The Seventh Gate (The Seven Citadels ) by Geraldine Harris

towards the bridge built by her opponent
across the neighboring square, and was describing the absolute power of the
Queen of Seld, when she was interrupted by familiar voices.
    The curtains that divided Neeris's quarters
from the rest of the hold were drawn back, and as the messenger from the Khan
entered, Gwerath glimpsed Forollkin and Kerish standing just outside. The
messenger was speaking in Orazian but before he had finished Gwerath was on her
feet.
    “If my cousins have come to fetch me, I'm
ready to go . . . that is, if you'll let me, Neeris.”
    The Khan's wife murmured something that
Gwerath took for acquiescence. In a moment she was through the curtain.
Forollkin smiled and opened his arms. Kerish looked away and noticed Neeris
shyly holding back the curtain to watch the reunion. Her face was in shadow but
the crimson bracelet glittered on her thin wrist.
    Kerish made a courtly bow. “Lady, thank you
for looking after our cousin.”
    Neeris nodded mutely and would have let the
curtain fall between them but Kerish said hastily, “Gwerath could never be
entirely unhappy on a ship. She has grown to love the sea. In my travels I have
come to like it less and less. It even disturbs my dreams now . . . you look as
if you understand.”
    “I hate the sea,” whispered Neeris.
    Kerish stepped a little closer. “Were you
born inland?”
    “Yes, in the mountains, the Mountains of
Zarn.”
    She was leaning forward now, light attacking
the defensive lines of her taut face.
    “Do you still miss the mountains?”
    She nodded and he smiled encouragingly. “What
is it that you miss about them? The splendor of silence? The snows that can't
be marred? The astonishment of spring?”
    “Oh, all of that. The towers of Azanac
remind me a little of my father's valley in winter, when the world is shut out
by storms, but inside everything is safe and warm and spring is coming.”
    “But on Az you are not certain of the
spring?”
    “Spring never comes there,” whispered
Neeris.
    “Then perhaps you should walk to the next
valley to find it,” answered Kerish. “The high route may not be as impassable
as you think. I should like you to see the mountains above Galkis in spring . .
. but of course, if Viroc falls and the Khan marches north to burn the Golden
city, you will.”
    “There is always war,” said Neeris dully.
    “Not in every land or in every age. Still,
you have reminded me that even if the city falls, the mountains I love will
remain. There is comfort in that.”
    He bowed again and was astonished by the
intensity of the pleasure mirrored in her sudden smile. Then Forollkin was
offering his formal thanks. Neeris murmured something and let the curtain drop.
    As they were rowed back to O-grak's ship,
Gwerath talked scornfully of the dull life of Neeris and her women and their
ignorance of the world, until Kerish asked, “Why does she make you so
uncomfortable?”
    Gwerath frowned and then answered readily
enough, “I suppose because she is so like me. Like me as I was in Erandachu.
However could you have borne me?”
    “We didn't.” Forollkin smiled
affectionately. “You were thoroughly exasperating.”
    `I loved you even then,' said Kerish but
not aloud.
    The next morning Gwerath declared herself
unable to endure the stuffy hold and she and Forollkin went up on deck,
escorted by two guards. Gidjabolgo spat at the mention of fresh air and curled
up again amongst the cushions. Through slitted eyes he watched the Prince
kneeling by Shageesa's cage. Kerish was still dressed in the green Galkian
tunic with the heavy collar gleaming at his throat. He did not appear to notice
his guards retiring to a discreet distance as O-grak approached and he jumped
as the Khan sat down beside him.
    “In Oraz, women say that if you look at a
snake too long it will change hearts with you.”
    “And do they say whether it has happened to
you?”
    “To the noble and generous Khan of Orze?
No.” O-grak thrust his blunt fingers