The Seventh Gate (The Seven Citadels ) (14 page)

Yxallin stumbled towards him. “We were told
you had died with the Prince . . .”

Forollkin gripped the captain's hand. “I'm
alive as you can see and feel.”

No more than twenty men had died in the
sortie and all around him joyful reunions were taking place as women clung to
the bridles of their sons and husbands to lead them through the city. Forollkin
smiled at his brother.

“I thank Zeldin for your safety,” Yxallin
was saying, “but where is Lord Jerenac?”

Forollkin slowly drew off his gauntlets. “He
is sick and cannot leave his bed. I'll take you to him when you're rested.
Let's get your men billeted and . . .”

“I must see to my Lady's comfort first,”
answered Yxallin. “It was by her authority that we came here.”

“Your Lady?”

“The Queen, your Highness.”

Yxallin turned towards the litter that his
men had set down in the center of the courtyard. Its purple curtains parted and
a woman stepped out.

“Pellameera!” breathed Forollkin, but as a
shadow passed over the sun the brilliance of the woman's hair faded to a pale
copper. Her eyes were grey, not green, and her face was infused by a gentleness
alien to the Queen of Seld.

“Kelinda!” cried Kerish and ran forward to
greet her.

She stared, uncertain, until the Prince
stripped back his veil. Then a smile lit her face like a flame glowing through
an alabaster lamp.

“Kerish . . . but she told me you were
dead!”

“Who? Rimoka? Well, she was wrong.” He
hugged his brother's wife.

Then she held him away to look at him. “You're
so thin and pale and your hand . . . but what does it matter. You're safe, and
Forollkin too. . .”

Forollkin came forward to kiss the Queen's
hand as Kerish began to explain the absence of Lord Jerenac.

“We heard rumors in the Inner Palace about
his sickness,” said Kelinda. “I begged the Empress to send him help, but she
could think of nothing but defeating Zyrindella. Ten weeks ago she left for
Tryfania to lead her troops against the rebel north.” There were shadows of
strain around Kelinda's eyes and her thin hands plucked nervously at the folds
of her cloak. “She sent back orders to the Imperial Guard to kill anyone in the
city suspected of disloyalty to her and then to march north to help her fight
Zyrindella.”

“The Emperor allowed her to give such
orders?” asked Forollkin incredulously.

“We came to the Queen,” said Yxallin, “and
begged her to intercede with the Emperor. Zeldin knows, the Imperial Guard was
not created to fight Galkians and to be forbidden to help our Lord Commander
against the barbarians was more than we could bear.”

“I went to the Emperor,” Kelinda's voice
lost all its warmth when she spoke of her husband. “Imarko pity him, he hadn't
the courage to countermand his mother's orders. I asked Captain Yxallin if the
Imperial Guard would let him lead them to Viroc. He told me that most of his
men would hesitate to act without some royal authority. I gathered the Imperial
Guard together and informed them that I intended to journey to Viroc and die,
if I must, in defense of my husband's people. I asked who would go with me. . .”

“Not a man refused to serve her,” said
Yxallin proudly, “and we are here to fight for Viroc.”

“Kelinda,” Kerish took her hands again, “that
was bravely done.”

“Oh Kerish,” she whispered, “you cannot
imagine what a terrible place the Inner Palace has become. Galkis has lost all
its will, all its strength; it just lies there waiting to die. I sent Koligani
up into the mountains, to the temple of Zeldin. She'll be as safe there as
anywhere. Forollkin, I tried to persuade your mother to go with her, but she
wouldn't leave the city.”

It was Kerish who asked the obvious
question. “Why didn't Follea go north with Rimoka?”

Kelinda answered, still looking at
Forollkin. “She thought you were dead, and that Rimoka was responsible. How
could your mother forgive the Empress that? She told me that she wanted to
watch the Golden City burn. I set out with the Imperial Guard while the Emperor
slept. We have gathered more men on the way south, and ordered others to
follow, and brought all the provisions we could carry on a forced march . . .”

The two brothers were staring at her in
admiration, but Kelinda still seemed uncertain. “I wish I knew if I have done
rightly. Night and day I prayed to Zeldin and Imarko. I believed that this was
their answer, but I am a stranger in Galkis, perhaps they did not listen to me
. . .”

“They listen only to truth-speakers like
you,” said Kerish.

He took her to the Governor's Palace and
the rest she needed now that her long journey was over.

Back in their own quarters, Forollkin
squinted down at his bloodstained cloak and shrugged it off.

“I should have killed the Khan, for Viroc's
sake, but I knew you wouldn't want me to and when his own men stood back to
watch him die . . .”

“He has lost his soul,” said Kerish. “To
his household, O-grak is already dead.”

“Well, we must take advantage of the Khan's
misfortunes. For the moment the road is clear. With Jerenac's permission I'll
announce that anyone who wants to leave the city can do so tonight. Those who
can't fight or work will have to go anyway.”

“The temple staff . . .” began Kerish.

“Apart from the Healers, they're all
leaving except the Chief Priest and Priestess.” Forollkin neatly folded up the
discarded cloak. “Jerenac sent for the Chief Priest last night and he agreed to
send his people to Joze, though only for the sake of not tiring a sick man with
arguments.”

“Is Jerenac worse?”

“The healers say he's dying.”

When his brother had left to visit the
wounded soldiers, Kerish went into the inner room where Gidjabolgo was sitting
cross-legged on the bed, plucking at the Prince's zildar.

“One thing has survived our travels, even
if I've lost the power to use it. Gidjabolgo . . . tonight will probably be the
last chance of leaving Viroc before the siege begins in earnest. I don't know
if there's any Galkian port where you could still get a safe passage home, but
I'll give you a royal signet and as much money as you can carry.”

Gidjabolgo played a chord. “What is a burr
without a cloak to cling to? I'll go where you go, unless you forbid it.”

“No,” said Kerish, when he could speak. “I
won't forbid it.

When the dusk bell rang they went together
to fetch the Queen of Galkis to visit Jerenac. They found her sitting by a
window, looking down at the neglected garden of the Governor's Palace.

“Kerish, do you remember how we used to sit
together under the crown trees in your father's garden and talk about poetry?
Since he died people have become more and more afraid of the Emperor's garden.
I lingered there once after dusk and suddenly I was sure that Death was walking
in the garden and if I took the wrong turn I would meet her . . .” Kelinda
shook her head as if she was trying to dislodge the memory. “Did you know that
your father is buried there? He laid a curse on anyone who tried to move his
body to the Valley of Silence.”

“He had built a pavilion there for my
mother's body.” Kerish's voice was unsteady. “He wanted to lie beside her in
death.”

“They could have been buried together in
the Valley of Silence. Surely what he wanted was to shut everyone else out forever?
I used to think that you were very like him, but there is something new in your
face . . . Ah forgive me,” said Kelinda, with an apologetic smile, “I am so
tangled up in memories of Galkis, I have given you no chance to present your
companion . . .”

Gidjabolgo had been staring curiously at
the slender, grey-eyed woman who was the Queen of Galkis. Now Kerish nudged him
forward.

“Your Majesty, may I present our fellow traveler,
Gidjabolgo of Forgin. He has been with us ever since Ellerinonn and we would
never have got this far without him.”

“Very few men can have made such a journey.
I hope, Master Gidjabolgo, that you will have time to discuss your travels with
me.”

She gave him her hand and the Forgite
kissed it with surprising meekness.

“I have been told,” began Kelinda
hesitantly, “that you had another companion, a lady whom Forollkin was to
marry. Such a terrible thing for her to be killed in the moment of rescue . . .
Should I speak about her to Forollkin, or would that only hurt him more?”

It was Gidjabolgo who answered. “Your
Majesty, he does not choose to talk about her. As long as he has this city to
fight for, it will fill up his emptiness. When the fight is over he will either
have joined the lady in death or time will have erased the pain.”

“You speak very wisely,” said Kelinda. “Pain
and grief are healed by time, but there may be no strength left for any...new
feelings.”

In all the time that he had known her,
Kerish had never heard Kelinda express the misery and bitterness her husband's
neglect must have caused her. He saw now that she had passed beyond pain into
numb resignation, but listening to her talking to Gidjabolgo with her usual
sweet courtesy, he refused to believe that she had lost the ability to love.

“We eventually heard at court that you had
reached Seld,” Kelinda was saying. “My sister . . . I see that the ring I gave
you as a token for her has gone from your finger.”

“I gave her the ring and your message. She
entertained us with the greatest kindness,” Kerish found himself studying the
marble floor, “and . . . speeded us on our quest.”

Kelinda sighed. “You need not speak so
guardedly. I can imagine what you thought of my sister, but try not to judge
her too harshly. Pellameera cannot afford gentleness, for her own sake and for
Seld's. If fate had changed our places, if she had been brought up in the tranquility
of Trykis and I had grown up at court, struggling to defend my throne . . .
then it would be me you thought of with horror.”

“I can't believe that, “ answered Kerish, “but
I do accept that Pellameera is not entirely to blame for what she has become
and I did pity her.”

“I have known my sister kill a man for
pitying her, but we can talk about her later.” Kelinda got up from the window
seat. “Take me to Jerenac.”

*****

Only one lamp burned in the Lord
Commander's chamber, but it was enough to show that the poison in his body had
at last sucked away Jerenac's will to live. He lay unnaturally still, while
servants hovered about the bed with useless medicines. At Jerenac's head stood
the Chief Priest of Viroc, praying for his soul. Beside him, Forollkin knelt to
catch the whispered string of commands. “The South Gate . . . if the main
assault is there, you must concentrate your archers on the Keeper's Tower and .
. .”

“My Lord,” broke in the Chief Priest, “the
Queen and the Third Prince are here.”

“What? Well, bring them closer. I can't see
them in this murk.” The Lord Commander struggled to rise and Forollkin lifted
him up while the Chief Priest slipped a pillow under his shoulders.

“Majesty, I cannot greet you as I should,”
began Jerenac, “or thank you as you deserve. I had never thought of you as an
ally, never thought of you at all . . . such a pale slight thing, so meek and
patient. What man wouldn't abuse that? And no children . . .”

“My Lord!” whispered Forollkin, and Jerenac
jerked as if he had been brought up by a leash.

“Forgive me, Majesty. I have spoken to
Yxallin - a good soldier. I used to think that the Inner City had softened him,
but he will fight well. Perhaps he knows of something to fight for. Forollkin,
spread the Imperial Guard amongst the Jenozan troops to hearten them. Prince?
Ah, I can see your eyes shining in this dark. I resign the Governorship of
Jenoza to you. Since you won't bid for the throne, rally Jenoza. If you survive
the siege of Viroc, show yourself to the people of my province and they will
fight for you as they never fought for me . . .”

“Lord Commander.” Something in the tone of
his brother's voice made Forollkin stare at Kerish as intently as Jerenac did.
The shadowy figure at the foot of the bed seemed to consist of nothing but dark
folds of cloth and two inhuman eyes: purple and golden and black. Forollkin
found that he was trembling as Kerish repeated, “Lord Commander, I must leave
the city tonight.”

“Leave . . .” The breath rattled in
Jerenac's throat. “Desert the city?”

Kelinda moved closer to the bed, the lamp
igniting the copper of her hair. “Is it your quest?”

“I must travel to the jungle of Jenze,”
said Kerish, “to find the last of the Seven Sorcerers and win their key.”

“Key?” Jerenac stared wildly. “Men are
dying and you play games of Seek. Are all the Godborn mad?”

“We were charged by the High Priest and by
the Emperor,” answered Kerish, “to free the imprisoned Saviour. We must fulfill
our quest.”

“Such a charge is sacred,” said the Chief
Priest of Viroc gravely.

Jerenac groaned. “Why did I allow a priest
in the room? Drive him out! The imprisoned Saviour . . . curse all priests and
Emperors! Will they never see that there is no salvation, except that which we
make with our own hands and swords.”

“Calm yourself. . .” began the Chief
Priest, but Jerenac struck the old man a feeble blow.

“You haven't the courage to believe that,
not one of you. If there is a god, I pray to him that there may be no more
Emperors and that the Godborn may vanish from Zindar.”

Kerish walked away from the bed. “Do you
think I don't realize that all I've ever done is probably useless? I want to
stay here. I want to wait until everything is over. But I can't. I must keep to
my quest until it kills me.”

“If you hope it can be achieved . . .”
began Kelinda.

“I hope for nothing,” answered Kerish
savagely. “But I will go on.”