Rebeke's soul twisted at the pain in them. For a moment both froze; then Dresh was dragging himself up from the well as Rebeke stood up and stepped back.
He spoke no word as he clambered up, nor even looked at her until his boots were clear of the well and set on solid stone. Disdaining to stand, he drew his knees up and rested his arms upon them. 'Well?' he asked coldly. 'Come to gloat again?'
The splendid control of his voice had faded from disuse. How long since he had spoken? Rebeke casther mind back to the last time she had called him. For him those months in between had passed as one long undreaming moment. How his heart must seethe still with the anger and despair of their last meeting. How many more times could she draw him up from the well for speech before one day she confronted a madman? Rebeke pushed the thought away. She did not do this out of any petty vengeance of pity; she did it out of need, and need must be answered.
'I've come to ask questions, Dresh.'
'Hmm. And you expect answers?' His laugh was brittle. 'You amaze me, Rebeke. You haul me up to answer questions, do you? But the sooner I answer them, the sooner you will banish me back to that nothingness. So ask away. But expect no answers.'
'I see. You have saved us both a great deal of time.' Rebeke stooped to pick up the end of the blue noose.
Dresh remained as motionless as a bird before it breaks cover.
'I will confess I hadn't expected to find you so reticent, Dresh.' Rebeke continued to draw up the cord, and Dresh watched his circle of freedom contract. 'I even brought food and wine for us, for our talk might have been a long one.'
His grey eyes did not leave the line on the floor. 'You know as well as I that within the void I have no needs. I do not thirst, nor hunger, nor dream. I do not even belch or piss.' His eyes flickered to her to see if she would shrink from his crudity. She did not. 'Within the void, I do nothing and am nothing. My life is suspended. Think of it, Rebeke; I may live for thousands of years, with generations of Windmistresses coming to my well to haul me out for consultation, then lower me back into storage. I may become a legend to the acolytes, the secret councilor, the ...'
'You shall not live beyond my life span. I have promised you already that your torment will not go on forever. I know what I have done to you, and you know who forced me to do it. Those topics are past discussion. I know your body knows no wants; I would not torment you with hunger or pain. But the senses can long for stimulation, after being so long disused; a sip of wine, a slice of spiced fruit, a bit of bread and butter...'
Wolf lights gleamed in Dresh's grey eyes. He clasped his hands together to still their trembling and looked at Rebeke. Silently. The room tilted slowly for her until she looked up into those eyes. His mouth was soft and grave and would be warm under her lips. Rebeke snatched her gaze from his.
'Damn you! Try no tricks here, snake! I want to know all you know of the Limbreths, how to make a Gate into their world, how to close such a Gate, how to pass it, how to make first contact with a Limbreth before the Gate is made. And anything else you know that may be helpful.'
Dropping the end of the rope, she crossed to the small table. From the basket she drew out two peaches. One she bit into; the other she tossed once, catching gently its warm fuzzy weight. She strolled back to the circle of the rope and drew her stool up to it. Stooping she took up the loose end of the line and set the untasted peach in her lap. 'Well?'
Dresh swallowed. 'The Limbreths, or Limbreth. No one knows which. How did you ever get to be a Windmistress and remain so ignorant? The answers are all easy, requiring only that you forget your fixed ideas of how the world is made.' He caught the peach she tossed him and bit into it immediately. He sighed and chewed slowly, swallowing reluctantly. 'The Limbreth world,' he resumed, 'touches ours inone place, but that place can be nearly anywhere you desire it to be. Don't ask me how I learned all this; you would shudder and be scandalized and throw me back down the well before I finished my peach.' He took another bite. 'To continue. We touch and yet are infinitely far apart. Not unlike ourselves, eh, Rebeke? To contact them is easy, however. Tell me, Rebeke, if you had an important thing to say to a Windsinger far away, what would you do?'
She shrugged. 'Summon her here with a messenger.'
'No imagination; it was always your curse. And you were always chary of using power where simple brawn would suffice. A speaking egg. Just because you use them only from Singer to Singer, do not imagine that that is the limit of their power. They are very draining to use, I am sure you know; the farther away the egg speaks for you, the greater the strain upon you. But it does not strain the egg. Not at all. That egg could speak to a thousand worlds, ones that do not touch ours at all. The egg is only limited by the will that commands it.' Dresh finished his peach in two juicy bites. 'I think you may have the will to reach that far. It will strain you, and you will ache for days afterwards; but if you have to, you can.'
'Tell me about Gates.'
Dresh turned his head and stared pointedly at the basket. This time Rebeke brought the whole basket back to rest beside her stool. She reached into it and brought out a small plate. A little brown crusted loaf rested on it beside a small ball of butter and a wedge of cheese. She set a wooden knife beside it, and, stooping, she set it within the circle and pushed it toward Dresh. He drew it to him with a little sigh, then looked up at her and for a moment malice didn't shine in his eyes. 'I never thought I would be bought for a little loaf and butter and cheese.' He gazed at his plate thoughtfully. 'You know, I can never look on an uncut loaf without thinking of Mickle's little shop, and the heat of the ovens in the yard behind it. I used to stoke those ovens even on the hottest days, all day, for a loaf of bread and a place to sleep at night. Mickle always gave me more than that, of course. He was never a niggardly man. But I remember how I promised myself that someday my day's work would bring me more than that. And now ...' He gave a short laugh and then flashed his eyes to Rebeke's. But her expression was blank, not unguarded.
'The Gate,' she repeated coldly.
Dresh shrugged and began to break the loaf with his fingers. 'The Limbreth will make the Gate, if you are willing to assist it. It needs your help to visualize it on this side. And cooperation usually involves an exchange of gifts.'
'What sort of gifts?'
Dresh was buttering bread and spoke around a mouthful. 'Nothing a Windsinger can't afford. Any person you happen to be getting rid of. They take wizards, I understand.'
The laugh burst from Rebeke before she could control it. Dresh grinned up at her, and for an instant the air of the room changed and she looked down on him almost fondly. But slowly she shook her head and the light went out of her eyes.
'What do the Limbreths want with such gifts, and what do they give in return?'
'The Limbreths,' Dresh mused, cutting cheese. 'Limbreths are fascinating creatures. Or is a fascinating creature. No one can figure out if there's one or many. But a few facts are known. They have great intellect, but no physical ability and few of the needs or hungers belonging to physical bodies, at least not that we understand; only a hunger of the soul. They long to create, but have few artistic media of theirown. It is said that once they created poetry and tales and song, and were contented with them, but that was before we corrupted them. Limbreths use the creatures sent through the Gates as tools for other kinds of creating. The only drawback is that they use them up quite completely. Drawback to the creatures, that is. It's quite convenient for the ones who send them through the Gate.'
'It may already be too late, then,' Rebeke muttered to herself. 'And what do they give, Dresh?'
'I'm thirsty.'
Rebeke busied herself with opening the wine and pouring. She rose to set the glass within easy reach of Dresh's hand. He raised the glass and looked at her gravely over its rim in a silent toast. He sipped and went back to his subject. 'Limbreths give anything you ask of them, if they have it. But ask yourself what they are likely to have that you might want? They don't eat or drink as we do, they don't dress or collect jewels, nor hoard precious things of any kind. What would you ask a Limbreth for?'
Rebeke pondered, watching him drink. 'Poetry? Are their songs compelling in any way?'
'Quite the opposite. Obscure to any but another Limbreth - if there are any other Limbreths. I heard one once. Bored me to distraction.'
'Have they any powers? Favors they could do?'
