Fires of Azeroth

Chapter Eight

Hetharu.

Vanye stopped, with Shien at his back, steadied himself on his wounded leg; and of all in that gathering, he recognized that tall, black-clad lord. The music died away with a hiss of strings, and noble lords and ladies of Shiuan stopped what half-dead diversions they were practicing and came to slow, studied attention where they lounged on sacks and cushions within the tent, against walls of bound reeds.

Of sacks and brocade cloaks was the throne to which Hetharu settled. A cluster of halfling guards was about him, some far gone in stupor, others alert, armored and armed. A naked woman shrank into the shadows of the corner. Hetharu stared at the intrusion, blank with amazement for the instant, and then pleasure grew on his countenance… thin and shadow-eyed that face, the more startling for the human eyes which looked darkly out from what were otherwise pure qhalurfeatures. His white hair lay lank and silken on his shoulders. His black brocade was somewhat worn, the lace frayed; the ornate sword that he wore still looked serviceable. Hetharu smiled, and about him settled the miasma of all that was Shiuan, drowning and rotting at once.

"Nhi Vanye," Hetharu murmured. "And Morgaine?"

"That matter must be cared for by now," said Shien. Vanye clenched his jaw and stared through all of them, trying to use his wits; but that callous reckoning of Morgaine's life hit him suddenly with more force than he had yet felt.

Kill Hetharu? That was one of the thoughts that he had entertained over recent days; and suddenly it seemed useless, for here were thousands like him. Gain power among them? Suddenly it seemed impossible; he was a Man, and what else was here of humankind crouched naked and ashamed and weeping in the corner.

He took a step forward. Though his hands were bound, the guards were uneasy; pikes inclined marginally toward him. He stopped, sure that they would not be careless with him.

"I hear," he said to Hetharu, "that you and Roh have quarreled."

That set them back. There was an instant's silence, and Hetharu's face was whiter than usual.

"Out!" Hetharu said suddenly. "All of you who have no business here, out."

That included many: the Woman, the majority of the khalwho had disported themselves about the fringes of the gathering. One half-conscious lordling reclined at Hetharu's side, leaning against the sacks and the brocade with unfocused gray eyes and a dreaming smile that mocked all reality. A middle-aged khalurwoman remained; and a handful of lords; and all the guards, although some of them were far-departed in dreams, and knelt near Hetharu and about the other lords with their eyes distant and their hands loose on their weapons. Enough still remained who had all their wits about them. Hetharu leaned back in his makeshift throne and regarded him with old and familiar hate.

"Shien, what have you been telling this Man?"

Shien shrugged. "I have been pointing out his situation, and his possible value."

Hetharu's dark eyes swept over Shien narrowly. "Knowledge such as Roh has? Is that your meaning?"

"It is possible that he has it. He is reticent."

"He," said the woman suddenly, "might be more reasonable than Roh has been. After all, the human rabble hates him bitterly, and he cannot gain any followers among them. That is one sure advantage over Roh."

"There are personal issues," Hetharu said, and the lady laughed unpleasantly.

"We know the truth of those. Do not waste a valuable source, my lord Hetharu. Who here cares about the past… things done and not done? Shiuan is behind us. Here is important. You have an opportunity to rid us of the so-named halfiing and his followers. Use it."

Hetharu was not pleased by that, but the lady spoke as one who was accustomed to be heard, and she was of the old blood, gray-eyed and white-haired, with guards about her none of whom were hazy in their look. One of the hold-lords, Vanye reckoned her: not Sotharra like Shien, but perhaps of Domen or Marom or Arisith. The Shiua lords were not firmly held in Hetharu's hand.

"You are too credulous, lady Halah," said Hetharu. This Man is quite capable of turning in the hand that holds him. He surprised Roh, who should know him; and my lamented brother Kithan. And would you not attempt to surprise us in the same way, Man?"

Vanye said nothing. Debate with Hetharu could win nothing. The hope was rather in playing one and the other of his subordinates against him.

"Of course you would," Hetharu answered for him, and laughed. "And you plan to. You are not the sort who will ever thank us for the handling you have had… at my hands and now at Shien's. -Beware this one, Shien. He is not hand-broken, though he may try to let you think so. His cousin says that he does not know how to lie; but he does know how to keep secrets, do you not, Vanye of the Chya? Morgen-Angharan's-" and he used a word that Vanye did not know; but he suspected, and set his jaw the harder, looking through Hetharu. "Ah, glare at me. We are better acquaintances than the others, you and I. So this Morgen is missing. Where?"

He did not answer.

"Over by the great river," Shein said. "In the midst of our deepest penetration into the forest, with a Hiua arrow in her. Our riders have her trail, and if they have not found her by now, she will scarcely survive the wound. My lord, there was a khalwith her, and another human. And that is another thing this prisoner does not like to talk about."

"Kithan?"

Vanye bowed his head and concealed his surprise, for Hetharu's brother had not come through, then, and he would have reckoned otherwise… my lamented brother,Hetharu had said. He was sorry to know Kithan not in the camp, for with him there might have been some hope; that Kithan would have joined them instead was a natural conclusion for Hetharu. He shrugged.

"Find him," Hetharu ordered. There was a frantic edge to his voice, more disturbance than Hetharu was wont to show. Morgaine's weapons,Vanye thought suddenly; here is a man scarcely clinging to his position.

"My lord," said Shien, "my men are trying to do so. Perhaps they have."

Hetharu was silent then, biting at his lip, and what passed between him and Shien was plain enough.

"I brought you this one alive," Shien said very softly. "And I had to pull him out of the Hiua's keeping. Else he would be in other hands, my lord."

"We are grateful," Hetharu said, but his eyes were dead, cold. They traveled back to lock with Vanye's. "Well. You are in a sorry position, are you not, Nhi Vanye? There is not a human in that camp out there but would skin you alive if he set hands on you; they know you well, do you see? And there are the Hiua, who are Roh's dogs. And your mistress is not coming here, if ever she comes anywhere again. You can hardly look for friendship from Chya Roh. And you know what love we bear you."

"Yet you must keep Roh's favor, must you not, Shiua lords?"

Anger flared in the others; and guards fingered the hafts of their weapons. Hetharu only smiled.

"Now," said Hetharu, "there are things we could do, regarding Chya Roh. But since he has been the only storehouse of the information we want, why, we have handled him with utmost respect. He is dangerous. Of course we know that. But now you have given us some latitude, have you not? You know what Roh knows, and you are not, now, dangerous. If we should happen to lose your life in the process, why-we still have Roh. So we can dice with it, can we not? You are dismissed, Shien, with our thanks."

There was no stir of movement. Hetharu lifted his hand and the pikes inclined.

And Shien and his men strode out. One of the lordlings gave a low laugh. The others relaxed, easing back into comfort, and Hetharu smiled tautly.

"Did he try to persuade you to his cause?" Hetharu asked.

Vanye said nothing, his heart sinking with the knowledge that he had turned from one who might have done what he promised. Hetharu read his silence, and nodded slowly.

"You know the choice we give you," Hetharu said. "You may volunteer that information… and you may live… while Roh will someday be surprised to discover that we do not need him. Now if you will do that, you will be wise. Or we can seek it against your will, and you will be sorry for that. So make your choice, Man."

Vanye shook his head. "There is nothing I could tell you, only show you. And I need to be present at the Gate to do that."

Hetharu laughed, and so did his men, for that was transparent. "Ah, you would like to find yourself there, would you not? No, what you can demonstrate, you can tell. And tell us you shall."

Again he shook his head.

Hetharu's hand crept to the shoulder of the khalwho dreamed, eyes open, at the side of his seat. He urged at that one gently until the dazed face lifted to his. "Hirrun, give me a double portion of what you have… aye, I know you have more with you. And give it to me-if you are wise."

A mean and ugly look came on Hirrun's handsome face, but he flinched under the grip of Hetharu's fingers, and dug in his belt-pouch, brought forth something which he offered with shaking hands into Hetharu's palm. Hetharu smiled and gave it to the guard next to him.

Then he looked up. "Hold him," he said.

Vanye understood then, and moved, flung himself backward, but others were behind him and he had no chance. The splinted leg lost its footing, and he sprawled along with his guards. They weighed him down and forced his jaws apart, rammed the pellets down his throat. Someone poured liquor after, to the laughter of the others, a sound that pealed like bells. He tried to spit them out, but they held him until it was swallow or choke. Then they let him go, amid much laughter, and he rolled onto his side and tried to vomit the drug up, but it was too late for that. In a moment he began to feel the haze of it– akil,that vice too common among the khaland the marshlanders who provided it to them, that stole his sense and sent a horrid languor over him. It was strange; it did not diminish the fear, but it sent it to some far place where it did not influence what he did. A warmth stole over him, and a curious lack of pain, in which the touch of anything was pleasurable.

"No!" he screamed in outrage, and they laughed, a gentle and distant rippling of sound. He screamed again, and tried to turn his face from them, but the guards gathered him up and held him on his feet.

"There is more," said Hetharu, "when that fades. Let him stand, let him stand."

They let him go. He could not move in any direction. He feared for his balance. His heart was beating painfully and there was a roaring in his ears. His vision was hazy save in the center of focus, and there was a blackness between himself and that center. But worst was the warmth which crawled over his skin, destroying all sense of alarm; he fought that with all the mind that was left to him.

"Who is the khalwho rode with you?"

He shook his head, and one of the guards seized his arm, distracting him so that he could not recall anything. The guard hit him, but the blow was nothing but bewildering. The blackness that centered upon Hetharu abruptly slipped wider. It seemed ready to tear asunder and drop him into it.

"Who?" Hetharu repeated, and shouted at him. "WHO?"

"Lellin," he answered in his startlement, and knew what he was doing and that he must not. He shook his head and recalled Mirrind, and Merir, and all that he could betray to them. Tears ran down his face, and he pulled away from the guard and stumbled, caught his balance.

"Who is Lellin?" Hetharu asked someone else, and the voice echoed in the emptiness. Others answered that they did not know. "Who is Lellin?" Hetharu asked of him, and he shook his head and shook it again, desperately, trying to hold to the fear that was his life, his sanity.

"Where were you going when the Hiua ambushed you?"

Again he shook his head. They had not asked him that before, and the answer of it was deadly; he knew it, and knew that they could shake that out of him as well.

"What is the knowledge you have of the old powers?" the woman Halah asked, a female voice which confused him in this gathering.

"Where were you going?" Hetharu asked, shouting at him, and he flinched from that horrid sound and stumbled against the guards.

"No," he said.

And suddenly the wall of the tent went back. Men stood there… Fwar, and others, with drawn bows. The pikes swung about to face that intrusion; but the bowmen parted slightly, and Roh walked out of the dark into the light of the tent.

"Cousin," Roh said.

The voice was gentle; that kinsman's face looked concerned for him, and kind. Roh held out his hand, and no khaldared forbid him. "Come," Roh said, and again: "Come."

He recalled why he should fear this man: but Roh's human face promised something more honest than surrounded him. He came, trying not to see the dark at the edges. Roh's hand caught him by the arm, helped him walk as Fwar's bowmen closed to guard their retreat, a human curtain between them and the khal.

Then the cold wind outside hit him, and he had not even the control of his limbs to shiver.

"My tent is this way," Roh said, bearing him on his feet. "Walk, curse you."

He tried, although the splinted leg was the only steady one. It was a long blank time until he found himself lying against a wall of bound reeds in Roh's shelter. A ring of Hiua at Roh's shoulder leaned on their bows and stared down at him, shadows in the dim light of a fire, the smoke of which curled up to an opening in the roof. Fwar was there, foremost of them.

"Go, get out of here," Roh bade the Hiua. "All of you, keep an eye on the khal."

They went, though Fwar lingered last… gave him a broad and disturbing grin before he went out the door.

Then Roh dropped down on his heels. He put forth a hand to his face, turned it to him and stared him in the eyes. "Akil."

"Yes." The haze of it was too thick to fight any longer. He turned his face away, shuddering, for the warmth made the touch like that on a burn… not painful, but too sensitive.

"Where is Morgaine? Where would she have gone?"

That alarmed him. He shook his head vehemently.

"Where?" Roh repeated.

"The river… Fwar knows."

"The control is there, is it not?"

The question shot through all his refusals. He looked at Roh and blinked, and realized afterward that his reaction had betrayed the truth.

"Well," Roh said, "we have suspected it. We have been searching all that area. She dares not come back here, Master Gate though this is… aye, I know that too; and therefore she must have that which controls the Gate. She will seek that point, reliable as a lodestar… if she is not dead. Do you think that she is?"

"I do not know," he admitted, and the tears surprised and overwhelmed him, flowing down his face. He could not stop them, nor tell how much or what he had said that he ought not; all his sense was undone, and, he feared, his memory with it.

"She was badly hurt, Fwar said."

"Yes."

"What worries me now is the thought of that sword of hers. Think of that in Hetharu's gentle hands. That must not happen. That must not happen, Vanye. You must prevent that. Where would she go?"

The words were reasoning, the touch gentle and pleasant He drew back from it and shook his head, swore. Roh's hand fell and Roh rested on his heels staring at him as at a perplexing problem, his face, so like a brother's to him, furrowed between the brows with distress. He shut his eyes.

"How much did they give you? How much of the akil?"

He shook his head, not knowing the answer. "Let me be. Let me be. It has been days since I rested; Roh, let me sleep."

"Stay awake. I fear for you if you do not."

That had not the incongruity it might have held; it was not the first time he had seen this face of his enemy, that which had been his cousin. He blinked with dull perception, trying to think through Roh's words, flinched as Roh put his hands on his splinted knee.

"Fwar told me that a horse went down on you. And these other hurts?"

"Fwar knows."

"I thought so." Roh took the knife from his belt-hesitated as Vanye saw it and recognized it. "Ah, yes. You carried it… to return to me, I do not doubt. Well, it is back. Thank you." He cut the binding on the splint, and that plain stubbed even through the akil,touching all other nerves. But Roh felt of the joint with great gentleness. "Swollen… torn. Probably not broken. I will do what I can with it. I will free your hands-or not, as you will have it. You tell me."

"I will make no trouble for the meanwhile."

"Sensible man." Roh bent him forward and cut the cords, then sheathed the blade and massaged his torn hands until some life returned to his swollen and discolored fingers. "You are clear-minded enough to know where you are, are you not?"

"The Gate," he recalled, and recalled what had befallen Roh at such a place. Panic took him. Roh's fingers bit into his wrist, stopping him from a wild move, and the leg shot fire through the arch of the knee, pain and the akilalmost taking his senses.

"You are going nowhere, crippled as you are," Roh hissed into his ear, and thrust his arm free. "What do you expect? That anyone could want the carrion they have left of you? I have no such designs. Use your wits. I would not have let you free if I had."

He blinked, trying to think clearly, trying to flex the life back into his fingers. He was shaking, sweat cold on him.

"Be still," Roh said. "Believe me. Body-changing is nothing pleasant. The one I have suffices… although," he added in cold mockery, "one of the Hiua might find yours an improvement. Fwar, for instance. His face gives him no joy."

He said nothing. The akilset even this at distance. The pain faded back into the warmth.

"Peace," Roh said softly. "I assure you, you are safe from that."

"Which are you? Liell now, is it not?"

Roh's face smiled. "More than not."

"Roh-" he pleaded, and the smile faded and the frown came back, an indefinible shift of the eyes.

"I say I will not harm you."

"Who is 'I,' Roh?"

"I-" Roh shook his head and rose. "You do not understand. There is no separation, no division. I-" He went across the shelter, there dipped up a pan of water… and on an apparent other thought, poured some into a handle-broken cup and brought it back to him. "Here."

He drank, thirstily. Roh knelt and took the cup back when he was finished, tossed it aside into the straw, then dipped a cloth into the pan of cold water and began, very gently, to wash the dirt from his wounds, starting with his face. "I will tell you how it is," Roh said. "At the first is utter shock . .. and then a few days that are like a dream. You areboth. And then part of the dream begins to fade, and you know that it was once there, but you cannot recall it in daylight. I was Liell once. Now I am Chya Roh. I think that I like this shape well. But then I probably liked the other. And the others before that. I am Roh now. Everything that he is, all that he remembers-all that he loves or hates. All, in short-that he is or ever was-I contain."

"Except his soul."

A touch of irritation came over Roh's face. "I would not know about that."

"Roh would have."

Roh's hands resumed the gentle ministering they had for an instant ceased, and he shook his head. "Cousin-sometimes-there is a perverseness in me that I cannot help. I would not harm you, but do not prick at me. Do not. I do not like it when I have done such a thing."

"Oh Heaven, I pity you."

The cloth found a raw spot and he winced. "Do you prick at me," Roh repeated between his teeth. The touch gentled again. "You do not know what trouble you have caused me .. . this whole camp. You know the marshlanders are across that barricade trying to figure how to get their hands on you."

He gazed at Roh, distantly.

"Wake up," Roh insisted. "They have put too much of that into you. What did you tell them?"

He shook his head, confused. For a time he truly did not remember. Roh seized his shoulder and forced his attention.

"What, confound you? Will you have them to know and not me? Think it through."

"They asked-asked me to tell what I knew of the Gates. They are tired of relying on you. They said-that because the Men in this camp want to kill me, they would have more hold on me than on you… that was Shien's thought… or someone's… I cannot remember. But Hetharu… meant to have what I know-and not to tell you until a time suited him-"

"What you know. And what do you know of Gates. Has she given you knowledge enough to be dangerous?"

He thought over the hazard of truth with Roh. Nothing would focus.

"Have you such knowledge?'' Roh asked.

"Yes."

"And what did you tell them?"

"Nothing. I told them nothing. You came."

"I heard that they had brought you in. I guessed as much as you have told me."

'They will cut your throat when they can."

Roh laughed. "Aye, that they will. And yours, sooner, without my protection. What do you know that you did nottell them?"

Panic flashed through him, muddled with the akil.He shook his head desperately, not trusting to speak.

"I will tell you what I suspect," Roh said. "That Morgaine has had help staying out of sight. She has been in a certain village; I have learned that much: Hetharu knows it too. Men live here, elusive as they are, and there are others too, are there not?"

He said nothing.

'There are. I know that. And I think that there are qhal-are there not, cousin? And you have friends. Perhaps that is who rode off with her, when she fled. Allies. Native allies. And she thought to go to the high place and seize control of the Gate and destroy me. Well, is that not her purpose? It is the only sane course for her. But I am less worried about what Morgaine will and will not, in the state she must be in now, than I am worried for who has his hands on that weapon of hers. A qhaland a Man are with her. So Fwar reports. And who are they, and what would either of them do with such a weapon as that sword in his hands?"

The thoughts tumbled chaotically about him: Merir,he thought. Merir would use it well.But then he doubted, and recalled that he and Morgaine held purposes at odds with the arrhendim.

"Fwar brought me something," Roh said. "Oh, he did not want to give it, but Fwar has a great respect for my anger, and he most readily gave it up for his health's sake." He drew from his belt a silver circlet on a chain… Merir's gift. "You wore this. I find it very strange workmanship, nothing like home, nor even like Shiuan. See, it is written over with qhalurrunes. Friendshipis the inscription. Whose friend are you, Nhi Vanye?"

He shook his head and his eyes hazed. He was exhausted. Of a sudden the fear that had stayed remote began to trouble him, nearer and nearer, stalking him.

"Hardly honorable… to worry at you when you are full of that foul stuff-is it? You are easy as a new-written page. Well, I shall not, any more. But I do tell you this that you may think on when you are sober again… that what I have asked of you I have not asked with purpose to harm you. And you must stay awake, Vanye. Come, keep your eyes clear. Look at me with sense."

He tried. Roh hit him, enough to sting, but not with malice. "Stay awake. I will make you angry with me if that is what it takes. Your eyes are still hazed with that drug, and until that goes, you will stay awake, whatever I have to do to keep you that way. I have seen men die of it in this camp. They sleep to death. And I want you alive."

"Why?"

"Because I have put my neck on the block for you tonight and I want reward of it."

"What do you want?"

Roh laughed. "Your company, cousin."

"I warned you-warned you that you would not find your companions grateful when you joined them. You are a Man, and they hate you for it."

"Am I?" Roh laughed again. "You admit it then, that I am your cousin."

"A qhal…" -told me,he almost said, what it was like for you.But he was not quite hazed enough to let it slip, and stopped himself in time. Roh looked at him strangely, and then shrugged and let it pass, beginning again to wash at his injuries. Roh's touch hurt, and he winced: Roh swore softly.

"I cannot help it," Roh said. "Thank Fwar for this. I am as careful as I can be. Be glad of the akilfor a while."

Roh was indeed careful, and skilled; he cleaned the wounds and dressed them with hot oil, and tended those that were fevered. He put hot compresses on the knee, changing them often. In time Vanye let his head fall. Roh disturbed him to look at his eyes, and finally let him sleep, rousing him only when he changed the compresses. It was far into the night, Vanye judged at one of these wakings, and yet Roh disturbed him again, putting heat on the knee. "Roh?" he asked, perplexed by this.

"I would not have you lame."

"Someone else might see to it."

"Who? Fwar? I am scant of servants in this grand hall. Go to sleep, cousin."

He did so, a quiet sleep, for the first time since Carrhend. This last and better effect the akilleft on him, that its passing exhausted him and he was able to rest.