Andre Norton - The Key of the Keplian

She touched her breast. “Tsukup.” It was the Nemunuh word for an experienced warrior. One who had learned wisdom where the arrow flew. It was a word that might draw her, but never too strongly, since it was only of her people, not of her. Then she stared at him until his eyes rose to meet hers. Silently she shaped his name with her lips. He started back, a question showing clear. She began to sign, her hands flowing in graceful dance. Ah, he was nodding again. He grasped that she had learned of him from his sister. Gradually, with much signing, they were able to exchange some information.

But all the time the sign hanging before them faded. Suddenly it was gone, and even as it faded, so did Romar. His last look was one of despair. He might have been asking himself what good they had done, save to hold out a hope that would die before the Dark.

Eleeri came blinking awake in her bedding. She sat up cross-legged to ponder. Now she knew more of Romar. His limning had showed a boy, but it had been no boy she fronted this night. A man, a warrior had faced her. The boy had shown a sensitivity, an imagination in the lines of his face. This one might yet have those, but if so, they were deep buried.

She counted over the points he had been able to tell. He was indeed captive in the Dark Tower, but who or what his captor, he could not say. He was used as a—the only word she could think of was power-line . Using Romar’s strength, the captor fed his will to the Gray Ones and those Keplian males who served it. Recently the drain had become far greater; Romar was failing as his strength was pulled from him to serve evil purposes. If he was not soon freed, there would be no more than a brainless husk remaining. The desperation he felt had come across to her strongly, as had the despair.

She considered carefully. All her original reasoning still applied. More so now that she knew more. From hints she had received, she could guess that Mayrin, too, would be of use to the thing. Brother and sister could be linked to be far more than either was alone. But Eleeri could not be so used. She was not of Romar’s kin or blood, not even of this land. She had some of what they called the power here. But somehow she felt it was different, that the tower could not turn it against her. She marched to the beat of a different war drum. Her songs were not the songs of this place, but of another. Of a people tied to a different land, to other powers.

Best she move carefully in this. Allow the enemy no crack in which to slip a lever. She would learn what she could. Tharna had been able to tell her somewhat of the powers. She would continue to visit the keep also. Mayrin had some of the minor gift. She could tell more and Eleeri would learn. Then, when Eleeri was ready, she would try to call Romar. Two heads were better than one. With greater knowledge and some preparation, there might be a way they could free him.

But she was not ready when Romar intruded on her dreams once more. His face was thinner, and his eyes weary. She watched as his fingers wove back and forth, paid attention to his words. Why did he waste strength so? Then she saw past the warrior who warned her of dangerous paths, to the fearful man within. He had been isolated, bereft of friends and family. He came to her out of simple loneliness, came to the only one he could reach to share with. In turn, her hands flashed in the sign language they were mutually building.

“The Gray Ones fear you,” Romar signed.

“That we have ensured. But what of your master? Does he recognize our enmity?”

Romar nodded slowly. That which used him did indeed know something opposed it. As yet it was not greatly disturbed. It was confident in its own power and strength. The deaths of the Gray Ones were minor. There were always more.

Eleeri grinned. “One day there may not be. We’ll see if we can’t thin their numbers to where that thing does start to worry.”

“Well enough, so long as you do not cause too much notice to be taken. Better an enemy secure in its own mind.”

To that she nodded. Warrior sense. She would keep a balance, kill as many of the enemy as possible without alarming the leader too greatly. The talk turned to other things. Romar was eager to hear of his keep and kin.

“You have not told them?”

“It seemed unwise.”

He bit his lip saying nothing.

“Be assured that if danger rises, I will ride to warn them. They have become my friends. It is just that—” she broke off, shrugging.

“That you fear Mayrin’s reaction. You believe she will demand you storm the tower for me and at once, unprepared?”

“Yes,” Eleeri admitted.

Romar’s head bowed a little as he considered that. “You are probably right. Keep your counsel, then, but do not forsake me, I beg of you.” The last words were forced out through stiff lips and the woman was touched, although she allowed nothing to show.

“I have no intention of that. I pause to gather knowledge and test the gifts I have. Already we can talk longer and more easily. This may be of aid when we come to free you. Gather your own strength and wait. The time of your freedom may not be far from you.”

Before them the sign faded into nothingness, and Romar with it. Eleeri sat in her bedding, thinking hard.

She hoped he could last out. It would be folly to attack before they knew more about the tower. To be truthful, even then she was not sure she wished to risk all she had. Romar drew her strangely, but he was not kin for whom she must shed blood. She shook her head. Captivity wore hard on him, that was plain. She could still speak to him whenever he came. That much she could and would do. She lay back again and allowed herself to relax. Sleep claimed her once more, a restful dreamless drowse so that she woke refreshed and eager to hunt.

That night she slept peacefully, but the next night and the next, Romar was there. Gradually she came to know him until at length he was able to speak of his deeper fears. Of his pain and humiliation.

“It is as I had always imagined rape to be. An invasion not of body alone, but a tearing at the spirit. Each time it uses my power, I retreat deep within myself, yet each time the place I have free grows smaller. One day it will wrench from me all that I am and there will be nothing left but a shell that walks and talks in my image.”

Eleeri heard the bitter fear that edged the words. Without thinking, she responded. Let him know that he was not alone in his fears; she, too, had been abused and cowered beneath that terror. She spoke slowly of her aunt and uncle. Of their hatred for her blood and race.

Romar was caught by her tale. “Then you are different in the world you left?”

“So they counted me. But I am human, as were my people. They fought for their land, to keep the way of life they valued. No more than that.” Her hand movements slowed. “Too much hate; always there is hate. Why cannot people live in peace? Why must they always covet what others have?”

A tired smile broke over the face of the man. “Because they are people. I sometimes think the urge to own and take what you do not is inbuilt in us all. A growth upon the animal need to hold territory.” He glanced at their sign. “Tomorrow night let us debate more of this. If naught else, it takes my mind from my own fears.” He was gone then, leaving Eleeri to her own dreaming. Two nights later, she was able to reach him once more. She had spent the time considering. Now she signed busily.

“How were you taken?”

“I do not know, I was struck on the head and remember little. I was hunting. I recall a campsite, lying down to sleep; then I was where I am now. I think perhaps I was taken as I slept. I did not know another had begun to use the tower. Therefore I slept no great distance away.” He shrugged. “It was folly. But I had hunted well and my horse was very weary. I camped to allow him time to recover. For that, both of us paid.”