Gates are outside time. Nothing is fixed. And in this land—once—an unused Gate was flung wide open, uncontrolled, and poured men through into a land that was not theirs. That was not theirs, Vanye. And they took that land... men that speak a common tongue with Andur-Kursh; that remember me." He sat very still, the pulse beating in his temples until he was aware of little else. "I knew," he said at last, "that it might be; that Jhirun and her kindred are Myya." "You did not tell me this." "I did not know how. I did not know how to put it together; I thought how things would stray the Gate into Andur-Kursh, lost—to die there; and could not men—" "Who remember me, Vanye." He could not answer; he saw her fold her arms about her knees, hands locked, and bow her head, heard her murmur something in that tongue that was hers, shaking her head in despair. "It was a thousand years," he objected. "There is no time between Gates," she answered him with an angry frown; and saw his puzzlement, his shake of the head, and relented.
