hospitality was arranged, and while the old lord gave instruction for the preparation of a tent and shelter for them. For his part, Vanye stood with his hand on the back of Morgaine's chair, watching every move and listening to every whisper ... for they two had knowledge of Gates, and of the powers of them, knowledge which some qhal had lost and which some would kill to learn. Whatever the gentleness of the folk, there was that to fear.
Drink was brought and offered them both; but Vanye leaned forward and took the drink from Morgaine's hand sipped at it first and gave it back to her before he took a drink of his own. She simply held the cup in her hand, though Merir drank of his.
"Are these your customs?" Merir asked.
"No," said Vanye out of turn, "but they are, among our enemies."
The other qhal looked displeased at that forwardness with the old lord. "No," Merir said. "Let be. I shall speak with them. Go, all who should. We shall speak," he added then, "of things belonging to the inner councils of our people. Although you have insisted that your khemeis must remain with yon, still it might be well if you dismissed him as far as the outside of the tent."
"No," said Morgaine. Not all the qhal had departed. Those remaining settled, some on the mats and the oldest ones in chairs. "Sit down," she said aside. Vanye unslung his bow and tucked his sword aside to sit crosslegged at her feet. It was a posture less than formal, and he kept the cup in one hand the while, sipped at it a second time, for he had felt no ill from the first taste. Morgaine tasted hers then, and crossed her booted ankles and extended her legs before her, easy in her attitude and bordering on too much casualness for the qhal's liking. She did it deliberately; Vanye knew her well enough to sense the tension in her. She sought their limits and had not yet found them.
"I am not accustomed to be summoned," she said. "But this is your land, lord Merir, and I do owe you the courtesy I have paid in coming here."
"You are here because it is expedient. . . for both of us. As you say: it is my land, and the courtesy I ask is an accounting of your purpose in it. Tell us more of what you told the Mirrindim. Who are these folk that have come here?"
"My lord, there is a land called Shiuan, the other side of the Fires ... I think you understand me. And it was a miserable place, the people starving, Men first, and then qhal. Qhal had wealth and Men lived in poverty . . . but the floods that threatened their land were going to take them both all the same. Then came a Man named Chya Roh, who knew the workings of the Gates, which the qhal in that land had forgotten completely. He was not himself from Shiuan, this Chya Roh, but from beyond Shiuan's own Gates. From Andur-Kursh, as we two are. And that is how we came to be in Shiuan: we were following Roh."
"Who taught a Man these things?" one of the elders demanded. "How is it in the land called Andur-Kursh . . . that Men make free of such powers?"
Morgaine hesitated. "My lord, it is possible . . . that man and man may change by those powers. Is that known here?"
There was utter silence, and looks exchanged: terror; but Merir's face remained a mask.
"It is forbidden," Merir answered. "We do know; but we do not permit that knowledge outside our high councils."
"I am encouraged to see so many elder folk in places of power among you. Old age evidently takes its course here; perhaps I am among people of restraint and good sense."
"It is an evil thing, this changing."
"But one known to a few ruthless folk in Andur-Kursh. Chya Roh . . . There was once a great master of the powers of the Gates . . . qhal, at least in the beginning, although I have no proof of it: all the guises I have known him to use were Men. Man after man he has murdered, taking bodies for his own use, extending his life over many generations of Men and qhal. He was Chya Zri; he was Chya Liell; and lastly he took the body of Chya Roh i Chya, a lord of
Drink was brought and offered them both; but Vanye leaned forward and took the drink from Morgaine's hand sipped at it first and gave it back to her before he took a drink of his own. She simply held the cup in her hand, though Merir drank of his.
"Are these your customs?" Merir asked.
"No," said Vanye out of turn, "but they are, among our enemies."
The other qhal looked displeased at that forwardness with the old lord. "No," Merir said. "Let be. I shall speak with them. Go, all who should. We shall speak," he added then, "of things belonging to the inner councils of our people. Although you have insisted that your khemeis must remain with yon, still it might be well if you dismissed him as far as the outside of the tent."
"No," said Morgaine. Not all the qhal had departed. Those remaining settled, some on the mats and the oldest ones in chairs. "Sit down," she said aside. Vanye unslung his bow and tucked his sword aside to sit crosslegged at her feet. It was a posture less than formal, and he kept the cup in one hand the while, sipped at it a second time, for he had felt no ill from the first taste. Morgaine tasted hers then, and crossed her booted ankles and extended her legs before her, easy in her attitude and bordering on too much casualness for the qhal's liking. She did it deliberately; Vanye knew her well enough to sense the tension in her. She sought their limits and had not yet found them.
"I am not accustomed to be summoned," she said. "But this is your land, lord Merir, and I do owe you the courtesy I have paid in coming here."
"You are here because it is expedient. . . for both of us. As you say: it is my land, and the courtesy I ask is an accounting of your purpose in it. Tell us more of what you told the Mirrindim. Who are these folk that have come here?"
"My lord, there is a land called Shiuan, the other side of the Fires ... I think you understand me. And it was a miserable place, the people starving, Men first, and then qhal. Qhal had wealth and Men lived in poverty . . . but the floods that threatened their land were going to take them both all the same. Then came a Man named Chya Roh, who knew the workings of the Gates, which the qhal in that land had forgotten completely. He was not himself from Shiuan, this Chya Roh, but from beyond Shiuan's own Gates. From Andur-Kursh, as we two are. And that is how we came to be in Shiuan: we were following Roh."
"Who taught a Man these things?" one of the elders demanded. "How is it in the land called Andur-Kursh . . . that Men make free of such powers?"
Morgaine hesitated. "My lord, it is possible . . . that man and man may change by those powers. Is that known here?"
There was utter silence, and looks exchanged: terror; but Merir's face remained a mask.
"It is forbidden," Merir answered. "We do know; but we do not permit that knowledge outside our high councils."
"I am encouraged to see so many elder folk in places of power among you. Old age evidently takes its course here; perhaps I am among people of restraint and good sense."
"It is an evil thing, this changing."
"But one known to a few ruthless folk in Andur-Kursh. Chya Roh . . . There was once a great master of the powers of the Gates . . . qhal, at least in the beginning, although I have no proof of it: all the guises I have known him to use were Men. Man after man he has murdered, taking bodies for his own use, extending his life over many generations of Men and qhal. He was Chya Zri; he was Chya Liell; and lastly he took the body of Chya Roh i Chya, a lord of
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