Gate of Ivrel

“Vanye,” said Liell softly. “Vanye. Aye, that is a Chya name. But I have little to do with clan Chya here. I have other work... Lady Morgaine, let me see you to your rooms. You have stirred up quite a nest of troubles. I heard the shouting. I descended—to your rescue, if you will pardon me.”

Morgaine nodded him thanks and began to walk with him. Vanye, ignored now, fell in a few paces behind them and kept watch on the doors and corridors.

“I truly did not believe it at first,” said Liell. “I thought Kasedre’s humors were at work again, or that someone was taking advantage of him. His fantasies are elaborate. May I ask why—?”

Morgaine used that dazzling and false smile on Liell. “No,” she said, “I discuss my business with no one I chance to leave behind me. I will be on my way soon. I wish no help. Therefore what I do is of no moment here.”

“Are you bound for the territory of Chya?”

“I am clan-welcome there,” she said, “but I doubt it would be the same warmth of welcome I knew if I were to go there now. Tell me of yourself, Chya Liell. How does Leth fare these days?”

Liell waved an elegant hand at their surroundings. He was a graceful man, handsome and silver-haired; his dress was modest, night-blue. His shoulders lifted in a sigh. “You see how things are, lady, I am well sure. I manage to keep Leth whole, against the tide of events. As long as Kasedre keeps to his entertainments, Leth thrives. But its thin blood will not breed another generation. The sons and grandsons of Chya Zri—who, I know, found no favor in your eyes—still are the bulwark of Leth in its old age. They serve me well. That in hall—that is the get of Leth, such as remains.”

Morgaine refrained from comment. They began to mount the stairs. A pinched little face peered at them from the turning, withdrew quickly.

“The twins,” said Vanye.

“Ah,” said Liell. “Hshi and Tlin. Nasty characters, those.”

“Clever with their hands,” said Vanye sourly.

“They are Leth. Hshi is the harpist in kail. Tlin sings. They also steal. Do not let them in your rooms. I suspect it was Tlin who is responsible for your being here. The report was very like her misbehaviors.”

“Hardly necessary that she trouble herself,” said Morgaine. “My path necessarily led to Ra-leth. I had the mood to come this way. The girl could prove a noisome pest.”

“Please,” said Liell. “Leave the twins to me. They will not trouble you... What set Kasedre off tonight?”

“He became overexcited,” said Morgaine. “I take it that he does not often meet outsiders.”

“Not of quality, and not under these circumstances.”

They wound up the remaining stairs and came into the hall where their apartments were. The servants were busy at their tasks, lighting the lamps. They made great bows as Liell and Morgaine swept past them.

“Did you eat well?” Liell asked.

“We had sufficient,” she said.

“Sleep soundly, lady. Nothing will trouble you.” He made a formal bow as Morgaine went inside her own door, but as Vanye would have followed her, Liell prevented him with an outthrust arm.

Vanye stopped, hand upon hilt, but Liell’s purpose seemed speech, not violence. He leaned closer set a hand upon Vanye’s shoulder, a familiarity a man might use with a servant, talking to him quickly in whispers.

“She is in great danger,” said Liell. “Only I fear what she may do. She must leave here, and tonight. Earnestly I tell you this.” He leaned closed until Vanye’s back was against the wall, and the hand gripped his shoulder with great intensity. “Do not trust this and do not trust the twins above all else, and beware of any of Kasedre’s people.”

“Which you are not?”

“I have no interest in seeing this hall ruined—which could happen if Morgaine takes offense. Please. I know what she is seeking. Come with me and I will show you.”

Vanye considered it, gazed into the dark, sober eyes of the man. There was peculiar sadness in them, a magnetism that compelled trust. The strong fingers pressed into the flesh of his shoulder, at once ultimate and compelling.

“No,” he said. It was hard to force the words. “I am ilin. I take her orders, I do not arrange her business for her.”

And he tore himself from Liell’s fingers and sought the door, trembling so that he missed the latch, opened it and thrust it closed, securely, behind him. Morgaine looked at him questioningly, even offering concern. He said nothing to her. He felt sick inside, still fearing that he should have trusted Liell, and yet glad that he had not.

“We must get out of this place,” he urged her. “Now.”

“There are things yet to learn,” she said. “I only found the beginnings of answers. I would have the rest. I can have, if we remain.”

There was no disputing Morgaine. He curled up near their own little hearth, a small and smoky fireplace that heated the room from a common duct, warming himself on the stones. He left her the bed, did she choose to use it