The dull thudding behind her of hastening hoofbeats pressed her back against the wall. She flattened herself against the stone hem of a goddess's robe, looking back, away from the Gate, and was still. The hoofbeats faltered, hesitating, and then a black warhorse cantered round the corner into view. A young Brurjan was high in the saddle, swaying gently with her mount's movements. She was dressed all in black leather, and the small round shield at her saddle bow carried the device of a yellow wheel in flames. A Rouster by profession. And all Brurjans were fighters by temperament, notoriously disrespectful of all authority. Yoleth eased even closer to the wall.

But the Brurjan made straight for the glowing Gate. The red of it filled her eyes and was reflected in them. It stroked her short dark fur to a crimson sheen. She slid from her saddle to stand before it, swaying slightly as she caught up her mount's reins. Yoleth smelled the sourness of cheap wine. But when the Brurjan spoke, her voice was clear and steady, though oddly accented.

'I dreamed me a Gate,' she intoned. A Gate red as spilled blood, and beyond it a treasure in flickering gems, calling for any bold enough to take them. I dreamed I rode toward it, and woke to find myself standing by my saddled horse. He knew the way, Black did. And I am the one who is bold enough to take.'

'The Gate is for you, then.' The Keeper was not at all surprised. 'Enter slowly. Take your beast if you care to.'

Yoleth watched, silent as a stilled breeze. The Brurjan, with the short swift steps peculiar to her folk, led her horse into the Gate. She slowed suddenly as she entered it, encountering an invisible current. She plowed determinedly on. The red Gate framed them all: the Keeper, the Brurjan and her battlesteed, and, from the other side, a small boy. His pale hair was tousled, his eyes dreaming still. A short pale green garment left his arms and legs bare. His skin was a golden brown. His dream made him smile.

For two breaths all were framed there, limned against the redness. Then the Brurjan and her black horse went on, fading through the Gate, while the boy emerged, stepping suddenly from the redness into the dusky streets of Jojorum. He stumbled as he emerged, as if he had leaned against something, only to find it suddenly gone. As his hands met the dusty paving stones, the dream left his face.

He crouched bewilderedly, staring about the streets in confusion. 'Mother?' he called softly, 'Mother?' A note of panic entered his voice. 'I was following you as fast as I could. Don't go to the dancing withoutme! Mother?' The boy glanced back at the Gate, and then at the unfamiliar grey city walls that framed it. He stumbled to his feet. The City must have been foreign to him indeed, for he immediately went to the Gate.

'Did my mother come this way?' he asked of the Keeper. But the Keeper turned his squat back on the boy, crouching down in the red of the Gate. 'Mother!' the boy called again, and began to venture back through the Gate. It stopped him. Pressed against the wall, Yoleth could see no barrier to his passing, but his fists drummed against something like rain pattering on a stretched hide. It did not yield, even when he scrabbled at it with bent fingers. The Keeper did not stir. Perplexed, the boy looked around.

His eyes snagged on the Windsinger. Yoleth did not move nor speak. His eyes beseeched, but hers were stony. A moment longer he gazed into her granite eyes. Fear disfigured his face. 'Mother?' he called again, and began to trot off down the street. His small eyes was lined with worry. His fine hair floated on the dawn air as his head swiveled from side to side, seeking a familiar form.

He trotted round a corner and was gone, except for his small cry floating on the morning like the call of a lost calf. The Windsinger stepped again from her place against the wall.

'It works,' she conceded calmly. 'Our agreement can be fulfilled. But dawn comes soon to this city. Folk will be stirring. Where are doors that will cover this entrance from unfriendly eyes?'

The Keeper swung his head slowly from side to side, marveling at her ignorance. 'The Gate is here only for those who know where to seek it, and come to seek it. It will be here when you need it. And when your need is over, the Gate will close of its own accord.'

'I see.' Yoleth digested this information. And what of that child?'

'He was necessary. If one comes in, one must be cast out to keep the balance. Only thus can I hold the door. He is not a threat to you. He will tell no one. Your white sun is deadly to him. He will not last the day, and any who hear his raving will put it down to the disease that ravages him. The Limbreth is wary. He would not make an agreement with you if he could not keep it.'

Yoleth drew closer, eyes hungry. She lowered her voice. 'And he agreed that if I sent him Ki, there would be a gift for me.'

The Keeper was bored. 'If the Limbreth said, then he will do. If you can keep your side of the bargain. You have still to bring her to the Gate.'

'I see,' Yoleth repeated slowly.

'Mother!' The small cry floated distantly on the still morning air. A speculative look sprang into Yoleth's eyes. She was suddenly in a hurry. 'It is agreed, then. You know who you are to watch for. Admit no other. Give your master my courtesies.'

Yoleth stepped away from the Gate and began to hasten, in a dignified manner, up the dusty street. She glanced back once at the Gate. It was not there. The stony-faced goddesses and heroes gazed at her blankly, denying any knowledge. She stepped back again, scanning the wall, until suddenly the Gate winked back into view. She blinked at it as it teased her eyes. Its width appeared to be perpendicular to the wall. But when she stepped nearer, it opened right before her. The Keeper stared at her in bored competence. Yoleth nodded once and turned away again. Her lips pulled into a tight line. When she had been a Human, it had been a smile. It still expressed her satisfaction with her night's work, which perhapsshe could make tidier still. She detested loose ends.

She hesitated at the first cross street, but the child's miserable call wailed out again. She hastened toward it. The light of dawn was tingeing the sky; too soon folk would be up and about. She wanted her task completed and herself far away before that time. Let no one even wonder about a Windsinger hurrying down a dawn street in Jojorum.

At the next turning she caught sight of him. His pace had slowed to a walk. At every step the boy glanced about fearfully, but most often he turned his eyes up to the sky that was fading into blue. A rosy blush was rising on his golden skin. He rubbed at his bare arms as if they stung. 'Mother!' he cried again.

'Boy!'

He turned to the Windsinger's call, his eyes going wider in fear.

'No, boy, don't be afraid. I've come to find you. You're to come with me.'

'No. I want to go to my mother. I was following her, and then suddenly she was gone. I must catch up with her. I don't like to be in this place alone.'

'What's your name?' The Windsinger's tone demanded an answer.

'Chess.'

'Exactly. Chess. I knew it was you. Your mother has sent me to find you, and take you to a safe place. She wants you to wait there for her, and do as I say, and she will come for you as soon as she can. Come along now.'

'Why doesn't she come now?'

Yoleth shrugged eloquently and took a chance. 'I don't know. She did not tell me. Does she not sometimes tell you to do things without saying why?'

Chess nodded slowly. He rubbed again at his arms, and then hugged them to his sides. He glanced worriedly from Yoleth's face to the blue sky above her.

'Then come with me. I have no doubt that when she comes for you, she will explain everything. But for now, she wants you to do as I tell you.'