Redeeming the Lost

XV The Healing of Wounds

I'd seen it coming for more than a year now, but that didn't make it any easier when it came. Aral clung to me like a drowning man clings to anything that will keep him ahve without noticing what it is. I held her close, I breathed in the sheer perfume of her like a guilty pleasure, and let my shirt and then my skin grow damp from her tears as she sobbed.

I was growing angrier by the minute. Good thing Vilkas had made himself scarce. I'd have felled him for a tin ferthing and let you keep the fee, no matter what he did to me after.

Rella waited until Aral had settled down to plain crying, then she brought over a waterskin and some bandages and ointment and sat down with Aral and managed to get her to take a drink. I wandered about and found just about enough sticks to get a fire going, though my hands shook a little with the flint and tinder. The little fire wouldn't last long, but it was better than nothing. I took the waterskin off of Bella and drank deep. That water was purest nectar.

With a sigh, I sat down with Rella's little pot of ointment and a few bandages. I'd barely begun when Aral croaked, "Here, Will, let me help." The poor soul, her eyes swollen with crying, her nose bright red, still managed to call up her power and clean the worst of the cuts for me and speed their healing. She soon realised that Rella was in worse case than I and insisted on treating her as well. When Rella was patched up, Aral went along to Jamie and did the same. Then she looked around.

"Where's Maran?" she asked.

Jamie and Rella looked around as though they expected her to appear from the darkness.

As it happens, she did. After a fashion. Akor joined us, Lanen at his side, Maran draped gently across his neck, unconscious. He lowered his head and I helped Lanen lower her mother carefully to the ground in front of the fire.

"What's wrong with her?" asked Lanen. I was strangely glad to hear normal concern in her voice. Goddess knew they had a long way to go, these two, but at least they'd made some kind of start. With all she had been through, Lanen still found it in her heart to be worried about this mother she barely knew. She is a great soul, Lanen.

Drawing my power to me, I gazed swiftly at Maran's limp body. Exhaustion, weariness of soul, demon claw, all of these were obvious, but there was something else, something I could not see properly. I treated the Raksha bites and gouges first, cleansing and healing. She breathed easier, but still she did not move.

It is so hard, with those who have withdrawn. Still, I owed it to her to try.

I drew in a deep breath and focussed my sight, traversing all the systems of the body in turn. Wait, what was—there—a faint shadow, elusive, moving, but there.

Normally I'd have asked Maran herself if I could go so deep, but she was not there to permit. I put one hand on either side of her face, my palms to her temples, and went within. The landscape of her mind rose round about me, where all is symbol made manifest.

I was in a dark place, but there was a large fire and the smell of hot metal—oh, of course. A smithy.

Maran, clad in thick leather shirt, trews, and apron, stood at the forge, shaping metal on the anvil. I watched as a Ladystar magically took shape under her hammer. When it was complete, she picked it up with a pair of tongs and thrust it into the water barrel, where it made the water boil. A great cloud of steam arose, shaping itself into a small smoky globe. She sighed, lifted it out, and thrust it back in, but the same thing happened. A smoky globe of steam above, the Ladystar glowing an angry red in boiling water, refusing to be quenched. "I was afraid of that. Too hot for water," she said, and calmly turning the tongs around, she pressed the hot iron into her flesh.

The shape of the Ladystar fell into her chest. It did not cause her pain of itself, but she began to thrash as it went deeper into her soul. "No, it's gone, I swear it's gone, I'll never use it more!" she cried. "I never used it for gain, never!"

Smoky globe. Of course. Staying deep, I spoke aloud. "What has become of the Farseer?"

"I destroyed it, as she bade me," said the voice of the dragon.

I saw it then, all clear before me. A demon artefact, used on and off for years by a good soul for what she perceived as good reasons, would yet forge an unseen bond with the user's soul. If we did not act swiftly, she would follow the damned thing into oblivion.

I withdrew from her mind, shaking myself, back in the real world. "Will, find more wood for the fire. Maybe Vari—maybe you could help him," I said, looking up at the dragon. The two of them hurried off down the slope, towards a nearby stand of trees.

"I'll go with them," said Jamie, but I stopped him.

"No. I need you to call to her," I said. "She is—the country folk would call it elfshot. Away with the fairies. In her case—she was connected to the Farseer, and when it was destroyed something in her gave up." They all three stood about, slack-jawed. "She's lost part of her soul with the Farseer, damn it," I yelled, resisting the urge to slap all of them. "More than anything right now, she needs to hear the voices of those who give a damn about her. Talk to her." I sank down, weary beyond belief. "Give her some reason to stay."

Rella spoke up first, taking Maran's hand. "You get back here, Maran Vena," she scolded, as only good friends can scold one another. "Don't tell me you'd come all this way and live through the battle just to give up now? Hells, woman, you're free of that damned Farseer at last! Would you leave iron half shaped after you had done all the work to draw it down?' To my astonishment, Rella lifted Maran's hand and lightly kissed it. I don't have so many friends I can afford to lose one, you stubborn blacksmith," she said. "Get back here."

"Maran," said Jamie. I could only admire him for managing to get any words at all past that lump in his throat. "Maran, I've so much to tell you yet. Don't go, heart's friend. Don't go before I can speak to you of our daughter s childhood."

Maran twitched a little, and a small moan escaped her hps.

"Oh, bugger it," said Lanen. She elbowed the other two aside, knelt beside her mother, lifted her under the shoulders, and clasped her mother's limp form to her heart. "I'm here, Maran," she said. "Thank Shia you've come to find me. I need you. I've always needed you, but more than ever now. I can't look after these babes all on my own, and Varien won't be able to help. Please, Maran. Stay to help me. Stay to know your grandchildren." Lanen sighed. "I know it's early days yet between us, but—please, Maran. Mother. Stay and let me learn to love you."

The soul can be healed as swiftly as the body. Sometimes. Maran rose to consciousness and tightened her arms about Lanen. Then, as if only then realising she no longer dreamed, she released her and sat up.

"Lanen? I was dreaming—I thought—did you say... ?"

"I surely did," said Lanen, rising to her feet and giving her mother a hand up.

Maran stood and gazed at her. "Lanen..."

"And I'll say it again later, but only after I've eaten something," said Lanen. She managed to find a grin. "Come on, Mother dear. I don't know about you, but I'm starving."

Maran returned the grin. "I could eat a bear, claws and all," she said as we all started down for the lake.

"I'd fight you for it," I chimed in. "Wait, shouldn't we tell Will—"

"They'll meet us by the shore," replied Lanen, sounding just a touch smug. Truespeech is a wonderful thing."

Thank you—and that reminds me, I must help you heal up after I've had some food, Lanen. You've had a hard time of it."

"I'll not object, Mistress Aral," she replied. As we walked, she suddenly started looking around, as if seeking something or someone. "Aral, I thank you for all your kindness, but why do you labour alone? Where is Mage Vilkcas?"

I didn't know whether to curse or weep. "Mage bloody Vilkas was last seen heading for Castle Gundar," I replied. "I hope he thought to ask them to send us a few blankets and a bite to eat."

Then something occurred to me. I stopped dead, blinked, and looked at Lanen. "Wait. You are Marik's daughter, are you not?"

She stopped and turned to me. "Yes, alas. I am."

I grinned. "Then it's your castle. It was his, he was your father, he's dead, it's yours. Right?"

Lanen's eyes grew wide in the bright moonlight. "Now that is an interesting idea," she said.

We stumped on down the hill.

After all was done, after we had sung our dead onto the Winds and the sun was sinking rapidly into the west, I glided down to the shore and drank sparingly of the water of the lake. It was fouled but it was not poisoned, and I was desperate. Then, as Eldest, I began the terrible accounting.

The Lesser Kindred—no, the Aialakantri now, I must remember—were the only ones unhurt. Of the Restored, the precious Lost now come to themselves again after all the long centuries, eighty-eight remained alive out of two hundred, most with dreadful injuries. Twenty of those dead were those who had chosen the Swift Death upon their Restoration, but to my mind they were but the first casualties of this battle.

Of the Kantri, so lately arrived on these green shores one hundred and eighty-seven strong, just one hundred and twenty-six yet lived, including those who guarded the lansip trees with Mi-razhe and ShertSk in the east and Kretissh and Nikis on the Halfway Island. Here on the battlefield, one hundred and ten lay exhausted and in pain.

A hundred and seventy-three of us had fallen in battle, including one whom I could least bear to lose.

For that moment, I envied the dead. They slept on the Winds—O Shikrar, my friend, may the Winds bear you up—and we were left to go on, to live, to start again in this new world full of those who would not understand us. My heart was weary and my soul wrung beyond bearing. I came again to land and sprawled by the side of the lake, wounded and exhausted and weary nigh unto death at heart. There were no others by me, and I had only my thoughts for cold company.

Ah, Shikrar, you always did say we didn't fly enough to keep our strength at its fullest, I thought, sending my foolish true-speech to follow wherever he might have led. Now that all was over and there was time for thought, Shikrar and Akhor filled my mind. I lacked only a cent and a half of Shikrar's age, I had known him since we were younglings together, and now all those centuries rose up before me rich with memory. He and Akhor had been the dearest creatures in all the world to me. I cannot say the depth of all that was in my heart when I saw Akhor rise up from where Shikrar had fallen, but I fear that old foolishness sent up fresh shoots in the very instant. He cannot be husband to Lanen thus, he is himself again, perhaps now, perhaps this time ...

As I say, foolishness. I was too weary then to discipline my heart, and it was soon forgotten in the battle that followed, but when that incredible music began to echo in the mountains, singing of love and the wonder of our three Kindreds reunited, I could not help but notice the tiny flame of hope deep, deep within, that even I hardly dared to recognise.

When, a little later, Akhor and all of the Gedri came down from the hill, I was the first soul they came to. For Akhor's sake I rose to my feet. I could not meet this wonder lying down.

"Akhor," I said, bowing. It was most strange, to look up to him. Akhor was younger than I, and so should have been smaller. Does he wear Shikrar's body? I wondered, horribly, but no—there was no mistaking that gleaming silver hide that scattered the moonlight.

"Lady, I rejoice to see you among the living," he replied. His voice was deeper, but it was his voice. My heart leapt even as I sternly beat it down. "Idai, my friend," he continued, "forgive that I intrude upon your grief. Know that mine is no less deep, but Shikrar would surely want us to help the living ere we mourn the dead."

"You speak truly, Akhor," I replied sadly. "Though I know not what may be done. There is a terrible toll among us, Lord," I said. "Many of our people are in pain, some in dreadful case, and all are wounded. What of the Healers?" I asked, raising my voice and looking to the young Gedri Aral. "Are you willing to assist?"

"Ill do what I can, Lady Idai, and welcome," said Aral, her voice so soft I could barely hear it. "It's Vilkas you want, though, and he's—I don't think he'll work with me anymore."

"For goodness' sake, why not?" asked Lanen. Then, gazing more closely at Aral's face, she asked, "Aral, why have you been crying?"

"It's a long story, Lanen," said Will the Golden, who had appeared with Akhor. He lay his hand on Aral's shoulder. "She's right, though. He's in no mood to be helpful, especially if it means working with Aral."

For all that I was pleased at last to see him in better case with Aral, the anger in his voice was plain.

"What's got into Vilkas?" asked Lanen, her own anger rising palpably. "Goddess, the man practically saved the world, what could possibly be bothering him? I'd have thought he'd be damned proud of himself."

"He nearly destroyed the Rakshasa, Lanen," said Aral wearily.

"Shame he stopped too soon," Lanen responded fervently.

Aral shook her head. "It's—it's not that simple, Lanen. I—he's angry at me, with good reason."

"I see," Lanen said. "And people who need his help can go hang, can they, while he goes off in a huff?"

"Lanen, it's not that simple," said Aral quickly, but Lanen was already hurrying down the hill after Vilkas. Akhor went with her. Maran started after them as well, but Jamie caught her sleeve and held her back.

"Wait," he said. Even to my eyes, his smile was peculiar. "Give her a chance. She's quite a lass, our girl Lanen," he told Maran. "Let s see what she can do." He looked around. "And in the meantime, I recommend we start a fire or six. It's going to get cold when the sun goes down, and I would happily maim for a cup of chelan."

Vilkas

I had no idea where I was going, as long as it was away from Aral. I found myself striding at speed along the north edge of the lakeshore, the calm water on my right, swearing at her under my breath.

I knew how she felt, of course I knew, I'm not blind deaf and dumb, but it wasn't my fault. How could she throw that in my face? I had trusted her with my deepest feelings as I have never trusted another soul. She knew I felt guilty, even if I never said so. To use our friendship as a—as a halter, as a weapon—damn the girl. I would never speak to her again.

Vilkas.

First she had nagged at me, nagged for more than a year, that I should let go the strong restraints I had placed around my power, and the instant I do so she loses her nerve and...

Vilkas, you idiot, you know she was right.

She had no right to say that!

No, that's true, but she had to shock you. You were too far gone to hear anything eke.

She abused our friendship. She used emotional blackmail!

Yes. But no one eke could get through to you at all. She was the only one who cared enough to try.

Cared enough to betray my trust?

And a deeper voice, a wiser voice from my secret heart, said, She cared enough to rip her own heart out and throw it at your feet, man. To stop you from destroying yourself and half the world with you. I'd call that true friendship.

"She stopped me!" I cried aloud, as though I could win this internal argument by sheer volume. "I was free for the first time in my life, I was happy, and she stopped me!" I clutched at my heart even as I walked. "I was in paradise. I will never know that bliss again. She took it from me."

She saved your life.

I would rather have died!

And would you rather have taken every last demon soul with you?

Yes!

That's why she stopped you.

I trudged on, stubbornly ignoring the fact that I'd lost the argument with my own conscience, when a vaguely familiar dragon landed a little way in front of me. It let off a human passenger and left. Anger swept through me. I didn't care who it was, I was spoiling for a fight.

It was Lanen.

She waited for me to come to her. Truth to tell, she didn't look very well.

I didn't care.

"Mage Vilkas," she began. 'There are many yet who..."

"I'm only human, Mistress Lanen," I growled, sounding petulant even to myself. "I'm too tired to help anyone else tonight."

"There are many who wish to express their gratitude to you," she said evenly. "You have done a great work this day."

I said nothing but plodded on. The ground was heavy going just there.

'There is a greater work yet that awaits you," she said, striding by my side. The woman was a fool. Hadn't I just told her?

"I am exhausted, Lanen, didn't you hear me?' I snarled at her.

"Pah! Don't be stupid. You and Aral have quarrelled and you're angry at her. Fine, be angry, be bloody furious, I don't give a damn. But there are Kantri out there in mortal agony. I can do nothing to help them. You can."

I kept walking, but my anger was rising.

She hurried around and stood before me. I started to go around her and she reached out and stopped me by the simple expedient of planting her hands on my shoulders.

"Don't touch me," I said haughtily.

"Why not?" she asked, not moving.

"Because I said not to," I replied, trying to throw her off. Damn, she was strong. I couldn't shift her, which of course made me angrier.

"Vilkas, you must listen," she said, but I had come to the end of my tether.

"I don't have to listen to anyone!" I cried. I summoned my power and threw her off easily. She staggered back and landed with a thump. "You have no idea what I have suffered this day," I hissed at her. "I have been threatened by every demon in every Hell there is. I have saved Aral twice, by Mother Shia I have saved every living soul in the world this day, and for thanks the only person I have ever trusted betrays me. I am sick unto death of helping people. I don't care if the Kantri rot."

I should have left then, I wanted to walk off and leave her there, but there was something about the woman that made me wait. Or something within me that knew she spoke truth, and stayed to hear it.

"Vilkas, you live," she said, rising to her feet. She walked towards me slowly, her hands outstretched to me in supplication this time, her honest face full of heartfelt pain. "Hundreds of them do not. Hundreds of them have died—O Shikrar—" She bowed her head for a moment, then looked full into my eyes. "Vilkas, their numbers were dwindling before. This may be their ending as a people. I beg you, of your mercy—surely there has been enough of death this day. You have been given power beyond measure. Use it to heal. They are in such terrible pain." She went down on one knee before me. "Please. I beg you."

It is a way to atone, my conscience said. Traitor that it was, siding with her. You have done a terrible thing. It is a way to redeem yourself.

I sighed. "Damn." I looked at Lanen out of the corner of my eye. "You sure you're not a Mage? I had no intention of helping you."

"I was tested years ago," she said, grinning up at me. She was nearly pretty when she smiled like that. "Not a trace of power anywhere."

"Oh, get up," I said, giving her a hand and helping her back to her feet. "Very well. Where shall I start?"

"A moment," she said. Her gaze lost focus. I was beginning to recognise that as an indication that she was using Farspeech.

"Idai comes," she said, even as Idai landed heavily a hundred paces away. She hurried to meet us, despite her injuries. I could not help myself, my power rose up in the face of pain, and I reached out to heal.

Nothing happened.

I tapped into that fire within, now banked a little, but there when I needed it. Nothing.

I poured my strength into her like a river, even a creature her size should have been restored from head to foot with that much assistance. I would have done better with a roll of bandages.

"Damn it," I muttered. "I can't do it."

"Are you well, Mage Vilkas?" asked Idai. She was concerned for me. I was beginning to feel a little ashamed.

'Your pardon, Lady, I can do nothing for you by myself," I admitted. It galled me, but I couldn't get away from the truth. Damn, blast and damn. "I need Aral."

Truespeech is an astounding thing. In moments Gyrentikh was aloft—I think it was he—and a very short while after, he landed by the lake with Aral.

She walked towards me tentatively, as though she trod barefoot on broken glass. When she came near enough in the failing light, I could see that her eyes were still red and swollen. She must have been weeping again.

Or still. You are not the only one who has lost something beyond measure this day.

She could not look at me. Aral, who had soundly berated me any number of times for any number of reasons, whose cheerful abuse had kept me from getting too full of myself for two years, could not raise her eyes to meet my glance.

"Have you treated yourself for shock yet, woman?" I asked, aiming for the tone of banter we had been used to use. It sounded brittle and angry. Ah, well.

"Didn't bloody well do any good," she replied. I could tell from her breathing that she was holding back tears. She knew I hated seeing women cry.

I have always enjoyed surprising Aral. I stepped up to her, took her by the shoulders, and kissed her forehead. "Vilkas, don't," she began, but I immediately let her go. She stared at me, uncomprehending.

"Now is not the time, Aral," I said gently. "We can address other things later. You were right. I was right. We were both very, very wrong. Come on. There is an awful lot of suffering going on that we can stop. I can't do it without you."

She nodded. We both turned to Idai, and Aral drew out the soulgem of Loriakeris. This time, though, she said quiedy aloud, "Lady Loriakeris, will it please you to assist us?"

For answer the soulgem blazed once, briefly, in the darkness. Aral turned to me and grinned. I'll take that as a 'yes'," she said. Holding the soulgem in one hand, calling her Healer's strength to her, she gingerly placed her other hand in mine. I gathered my Power about me, allowing the stream of that inner fire to fill me, grasped Aral's hand firmly, and sent the focus through the soulgem.

We found out later that we made quite a vision, Aral and Lori-akeris and I. The evening star, turned blue and come to rest.

Idai's physical wounds were healed in minutes. Even I was astonished. It would take time, of course, for the new tissue to strengthen its bonds with the old, but she was healed.

"Don't get in any more fights for a few days, will you, Lady?" I said, and was rewarded by a blessedly warm hiss.

We went to treat Kedra next, but he refused. "There are others who need you more," he said.

"Take us to the worst," I replied. I kept hold of Aral's hand as we were borne through the air, in token of friendship, of apology. Of trust. We might never be able to rebuild that which had been, that first absolute trust, but there again, perhaps the new friendship would be based rather more strongly on truth.

We worked through the night. At first we were borne by Kedra or Idai to the worst injured, and we worked by the light of bonfires hastily provided by our escorts. Despite our best efforts another three of the Restored died, and another of the Kantri, but we saved ten who had been on the brink. We ate what we could in between.

When those in danger of imminent death had been seen to, when we were near dropping with hunger and weariness, Kedra whisked us away to a level field on the northwest shore of Lake Gand. Some blessedly practical soul had built a rough shelter, no more than a lean-to of branches but better than nothing, with a fire before it and a little more substantial food and drink laid out for us—fresh bread and butter, a gorgeous collop of venison stewed in wine, with cheese and dried fruit after. And some blessed soul had thought to send along both chelan and sweet water to wash it down. We fell on it as though we hadn't eaten in a hundred years.

Just as we were drinking the last of the chelan, Lanen stepped into the firelight and went down on one knee before us. "How fare you both?" she asked. Her voice was calm, but her eyes were filled with concern.

"I think we'll live, Mistress Lanen, thank you," said Aral. "Bless you for the food."

"Have you strength now to continue, or do you require rest?" she asked.

So that was it. She was afraid we had stopped for the night.

I rose on weary legs and clapped her on the shoulder. "Fear not, Lady. We have supped and drunk." I looked to Aral. "Can you go on?"

She stood slowly, brushing off crumbs, saying, "I could sleep for a week, to tell the truth, but not until we're finished." She smiled. "Come then, Lanen, call Idai and take us to the next."

To my surprise, Lanen rose and grinned. "We are better organised than that." She raised her chin and called out, "Now!"

In the instant the nighttime landscape changed. We beheld a field ringed with bonfires, set alight by the Kantri we had healed, who then wandered around the circle lighting yet more. At last we could see what we were doing, and I wasn't going to complain about the warmth either. Our next patient lay wearily in the fire-fight, Jamie beside it.

"Who has done this?" I asked, all astonishment, as we reached the bright centre of the field.

Jamie grinned. "It was Bella's idea. You're not the only ones who've been busy, you know. Lanen has even had the Kantri working away, bringing enough wood and ferrying her back and forth from the castle."

"The castle?" said Aral in wonder. Then her expression changed. "Bloody hellsfire! That's where the food came from!"

Jamie's grin grew wider. "Indeed. Seems there's a woman there who knew Marik as a child and can see the resemblance in bis daughter." He laughed. "Of course, the fact that she arrived in the courtyard in the hands of a bloody great dragon almost certainly helped her case along."

We treated one after another, barely stopping save to admit the next to the circle of fire. Lanen stayed with us to translate, for many of the Kantri had no human speech. The Dhrenagan, to my astonishment, spoke more fluently even than had Shikrar, though their speech was terribly archaic;—I learned later that in their day, Gedri and Kantri lived together in peace. It struck me that their experience in this might be desperately needed soon.

Shadowy figures kept the bonfires burning bright, and Will and Maran, Rella and Jamie, kept us supplied with food and drink. Towards the end of the night, when we could no longer stand, they watched over us as we rested for the half of an hour here, a few minutes there.

I had thought, at the height of my glorious madness, that my power was infinite. Now I began to learn the merely human limits that surrounded it. As dawn grew pale in the east, Aral and I were finally forced to stop. Our joined Healers strength was hardly diminished, which was astounding, but we were entirely exhausted. We saw the last of the dragons whose wounds might kill them and finally called a halt. I sank to my knees and was prepared to sleep on the bare ground, but Maran lifted me in her powerful arms as though I were a child and carried me to our lean-to. I had no strength to protest. Goddess, but that woman is impressive!

There were two piles of heather, covered with blankets, and a feather pillow each. I realised this when I woke, you understand. I was asleep the instant Maran set me down.

I think Will carried Aral.

I woke in the late afternoon, groggy and confused. It took me a moment to remember what and where this room was.

The guest chamber at Castle Gundar.

My father's people had taken us in the night before, given us ample food for ourselves and the Healers, and when we returned at dawn they led us each to decent rooms and let us sleep. I don't recall whether Mistress Kiri really believed that I was Marik's daughter at that point or not, but she was kindness itself. Given the near presence of the True Dragons of legend, and the fact that Akor spoke to the lady in so courtly a fashion, I suppose her generosity was not surprising.

We had all danced attendance on the Mages until daybreak. I was still weary beyond belief, but I forced myself out of bed. I wandered down to where I thought the kitchens must be and found a maidservant who pointed me to the bathing chamber, O blessed civilisation! A long deep bath stood there, and two young lasses helped me fill it with steaming water and provided soap and drying cloths. I nearly wept when I lowered myself into clean water for the first time in what felt like years. My hair was shocking and my clothes were worse, and it was only when I had scrubbed off the grime that I realised just how filthy I had been. I went to scrub my clothing in the bathwater, but the little maidservant took away my horrible shirt, tunic, and trews and brought me a long gown. It was a good handspan too short, but there was enough room in the shoulders. The maid assured me that my own garments would be ready for me by morning.

Clean and warm at last, I followed my nose and found Jamie wandering about not far ahead of me. I hailed him, and he led me confidently towards the Great Hall.

"How fare you this morning?" I asked, yawning.

Jamie laughed. Goddess, it was good to see him laugh again. "It lacks but an hour of sunset, my girl. Morning, indeed!" He yawned along with me. "I am well, Lanen. Exhausted, but well. Nothing that another day or so in a real bed won't cure." He stopped in the corridor and faced me. "And before we meet the rest of them— how are you?'

"I am well enough," I replied solemnry. I didn't bother to tell him that I had wakened weeping. We were none of us un-wounded. "And all three of us will be considerably better once I get some food inside me!"

The Great Hall boasted a long oaken table and individual chairs rather than benches. The table was well laden with food, though by the look of things it had groaned even louder before. Maran and Rella sat at one end, talking at speed. Jamie joined them, and I could only admire Rellas restraint. She sat back, for the most part, and let Maran and Jamie catch up on the last twenty-odd years. I caught her eye, and was satisfied with the calm smile and the nod she sent my way. All was well with her, then, too.

I joined Will, who was sitting alone at the other end. "Good morrow, Willem," I said cheerfully, once I had devoured a little bread and meat. "I pray you, forgive my lack of manners, but I seem to spend my days perpetually ravenous."

He laughed. "Tis usual for a pregnant woman, Mistress La-nen," he said. "I remember my sister with her first. Her husband told me he was convinced she would bear him three sons at once, for she ate practically without ceasing for a full two months."

I grinned in sympathetic horror. "Three at the one time!"

He smiled again and shook his head. "No, no, it just seemed that way. In the end there was only the one! To be fair, the lad was big even at birth, but within three months my sister was back to being tiny. We still don't know what she did with all that food."

We ate and drank and talked, at peace for that time. Vilkas and Aral arrived, barely able to speak, just after sunset. They had exactly enough strength to nod to us all before they began to feed their ravening hunger. "You must understand, Lanen," said Aral, between mouthfuls. "In the normal way of things, we would heal a single individual of whatever ailed them, and then spend the next day or so sleeping and eating to restore our strength." She took a long swallow of good wine and sighed with pleasure. "I have no idea how many we healed yesterday, but, dear Goddess, I could sleep the full moon round."

On the heels of her words a young servant lad came rushing in, crying, "Dragons! The dragons are circling, they'll kill us all! Save us!" He threw himself at my feet. "Please, Mistress, we've treated you well, don't let them take us!"

I grinned and reassured him that not a single marauding dragon would come for him as we all hurried out into the courtyard. In the failing light of the westering sun the air was sparkling with dragons. Where yesterday even their rejoicing held the edge of darkness as they sang their loved dead onto the Winds, now they wove a sky-dance of sheer delight, to lift the heart and heal the spirit.

My eyes were drawn instantly to the great silver form that was the centre of the pattern. I opened my heart to him, sending no words, letting him know only the joy that I felt at the sight. In return I heard the great song, too distant for the ears of the body but full and wondrous in the mind. The high, light voices of the Aiala sang a song of sheer joy in life; the darker voices of the Dhrenagan sang of their redemption and of peace made with the Gedri through the healing of the Dragon Mages, Vilkas and Aral (Goddess, just wait until they hear that); and blended through all, the strong voices of the Travellers, the Kantri, twining all into a single glorious music that rang in the heart and echoed down the years. I heard Akor now and again as he struck the lowest notes, the foundation of the music, as though the mountains had grown wings and sang with the Kantri one last time.

I let the music wash over my weary heart. The sheer beauty of the dance was a blessing. The music, reinforcing the pattern of their flight, spoke of hope for the future of Kantri and Gedri.

All will be well.

The sun set. The three Houses of the Kantri glided gracefully through the twilight, coming to ground beyond the lake, and we saw light spring up on Shikrar s hill as bonfires were lit.

We all returned to the Great Hall, warm and welcoming, and as fresh chelan was passed around I told everyone of the song of the Kantri. Vilkas sat astounded and utterly delighted that they had mentioned him by name, and Aral grinned. "Amazing," she said, laughing. "Dragon Mage, eh? There's a new one. I predict my mother will faint when I tell her. Pass me those parsnips, will you, Maran?"

When the two of them finished gorging, they rose separately, bowed to us, made their apologies, and disappeared back to their several chambers to sleep once more.

After they left, I wandered down to the other end of the table and sat beside Maran.

"Welcome, child," she said, in great good humour. She looked ten years younger since she had been talking with Rella and Jamie. "I've just been finding out the worst of the tales Jamie has to tell on you."

"Oh, no!" I cried, in mock dismay. "Oh, Jamie, you didn't!"

He looked up and grinned, and my heart near stopped. I had never seen him so happy in all my life. "I did, and then some," he said smugly.

"You'll be wanting to leave again soon, then?" I said jestingly to Maran.

She laughed. "What, and miss the chance of seeing you lose your temper? I couldn't."

I smiled. "Shia save us, what has he been telling you? I'm a sweet, patient soul, gentle as the day is long. You'd go far to find anyone more softly spoken and even-tempered than I!"

I don't think anyone heard those last few words. Jamie, for one, was laughing too hard.

By the time we had all eaten, most of us were ready for more sleep. Aral never had helped heal my wounds, and they ached. The good folk at the castle had helped me clean and bind them the night before, and I knew no more than time and rest were needed to put them right.

I bade the company good night and wandered, replete, into the torch-lit courtyard of the castle, with some vague thought of a quiet walk before bed. To my surprise I found Kedra there. "Good even, my friend," I greeted him.

"Good even, Lady," he replied. "How fare you?"

"I'm well enough, thank you, Kedra," I said. "We saw you all dancing on the Winds. It was—extraordinary."

"And for us," said Kedra. "The first sky-dance of the Three Branches of the Kantri was a dance to end the life of the Evil One. The second we danced for our own dead. Tonight, without a word being spoken, we all rose up aloft for a dance of life and rejoicing. It is well."

"It was a wonder," I said. "Though that word is a lame horse with much to bear." I smiled. "However, I cannot believe that you have come here only to be complimented on your music." I composed myself and asked, quite calmly, "Where is Akor?" Why is he not here, Kedra, instead of you?

Kedra bowed, a short bob of his head followed by a little ripple of his long neck. "You have the right of it, Lady. Lord Akhor begged me to await you here, for answer to that very question. He bids me tell you that he is tending to his people." Keclra sighed. "We are all weary and wounded in body and spirit, Lanen Kaelar," he said. "Lord Akhor moves among us speaking reassurance, soothing wounded hearts, and letting all see that there is order yet to cling to. He sends his greetings by me, and begs that you will forgive him for not spending time with you this day." Kedra's voice was quite dry. "Truth to tell, Lanen, he is greatly weary himself, and I believe you would do him a kindness not to bespeak fatal until the morrow." To my surprise, Keclra dropped his jaw and hissed his amusement. I welcomed the warmth on my cold ankles. "Indeed, he has by now told the tale of his transformation to each individual soul, I believe, and thereby has accomplished the most important task of all. We now have something to think about."

"What, exactly?" I asked, faintly amused. "Whether he's truly a dragon or no? Whether having given up the Kingship he can now reclaim it?"

Keclra snorted. "Far simpler than that, Lady. The great question is, who is Eldest?"

"Idai, surely," I said, confused. "She was next after—oh!"

Yes, you see it," he said. "Akhor is not in the body he was born to, but neither does he inhabit my father's remains, although his present form is the size my father's was. Idai has lived longer, of course—but we none of us are certain what to make of Lord Akhor anymore."

I barked a laugh. "Ha! You're in good company. Goddess knows I haven't the faintest idea."

Kedra hissed. "I think perhaps he does not know either, Lanen. He appears to be—stunned, by his new shape." He sighed. "At the least, let us be thankful that he is obviously Akhor, the Silver King, and not some dreadful hybrid of himself and my father."

I shuddered. "Kedra, I—I am so sorry..."

"Do not fear to speak of Shikrar," said Kedra kindly. He gazed at me. "He took me aside the night before the battle, Lanen. He told me of his Weh dreams, and that he believed that his time was come to sleep upon the Winds."

"Oh, Kedra!" I said softly. "I am so sorry that your dear father was taken from us. I knew him so very short a time, but he was always just and always kind to me, and I will miss him."

"It is considered a great gift among us, Lanen Kaelar, to know when your life is about to end," said Kedra, and his voice and his heart were calm, if sad. "My father lived a long and worthy life. His use-name was Hadreshikrar, Teacher-Shikrar, for he taught nearly every one of the Kantri now alive how to fly." Kedra paused a moment, and stood in what I eventually learned was the Attitude of Recollection. "I am told that he was a wild spirit in his younger days, always in the air, trying new and different ways to fly, to manoeuvre, to test his own skills in flight, and to try them against those of his companions who dared try to match him." His Attitude shifted a little, to include elements of Pride. "None ever did, not after bis second kell. He served as Eldest of the Kantri-shakrim for nearly three kells, as Keeper of Souls for seven, and in his last days he led us in our great return, flying home across the Great Sea to Kolmar." Kedra's voice quavered a little, then. "He was ridiculously proud of me, you know. I found it embarrassing, but that is who he was. And he was set fair to be even worse about his grandson."

Kedra looked into my eyes then. "I know not what happens to the Gedri soul after death, but we believe that the departing spirit is met by those who have died before, to welcome the traveller home. My father Shikrar"—he had to clear his throat, and I felt my own tighten in response—"my father Shikrar loved my mother Yrais with a love exceeding deep. She was taken from him so early. I barely remember her, only as a soft loving voice and a dear presence." He bowed his head for a moment, and when he looked up there was a peace in his eyes that I envied. "I mourn him, Lanen. I loved him dearly and I will miss him as long as I breathe, but I know in my deepest heart, as surely as I know that the sun will rise on the morrow, that he and my mother are together again in joy, where no pain or sorrow can touch them. It is well, Lanen Kaelar."

"It is well, Kedra," I responded. My heart could rest now, though I too would miss Shikrar's great soul.

I bade K6dra good night and returned to my chambers, with but a single thought before me that followed me into sleep.

Akor, Akor, my dearling. We have survived the most dreadful test of our marriage, short of death—but now that the light of day shines upon our lives, now that the dread of battle and its aftermath are over—what is to become of us, my husband? Whatever in all the world is to become of us?