Gate of Ivrel

He came up with sword in hand, saw Morgaine struggling up to her side, and his first thought was that she had been bitten by something. He bent by her, seized her up and held her by the arms and held her, she trembling. But she thrust him back, and walked away from him, arms folded as against a chill wind; so she stood for a time.

“ Liyo?” he questioned her.

“Go back to sleep,” she said. “It was a dream, an old one.”

“ Liyo—”

“Thee has a place, ilin. Go to it.”

He knew better than to be wounded by the tone: it came from some deep hurt of her own; but it stung, all the same. He returned to the fireside and wrapped himself again in his cloak. It was a long time before she had gained control of herself again, and turned and sought the place she had left. He lowered his eyes to the fire, so that he need not look at her; but she would have it otherwise: she paused by him, looking down.

“Vanye,” she said, “I am sorry.”

“I am sorry too, liyo.”

“Go to sleep. I will stay awake a while.”

“I am full awake, liyo. There is no need.”

“I said a thing to you I did not mean.”

He made a half-bow, still not looking at her. “I am ilin, and it is true I have a place, with the ashes of your fire, liyo, but usually I enjoy more honor than that, and I am content.”

“Vanye.” She sank down to sit by the fire too, shivering in the wind, without her cloak. “I need you. This road would be intolerable without you.”

He was sorry for her then. There were tears in her voice; of a sudden he did not want to see the result of them. He bowed, as low as convenience would let him, and stayed so until he thought she would have caught her breath. Then he ventured to look her in the eyes.

“What can I do for you?” he asked.

“I have named that,” she said. It was again the Morgaine he knew, well armored, gray eyes steady.

“You will not trust me.”

“Vanye, do not meddle with me. I would kill you too if it were necessary to set me at Ivrel.”

“I know it,” he said. “ Liyo, I would that you had listened to me. I know you would kill yourself to reach Ivrel, and probably you will kill us both. I do not like this place. But there is no reasoning with you. I have known that from the beginning. I swear that if you would listen to me, if you would let me, I would take you safely out of Andur-Kursh, to—”

“You have already said it. There is no reasoning with me.”

“Why?” he asked of her. “Lady, this is madness, this war of yours. It was lost once. I do not want to die.”

“Neither did they,” she said, and her lips were a thin, hard line. “I heard the things they said of me in Baien, before I passed from that time to this. And I think that is the way I will be remembered. But I will go there, all the same, and that is my business. Your oath does not say that you have to agree with what I do.”

“No,” he acknowledged. But he did not think she heard him: she gazed off into the dark, toward Ivrel, toward Irien. A question weighed upon him. He did not want to hurt her, asking it; but he could not go nearer Irien without it growing heavier in him.

“What became of them?” he asked. “Why were there so few found after Irien?”

“It was the wind,” she said.

“ Liyo?” Her answer chilled him, like sudden madness. But she pressed her lips together and then looked at him.