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.Liriess warriors went mad, he had been taught, as all Cheysuli were taught.Mad with the pain and the grief, the desperate emptiness."—mad now—" he panted."Is this different?"218 Jennifer RoberwnPerhaps not.Perhaps what he did now was invite the very madness he did not desire to risk in bonding with a lir.Brickwork oppressed him.The walls and roof crushed his spirit."Out—" he blurted.But to go out was to surrender.He rocked and rocked and rocked until he could rock no more; until he could not countenance sitting on the stool another moment and rose to pace again, to move from wall to wall, to stand briefly at the casement so as to test his will, to dare the desperate need that drove him to pace again, until he reached the door.Unlocked.Merely latched.He need only lift the latch—"No." A tremor wracked Kellin's body.He suppressed it.He turned away, jubilant in his victory, in the belief he had overcome it—and then felt his will crumble beneath the simplicity of sheer physical need-It took but a moment: boots, doublet, russet wool cloak, long-knife.Emeralds winked in candlelight.Kellin stared at the knife.Vision blurred: tears.Tears for the warrior who had once sworn by the blade, by his blood, by the lir whose death had killed him.He thought of the words Blair had offered him a decade before.It hurt.It squeezed, until no room was left for his heart; no room remained for his spirit."Y'ja'hai," Kellin breathed, then unlatched and jerked open the door.He did not awaken the horse-boy sleeping in straw.He simply took a bridle, a horse—without benefit of blankets or saddle—and swung up bareback.Pain thundered in Kellin's chest.He sat rigidly A TAPESTRY OF LIONS 219straight, daring himself to give in as sweat trickled down his temples.Scrapes stung from the taste of salt, but he ignored them.A smaller pain, intrusive but less pronounced, reminded him of his offended netherparts, but that pain, too, he relegated to nothing in the face of his compulsion.Winter hair afforded him a better purchase bareback than the summer season, when mounts were slick-haired and the subsequent ride occasionally precarious.It was precarious now, but not because of horsehair; a rider was required to adapt to his mount's movements by adjustments in body both large and small, maintaining flexi-bility above all else, but the skill was stripped from Kellin.With ribs bruised and tightly strapped, he was forced to sit bolt upright without bending his spine, or risk significant pain.He knew the way so well: a side-gate in the shadows, tucked away in the wall; he had used it before.He used it now, leaving behind the outer bailey, then Mujhara herself as he rode straight through the city to the meadowlands beyond.The narrow track was hard footing in the cold, glinting with frost rime in the pallor of the moon.No more walls— Kellin gritted his teeth.No more stone and brick, no more streets and buildings—Indeed, no more.He had traded city for country, replacing cobbles with dirt and turf, and captivity for freedom.But the emptiness remained.If I give myself over to the lir-bond, I will be no different from any warrior whose promise to cheysula and children to care for them always is threatened by that very bond.It seemed an odd logic to Kellin.How could one promise supersede the other, yet still maintain its worth? How could any warrior swear himself so 220 Jennifer Robersonprofoundly to lir and family knowing very well one of the oaths might be as nothing?For that matter, how could cheysula or child believe anything the warrior promised when it was made very clear in the sight of gods and clan that a lir came first always?Kellin shook his head.A selfish oath demanded from selfish gods—The horse stumbled.Jarred, sore ribs protested; fresh sweat broke on Kellin's brow and ran down his face.Cold air against dampness made him shiver convulsively, which set up fresh complaint.He cast a glance at the star-freighted sky.Revenge for my slight? That I dare to question such overweening dedication to you?The horse did not stumble again.If the gods heard, they chose not to answer.Kellin, for his part, laughed—until the despair and emptiness shattered into pieces the dark humor of his doubts, reminding him once again that he was, if nothing else, subject to such whims as the gods saw fit to send him.Merely because I am Cheysuli— He gripped the horse with both knees, clutching at reins.He recalled all too well what his grandsire had said regarding madness
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