodic voice. ‘For a moment we could pretend, but in the end we would both regret it. There is no recapturing the past. Let me see Jace now.’

  The last words were uttered in the tone of the Windsinger that would take no refusal. The old man’s shoulders slumped. He gestured toward a door. ‘She’s within. Let me tell her you want to talk to her.’

  She watched the door hanging drop behind him and wondered what he would say to her. That an old friend of his had come to call, or that a Windmistress had come to question her? Did it matter? Only when she came here did she feel these twinges of regret for the choices she had made and the thing she had become. Dresh had never made her rue her decision, though she sometimes wished he could understand it. But here? She didn’t want Mickle’s admiration for all she had made of herself, let alone his awe at her powers. He was the only one who ever made her wish to be loved because she was Rebeke. It was a mistake to come here.

  He was back in an instant, swinging the door hanging aside and waving her within. Jace, pillowed in luxury on Mickle’s wide bed, reminded Rebeke of a pressed flower. The color was still there, in the hair and eyes and skin, but she was drained to a papery dryness. Her aristocratic hands had only the strength to cling to the edge of the coverlet. Mickle stood over her, easing her back onto yet another pillow. The eyes she turned to Rebeke were dull, incapable of being surprised by anything.

  ‘Now don’t be asking her too many questions, now. You can see how she is; scarcely the strength of a drowned kitten. But she’ll come back to herself; Mickle will see to that.’ He cocked his head to address Jace in bed. ‘This is the Windsinger I’ve told you about, my Rebeke. Now she wants to ask you some questions, and you do your best to answer. But all you have to do is let me know when you’re tired and we’ll stop.’ Having finished plumping the pillows, he was now fussily smoothing the coverlet, twitching it into precise flatness over the bed as if it were a tablecloth he was smoothing. From that he went to pour her a fresh glass of water from a pitcher at a stand beside the bed. He peeked over at Rebeke as he did so, kept his eyes on her as he carefully put the glass within reach of the invalid, and she stared back at him levelly. Finally he straightened up with a sigh and stood before her. ‘ Well, aren’t you going to ask her?’

  ‘Aren’t you going to leave so we may talk privately?’

  Mickle bristled. ‘Rebeke, be you who you may, this is my house and Jace is my guest. I won’t have her badgered about and made to say yes when her answer is no. I know that tongue of yours from old, and it has lost none of its powers. Even when she was a sassy little miss, she could talk the best buns off the shelf and into her pocket!’

  ‘Mickle!’ Jace broke in as Rebeke glared at him. ‘If you would …’ She took a breath and he was all attention as he bent over her. ‘Just a little wine, perhaps, to wet my throat and help me find strength to speak?’

  ‘Of course. Of course, my dear. It won’t take a moment.’ He was gone in a bustle of hurry that all of Rebeke’s commands could never have wrought. Both women looked after him for an instant with some fondness, then Rebeke advanced hastily to lean against the foot of the bed. Her knowing eyes summed up Jace’s health quickly.

  ‘Mickle tells me that you no longer wish to go through the Gate back to your own land.’

  Jace replied slowly, stopping often to breathe. ‘It’s true. I know we cannot go back. Not now. Chess. You would not understand. He no longer belongs there. He is of this world now, for all that he cannot abide your light. I could not take him back. Nor could I go alone. So we will stay.’

  Rebeke paced a swift turn around the room. ‘I won’t say that I agree with your reasons. There’s little that can be done to a boy of that age that can’t be undone, with a bit of care and time. You speak as if a toy were broken, instead of your son being injured, and needing the healing of his own land.’

  ‘You don’t understand.’ Jace was adamant. ‘We are poisoned now. Who would take such knowledge into unsullied homes? We are outcasts, doomed to spend our lives here, and find peace again only in death.’

  ‘Let’s not be dramatic’ Rebeke’s voice cut. ‘Try for a moment to think of this. There are others at stake. Ki, who went through believing that her friend needed her, for that much Chess has told Mickle. And Vandien, who went through not only for Ki, but on your behalf, to try to carve a way back for you. Unless you enter your world again, they cannot return to theirs. Would you break faith with Vandien?’

  ‘Having seen our side, would he choose to leave it? I think not. There he would find soothing for the rough edges of his spirit and learn better ways. I don’t harm him by remaining here. Indeed, it may be the only good to come out of it.’

  Rebeke paced another circuit, scarce hearing Jace’s words. Her mind bit at her problem, seizing it from another angle. ‘You have seen this world. And you speak of the Limbreths as one who knows much of them. Of all you have seen in this world, what would please the Limbreths most as a gift?’

  Jace was silenced, taken aback by this sudden diversion. Her face went blank. Her eyes rolled up suddenly and she convulsed. But even as Rebeke sprang to the door to call Mickle, her eyes opened again. They looked at Rebeke with intelligence, but seemed singularly uninhabited.

  ‘At last you get to the soul of the trading,’ Jace said in a toneless voice. Her eyes wandered past Rebeke to rove the room listlessly. ‘You seem torn between gifts and threats. Or was your contacting the Gatherers but a foolish boast?’

  Rebeke’s mouth had dried cottony. She started to speak, then sealed her lips together. The Limbreth, somehow, was here. She was not ready to deal with that, so the less she said, the fewer weaknesses she would bare in her position. But the Limbreth Jace remained silent and impassive, waiting. Rebeke ventured a question. ‘How do you speak through Jace?’

  ‘Jace. That is what this one calls itself. Perhaps you would understand my position better if I did explain. Jace is but a manifestation of myself. All things in my world are, though I don’t endow all with that self-knowledge. She, of course, perceives herself as a separate organism. I once thought that arrangement would be amusing and might lead to diversification. It wasn’t and didn’t. She is still an intrinsic part of me, as much as the trees, the road, or the water. We are one. And if I have chosen physically to express myself as a multitude, it still does not change it. You Humans have two words for our condition. Lonely. Bored.’

  Rebeke expelled her breath harshly. ‘I do begin to understand. If all within your world is yourself, then any new mind would be welcomed. But these two you have no use for.’

  ‘Nor for Vandien and the Brurjan. Most intractable creatures. They will not surrender themselves to me. Ki, however, has been a revelation. Her mind is no
t a closed box to be emptied, but a web stretched to all points she has ever touched. You know the awareness I speak of. You have it yourself.’

  ‘All folk of power do,’ Rebeke admitted unwillingly.

  ‘So I have come to realize; and Ki’s gift for it is small compared to yours. So we will come to a bargain; but not because of your foolish threats. A few Humans in my world is of no more concern to the Gatherers than a few doves among your chickens would be to you.’

  ‘Then why do you bother to balance the Gate?’ Rebeke demanded. She perched on the edge of Mickle’s clothes chest and locked eyes with the creature in his bed.

  ‘Esthetics,’ it extemporized, and Rebeke guessed it lied. ‘And to give me eyes in your world. Not that I find it very satisfying. I have been always with my own thoughts and reactions and impressions. You can create no stimulus for me here that I could not duplicate more intensely in my world. An eternal masturbation - a few of your decades ago, a Windsinger sent me a poet who annoyed her. That is how he expressed it when I sought to make him understand us so he could make new songs for us. But he went mad and failed. They all go mad or die; they survive so briefly. Even Ki. She will die soon. But she lasted longer than we expected, so we studied her, and now we know something we didn’t before. It’s the power in her. One trained to use that power might last indefinitely with us. A pleasing idea.’