Exiles Gate

way up here: they say it is not every Changed can remember—that is what has saved us before this: they get few of us and most of those remember nothing who they were—'

'Do not count on that,' Morgaine said darkly. 'It is not the case. Believe that he will have every help he needs, curse your optimism!'

'We are on the high trails,' Chei said. 'A large force cannot make good time where we are going, if there are any of Arunden's warders left, they may have to fight their way through—'

'And Arunden himself may be their safe-conduct and their guide and the warders may find us instead! Man, quit making excuses for our troubles and quit making allowances for our enemies! Do what I tell you and get us to the Road!'

'It is at least another day to get there!' Chei shouted. 'For them and us—and there is no shorter way than this—I swear there is not! We can turn and fight them—'

'If we could trust that they have not gone straight east to the Road, if we could trust ep Ardris told half the truth—It is time we do not have: do not question me, Chei! Do not make me delays or excuses! Lead! We will find a secure camp, rest and move on when we can make more time. That is all we can do now.'

It was in a weary haze Chei rode at last—fending branches in the dark, feeling an uncertainty in his horse's legs as they negotiated a descent. Of a sudden the animal skidded and went down on its haunches and clawed its way sideways on the muddy hill so that he had to let the reins down and let it fight its own battle.

The horse recovered itself facing uphill and with its hindquarters braced, unmoving as the other riders came down the straightforward way, but not so steeply. Chei found himself trembling the same as the horse, weak in the legs as he dismounted there on the slope and slipped and slid to lead it around and safely down. The mail had rubbed his shoulders raw; he knew that it had, working wet cloth against wet skin; and that pain brought back the hill, and the wolves, so vividly at times he did not know this woods from the other, or remember the intervening time.

But Bron was with him. Bron urged him on, promising him rest, saying that there was shelter, and he bit his lip and concentrated on the pain there and not in his arms.

'Soon,' he agreed, teeth chattering, 'soon.'

'We need not lose a horse,' Vanye said, to which Morgaine said something Chei could not understand; but they got down where they were, on the leaf-slick floor of the ravine, and led their horses an increasingly difficult track in this dark and rain, off the main trails, all of them walking now, descending the next muddy slope and ducking low under the branches.

'Straight on,' Chei said, his heart suddenly lifting as lightning-flicker showed him an ancient pine he knew. He recognized his way again. He pulled at the weary horse, taking it sideways on the slope and down again, around the boggy place between the slopes and up another rise, up and up a pine-grown slope to the crest of the hill.

It was a hunter's shelter below them, looming up like nothing more than a massive brush-heap in the constant flicker from the clouds; but Chei knew it, and when Bron said that he would go down to it: 'I will go,' Chei murmured, and led his horse along with Bron, down the incline as Bron hailed the place.

There was no answer. There was only the dark mass of the shelter; and neither horse seemed shy of it, which was the best indication nothing had sheltered there. Only some small creature skittered away in the brush, at which his weary horse hardly reacted, a little jerk at the reins.

'Hai-ay,' Bron called out again, and with no answer and no answering hail, led his horse into the lee of the hut.

It was enough. Chei reached the place, leaned against his horse and managed the girth; and had him half unsaddled before Vanye and Morgaine had ridden in.

He dried off his horse vigorously with the blanket and rubbed down its legs, such care as he could give to ease it and protect it from soreness; and looked and saw Bron's horse unattended, which carelessness his brother would not countenance on a night like this and after such a ride.

Then he spied Bron sitting on the ground, and went to him quietly. 'Bron?' he whispered, dropping down to face him, and laid a hand on Bron's shoulder.

'It is hurting,' Bron said. Chei could not see his face in the dark, could hardly make out the pallor of skin and hair in the dark, but he gripped Bron's shoulder in a brotherly way and felt a cold about his heart.

'How bad is it?'

A whisper of leather and metal, a shrug beneath his hand. 'Hurting,' Bron said, and drew a breath. 'I will make it tomorrow. They will not leave me. They will not. I will not slow you down.'

He embraced Bron, hugged him tight a moment as he reckoned Vanye and the lady were paying no attention to them. 'Give me your cloak,' he said; and unfastened it from Bron's neck, slung it on and rose to tend Bron's horse, trying not to think of the fear, only of necessity—not turning his head, only doing his work and praying neither Vanye nor the lady would notice in the deep shadow beside the hut and the confusion of two bay geldings and two blond men and a borrowed cloak, that it was the same man on his feet.

But Vanye walked near him, leading the two pale horses into that shadow, and behind him; and stopped.

Chei dropped down and rubbed at the gelding's legs, head tucked. But he heard the step in the wet mold, heard the light ring of metal as Vanye went past him and knelt down by Bron.

He got up then and went over to him. 'I am all right,' Bron was saying, where he sat against the wall in the wet and the decaying leaves. And Chei, desperately: 'He is all right. I will tend the horses, the gray too if he will stand—'

'We cannot go much more of this,' Vanye said, and touched Bron's shoulder and rose and laid a hand on his, gently shaking at him. 'My lady has her reasons. How much farther?'

'Tomorrow,' Chei said. His heart was beating hard. He found himself short of breath, not knowing what was in Vanye's mind. 'We will get there tomorrow.'

'My lady is grateful. Truly.'

'What does she want of us?' he asked desperately; and did not believe that the lady had said it at all: the lady was angry with them, had been angry since they had broken camp, and everything seemed the wrong thing with her. Now Vanye came to them, on his own, for Vanye's reasons, catching them in another deception, and fear swept over him—irrational, for they could go no faster and no further, and the lady on that iron-winded gray could not so much as find the road without them.

But honor meant very much, when there was neither clan nor kin; and the lady cursed them and shamed them, even Bron: he had brought his brother to this, and the lady cursed them for mistakes he himself had made, and shamed Bron for things not Bron's doing—

'We will make it,' Vanye said. 'Chei—'

'Aye,' he said, and jerked his shoulder free, turning his face to his work again.

'Chei. Listen to me.' Vanye put his hand on the other side of the horse's neck, stood close against its shoulder, close beside him. 'She has one manner with everyone. With me as well. She is thinking, that is what she is doing, she is thinking, and what talks to us is not herself when this mood is on her. That is all I can tell you.'

Chei listened in anger, down to the last, that a tendril of cold slipped into his heart. Then he recalled that they were pacted not only with a qhal, but with a witch. He gave a twitch of his shoulders, less angry, and more afraid, and no more certain where honor was in anything.

'She never remembers her tempers,' Vanye said. 'Do the best you can do. When she knows what you have done she will be grateful. I thank you. She would want me to. She would want me to tell you—get us as far as the Road, and if you have changed your minds, go aside: we will see to Gault.'

'Mante,' Chei said. 'We are going to Mante.'

'Do you know what is there? Do you know what we face?'

He shook his head. He had no wish to know. 'The gate,' he said. 'Somewhere else.'

'Maybe a worse place.'

'It could not be. For us it could not be.' He seized Vanye by the arm and drew him well aside, over by the trees, into the dark and the wind. 'Vanye, my brother—he is a great man, he is, Vanye: he will be; Ichandren himself used to say that in his life he had never seen any man