Redeeming the Lost

XVI Ta-Varien

There was much to be done and decided before we all left Castle Gundar.

The matter of my patrimony was eventually established on a more solid foundation. Mistress Kiri, who had known my father since he was a child, began by being terrified of the dragons and deeply suspicious of me and my claim. After she spent half a day closeted with Maran, discussing Goddess only knows what, she was forced to admit that I was indeed the only known child of Marik of Gundar. It seemed that he had told her once, in his cups, that he had a daughter, but she had never managed to learn any further details. Maran, seemingly, supplied sufficient details of her own to content Mistress Kiri, who then became my staunch ally and introduced me to the entire household as the right and legal heir.

It was very peculiar indeed to realise that these people, some of whom had been kind and considerate even when they believed our company to be complete strangers, had known of my existence for several years, while I had lived in complete ignorance of theirs.

Mistress Kiri, to my astonishment, even went so far as to convince the steward to give me access to Marik's fortune. I tried to object. Mistress Kiri, looking at me rather more shrewdly than I would have expected, said, "Did your father, in his entire life, ever give you one single thing?"

"No," I replied simply, realising that she might not want to hear the true answer, which would be Well, he gave me to a demon, or tried to. Does that count?

"Then he can make up for quite a long stretch of neglect," she declared, handing me the key to Marik's treasure room.

I had a long talk with the steward, Kesh, who was harmless enough if you didn't expect much in the way of generosity. Marik had hired him for his grasping nature. I made him swear on his soul and in front of quite a few witnesses, including Mistress Kiri, to pay everyone in the place a better wage, thanked him for looking after the lands so well, told him to get in more cattle as we might expect any number of winged visitors in the near future, and left him to it.

I suppose I could have tried to live there, but it never even occurred to me. Spending more time than absolutely necessary in a place where Marik was honoured? No. I would presume far enough to provide myself and my friends with food and shelter for a week, and the staff with a decent living from my father's ill-got gains, but more than that I could not do. I did leave the staff with the impression that I might return at any time. Just for morale.

I saw but little of Akor in that time. He spent his days among the three Houses of the Kantri, teaching, learning, listening, and avoiding me as surely as I was avoiding him. We were coming to terms with our new life, but it was hard, Goddess it was hard, and there was so much else to do. We found a compromise, finally. Akor had taken to lighting a fire on Shikrar's hill in the evenings, and I joined him there, to talk a little, to consider what had happened to us both, to speak a little of our future, but for the most part simply to be in each other's company. It grew easier, over even those few nights. He could still make me laugh.

A full seven days after the battle, when even Vilkas and Aral had recovered much of their strength, we held a last council in the Great Hall at noon. Its generous windows were flung open, and the light and air that flowed into the room were extraordinary. Spring came late to the mountains, but it seemed to be trying to make up for lost time. The orchards were heavy with delicate apple blossom, and there was some plant that grows in those hills that had the most wonderful scent I have ever known. If the High Fields of the Lady are worth achieving, they must smell like that.

We were graced with Salera's presence as well, thanks in large part to those windows. Akor, too, could come near enough to see and hear. We had put it off for a time, while wounds were healed and tales told all round, but we all knew that the time had come to go our own ways.

Jamie and Rella announced that they were leaving on the morrow. "Where are you going?" I asked. This last week had been a blessing, having the pleasure of their company without a single deadly threat in sight. I knew fine that Jamie would not stay in the House of Gundar even if I did.

"Somewhere warm and green and quiet," said Rella. "Where they have real beds with feather pillows. You have spoiled me, girl," she said, grinning at me. "This week of living at ease has got into my bones. I could bear to live like this."

"We're going back to Hadronsstead first though, Lanen," said Jamie, smiling. "I shudder to think what that idiot Walther may have been doing to the farm. He's a born horse-breeder, but I wouldn't let him within smelling distance of the Great Fair at II-lara." He put his arm around Rella. "Ilsa is green and quiet, and I daresay we will manage to make enough warmth between us to be getting on with."

Maran smiled, and only the slightest shadow darkened her eyes.

As to that," put in Akor from the window, "I am to tell you that Kedra offers to fly you as far as Elimar. He returns to his family tomorrow. He has asked me to say that he would be honoured to bear with him any who wish to journey so far."

"Oh, excellent Kedra!" cried Rella, and Jamie went so far as to stand and bow to Akor. "We accept with deep and abiding gratitude, Lord Akor. Kedra is very kind."

I turned to the Healers. "And what of you, O Dragon Mages?" I asked, teasing. Vilkas winced and Aral laughed. "I don't think our services will be needed here for a time," said Aral. "I was going to go home for a bit. Benin's a fair step, but I haven't seen my family for nearly three years."

"Mistress Aral, might I have a word with you?' said Salera. Aral, taken by surprise, rose and joined her in a quiet corner of the room. They appeared to be discussing something quite solemn that was obviously important to Salera.

Vilkas returned my gaze evenly. "I think that where I go will depend greatly on where you go, Lanen Kaelar." He nodded at my belly; I was now growing more obviously pregnant, practically by the day. "I suspect that all will be well for some time yet, but if you can bear my company I would rather be nearby. Especially in the last two months," he added wryly, "lest I outstay my welcome before." He pinned me with that brilliant blue gaze, smiling for a change, and for the first time I had a glimpse of what Aral saw in him. I suppose he was rather good-looking, at that.

"I think Aral's idea is the best, for me," I said, turning to Maran. "Time to go home."

She nodded, resigned. "I suppose you'll want to be in Hadronsstead, somewhere familiar, now that—"

"No, no, I didn't mean that," I said hurriedly. "Not at all." I barked a short laugh. "Jamie, you know I love you like a father, but I cannot bear the walls of Hadronsstead. Maran, I know I haven't asked, and Goddess knows there will be quite some train of us if you'll have us, but—Mother, I would very much like to go back with you to Beskin." I grinned. "I expect I'll be tied down for some time over the next few years, and I've never seen the Trollingwood. Jamie tells me it's quite something."

Why it should have given me so much pleasure to see joy in Maran's face, I don't know. We still hardly knew each other, though surviving the death of the Demonlord had brought us sharply together. Perhaps now we would have the chance to put right what had gone wrong. Given enough time.

"What say you, Maran?" asked Akor gently. "Is there room in Beskin for a dragon? Can you take us both, and Mage Vilkas, and put up with two squaUing babes when the time comes?" He hissed a little. 'Though perhaps your home is too small for two babes and Lanen ... ?"

Maran laughed. "It held me and all my brothers and sisters, it can surely hold my daughter and her family. Oh, come and welcome!" she said, taking me in her arms briefly. "Though you, dragon, are almost certainly going to be a problem."

"Hmmm," said Vilkas calmly. "I appear to be going to Beskin, near the Trollingwood." He grinned. "I always wanted to travel."

The moment I was near enough to hear her quiet voice, Salera spoke.

"Mistress Aral, I have said no word, but the time is come. What is in your heart for my father Will?"

"I beg your pardon?" I asked, taken aback.

She gazed at me. "My speech is much better than it was, I am certain that you can understand me."

I was going to feign surprise, but I could not, not in the face of that open soul. "I don't know, Salera," I replied honestly. "I can only guess at what he feels, and I don't like guessing. He has never said a single word to me about his own heart."

"Father," said Salera. Her voice was not loud, but he heard and wandered over. I tried to read him as he approached, but he was just Will, just there, big and calm and golden-haired, a good friend.

Goddess save us all, Salera really didn't know about human delicacy, for she greeted him with, "My father, why have you not spoken to Mistress Aral of what is in your heart?" Will spluttered. She ignored him and went on, "I know the depth of your feelings for her, but how can you expect to win her if you say nothing?" She turned back to me, leaving Will blushing furiously, and said in a conspiratorial tone, "It appears to be a male trait. My own suitor has waited a full year before speaking."

"A suitor?" said Will, amazed. "But—you've only been awake such a short time.. " His voice faded as he realised the obvious.

"I was awake before, my father, and I remember Tchaeros well. Now that we have speech, he is more courtly"—and she hissed a little with amusement—"but it has taken him a very long time to ask me to join with him."

"Do you love him?" asked Will, frowning like any father at being informed so of a daughter's lover.

"1 do, my father," said Salera, her wings fluttering. I could only guess that it was with pleasure. "I agreed to join with him this morning as the sun brightened. We will celebrate our—betrothal, is it called?—this very night, and I would that you might be there." She turned back to me. "I would see you there as well, Mistress Aral, if your heart allows."

She brushed past Will as she left, and I heard her whisper, "Speak your heart, Father. She is wise. She will hear."

"Aral, I—drat that child, she doesn't understand—"

I put my hand on his arm. He froze.

"I think she understands rather better than you or I," I said quietly. I was suddenly shy, but I managed to mutter, "Will, please—I—please, just speak truth to me. Is Salera right?"

He took my hand from his arm. "Aral, I'm a good few years older than you," he began.

"Not that much," I said, smiling. "Look at Varien and Lanen!"

He grinned back. "Right enough, I suppose. I—I've never said word these last two years, Aral, because I know fine how you feel about Vilkas."

I nodded. "I know how I feel about him too. Go on." I felt one corner of my mouth go up. "You haven't actually said anything yet."

I practically felt him crack. He stepped closer to me as if he would have swept me into his arms that very moment; I could see him tremble with the effort of not doing so, and I was suddenly very aware of him as a man rather than as a friend.

And there he stood, this tall, handsome man, not daring to touch me, but telling me all his heart, speaking such words of love to me as I had only ever dreamed of.

I had dreamed of hearing them from Vilkas, of course, though my rational mind had realised that would never happen. No, he was not Vilkas, tormented, wildly powerful, terrified of life and of love. He was Will. Strong, calm, reliable, capable Will, who had loved me for two solid years now and said nothing until this moment because he knew I cared for another.

I never meant to do it, but in moments of high emotion I seem to call my corona to me without thinking. I swear, I could see his love, flowing between us strong as a river from a high mountain, and still he did not touch me.

"I knew the time would come when you'd bring Vilkas to the point," he said, finally, when all else was said. "I feared it might happen when you were far from me, and I couldn't bear that. I let myself be carried by those great beasts because I would not abandon you when you needed me." He stopped and let himself smile. "Though I won't pretend it was for your sake alone. I damn well intended to be there to catch you."

"And so you did," I replied. I would never forget his arms holding me up when Vilkas cast me from him. Vil and I had come to a working truce, but in that awful moment it was Will who had held me close and supported me until I could stand again.

He finally let himself go so far as to take my right hand in both of his. "By my word, Aral, I will not die if you do not, or if you cannot love me." His eyes were alight, he seemed more alive than I had ever seen him. "But I tell you true, I would far rather live my days with you than without you."

No matter what sentiment might say, I owed him the truth. I spoke quietly, for the others were not speaking much just at that moment and I did not wish to be overheard.

"Will, I won't pretend I feel more than I do," I said. "You know I care for you, you've been a wonderful friend to me ever since I met you. But—" I glanced at Vilkas, smiling now and chatting with the others. His hold on my heart was less than it had been, but not by much. "You know also that my heart has long been his. I found out for certain that he doesn't want it, but—it will all take time."

I paused. I had been going to tell him that he should not hope, but as I was about to form the words, I found to my surprise that there might indeed be room in my heart for another. He stood, strong and true, his heart open and undefended, for me to wound or to heal. A curious thought occurred to me.

"Come with me out into the corridor, Will, I have something particular to tell you," I said, and went before him out of the range of other eyes.

The corridor was deserted. He closed the door behind us.

"Kiss me," I said.

For all his ardour, he was taken aback. "What?"

"Kiss me like you mean it," I said, challenging him.

Gracious Lady. I got more than I had bargained for.

When we came up for air, he reeled as one drunk. I suspect I did too.

"Come with me, Will," I said quietly. "Come with me to Berlin and meet my family. I do not promise anything, and I do not yet have a whole heart to offer you. I would not offer you less."

"I have waited two years, Aral," he said, his voice lovely and deep. "I can wait a little longer." He grinned wildly. "I've always thought I should see the rest of the South Kingdom," he said, smiling and drawing me out into the broad spring day. "Tell me about Benin."

If that's how you always kiss, my lad, you may not have all that long to wait, I thought, and casually took his hand as we walked out into the sunlight.

The next morning, all farewells said, the company of friends scattered to the Winds for that time.

I was not yet accustomed to my new strength and had some concerns about carrying Lanen, Maran, and Mage Vilkas all the way to Beskin, but I barely noticed them once I was airborne. I remember thinking that I had had no idea that Shikrar was so as-toundingly powerful. I flew high, smiling as I heard his voice in my memory. High air is the best—least work, longest flight. His words were a part of me, they had been for many a hundred winter and would stay with me as long as I drew breath. The thought gave me comfort. Sleep easy on the Winds, my soulfriend Shikrar. Your words yet ring in my heart.

I was not prepared, however, for the sheer joy of flight. I had flown a few times near Castle Gundar, mostly short hops, and the great Celebration of the Three Branches—but that was a dance, not flight for the sake of it. This—this was freedom, this was life and all, and it filled me with unalloyed delight. I did not dare to bespeak Lanen, lest she feel my joy and gain a terrible understanding of what I had missed.

I felt she had enough terrible understanding to be getting on with.

In the meanwhile, I took intense pleasure from the feel of the wind bearing me up, the strengthening sun of spring on my face, the sheer power of these immense wings, and a new land below me full of promise and the unknown. I sang my joy to the Winds, and heard Lanen's mindvoice echoing the song.

We had spoken together several times in the kindly darkness of evening, up on Sblkrar's HiD (it is called that to this day). There was a truce just then between my lady wife and me. We lived as we had said we would, one breath at a time, but so often still those breaths were bought with heart's pain.

It did not help matters that Lanen was even more passionate in her nature than usual. Vilkas had told me that this was normal for a woman carrying a child, but it widened the gap between us even more, for I found myself inclining in the other direction. The body shapes the mind in many ways. At rest, my heart now beat at a tenth the pace of Lanen's, and I took far deeper and far fewer breaths. How could my mind not be affected by this incredible change?

I do not say that my love was lessened, for it was not and never has been—but the expression of it was changed perforce, and that threatened to tear my heart in two. Lanen was the same, I know she was. I heard her thoughts while she slept, saw her dreams, knew her fears. From dreams of winged and clawed monsters she would wake with racing heart, calling out to me in fear, and the only answer I could make was to speak to her mind to mind, say her name gendy, reassure her that all was well and that she had only been dreaming, bespeak her until her heartbeat slowed. She had had to wake the maidservants at Castle Gundar to bring her a warm cup of chelan. I knew not what we could do when we reached Beskin.

Beskin should have been three days' flight, but it took us full five days to find it. Maran, the only one of us who knew where it was, did die best she could, but as she reminded me, nothing looks the same from the air. She was quite right. Finally she laughed and said perhaps we should try walking for a few hours, in the hope of finding someone to ask our way from. After four days had passed, that is precisely what we did, though I decided to keep a little distance away lest I terrify any poor souls diat should happen upon us. The great forest of the Trollingwood stretched trackless away to our left, but I needed more precise directions than "just keep going until you're near the mountains, then turn back a little."

In the end, Maran wandered into a litde town and came back shamefaced. We were much too far south and west, it seemed. I gathered up my charges and rose up aloft, bearing north and east. I took pleasure in the smell of the trees rising to meet me, in having so vast a land to fly over. Our old island took less than three hours' flying, end to end. There was so much to see here!

Lanen and I began to consider, simply as an exercise, the possibility of some kind of harness that I might wear, whereby she might in future accompany me in more comfort. We whiled away quite a few idle hours on possible designs.

In the midaftemoon of the fifth day, Lanen bespoke me to say that Maran had recognised a great stone house not far from Beskin. We came to land at the edge of a large field. The cattle galloped away, which suited me well. Maran led us—swiftly by her standards, at a snail's pace by mine—along the road for a few miles, and up. Beskin lies in a cosy valley, protected by half a ring of hills at its back, looking out over rich farmland, and behind the bare hills around Beskin lies an arm of the Trollingwood, the vast northern forest that sprawls over most of the width of Kolmar. Maran assured the others that the Trollingwood was just far enough away for the villagers of Beskin to be safe from marauding wolves and bears. Most of the time.

I walked with the three of them to the door of Maran's house. The village seemed deserted, but Maran laughed and told me that everyone was hiding. "We'll have the chance to sort it out later, Akor, never fear," she said. She seemed curiously pleased to be invading the village at the feet of a terrible marauding dragon. That's what they'll think you are, at least," said Maran, her grey eyes alight. "I think I'll let you talk them out of it."

Her home was built on two levels with several rooms in each. I found Gedri buildings astounding and stared into each window in turn, but the little stone courtyard around the smithy was far too small for me. I could only stand there coiled about myself, with my wings tight furled and my tail firmly tucked out of the way. ft would be like trying to live in a tiny cage.

Lanen, realising for the first time that I must dwell entirely apart from her, turned stricken eyes up to me. "Akor, what— damn, I thought you'd be nearby at least—" Her eyes filled with tears, which she dashed impatiendy away. Her raging emotions, over which she had no control, made her furious.

"Do not be concerned, my heart," I replied. "We are but new-come here. There will be plenty of time for change." I grinned. "And possibly for building. Lady Maran, have you thought of a place nearby where I might rest, or shall I seek shelter in the Trollingwood?"

Maran met my gaze and replied, sadly, "For now, Akor, I fear it must be the Trollingwood. I have ploughed my brains for days, and I can think of nowhere large enough for you to stay. Forgive me."

"There is nothing to forgive," I replied, doing my best to keep the sorrow from my voice. "I will see what may be done. You are certain that none claim land in the Trollingwood?"

"Certain sure," said Maran, grinning. "It's said to be far too dangerous in there."

"How clear-sighted of people, to know in advance that I was coming to dwell therein," I said lightly. I leaned down and came within Lanen's reach. "I am ever here, dearling," I said in true-speech as she laid her hand gently upon my faceplate. "No more than a thought away. And if it may be done, perhaps we will make the smithy courtyard more worthy of the Kantri." Aloud I added, "If you all will meet me at the edge of the wood tomorrow at dawn, I will guide you to whatever chambers I have been able to find."

By the next morning, I was pleased to show them my new dwelling. It was but a short distance from the eaves of the wood. I had found a cave nearly large enough to fit into, and there was a good clear stream not far away. With some effort on my part, it would be a comfortable enough place to dwell. I also asked Maran, who said that no other owned the land round about her house, and I was welcome to enlarge her courtyard to my heart's content if I would do the work of laying the stone floors and building walls.

I took it as a challenge.

It was the oddest feeling I have ever known, walking into Be-skin. I had never been there before, but—how shall I explain it? It began with the scent of the Trollingwood, whose western edge lay near my old home in Ilsa. I knew that smell and it was the same here, only wilder somehow. The air was fresh and sharp with the scents of pine and balsam, the ground was rich, the hills felt like old friends. I walked into Beskin and felt that I had come home, to a place I had never seen. It was very strange, but oddly reassuring.

Maran's house was huge. Her grandfather had built il with Ills sons, and there was room and to spare for all of us. The rooms were sparsely furnished, the furniture well made and lovely in its simplicity. One of Maran's brothers, Harald—Goddess, how odd, to have uncles and aunts!—Uncle Harald is a woodworker, and made all the furnishings in the house himself.

Maran gave me a room to myself on the upper floor, a large airy room looking to the hills, with plenty of space for the children when they came. She slept across the hall, near enough for a hail but far enough for privacy. Vilkas had the third bedroom on that floor to himself.

Maran and I settled in quickly enough, but Vilkas was like a butterfly that could not light upon a single bloom. After a few days, when he was certain that I was well enough and would keep, he went off on his own into the country round, a travelling Healer. During our first three months there, as spring gave way gradually to summer, he would disappear for weeks at a time, turning up suddenly of a morning with a scrip full of silver, looking a little more weather-beaten each time and a little more at peace with himself. He would give me relaxing herbs, examine me closely, make sure the babes were thriving, exhort me to eat more meat, and disappear again.

I managed to sit about the house resting, as ordered, for all of a week. The next morning I was up before Maran, making the porridge and starting the bread. She scowled at me for not following Vilkas's orders for exacdy three breaths, then she grinned at me. "Bored, are you?" she asked.

"Put me to work," I begged. "Quick, before I get too big to do anything at all."

She laughed and led me to the forge, where she provided me with an ancient, scarred leather apron and a thick leather jerkin. I started like the rawest apprentice, working the bellows, but over the days and weeks she taught me how to stoke the fire, the smell and look and sound of iron when it is ready for the hammer, and one memorable day she handed me her second-best hammer and let me get on with trying to shape metal.

I have never known anything like it. I'd never done the like before, but I had watched Maran close for some time by then, and the movements just seemed—natural. The hammer seemed to fit my hand, the iron turned sweetly for me. My mothers eyes gleamed with pride. "By the Goddess, my girl, you've the making of a fine smith in you!" she declared.

"Oh, is that what they are?" I said, looking down at my bulge in surprise. She had a grand laugh, my mother, one that started at her toes and took her over entire when she was really amused. Impossible to resist.

When I came near to the start of the seventh month of my pregnancy, however, Vilkas returned and declared that his wandering was over for now.

"I've almost two months yet before anything exciting is due to happen, surely?" I said, panting a little. I was finding it harder to breathe, and Maran had banned me from the forge the week before, for her own safety as well as mine.

"You never know with twins," replied Vilkas, trying to keep a straight face but failing miserably.

"And how many twins have you delivered, O Great Dragon Mage?" I asked, teasing.

"Only one set, and that was at Verfaren," he replied, suddenly serious. "Lanen, now that you mention it, I would like your permission to bring in a colleague to assist me. Her experience with midwifery is much greater than mine." He grinned a little ruefully. "She is also less likely to terrify an expectant mother, though I'd hope you would be used to me by now."

I took advantage of my state to surprise young Vilkas and hugged him tight. "You dear idiot," I said, releasing him. "I'm married to the largest dragon in all the world, and you think I'd be afraid of you?"

He laughed rather well, all in all. "Still, I would like to call her in for the birth," he said, "and perhaps a few weeks before. Twins can come early." He looked about him. "If your mother wouldn't mind, I expect she'd appreciate a place to stay as well."

I laughed. "What's one more in this barn? Do what you need to, Vil. I trust you," I said.

I should have known, really. Idai arrived a week later, bearing Aral and Will and followed closely by Salera. Vil had gone to Akor, asked him to bespeak Idai and beg her to find Aral. There was a grand reunion, and the house was full.

I was quietly delighted that Will had come with Aral as a matter of course. They had progressed so far as to occasionally hold hands publicly. It was clear to all the rest of us that it only a matter of time. Aral was more contented than I had seen her, and Will stood at least a handspan taller, bless his good soul.

When the new arrivals sought their beds, I stepped out into the long twilight of the northern summer to walk Akor back to his chambers. He had been labouring on Maran's courtyard, but it was slow work, and not kind to the clumsy hands that attempted it. As we passed the latest disaster of a stone wall I smiled. "Perhaps we can find a stonemason who will trade his skill for raw lifting power," I suggested. It made Akor hiss with amusement, and for that I was grateful.

I was becoming grateful for anything that helped us to be together. We had begun to live disparate fives, and it worried me. When we were apart, we bespoke one another and we were knit as close as ever. Our souls have ever been the two halves of one whole. In truespeech we shared heart, mind, and spirit, and all was very well. It was only when we were in one another's presence that we could not ignore the eternal distance between us. Now and ever, Kantri and Gedri, between whom there could be only a meeting of the minds—except in our babes.

I waddled along the rough path, feeling better for the exercise but not able to keep it up very long. We came to an open space where there was a convenient stone to sit on, and I made use of it.

"Are they not yet prepared for the world?" asked Akor lightly, staring fascinated at my awkward body. "Surely you cannot stretch any farther!"

I laughed despite myself. "Alas that we cannot call to them and suggest that now would be a fine time to be born! The Lady knows I am ready for it." I sighed. "Right now, I'd settle for being able to see my feet."

I expected Akor to hiss, but he turned away with a moan.

"Dear heart, what is it?" I asked, adding dryly, "I mean, what is it more than we have borne these three months past?"

"Nothing more, Lanen, but—nothing less," he said. He could not look at me. "The time is nearly come. Our children are ready to be born. And I will never—I cannot—damnation!" He cried out, a wordless shout into the darkling sky. "Lanen, I can bear it no longer!" he groaned. His wings were starting to flutter in his agitation. "Here you are, more beautiful than ever, full of new life we have made between us—and I who have longed for younglings for a thousand years will never be able to hold my own babes." He began to pace up and down, as much as so large a creature could in the space. "It will be many years ere I dare even to touch them, lest a careless talon should rip through tender skin. I could murder them by mistake!"

"Please, Akor," I said, trying to compose myself. "Love, don't break now. I need you more with every passing day."

"I know it, I know it, but Lanen—Lanen, I cannot bear it! I am come to the end of myself." He roared, sending Fire into the night sky, and I realised that he was furious. "Ye traitor Winds!" he cried out. "I have given myself, body and soul and life and all, to my people, as you demanded. I never knew love until I knew her. Why have you given us to each other only to tear us apart?" His voice grew even louder. "I cannot bear it!" He was practically dancing on the spot, so desperate was he to be gone from me. I knew exactly what he was feeling, and I couldn't blame him in the least, and I blamed him with every word he said. He turned to me again, agony in his voice. "Lanen, I cannot bear it!"

"Then go," I said, stonily. "You have wings. You can go wherever in the world you wish." I stood tall, my belly prominent. "I am held down to earth."

I had sworn to myself that I wouldn't bespeak him, I knew it would be the last burden on a weakened back, but my anger rose to meet his. "Your childer, Akor. Ourchilder. Do not turn coward on me now, damn you. I need you."

He screamed then, a soul pushed to the limit of endurance. He rose with a thunderclap into the darkening sky, and his mind voice sang its agony and its contrition as he flew away north, deeper into the great forest.

"Lanen forgive, forgive, I cannot bear it, I cannot bear it any longer. Lanen, my heart, you know that I love you beyond words, to be separate forever from you and from my only younglings, it destroys me, I cannot bear it, forgive, forgive..."

I felt as though I should weep, but there were no tears. Curious. I think I would have been more angry with him if I had not been so relieved He was not the only one who could not stand it any longer. It was not his fault, nor mine. I bowed my head for a moment, my eyes closed. Ah, Lady Mother Skia, I whispered. I heard the bards' tales but I did not understand. The love that is too wild and strong destroys the lovers every time, doesn't tt? I don't think I could have stood his presence a moment longer was agony to see him, agony to have him so close and so infinitely far away. I gazed up where he had gone. Fly well, my heart, I thought, carefully not bespeaking him. Thank you for leaving. Your suffering made mine worse too. If you ever come back, I'M apologise properly.

I walked slowly back to my mother's house. I got in just before the rain came.

The next evening I went into labour.

I flew low, ashamed to be aloft yet as unable to stay with Lanen as to turn back time.

I had never thought of myself as a coward before, but I could not escape the evidence. The bravest thing I did was dare to bespeak my wife as I left. My heart burned within me as though it were truly aflame. I flew to escape my skin, to escape the torture of being so near to happiness yet forever separated from it.

I did not fly far. My strength seemed to drain away from the instant I left Lanen. I just managed to glide to a patch of open ground before I fell from the sky. I was confused and dizzy and my eyes didn't seem to be working very well. I felt rain begin to beat upon me, lightly at first, then harder and harder as the clouds opened. I was soon soaked, and I had the curious feeling that I was shrinking with every raindrop. Perhaps the Winds have heard my plea and have sent this rain to dissolve me, I thought, oddly cheerful. Eyes closed, shaking with fever, I imagined that I grew smaller and smaller. Perhaps Lanen will have room in her womb for me, I thought, but that was a very peculiar thought and I didn't like it. I decided not to think any longer. That was good. And after another little time, just before the end, I realised that I could no longer move my limbs or feel my wings.

It is over then, I thought, tolerably content for it to be so. Farewell, my dearest Lanen. Even as I sleep on the Winds I will love you. Now awaken, Shikrar! I come! I sang with my last thought, and my mind floated away into darkness.

Vilkas and Aral managed to stop my body from continuing with the birth immediately, but at most they could delay it for a fortnight. Still, as Vilkas said, at that stage even three days would be useful.

Idai scoured the land round about, shocked and angry, but Akor was nowhere to be found.

I began labour in earnest ten days later. I was sufficiently terrified to be going on with, but—as Vilkas reminded me forcefully, several times—I had in attendance the two best Healers in all of Kolmar. Will spelled them at my bedside, letting first one then the other get some rest.

They kept the worst of the pain at bay, and they never left me alone, Goddess bless them. After full twelve hours of it, I'm told—the Goddess is kind, I have no memory of how long it took—my son and daughter were born within minutes of each other. She came out first, followed after a very few moments by her brother.

My mother helped Aral clean them while Vilkas looked doop into their tiny bodies, making certain that all was well with thorn. He nodded, smiling, and they laid my children in my arms. I wept with relief. I wasn't the only one.

"They're beautiful, Lanen. They're just beautiful," said Maran, grinning madly. "All their fingers, all their toes, one head each. Well done, my girl." And then she said, more than a little stunned, "Grandchildren. Goddess save us, I have grandchildren." She burst out laughing. "Oh, very well done, Lanen!"

"Are they meant to be this small?" I asked. I was exhausted, thrilled, worried about them, missing Akor desperately, and utterly enchanted by these two tiny people I held.

Everyone laughed. "They've been born a moon and a half early, Lanen," said Aral. "Yes, they are meant to be tiny. They're fine, believe me, they'll grow soon enough. And Vil and I will stay with you for a while yet to be certain that all is well with them." She grinned. "Have you and Akor chosen names for them?"

"Yes," I said, choking back a sob. "He is Trezhan, and she is Irian. They are to be called Ta-Varien, to remind them always of their father's love." My throat closed on the words. Thankfully, just then there was a knock at the door. Maran, muttering something about Will being a lax door warden, went to answer it. We all waited to hear the voice of the visitor, but whoever it was said nothing but came directly up the stairs. Maran was silent as well. That was unusual, certainly.

We were, therefore, all staring curiously at the doorway when Varien walked through it.

He strode to my bedside, leaned over, and kissed me—I didn't kiss him back, I was barely able to breathe let alone kiss him back—it was—he was human—Varien, caressing our children—

I'm afraid I blasphemed rather thoroughly before I fainted.

"Aral!" I shouted, catching up the baby nearest me. She was watchful and gathered up the other before Lanen dropped it.

I was tempted to bring Lanen back to consciousness immediately, but judged that she had been through enough and let her recover in her own time. In the meanwhile I dragged Varien— Goddess, it was Varien, wasn't it?—downstairs and more or less threw him into a chair. Aral stayed with Lanen, but Maran wisely brought down the other babe. In moments he held one in each arm, gazing at them in turn, lost in wonder and delight.

He was not alone. Looking around the room, I decided that a quick treatment for shock would not go amiss. I sent my Power out from me in a soft cloud, parting it around the newborns that it might not so much as brush against them. We all were locked solid in amazement, though, until Maran managed to speak. With difficulty. After clearing her throat.

"Varien, lad?"

He looked up at her, bemused. "Yes, Mother Maran?"

"Would you care to tell us just how in all the Hells you come to be here like this?" she asked. With admirable restraint, I thought.

Before he answered, he looked to me. "Lanen is well, Mage Vilkas?"

"Aside from an unexpected shock at a delicate moment, yes, she's fine," I said. "How in all the world did you manage it?"

He began to answer, but his daughter drew a deep breath and tried out her new lungs.

Good lungs.

Varien started violently.

"Take them back upstairs, you idiot," I said, restraining a rogue smile, as her brother took up the refrain. "They are hungry, and you're not equipped."

He grinned and started back up the stairs. Lanen's voice greeted him halfway up.

"Varien Kantriakor, you bastard, get back up here NOW and bring the children!"

In the face of all temptation, I held Martin back and called Aral to come to me. "What, Vil?" she asked, worried. "Lanen's al-right, isn't she? Her colours good..."

I smiled. At last, one up on Aral in the field of humanity.

"Her colour's fine. But I expect they have a few things to say to each other. A little privacy for the new family, eh?"

Aral had the grace to blush.

"Blast your delicacy, boy," said Maran grumpily. "I want to know how in the Hells he did that!"

I had a thousand questions, a thousand demands, a thousand kicks and kisses to administer, but truth be told I could pay attention to nothing else once the babes began to suckle, and I fell asleep instantly afterward. When I woke again, only a little time later, it was to find mother Maran sat by my bedside.

She answered my expression before I could speak. "It wasn't a dream, he's downstairs having a meal. I'll send him up."

"What did he...?"

"He's refused to tell us a thing," she pouted. "And I'm sure he's right, you should hear it first, but by every blade of grass that ever grew, I'm this far from threatening his life if he doesn't start talking."

When Varien was seated beside me, the babes asleep in our arms and the rest of the company waiting patientiy and not so patiently below, he told me the tale of the night he left.

"I honesdy thought I was dying, Lanen," he said earnestly. "I felt myself shrink, then I couldn't feel my wings, then I lost consciousness—and I woke in that spot some few hours later, cold and wet and human."

Fighting past the wonder, I managed to say, "What think you, love? How could it happen? Did the Winds and the Lady have pity on you? On us?" I laughed. "Goddess, do you think they actually did something for us?"

Looking a little self-conscious, my husband said, "Not precisely. At least, not in the way you mean." He thought for a moment, choosing his words with great care. "You know how deeply you were changed when Vilkas saved your life?"

"Of course."

"Well—I appear to have undergone something of the sort when—when Shikrar and I changed places."

I stared at him, waiting. "Well? What? How are you changed?"

"The Gedri chose choice itself, did they not, my heart?" he asked in truespeech. His eyes blazed, now that he was come to it. "I am of the Gedri as well, now, but for me, I am changed to— change itself ."

Bloody dragon.

"Would you kindly stop blethering and tell me exactly what you mean before the children are old enough to walk?' I said, exasperated.

He grinned like a maniac. "I'd prefer to show you, but there isn't room in here," he said. He was practically glowing. "Lanen— I can change. At will. Entirely at will." He laughed with the wonder of it. "I did not believe it when I woke. I was terribly confused, and consciously thought, I should bear the shape of the Kantri. Within the quarter of the hour, I was changed back. I have done it several times since, to make sure. Kantri or Gedri, whichever I like, when I like." He barked another little laugh. "I'm my old size, too, not as vast as Shikrar. Name of the Winds, how he ever managed to move on the ground I'll never know."

I had finally managed to find my voice.

"Bloody hellsfire!"

I think I yelled that a touch louder than I meant to, because there was a brief thunder on the stairs and Will, Maran, Aral, and Vilkas all piled into the room, the Healers with their coronas blazing, Maran with a hammer in her hand, Goddess only knew where she kept that hidden.

"All's well, all's well, my friends," said Varien, grinning like an idiot. "There's nothing to see. Not just now. Though I will give a demonstration later for those who are interested."

He told them then, in so many words, what had happened.

I will never forget the stunned amazement on all of their faces. Vilkas was the best. I never thought to see that self-contained soul so lose his composure, he was an absolute picture.

"Varien, you're not serious," I said finally. "You—I mean, it's not possible—"

And Varien laughed, a great hearty laugh from his belly that woke the babies.

"Lanen Kaelar, you never cease to amaze me. Of all that has happened to us in the last year, how much is even faintly possible?"

I smiled slowly. "Very, very little, to be sure," I said, kissing Irian, who yawned and went back to sleep.

"Quite right," he replied, far more softly. He gently rocked Trezhan until our son fell asleep again.

"Sweet Lady, Varien," I swore quietly. "What in all the world and time are you meant to do with that gift?"

"I have no idea," he said, his face transformed by utter joy. "But it will surely be a great adventure to find out."

There is so much yet to say about those times. The world and everything in it was changing around us, faster than we could keep up with it. It took a very long time to truly understand all that had happened.

The twins were born when the harvest was ripe and the light was warm and golden, a little more than a moon before my own birth-day at the Autumn Balance-day.

Despite all my fears they did not have either wings or soul-gems, but they did each have a tiny bump in the centre of their foreheads where a soulgem would have been. Believe me, I thought long and hard about that over the next few years. And I only ever told Varien about this, but—a few weeks after they were born, when we all were sitting outdoors and it began to be a little chilly, I was sent what Mirazhe calls "a picture of their thoughts," in this case a sudden feeling of cold and fear, from the children. Just like young Sherok's first efforts. Perhaps he is not strictly the youngest of the Kantri anymore, I thought very quietly to myself.

The news from all quarters was good. Kedra, away in the SuJkith Hills with his dear Mirazhe and Sherok and that contingent of the Kantri that chose to remain with them, bespoke us one day with the news that Kretissh and Nikis had arrived. We laughed heartily, though I felt sorry for poor Nikis. It was not her fault that she had been caught in the Weh sleep when the rest of the Kantri had flown the Great Sea! Still, Nikis the Weary she was and remains. The others have found chambers near the sea, and have tended the lansip trees on behalf of our whole people. Farmer Timeth takes lansip leaves for his rent, plays with Sherok, and bids fair to become quite disgustingly wealthy in a few years, when the trees have grown a little more.

Idai left Beskin soon after the twins arrived. She and a contingent of the Aialakantri have been working almost constantly since the day of Shikrar's death, seeking out the soulgems of those who died in and around Lake Gand. It took them three years, but they eventually found every last one. The first, of course, was Shikrar's, lifted from the midst of Berys's cold ashes and cleansed with dragon fire. It gleams now a brilliant, untroubled red. His soul rests upon the Winds, and hardly a day passes even now that Varien and I do not miss him.

Varien has been much involved with the resettlement of the Kantri throughout Kolmar. Idai consults him regularly, and from time to time she comes to visit. When she arrived with Will and Aral and stayed until the babes had been born, she of course wished us joy of our younglings, and told us some of the best news yet. A number of the Kantri and the Dhrenagan had taken mates in the last few months, and there were already several younglings on the way. "We have even found a hot spring in the mountains above Castle Gundar," she said happily, "and are digging out a birthing pool. The high mountains are riddled with caves perfect for Weh chambers for those who require them, and there are many who do. All is well. Oh, Akhor, all is well at last!"

"It is indeed," he had said, smiling up at her. I remember that daft grin of his. He had barery looked away from the twins since their birth, I practically had to tear them from his arms to let them sleep in those first weeks. I recall being heartily grateful to Idai, who at least forced his eyes to focus on something more distant.

Before she left, though, she reminded him that no matter what his shape, he was still their King. "Do not think that you are released from your service just because the Winds have given you this astounding gift," she said, pretending to a severity she did not feel in the least. "You are still our Lord and King, by acclamation, and you will not slip out of your duties so easily."

"You are Eldest, Idai," he said. "This is foolish. Let you call a full Council of our people and choose a new leader from among you." He grinned up at her. "Perhaps it is time that we had Queen Idai to turn to, rather than King Akhor."

She hissed. "Very well, Lord, if you so command. A full Council must be attended by two-thirds of the Kantri then on live. I suspect that enough will have wakened from their Weh sleep in, oh, perhaps twenty or thirty winters. I will do my best to remember your wishes at that time."

Things had changed by then, of course—but that is another story. Ever since the Kantri came to Kolmar they have insisted on calling Varien their King. When the bards came to hear the tale of the wild adventures of that time, they soon heard that part of the story, and the idiots assumed that that must mean that I should be Queen Lanen. Ha! Never trust the bards, for they will always change the truth to make a good tale.

One other thing did take me by surprise. When the twins were a few years old, Varien spoke long with one of the bards and bought the man's second-best harp from him. In the years between, he has worked hard to learn the old tales and has created any number of new ones. My Varien is well on his way to becoming an extraordinary bard, but then he has an unfair advantage to begin with. After all, the Kantri are the best singers in the world.

Trezhan and Irian ta-Varien grew and flourished as children will, though of course they were the most glorious children who have ever lived. Varien says that Shikrar always said that about Kedra, from the moment of his birth.

I think I understand Shikrar a little better now.

This is the true tale of the Redeeming of the Lost and the Second

Death of the Demonlord.

There is more to tell, but then there always is.

True stories never really end.