The Seventh Gate (The Seven Citadels ) by Geraldine Harris Page A

tongue for good or ill.”
    “Little wonder,”  said Kerish, “when you
give her no hint that you would value her words.”
    “Hah, how are you so wise in the ways of
women?” demanded O-grak. “It's your brother who seems to know how to woo.”
    “Khan,” Kerish's face was shadowed again as
he bent over Shageesa, “as I am to die, may I ask three favors of you?”
    “You would ask for your companions' lives?”
O-grak scowled. “I cannot spare your brother, he would make too stout an enemy.
He shall have a warrior's death, quick and clean. The girl may go free, unless
she chooses to die with you. I will release the Forgite whenever you choose.
What more?”
    “When I am dead, “ said Kerish quietly, “you
will find six keys on a golden chain around my waist. Will you send them to the
King of Ellerinonn?”
    “The Men of the Five Kingdoms have no
dealing with sorcerers . . . but don't look so stricken, I'll get them to him
if I can.”
    “Thank you, Khan. There is one last thing,”
began Kerish carefully. “My third wish is that if your wife should ever ask to
see me, you will allow it.”
    “By the Hair of the Goddess, that's a
strange request to make of any husband!”
    “I think you know that you may trust her to
my honor,” said Kerish stiffly.
    O-grak nodded. “True enough, and the wishes
of the condemned should not be questioned . Granted then . . . if she
asks.”
    He looked into the Prince's calm eyes. “I
would drink to you, Kerish, but the words for such a toast are hard to find.”
    The Prince smiled at him. “Drink to where
our thoughts meet.”
    “To that,” answered O-grak. “And to a brave
conflict.”
     
    *****
     
    “I will die with you,” said Gwerath.
    “No!” protested Forollkin, for the third
time. “Gidjabolgo can take you to a safe place, Ellerinonn perhaps or Gannoth,
and . . .”
    “Do servants get no choice?” asked
Gidjabolgo acidly. “Is the swift road only for the nobly born?”
    “I'm sorry,” said Kerish gently. “I should
have made it clear; the choice is entirely yours.”
    “You're not obliged to help us,” continued
Forollkin, “but I have saved your life before now and if that means anything to
you, I charge you to help Gwerath to safety.”
    “I might forgive even that,” said
Gidjabolgo sweetly, “but I don't think the lady wants my help . . .”
    It was the day after the parley and the
four of them sat in a tight circle, as far as possible from the open tent-flap.
The furnishings of their prison - the carpet of scuffed fur, the wooden stand
that held a water jug with a handle shaped like a beast devouring a man, the
stained platters and thin bedrolls - were deadeningly familiar now, but their
own faces seemed more and more mysterious. Forollkin had spent dreary hours
wondering what the others were feeling. He even  found it difficult to remember
what he had felt about anything before the end of their hopes.
    Once more, Forollkin tried to persuade
Gwerath to leave them. He wasn't sure what he wanted her answer to be.
    “I know I promised not to send you away,”
he said carefully, “but I shall die with an easier heart if you are safe.”
    “Safe! If I wanted to be safe I would have
stayed in Erandachu!”
    Gwerath was wearing her boy's clothes again
and her silver hair was hopelessly tangled. She looked very much like the
impulsive young Torga that they remembered from Erandachu, except for the scarf
glittering at her throat and the angry misery in her grey eyes.
    “Don't you understand that, Forollkin?
Without you I have nothing. I have no home and no skill or wisdom that would
make me welcome in a foreign land. I should be an unwanted stranger all my
life.”
    “The King of Ellerinonn would be kind to
you or. . .”
    “For your sake, not mine, and I can't bear
such kindness. Please understand. I have done nothing; I have nothing; except
my love for you.”
    She hid her face but the ugly sobs that
racked her body robbed her of even