her, her mind jerked free of her body by the egg's questing, taken to some far place it would never return from. That had happened before. There was a hall maintained for them by the High Council where they sat in honor for their service, speechless, sightless, neither alive nor dead. Rebeke would not look well among them.
Her heart began to beat faster as she wondered if Rebeke were already lost. Yet to touch her, to speak to her, would be certain to shatter her concentration and lose her to the egg. So Cerie sat motionless, gripping her hands together.
A sound came, a gurgle of breath drawn with difficulty. Rebeke slid sideways like jelly, and Cerie sprang hastily to her feet. But even as Rebeke collapsed, her hand reached to deposit the egg safely in its nestedcushion. Cerie heard the slight hiss of it against the silk, and saw a tendril of near-colorless smoke rise from it. Heaving a sigh of relief, she knelt by Rebeke and picked up the pot of healing unguent that would soothe the peculiar burns of the egg. Rebeke sprawled limply, allowing Cerie to smooth it into her blistered hands and ease it softly over the circular mark on her forehead.
'Wine?' Cerie asked, and Rebeke's eyelids fluttered slightly. She raised Rebeke's head and held the cup to her lips. Rebeke took two tiny hesitant sips, and suddenly her blistered hands rose to clasp the cup on their own, heedless of pain, as she drained it off. Her eyes opened and her trembling hands snatched at the food on the tray, cramming the cakes into her wide mouth, gulping like a feeding Harpy. Cerie turned her head aside. It did not disgust her. Too often had she returned from the trance of the egg, and felt the savage hunger of a body mercilessly drained. Even before Rebeke had finished, she rose to go to a side table, bringing back with her a large bowl of fruit, and a basin of scented water with a small towel soaking in it. Still Rebeke did not speak as she laved her hands and sponged her face. But she sighed as she reached for the first piece of fruit, and her eyes finally met Cerie's.
'I spoke to them.' Triumph vied with exhaustion in her voice. And something else; an unidentifiable emotion that jabbed at Cerie's fears.
'Were you able to strike a bargain?' Cerie demanded.
'No.' Rebeke poured herself more wine. 'Or perhaps I should say, not yet. I hope I have left them little choice.'
'Tell me.' Cerie poured wine of her own. She glanced at her comfortable throne longingly, but Rebeke had not moved from the carpeted floor.
'We began well enough. Very flowery courtesies they employ. They were surprised to hear me; Yoleth had told them she was the only Windsinger powerful enough to speak to them. They were very wary of me. I told them there had been a grave mistake; that we wished Ki and Vandien returned, and that we would return the two from their world. The Limbreth politely said it was impossible.' Rebeke hesitated. 'It is difficult to speak to them. There is such a sense of many in one, that I did not know if I dealt with one mind or many. Very distracting. Tell me, has Yoleth said aught to the Council of a calling gem? The Limbreth claimed that it had given her one as a final sealing of the bargain.'
Cerie's eyes narrowed. 'Perhaps that is the secret satisfaction behind her smile these days. What can it do?'
'I don't know. The Limbreth uses it through a Keeper to call folk into its world, or to summon folk from its own world into its service. The Limbreth claimed no knowledge of what Yoleth would use it for; she asked for it and got it. I had the strangest feeling that they were disclaiming responsibility for it.'
'So Yoleth's wind blows strongest this time. I am sorry, Rebeke.'
'Yoleth wins nothing,' Rebeke hissed. 'I did not give up so easily. I asked them what was possible, then. They were quick to offer me Vandien and a Brurjan for their own folk, or any two I wished to be rid of. I received the distinct impression that Vandien had made a nuisance of himself over there. Of the Brurjan I know nothing, except that she is no use to them, being unsuitable for their visions, and having a nasty temperament as well.'
'I know nothing of any Brurjan sent through.' Rebeke smiled sourly. 'I wonder how much Yoleth has done that the Council is unaware of.'
'Did you agree to the exchange they offered?'
'Certainly not. If Vandien annoys them, all to the better. It may make them more willing to strike a bargain. I told them that without Ki, I would make no trades. I bid them ask of me what gifts they would to make the trade possible. They refused me totally.' Rebeke fastened her strange eyes on Cerie. 'Sending Ki through has had a side effect Yoleth scarcely planned. The Limbreth is exceedingly pleased with her. Its contacts with Humans in the past have been rather limited. Who can say when last that Gate was used? The Limbreth has had to be contented with what was offered; rather ordinary folk, if villainous. But in Ki they have found the exceptional, and they won't surrender her. Guess what it is about Ki that intrigues them so?' Rebeke challenged wryly.
'I'm sure I have no idea. A commoner person I couldn't imagine.' Cerie sipped from her glass.
'On the surface. But if she were truly so common, Yoleth would never have put her through the Gate. The Limbreth senses in her the aura of a Windsinger, and delights in her unconscious sensitivity to the network of life and power around her. The Limbreth looks forward to consuming a Windsinger.'
Rebeke fell quiet, but Cerie looked more uncomfortable every moment.
'Rebeke,' Cerie ventured. 'Why not let it go? Are the Romni teamster and her man worth all this effort? Show your displeasure with the High Council in another way. Deny them access to the Relic. Charm the winds away from them. Send a peasant-killing wind to rage through their holdings.'
'No!' Rebeke's refusal was vehement. 'That would teach them nothing new. They already know that to cross me means my ill will. What they must learn now is that they cannot cross me, cannot infringe on my will in any matter. I said the Romni teamster would be allowed to roam in peace, and so she will. Ki will be returned to this world. They shall learn what the power of a full Windsinger is.'
The might and majesty in her voice had grown to fill the chamber. A chill ripple of wind rose from the very floor, fluttering the robes of the two Singers. Rebeke breathed harshly for a moment; then she drew in a deep breath and with it her temper.
'I am sorry, Cerie. I should not vent my anger on you, who has given me more than an egg and a place to use it. I know what the Council will say of our little consultation. I know it will not go easy on you. But be sure you have made the right choice. My cloak will be over you, and my winds will be at your back, when I am come fully into my own.'
'I believe you, Windsinger.' But somehow the belief was small comfort. 'Yet you say that Ki will be returned. How?'
Rebeke measured her carefully. When she spoke, her words came slowly. 'I threatened them. I told them first that they could name a price for the return of Ki. They demurred. Then I told them that they would return Ki and Vandien, or pay my price for them. I threatened to go to the Gatherers.'
If Rebeke had suggested going to the moon, Cerie's look could not have been more incredulous. 'They will know it for an idle threat. It is impossible.'
'No. It is not. I can and would do it. A speaking egg, I have come to discover, has more ability than we have guessed. Its possible range was suggested to me when I wished to make contact with the Limbreth,and now I am sure my source was correct in his claims. I could inform the Gatherers of the Limbreth's Gate-making.'
'And us? Do you believe we would go unscathed?' A rising note marred Cerie's controlled voice.
'No. I don't think that we would. But that is the chance I would take, just as Yoleth put us all at risk when she helped to open the Gate. I cannot let this pass; I cannot let Yoleth believe she can dare more than I. She - no, all the Council - must see me as ruthless as herself. Let them respect me for the danger I can create, if not for my skills.'
'And until then, we all hang in the balance.' Anger vied with fear in Cerie's voice, and Rebeke put a steadying hand on her shoulder.
'We will not dangle for long. I urged the Limbreth to decide swiftly; three of our days I gave him. The Limbreth scoffed at me, of course. I was told that I misjudged the importance of myself and my world, if I supposed the Gatherers would even be interested. But in the same breath, the Limbreth claimed suddenly that any trade was impossible, because of the state of the Gate. They fear to use it, they said. I gather that they have opened it in that location too many times, and Vandien tore it when he went through; what is left of it is like an old, reopened wound, thick with scar tissue. But I believe they can open it one more time. My will is very strong, and I could help more than any other ever has in the making of a Gate. We can open it, even if it may be for the
