would please their lord, it was a matter among warriors and the uyin. In four uneven handfuls he severed the locks, and cast the razor on the table, for the servants to bear away.
In that attitude he went to his nightly meeting with his brother.
Erij did not appreciate the bitter humor of it.
“What nonsense is this?” Erij snapped at him. “Vanye, you disgrace the house.”
“I have already done that,” Vanye said quietly. Erij stared at him then, displeased, but he had the sense to let him alone upon the matter. Vanye set himself at table and ate without looking up from his plate or saying many words, and Erij ate also, but pushed away his own plate half-eaten.
“Brother,” said Erij, “you are trying to shame me.”
Vanye left the table and went over to stand by the hearth, the only truly warm place in all the room. After a moment Erij followed him and set his hand on his shoulder, making him look at him.
“Am I free to go?” Vanye asked, and Erij swore.
“No, you are not free to go. You are family and you have an obligation here.”
“To what? To you, after this?” Vanye looked up at him and found it impossible to be angry; there was truly misery on Erij’s face at the moment, and he had never known prolonged repentence in his brother. He did not know how to judge it. He walked back to the table and cast himself down there. Erij followed him back and sat down again.
“If I gave you weapons and a horse,” Erij asked him, “what would you? Follow her?”
“I am bound by an oath,” he said, “still.” And then, to see if he could wring it from Erij: “Where is she?” ;
“Camped near Baien-ei.”
“Will you give me the weapons and the horse?”
“No, I will not. Brother, you are Nhi. I pardon your other of-fenses. I hold nothing against you.”
“I thank you for that,” said Vanye quietly. “So do I yours against me.”
Erij bit his lip; almost the old temper flared in him, but he restrained it. He bowed his head and nodded. “They have been considerable,” he acknowledged, “of which this latest has been one of the lesser. But I swear to you, you will be my brother,
heir next my own children. And it would be a greater Morija than either I or our father ruled, if you came to your senses.”
Vanye reached for the wine cup. Something of the words jarred within him. He set it down again. “What is it you want of me?”
“You know the witch. You are intimate with her. You know what she seeks and I would wager that you know how it is to be had: that is implicit in the commission she gave you. I will warrant you have seen her use whatever powers she holds in those weapons of hers; you have passed together through Koris-wood. I would even suspect that you know how they are used. I am not a man that believes in magic, Vanye, and neither, I suspect, are you, for all your Chya heritage. Things happen through the hands of men, not by wishes upon wands and out of thin air. Is that not so?”
“What has this to do with me and you?”
“Show me how these things are done. Keep your oath to kill Thiye if you will: but with my help. Remember that you are of human blood; and remember what loyalties you owe to your own kind.—Listen to me! Listen. Not since Irien has there been a power in Andur-Kursh save that of Hjemur, and this was of her making, out of her lies and her leading. Our father’s kingdom once ranked high in the Middle Realms. The old High Kings are gone now and so is that power we once held, thanks to her. And it is within our hands to win it back again, yours and mine. Look at me, little brother! I swear to you—I swear to you that you will be second only to me.”
“I am still ilin,” he protested, “and I am safe from all your promises. Morgaine’s power is in what she wields, and unless you are a liar, she still holds it. Do not challenge her, Erij, or she will be the death of you: she will kill. And I do not want to see that happen.”