received the elders of Mirrind-embraced old Bythein, who had been their staunches friend, and there was a chorus of invitations to hall and meal.
"Some of the men are still in Mirrind," Bytheis explained when Morgaine asked after their welfare. "They will keep the fields. Someone must. And the arrhendim are watching over them. But we know that our children are safest here. Welcome, welcome among us, lady Morgaine, khemeis Vanye."
And perhaps the Mirrindim were no less pleased to find them now in the company of their own legitimate lords, assurance that they had not given their hospitality amiss.
"See to the horses," Morgaine said, when all the turmoil was past; and Vanye took Siptah's reins and Sin followed on Mai, the proudest lad in Carrhend.
Sezar walked with him to show him the way, while a cloud of children walked about them, Carrhendim and Mirrindim, male and female. They crowded in behind as they put the horses in the pen, and there was no lack of willing hands to bring them food or curry them. "Have care of the gray," Sin was quick to tell them, lord over all where it concerned the horses. "He kicks what surprises him," which was good advice, for they crowded too close, disrespecting the warhorse's iron-shod heels; but Siptah as well as Mai had surprising patience in this tumult, having learned that children meant treats and curryings. Vanye surveyed all that was done and clapped Sin on the shoulder.
"I will take care of them as always," Sin assured him; he had no doubt this would be so.
"I will see you in hall at dinner; sit by me," Vanye said, and Sin glowed.
He started back to the hall then, and Sezar waited for him at the gate, leaning on the rail of the pen. "Have a care. You may not know what you do."
Vanye looked at him sharply.
"Do not tempt the boy," said Sezar, "to seek outside. You may be cruel without knowing."
"And if he wishes to go outside?" Anger heated him, but it was the way of Andur-Kursh itself, that a man was what he was born . . . save himself, wtio had always fought his own fate. "No, I understand you," he admitted.
Sezar looked back, and a thoughtful look was in his eyes. "Come," he said then, and they walked back to the hall with a few of the children at their heels, trying to imitate the soft-footed stride of the khemeis. "Look behind us and understand me fully," Sezar said, and he looked, and did. "We are a dream they dream, all of them. But when they grow past a certain age-" Sezar laughed softly, "they come to better sense, all but a few of us ... and when the call comes, we follow, and that is the way of it. If it comes to that boy, let it come; but do not tempt him so young. He may try too early, and come to grief for it."
"You mean that he will walk off into the forest and seek the qhal."
"It is never said, never suggested . . . forbidden to say. But those who will come, grow desperate and come, and there is no forbidding them, then, if they do not die in the woods. It is never said . . . but it is a legend among the children; and they say it. At about twelve, they may come, or a little after; and then there is a time that it is too late . . . and they have chosen, simply by staying. We would not refuse them ... no child dies on his journey that we can ever help. But neither do we lure them. The villages have their happiness. We arrhendim have ours. You are bewildered by us."
"Sometimes."
"You are a different kind of khemeis."
He looked down. "I am ilin. That-is different."
They walked in silence, almost to the hall. "There is a strangeness in you," said Sezar then, which frightened him. He looked up into Sezar's pitying eyes. "A sadness ... beyond your kinsman's fate, I think. It is about both of you. And different, for each. Your lady-"
Whatever Sezar would have said, he seemed to think better of saying, and Vanye stared at him resentfully, no easier in his mind for Sezar's intimate observations.
"Lellin and I-" Sezar made a helpless gesture. "Khemeis, we suspect
"Some of the men are still in Mirrind," Bytheis explained when Morgaine asked after their welfare. "They will keep the fields. Someone must. And the arrhendim are watching over them. But we know that our children are safest here. Welcome, welcome among us, lady Morgaine, khemeis Vanye."
And perhaps the Mirrindim were no less pleased to find them now in the company of their own legitimate lords, assurance that they had not given their hospitality amiss.
"See to the horses," Morgaine said, when all the turmoil was past; and Vanye took Siptah's reins and Sin followed on Mai, the proudest lad in Carrhend.
Sezar walked with him to show him the way, while a cloud of children walked about them, Carrhendim and Mirrindim, male and female. They crowded in behind as they put the horses in the pen, and there was no lack of willing hands to bring them food or curry them. "Have care of the gray," Sin was quick to tell them, lord over all where it concerned the horses. "He kicks what surprises him," which was good advice, for they crowded too close, disrespecting the warhorse's iron-shod heels; but Siptah as well as Mai had surprising patience in this tumult, having learned that children meant treats and curryings. Vanye surveyed all that was done and clapped Sin on the shoulder.
"I will take care of them as always," Sin assured him; he had no doubt this would be so.
"I will see you in hall at dinner; sit by me," Vanye said, and Sin glowed.
He started back to the hall then, and Sezar waited for him at the gate, leaning on the rail of the pen. "Have a care. You may not know what you do."
Vanye looked at him sharply.
"Do not tempt the boy," said Sezar, "to seek outside. You may be cruel without knowing."
"And if he wishes to go outside?" Anger heated him, but it was the way of Andur-Kursh itself, that a man was what he was born . . . save himself, wtio had always fought his own fate. "No, I understand you," he admitted.
Sezar looked back, and a thoughtful look was in his eyes. "Come," he said then, and they walked back to the hall with a few of the children at their heels, trying to imitate the soft-footed stride of the khemeis. "Look behind us and understand me fully," Sezar said, and he looked, and did. "We are a dream they dream, all of them. But when they grow past a certain age-" Sezar laughed softly, "they come to better sense, all but a few of us ... and when the call comes, we follow, and that is the way of it. If it comes to that boy, let it come; but do not tempt him so young. He may try too early, and come to grief for it."
"You mean that he will walk off into the forest and seek the qhal."
"It is never said, never suggested . . . forbidden to say. But those who will come, grow desperate and come, and there is no forbidding them, then, if they do not die in the woods. It is never said . . . but it is a legend among the children; and they say it. At about twelve, they may come, or a little after; and then there is a time that it is too late . . . and they have chosen, simply by staying. We would not refuse them ... no child dies on his journey that we can ever help. But neither do we lure them. The villages have their happiness. We arrhendim have ours. You are bewildered by us."
"Sometimes."
"You are a different kind of khemeis."
He looked down. "I am ilin. That-is different."
They walked in silence, almost to the hall. "There is a strangeness in you," said Sezar then, which frightened him. He looked up into Sezar's pitying eyes. "A sadness ... beyond your kinsman's fate, I think. It is about both of you. And different, for each. Your lady-"
Whatever Sezar would have said, he seemed to think better of saying, and Vanye stared at him resentfully, no easier in his mind for Sezar's intimate observations.
"Lellin and I-" Sezar made a helpless gesture. "Khemeis, we suspect
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