The Limbreth Gate Page 5

  ‘What’s going on?’ His tongue felt as fuzzy and dirty as the blankets he sat on. The woman licked her full lips and tried a smile on him. Vandien stood, caught himself as he tottered, and then found balance. One leg was still numb. He gripped that thigh and massaged it; it roused back to life with tingling pain. His whole hip on that side was tender, except for a dead spot right in the center. He touched it gingerly; dried blood cracked under his fingerprints.

  ‘It’s just a tiny jab!’ The woman dropped her smile and raised her hands as she fell back before him, not attempting to defend herself but only to ward off as much of the beating as possible. ‘Your friend said you could appreciate a good joke. It’s a common enough one. Don’t waste your time on me! The wedding will still be waiting for you, it’s not all that late. If you hurry, that is.’

  ‘You don’t make one damn bit of sense,’ Vandien growled.

  She began to whimper. ‘Well, you know. The other apprentice, Jori, he paid me to do it. Said you’d done the same thing to a friend not three moons ago. Just a little jab with a dose of numbweed, and the bridegroom’s a little late for a wedding. It was just a joke!’ she cried out before his murderous look.

  ‘On the wrong man. Do I look like an apprentice, or a bridegroom?’

  She quailed and accused together. ‘Well, you’re wearing the hawk, and you’ve got the scar. Oh, this is always my luck, it is! Look, don’t be angry! If you haven’t got a wedding night to go to, stay here, and I’ll make you think you’ve had one. Only don’t hit me and break up my things! Please!’ Tears welled, exposing the child, and Vandien was disarmed.

  ‘That’s all right,’ he assured her, backing away. ‘It was just a mistake. Don’t do anything so damn foolish again. Didn’t you wonder what kind of a man would set you up to bear the brunt of another’s anger?’

  ‘He gave me three times what I asked,’ she said defensively, and Vandien saw it was useless.

  ‘I’m going,’ he replied, quite unnecessarily. He limped from the room, his leg still bending strangely whenever he put weight on it.

  The darkened stairs were a challenge he nearly didn’t meet. At the bottom he stopped to catch his breath and get his bearings. His head was as hazy as a drunkard’s. He would find his way back to the market, and then to the tavern. Ki was going to be annoyed at waiting so long for him; until he told his story. Then she would be amused. Neither appealed.

  A horse snorted in the darkness. Vandien froze, letting his eyes adjust. His horse. Still saddled, and tied to a bush outside this seedy building.

  He tried to make sense of it. Someone had made a very thorough mistake in identifying him. Not likely. Ki had set it up as a prank, complete with hawk necklace. It was more likely that Ki would hire an assassin. So. Your head is fuzzy and you won’t find any answers here in the dark. Get you to a tavern.

  He mounted with difficulty. He had to grab the knee of his bad leg to get it properly placed. Once he was up, it was better than walking. Ki had chosen this animal for him. It was taller than one he would have picked, and uglier. But she had assured him that once she was finished with it, he would be able to trade it for whatever he wished. He had been skeptical. But now that she had wormed it, and her oil and herb mixture was improving its coat, it was a decent-looking mount. He was just lucky it hadn’t been stolen while it was tied there. That was another thing Ki would never have done: she would never have left a valuable animal and saddle standing in the dark. No, it wasn’t Ki.

  Her wagon wasn’t under the sign of the Contented Duck, and she wasn’t inside. Cursing the strange turn of his luck, Vandien limped to a table and sat down to think. He ordered Alys to clear the thick taste from his mouth, and sat rubbing at his tingling leg. The dead spot in the center of his hip still bothered him. He could not resist tapping a finger against it. Nothing. His finger could feel the outline of the small wound, but his hip didn’t know it. He wondered how long before that would pass.

  A dark and sullen boy brought Vandien his Alys. Vandien held up the coin to pay him, but did not release his grip on it. The boy glowered at him.

  ‘I need to ask you a question. I’m looking for a woman, a little shorter than I am, green eyes …’

  ‘I know a man named Sidrathio; he can get you any kind of woman you fancy, short ones, tall ones, ones that …’

  ‘No.’ Vandien broke the boy’s litany. ‘I am looking for a particular woman; I think she was here earlier. Green eyes, brown hair worn loose, a yellow blouse …’

  ‘The tavern has been very busy. I could have seen her and not noticed.’

  Vandien’s hand went to his coin purse and the boy’s eyes darted after it. Vandien set the money for the Alys on the table, and a second small coin atop it. ‘Yellow blouse and a blue skirt and boots.’

  The coins vanished. ‘Sidrathio’s women will dress any way to please you, and know skills that …’

  ‘Go!’ Vandien waved him off in disgust. ‘I wonder,’ he mused softly to himself, ‘if the age of a city has anything to do with how much rot runs through it. Or do I look so salacious and deprived …?’ Even as he spoke, Vandien realized he was still rubbing his leg under the table. He broke off with a woeful laugh.

  Despite the serving boy’s claim, the tavern was not busy. It was past the hour for casual drinking. Only determined drinkers and local sots filled the chairs. Vandien raised his glass for more Alys and wondered which group he belonged with. He forced his muzzy brain to think. If Ki had not been here, or if she had gone, it all came to the same thing. Either she had left without him in a fit of pique at his tardiness, or she had been rousted out of town. Where would she go? If rousted, probably to whatever Gate was closest; if she were allowed to choose. His mind balked away from the thought of her in trouble. If she had chosen her own direction, which way would she go? Perhaps to the southwest, with its rumors of spices and rare woods to haul? For a moment Vandien’s fancy galloped down strange roads in pursuit of her, through foreign landscapes and cities of strange folk and customs. Then he reined it in, and with a sigh he knew she would go back north, to her regular routes, where she knew the quirks of the roads and merchants were eager to hire her. So he had best ride out the North Gate tonight. Unless she had been rousted and forced out on another road; unless she were in danger even now.

  Vandien growled softly in frustration. His serving boy stared at him speculatively. Vandien traded him a glare. If Ki had been rousted from here, then surely someone had seen or heard of it. Again his eyes roved the tables. None of the patrons looked likely to volunteer information. The innmaster himself was a leering brute of aggressive hairiness. The other serving boy … perhaps. He had been polishing the same spot of table for a full five minutes, with his eyes more on the door than on his work. He was a slight and pale youth, his thin shoulders bowed forward in a permanent cower. Vandien flipped up a small coin and let it fall ringing on his tabletop. The boy didn’t turn to the sound of it. So strange a behavior was this for a serving boy that Vandien wondered if he were deaf. Hastily he tossed down the rest of his Alys and held up the glass.

  ‘Lad?’ he called.

  The boy flinched and turned at the same instant. He came to Vandien’s table as reluctantly as a kicked dog. Vandien liked Jojorum less and less with each passing moment.

  ‘I’m looking for a friend,’ Vandien began gently. The boy’s eyes went wide, his pupils filling them with blackness. ‘If you haven’t seen her, tell me so. I won’t be angry. She is slender, a bit shorter than myself, green eyes and brown hair, wearing a yellow blouse.’

  Already the boy was shaking his head in a terrified manner, so that his fine pale hair stood out around his face like a halo. His eyes whipped back to the door, but his danger came from another direction.

  ‘Wretch! Don’t shake your head, fill his glass! He didn’t come here to look at it empty, and I don’t feed you to deny the customers. About your work, or do I take a fist to you?’

  The boy’s whole body jerked in apprehension
, his face crumpling into tears even as the promised blow fell. There was a solid smack of flesh against flesh, and a loud grunt of surprise from the innmaster. Vandien’s capable fingers tightened on his soft white wrist until the flesh stood out between them in red bulges.

  ‘Child beatings always detract from the pleasures of drinking. Do not you agree?’ His tone was conversational, but Vandien’s fingers continued to tighten until the innmaster made a sound, half grunt, half gasp, of agreement. The boy was white, sagging against the table, his shock at being defended almost as stunning as a blow.

  Vandien rose without releasing the innmaster’s wrist. The man still stood half a head taller than Vandien, but Vandien was road hard and whiplash limber. For the space of three breaths the innmaster’s eyes met his. Then they dropped before his black stare, to dart about the table legs.

  ‘The little snake has always been trouble to me. Don’t let his sweet looks deceive you. I give him a bed, clothes to his back; he repays me with lies and trouble.’

  Vandien picked up his empty glass. He held it before the innmaster’s nose. ‘Innmaster, my glass is empty. See to its refilling. And bring a glass of red wine for my friend.’

  The innmaster wanted to snarl at the boy, but he was stopped by the coins in Vandien’s free hand. Vandien kicked out a free chair and nodded the boy into it. Seating himself again, he dropped his landlord’s wrist as if it were a piece of fresh offal. For a merest blink the man stood still, rubbing at his smarting flesh and eyeing Vandien. But Vandien smiled back at him affably. It was late at night; none of his regular patrons were willing or sober enough to aid him. To summon the city guard at this hour would require a bigger bribe than the innmaster was willing to pay. He turned and strode back to his kitchen, trying not to hurry. Moments later, the other serving boy appeared at the table, filling Vandien’s glass and bringing a goblet of red wine as well. He picked up Vandien’s coins and then stepped well away from the table.

  ‘Begging your pardon,’ he said softly. His lips trembled, but he glanced at the kitchen door and went on. ‘My master bids me to tell you this. If you want the boy, he has to be paid for, same as anything else in this tavern.’

  Vandien gave him a level stare, and a wolf’s smile. ‘Actually, it’s your master I lust for. Tell him I bid him to come to my table, so I can pay him what he’s worth.’

  The boy nodded stiffly, and scurried away. Vandien turned his eyes to his white-faced companion. The lad was on the edge of his chair, nearly slipping away.

  ‘Sit down,’ Vandien told him. ‘And drink that down. It may give you some color. Now. Before we were interrupted, we were talking. I was telling you I was looking for a friend.’

  Again the boy’s eyes went wide, and Vandien saw his error. ‘No. Nothing like that. There is a woman I travel with, a Romni woman I was to meet here. But she seems to have left without me. She has green eyes and brown hair …’

  The child put his head down on his arms and began to sob softly. Vandien looked at him, sighed, and swallowed half his Alys. ‘Well, we can talk about my friend later, perhaps. Don’t be upset, now. Listen. Have you ever heard the story of the woman who walked to the moon by following its shining path across a lake?’ The boy did not stir. His sobs were only slightly less. Vandien drew his story-string out of his pouch. ‘I’ll show it to you. See, here is the moon …’ The string looped and settled on his fingers, forming his people’s sign for moon. Vandien began telling his story softly to himself.

  Four stories passed. The boy’s head was still pillowed on his arms, but he looked about, and Vandien had talked half the wine into him. He seemed calmer. Vandien began another story, but his voice dragged. He kept losing his place in it. His story-string tangled on his fingers. He picked at the knot, trying to remember what story he had been telling. He could no longer taste the Alys he quaffed. That numbweed was potent stuff indeed. It mattered little now if his hip were numb or not. He wouldn’t have felt a dozen small jabs. He continued to work at the knot.

  His forehead bumped the table. He jerked himself upright and forced his sandy eyes open. The boy regarded him gravely from across the table. ‘Why do you keep doing that?’ he ventured to ask.

  ‘It’s either too much to drink or not enough sleep,’ Vandien told him fuzzily. He couldn’t tell if the boy heard his reply or not. His grey eyes had strayed back to the door. ‘Now it’s my turn to ask,’ Vandien ventured. ‘Who is supposed to come in that door soon?’

  ‘My mother.’ The boy’s voice went flat and dull. His eyes were beyond pain as he turned them to Vandien. ‘That’s what she promised me. The blue woman said that if I told her to go through the Gate, my mother would be able to come in and find me. So I did. She was looking for you, and I sent her through the Gate. I’m sorry.’

  ‘What?’

  The story came slowly, in bits and tatters. Vandien felt his jaws tighten. He forced himself to nod and tried to keep his fears from the boy. The boy’s description made the blue woman a Windsinger. Ki had been sent through a Gate on a ruse. Into what? Rousters? Windsinger’s magic? Or simple death in the dark?

  ‘Tell me again about the Gate,’ Vandien urged. ‘Why didn’t you just run home to your mother?’

  ‘The Keeper wouldn’t let me. And my mother couldn’t get through the Gate either. I tried once. I crept away from here once and ran down to the Limbreth Gate. My mother saw me and ran to meet me. But we couldn’t get through. We couldn’t even get into the Gate. Then the terrible light came, and my mother told me to run away, back to shelter.’

  Vandien straightened himself, alarm horns blaring in his mind. This was no nightly ritual of waiting for his mother, nor a question of Rousters keeping his mother out of the city. His sleepiness drained away, a touch of sobriety rebuked him.

  ‘My mother even offered to trade herself for me. She told the Keeper that she would come in the Gate, if he would let me go out. To keep the balance. But the Keeper wouldn’t let her. He was afraid folk on this side would believe my mother’s words. They pay no heed to one such as I.’

  ‘What could she tell us that would so upset the Keeper?’

  The child leaned forward to whisper the great secret. ‘The Jewels of the Limbreth are not for this world. Only for ours. One of your kind cannot seize the Jewels and bring them back here as a treasure. For your kind, the Jewels seize.’

  ‘My kind seize the Jewels?’ Vandien was wishing desperately that his head was not so fumed with Alys and the drug dart. Into what had Ki been sent?

  ‘No! No, the Jewels seize them,’ the boy said, as if reciting a well-known story. ‘They have no moderation. They do not bask in the peace and revelation of the Jewels. The Limbreth smiles upon them, and the Jewels seize them. But it is not an unpleasant thing for them. They are then inspired to do some great work. It may be wrought in metal or worked in stone. It may be the making of songs of far places the Limbreth has never seen. Their work is a joy to the Limbreth. But those who touch the Jewels of the Limbreth never return to this side of the Gate.’

  Vandien shook his head as if clearing his ears of water. He picked up the empty Alys goblet, and then slammed it back to the table. His mind was fuzzed enough. He had listened, and now he had best act.

  A sudden gust of cool night air flowed into the tavern. Vandien turned stinging eyes gratefully, seeking the source of the welcome draft. The door was open, and a woman was framed in it as she held the slats to one side. Her eyes glowed pale grey, and her green garment clung to her like fog on a morning hillside.

  ‘Mother!’ The boy collapsed under the table and scuttled past Vandien’s tall boots. He immersed himself in his mother’s long skirts.

  Vandien pushed free of the table, tossing down a few coins for payment. If she were here, then Ki had gone through. His heart began to hammer, and his head to spin when he stood too rapidly. When he regained himself, the woman and boy were gone. He limped to the doorway and stood there, steadying himself on its splintery framework. The streets were dark an
d empty. His quick ears caught the sound of a light and hurried tread.

  ‘Wait, woman!’ he called into the night. ‘I must speak to you!’ The patter of feet paused, then resumed more rapidly. Vandien cursed to himself. He stumbled slightly over the doorstep and then went after them.

  The darkness closed over him like a cupped hand. The thick dust of the street cloaked the sound of their fleeing footfalls. Vandien hurried after them, swinging one leg stiffly. Once he slipped in fresh slops, windmilling his arms for balance. He trotted on, his own thudding boots obscuring the sounds he tried to follow. A crossroads opened before him and he halted. A fool’s errand. He would get lost in the city and never find this peculiar Limbreth Gate. The thing to do was return to the tavern, get his horse, and make a swift round of the walls. But then he heard the boy’s voice, lifted querulously. Someone sternly shushed him. Vandien turned softly toward the sounds.

  This was a poorer section of Jojorum, the mud brick houses built on the crumbled foundations of older, nobler buildings. The smaller dwellings were ready to tumble down; the narrow alleys between them were clogged with debris. Vandien’s fogged brain cleared as his wariness reasserted itself. This would be a fine place for an ambush. There was a whisper of fabric and Vandien spun to it.

  ‘He’s only the man from the tavern, Mother.’ Mother and son emerged from the shadow they crouched in.

  Vandien’s shoulders sank and he let out a short breath as his arms unclenched. ‘That’s right,’ he said softly. ‘It’s only the man from the tavern.’

  The woman had a low voice like wind over a meadow. ‘My son tells me you were kind to him, sir. It seems it was the first kindness he was freely given since he so foolishly left my cottage. I did not mean to leave you unthanked. But my time is fleeing. I must return to the Gate before your light comes.’

  Vandien took the boy’s hand. ‘Then we have the same errand. I, too, must pass that Gate tonight. As I do not know the way, would you guide me there? And I would ask, rudely perhaps, how a child as young as this comes to be working alone in a tavern such as that.’