Redeeming the Lost

VII The Calm and the Storm

I woke late that morning, safe in my husband's arms, to sunshine blazing through the windowpanes. I kept my eyes closed against the light for I knew, somehow I knew deep in my bones that I was right to treasure the night, and that the day was not my ally. I stirred, holding him closer, putting my head on his broad shoulder. His arms tightened around me and he turned to kiss my forehead, and I heard his blessed voice in my mind, pouring balm on my heart. There were no words. What words could possibly encompass all that we felt? There was simply love, sung strong as the mountains, deep as the sea, boundless as the sky, pouring between us tangible as light.

It was not until he touched my rounded belly that I began to weep. Gently at first, a few soft tears, then to my own amazement I was taken with uncontrollable sobs from the gut, shaking my body violently as I hung on to him for very life. "Beloved, beloved," he murmured, holding me in a grip of iron. It was just what I needed, feeling his strong arms about me, but still I sobbed without knowing why—when of a sudden I was minded of Jamie, as he spoke of the time my mother Maran bade farewell to her father.

"I tell you, Lanen, I hope never to see another such farewell in this world. Both she and her father wept bitter tears as they embraced. It was their last sight of each other. Somehow they both knew."

I gave a cry and drew away from him, rising to my knees on the bed the better to gaze into his eyes as if I feared to see his death therein. My newfound vision was with me still, it seemed, for I saw far more than love and concern in his emerald-green eyes. Death did not haunt him, blessed be the Winds, but I was shaken from my own sorrow by the depth of grief that I sensed in him. In that unguarded moment I touched the dark, still lake of it, deep as my own, heavy and cold, taking unto itself all hope and light. I reached out gently to my beloved, tracing the line of his brow, his cheek, his throat.

"Varien, love, what sorrow is this that lies so deep and cold?" I whispered. He opened his mouth to speak—I saw him swallow the easy response as he remembered our oaths always to speak truth to one another. He said nothing, he did not bespeak me, only returned my gaze. I reached out and took his hands in mine. "Speak to me, love," I begged, swallowing against a lump in my throat. "For my heart is shadowed and I cannot lift it. I know the day is bright and we are safe, and reason tells me to rejoice that I am with you again, but—oh, love, my fool heart mourns as if you were struck dead before my eyes."

"The Winds take your words and make them false, Lanen!" he cried, rising all in a moment and holding me to him so tight I felt my bones creak. I did not care.

"Sweet Winds of morning forbid such a thing—oh, my Lanen—would that I might laugh at you, but my own heart sings that same song of unreason," he whispered. We held one another without speaking, until I could feel his heart beating against my own. That very simple, very real thing steadied me. I managed to let him go a little. Enough to stop my muscles from cramping, at any rate.

"Do you know, kadreshi, I believe it is a just grief," said Varien quietly.

"How should it be just? How reasonable?" I objected, moving back a little but still in the circle of his arms. I swear, sometimes that Kantri calm voice of reason made me furious. And anger was vastly more comfortable than the desperate grief.

"Beloved, when you were taken from me, I called to you with all my soul." He shuddered. "Never will I forget that day, kneeling on the grass, dead to all else, pouring all that I am into truespeech as I strained to hear your lightest whisper upon the Winds. There was—nothing." He shuddered. "I was—my heart, I have shed barely a single tear since you were taken. I could not hear you, in mind or heart, anywhere in all the world. I did not dare to weep lest I could never stop. I feared"—that glorious voice faltered, and his arms around me trembled—"I feared you were taken entirely from life, I feared I never would see you again or hold you in my arms, and with your life mine was come also to its end. Beloved." He breathed roughly, drawing me to him once more, his strong body my rock in a swirling sea. "My heart is full of sorrow deep as time, that I did not dare to speak before, lest it destroy me and take away all my resolve while still there was something to be done. Now that you are with me—oh, beloved, now I am grown brave enough to weep." And so he did, for I felt his tears raining upon my cheeks even as we kissed and clung to one another, and my tears fell upon his face, and mingling they washed away our sorrow for that time.

And suddenly to my own surprise my sobs began to turn to watery laughter. I had been struck by the foolishness of it all. The pair of us standing there crying bitterly because we were no longer parted! Varien gazed upon me, and like the sun emerging from a cloudbank, the great weight of weary sorrow fell away from us both and we grinned like idiots, even as the tears dried upon our cheeks.

I could not help being distracted; the late morning light picked out all the contours of his body, turned bis eyes to living emerald, and set his long silver hair to gleaming like metal new-forged. That strange spicy scent that reminded me of the Kantri tickled my nose. My husband. Impossible, that so splendid a vision was my own heart's other self.

I wondered if my sight had changed forever, or if this was the last shred of that strange gift from the Lady held over from the night before. Watching him, I saw the moment when he looked deeper into my heart. I had never noticed the difference before. There was so much I had never noticed before. There was around Varien a shimmering silver aura that I certainly had never seen. What it might mean I had no idea. It was full of movement, surely. I wondered for a moment if there might be a tree outside the window, casting moving shadows, but my eyes widened when I realised that the bright movement behind him came not from without. It was—sweet Goddess, I was looking at the moving shadows of the wings he had lost.

I stared and stared, hardly daring to believe what I saw, until she reached out and touched my face. "I didn't know you still had wings, my dearest," she said softly. "Even thus, even as shadows, they are glorious."

"Lanen, what sight is upon you?" I cried, joy rising in me as I had not dared to dream it ever would again. "You see me—your eyes—" I stared hard at her, and it was unmistakable. "By my name, Lanen Kaelar, you have the eyes of the Kantrishakrim!"

Of course she could not let that pass. "Well, I'm not going to give them back," she said, grinning at me. "What in the world do you mean, you daft dragon?"

For answer I leaned close into her and breathed deep. "By the Winds!" I cried, reeling as wonder took me. "Lanen!"

"Still here," she said as one corner of her mouth lifted in half a smile. "What are you on about, love?"

"You are changed in truth!" I laughed. "I thought Vilkas changed your blood and nothing else, but all is connected—you cannot change the blood without changing all else as well—Lanen, my heart, you are become as much a child of the Kantri as I am!"

I could read her truly, more truly than ever before. I could see all the layers of thought and deep emotion, I could see the wonder that began to fill her heart, and glory to the Winds and the Lady, when I glanced down I could see our babes as they grew beneath her heart. They were as yet no more than a shining in the region of her womb, but already I could see two separate gleams. I took her by the arms and danced about the room like a fool, the pair of us stark naked and laughing.

We sealed our joy with loving then, passionate, joyous, urgent with our need to give and to receive. As we lay in each others arms afterward, Lanen said calmly, "We'd best enjoy this while we still can. It's not going to be so easy when I'm out to here with twins." She held her arms an improbable distance from her body and I laughed. "Aye, well, laugh while you can," she said, contented, teasing me. "You've never seen a pregnant Gedri, have you? I'm not kidding. It looks completely silly and I'm told it is awkward in all kinds of ways. And you can't see your feet." I laughed as she continued. "And women near their time all say the same things. T wish the babe would put its mind to the job and get it over with,' and 'I'm never doing this again,' and 'Goddess, but my feet hurt!'"

I was filled with a quiet delight to hear her so calm and so—so normal about her pregnancy. She had gone through seven Hells and nearly died with it; I had feared she might resent the babes, but no, not she, not my Lanen.

By good fortune we were up and dressing by the time Hygel knocked on the door. Why he bothered I don't know for he opened it even as he pounded. "Come quick," he said urgently. "There's a riot about to start and that bloody great dragon is in the middle of it."

I had forgotten. I haven't been here, my father's home in the East Mountains, for twenty-five years. I'd forgotten the smell of the place in spring. When we arrived an hour past it washed over me. There's always the tang of the evergreens, but this time of year there's some shrub that grows low on the foothills that has thousands of little yellow flowers and smells like—like paradise. Better than lansip. I'd forgotten.

I always thought Berys was a little crazy, but now I know it. I saw the result of that madness last night, in Verfaren. Before my eyes, his legions of demons destroyed the most powerful men and women in the world, the Mages of Verfaren, in moments, and there was precious little they could do about it. Oh, some of them knew how to shield against the little demons, but when the big one arrived, that Berys called a Lord of Hell, they could do nothing. I don't pretend that I felt much at their passing, those people have made my life difficult for years, but Berys enjoyed it. Not their deaths, I don't think. Before. When they realised that they were going to die. He is even more depraved than I had thought.

Depraved but powerful. Don't forget that, Marik my lad. And he's only on your side as long as you're of use to him. I wonder more and more how long that is likely to be.

I must say, though, I'm impressed at the way he keeps his head. We walked out of the Great Hall quite calmly, and later, when— when—when the dragon came I saw my death and could not move, but he had opened the portal and threw me into it. The next moment we're here at my ancestral home, this fortified bastion in the mountains by the shores of Lake Gand. Across the width of Kolmar. It's a thousand leagues if it's a step. He calls it "travelling the demonlines" and says they take forever to set up and are only good for one trip. Damn shame. It beats horses hollow.

The pain is back again this morning, worse this time than it has been for many a moon, and with no hope of relief now that La-nen has escaped my grasp. I should have insisted that Berys sacrifice her the moment he captured her, curse him! He was the one who wanted to wait, he never has thought my constant pain worth bothering about. He is less and less amenable to reason these days, and I am half mad that say it

Damn the girl for escaping. Damn Berys for letting her. Damn it all to the Hells and back again. I hate being in pain. These days I can't even count on Berys to relieve it, as temporary as that always is. Of late he often claims that he is weary and needs to rest. Not now, surely, that he has activated the Healers.

Heh. I wonder what kind of havoc that is wreaking across the three Kingdoms this day? Only the three, of course. Gorlak has ever been a support to our plans, so we have not touched any of the Healers from his Kingdom of the East Mountains. I wonder if Berys has had word of how Gorlak is doing in his battles? Last I heard he had taken the North Kingdom and was within a breath of victory in Ilsa. That would suit us well. If there is yet an "us"— though Berys did save me from that monster just now, perhaps he still sees my worth in his schemes. Without me he has no legitimacy in this Kingdom, where my family is very near to the throne. Only Gorlak and his fool of a son, Ulrik, truly stand between me and my rightful place. If you look at the lineage a certain way.

It occurs to me to wonder, more and more, what will happen when all the Kantri are dead? Berys was going to wed what was left of my daughter, for his own devious reasons—I never really cared much why. At least, that was what he told me when he was his natural age. It would give me time to father a son where I would. But now—Hells take it, he looks younger than I am! Mind you, I can't see him interested in a woman, or giving a damn about having a child to establish a dynasty. Giving a damn about anything other than himself, in fact.

I must watch him more closely. Never trust a demon-master, even when he is in your pay, for he has fewer scruples than a weasel and only stays bought as long as you are useful. However, I am secure enough here. True, Berys is more powerful than ever, but he is in my home now. I may have been gone for a few years, but I still know and am known by most of the folk here. They have worked for my family and been well paid for it for many years, first by my father and, for some time now, by me. Surely that is worth something.

I have seen Mistress Kiri already; she roused and came to meet me the instant word had time to spread. She is greyer, but otherwise much the same. She seemed pleased to see me despite the hour. My own mother died young; Mistress Kiri was mother to me most of my life. I think she may still have some affection for me, and at the least she and her family owe me their allegiance. My father, second only to King Gorlak, was more and more in the court from the moment my mother died, and he never saw me from one year's end to another. His influence and the power of the House of Gundar grew and spread as he worked through the years, and I was proud of him, knowing that all he achieved would be mine one day. I was well content that my father should never seek me out, for it meant I could do as I pleased.

The sun rises earlier here than in Verfaren by some hours, but it can damn well rise without me today. I have pulled the heavy shutters closed. I will sleep late, I think. I shall tell Berys what I have discovered about Lanen s pregnancy sometime soon, but tonight I am weary. It will keep.

I have accomplished the second great work of my rise to power. The first was the raising of the Demonlord; now the College of Mages is no more, and most of the Mages are dust and bone. I have sent one of the Rikti to discover what became of the Lord of the Fifth Hell. It did not survive. I had hoped it would be set free when the building was destroyed, to create havoc to its hearts content. Alas, it was not to be. Sent down to the True Death in a senseless battle by the dragon that stole away my prize. However, Marik tells me that this is the one called Shikrar, whose full true name Marik taught me some time past. That knowledge gives me a great power over it. If I invoke its true name in its hearing, I will have absolute power over it. What a lovely thought.

I regret the passing of that particular demon: all that power, all that focussed will so well controlled, now lost to my hand. I will have to think of a suitable return for that death.

It is curious. I did not realise that I would be so weary. I was not this spent when last I summoned the Lord of the Fifth Hell—though I suppose, last time, it wasn't killed either. Ah, well, such are the fortunes of war. And I have discovered that in all the activity I have left my book of Marik's thoughts in Verfaren. It is annoying, truly, but of no great consequence, as I have the book of my own thoughts with me. I trust him as he trusts me, that is, not at all, but he is shaky in his sanity and his imagination has ever been greater than bis capacity for action. He does not seem to have noticed anything amiss. If I were he, I would have demanded the sacrifice of the girl the instant she was captured, but he accepted my plea of weariness and other more important tasks to hand.

I must remind myself from time to time that he is not a fool. It is too easy to discount Marik. At least now that he needs me to keep his pain at bay, he will not easily rise against me. He does not seem to have his old ambition since I returned him from madness. Perhaps he fears me? That would be pleasant.

The Demonlord has sent one bit of good news as well. It says it can smell land. It should reach the Kolmar coast in less than a day, likely by early afternoon, Verfaren time.

There is so much to do tomorrow. I cannot hope that the Demonlord will arrive here in the East by nightfall: it will almost certainly take it at least another full day to fly the distance, possibly more, and the power I have provided it will run out at midday tomorrow. I must cast the spell yet again, send it my own energy yet again. Golems are draining. It is as well that I have the power of our tame Healers at my bidding. However, I do not wish to squander it. I believe I shall have to take up my alternate arrangement. If I understand the ancient scrolls of Pers the Hermit correctly, there is a way to ensoul a golem, a soulless construct, which will give it continued power and movement without further investment of time or energy from me. The trick is that the Demonlord gave up his soul many thousands of years since, so I will need another soul to enslave the golem that is the Black Dragon. Pers never thought of two minds in the one place, but extrapolating from his work, I think I will be able to arrange for the mind of the sacrifice to be superseded by that of the Demonlord. I suspect this all will make the sacrifice quite mad, but the man I have in mind is only a very short distance from madness at the best of times. No great loss. I have only ever promised to end his pain. There is little pain in madness, as a rule.

I will confess, I look forward to watching Marik's face when he realises that I have brought him along as a victim. His daughter would have been most useful, it is true, but she is lost to us for the moment. Favoured of the Goddess, pah! But the Holy Bitch is wanton and seldom bestows her favours for long. Those who speak with the Voice are often left bereft very soon after. I will seek out the girl again soon, for she is my link to Marik of Gun-dar's blood and bone, as well as holding the dominance of the Demonlord in her veins. Far too valuable to leave wandering the world. All I need do is let the Demonlord loose to work his will and destroy the Kantri, and she will have no more protectors.

As it happens, I have already thought of this. When I sent her into sleep against her will, I linked one end of a demonline to her boots. If I really need her before the Demonlord has got rid of them all, I will be able to reach her in the blink of an eye, no matter how many dragons cluster round her.

As to the more mundane side of things, King Gorlak of the East Mountains is consolidating the Four Kingdoms for me by conquest. He took the North Kingdom swiftly, and reports I received just before I left Verfaren would seem to indicate that Ilsa was about to fall. I'm only surprised it has taken him this long, everyone knows ancient King Tershet is childless and senile. Though perhaps he has good generals. Had good generals. Gorlak says Ilsa will be his in a matter of weeks, possibly days. He may not realise that the plague of Healer-demons I have unleashed will work in his favour. At the very least, it will distract his foes.

"Marik of Gundar's blood and bone shall rule all four in one alone." That was the prophecy made more than a hundred years gone by a great seer of the demon-masters, before Marik's father's father was even thought of. I have studied long, and I am certain that it means that Marik's only child, this Lanen, is destined to rule the Four Kingdoms of Kolmar, and so she will. At my side. Or under my foot. Depending on how you look at it. The line before that is "When the lost ones from the past live and more in fight of the sun"—I am certain that that line refers to the restoring of those the Demonlord created nearly five thousand years since. That has come to pass, entirely without my assistance, but two days since. The prophecy is taking shape, and I will do all I may to help it come into truth, as long as Marik's blood and bone is bent to my will.

And with the Kantri gone and the Demonlord bound to her bidding and she to mine—well, it was never said how long she would reign. Accidents do happen.

I shared a late breakfast with Will of Rowanbeck. Nice lad. He told me what Lanen and her other half had done up in the High Field a few days since. I'd seen part of it in the Farseer, but I'd had no way of knowing what the true effect had been on the little dragons. The Lesser Kindred, he called them. He told me about raising Salera from a kit, and how he had loved her as a child even before she had been transformed. It was all intriguing, to say the least of it. I was looking forward to speaking with this creature.

Will didn't know when Salera would rejoin him, but said she had told him it would be this day sometime. He headed off to speak with Shikrar and Kedra. Dragon mad, that one. I excused myself and said I would join them later.

Once he was gone I sought out the nearest Servants of the Lady. It wasn't easy to find them; it seems that all the activity the night before had spooked nearly everyone. This pair, a husband and wife, were only a little better than useless. I was worried that such people could not truly pass on Mother Shia's forgiveness, but She is merciful and considers the intent rather than the messenger. I felt the usual deep-seated pain and then the release as the Raksha-trace was removed. I had never found anyone who could tell me why it hurt so much, despite making me feel a great deal better at a different level. I had begun to wonder if it were possible to—if perhaps I was losing a bit of my soul whenever I used the Farseer. It wouldn't surprise me anymore. I left a donation, said a fervent prayer, and went off to look for the others.

They weren't hard to find. They were in the centre of a circle of folk standing around a bloody great dragon sat in the ruins of what had been the College of Mages.

Well, whatever else happened, this was going to be worth seeing.

I keep hoping that people are going to surprise me. I don't know why I bother. Lanen is the only one in years who has managed to do so. Oh, and Jamie once or twice.

I had had a few hours' sleep, no more, when Hygel chapped at my door. "Mistress Relleda, you need to come. Now," he said quietly.

I knew that tone of voice, and in any case I'd slept in my clothes. When I opened the door and saw his expression I started moving. "Rouse Jamie if he's not wakened yet. Where do I need to be?"

"The College," replied Hygel. "I'll follow as soon as I may."

"Bring chelan!" I called as I headed out the door.

I ran down the deserted streets to find a large crowd gathering around Shikrar. Kedra was gone—-just as well, really. I wished yet again that the damn great things had facial expressions; those faceplates of theirs looked like concealing masks. On some, like young Salera, they were beautiful. On Shikrar, who was the colour of old bronze, it just looked—impassive. Unconcerned. Otherworldly. Other.

I fought my way through a half circle, several deep, of the curious and the disbelieving, giving way at the front to the angry.

Oh, Hells.

"By my name I give you my oath, I did as little damage as I could, but there was the Lord of the Fifth Hell to fight," said Shikrar, his voice calm and reasonable. He lay, seemingly at ease, amid the ruin of the courtyard, with no one to stand beside him. Where in all the Hells were Lanen and Varien?

"What was a demon doing here?" shouted an old woman. "This is a blessed place, or it was until you got here!"

"Daughter, I did not summon the creature," said Shikrar gently. I shivered. His voice at least was much in his favour, so musical, so expressive. 'The Rakshasa are our life-enemies, there is a hatred between us that goes deep in the blood. I fought and defeated it. Why do you aim your anger at me?"

"Goddess help us, the College is in ruins and all the Mages dead! Do you say that one demon did all that, with no help from you?" cried a large man at the front of the—well, yes, might as well call it a mob.

'They have not all perished," replied Shikrar. "One of the Magistri lives, and some score of younglings escaped as well."

"So where are they then? If you saved them, shouldn't they be here defending you?"

I had opened my mouth to speak when a loud voice behind me called out, "If you will seek them out at The Brewers Arms, I expect you'll find them fast asleep." Jamie strode through the crowd. "It was near dawn when all was done. If you will only hear truth from one of your own then seek out Magister Rikard. The only innkeeper with the courage not to bolt his doors was Hygel, and he took us all in last night. Or this morning, depending on how you look at it."

"Who are you, then?" asked a voice from the crowd.

"Nobody," Jamie replied, grinning like a wolf. It wasn't a comforting sight. "I just happened to be there when all the fighting was going on last night." He bared a few more teeth. "Oddly enough, I don't recall seeing any of you."

Jamie, you idiot, that's not going to help, I thought, wincing as a low growl seemed to wander of its own accord among the crowd.

"That damned dragon killed the Magistri and destroyed the College, and there it sits in the midst of its handiwork!" cried one, pointing at Shikrar. At those words, a murmur of assent ran through the mob, and it began to surge forward. What they thought they were going to do to a dragon I can't imagine, but when you get that many angry people together, good sense is the first thing to leave.

"Foolishness," said Shikrar, sounding slightly amused and seeming to ignore the movement towards him. He was still lying down. Well done, Shikrar, I thought, realising that he had chosen his position carefully. You're a touch less intimidating like that, and you look relaxed. Good thinking. "At least allow me to be bright enough to fly away, having caused such destruction, lest the good folk of the town come in the morning to avenge my evil deeds upon my hide."

"Nonsense!" cried a loud voice from the back, and "Make way for Magister Rikard!" This sparked a swift-rushing murmur of "It's a Magister, one of them survived, it's Rikard, he'll tell us the truth."

Ah, Hygel, you old fox, I thought. Small wonder you're one of my best agents. Good man, excellent man, as Shia hears me I'll see you promoted for this.

The crowd parted and a double column of bleary-eyed student mages marched towards Shikrar, Magister Rikard at the rear. When they reached the open space before the crowd, the little group divided itself, one column to either side, Magister Rikard remaining in the centre.

"It cheers my heart to see so many of you come to offer your thanks to our preserver," he said as loudly as he could. "Were it not for the dragon Shikrar here, we would be in even worse case this morning than we are."

"What happened, Magister?" called a voice, and all the others chimed in asking the same.

"It was Archimage Berys," said Rikard loudly, at which silence fell like a leaden blanket.

"He was killed?" cried the voice, dangerously angry now.

"No, mores the pity," said Rikard. "He was the cause of the destruction."

"You've always hated Berys," accused the same voice as a short powerful man with grey-shot brown hair stepped forward. He continued. "We've all known it for years. Why should we believe you?"

"Because it's bloody true!" shouted one of the students. He was tall and gangling in the way of young men, his close-clipped red hair blazing in the morning sun. He strode towards the loud objector, until Rikard motioned him to stop short. "Who are you, then?" asked the lad aggressively. "I didn't see you here last night, when we were damn nigh killed."

Oh, lad, don't take your lessons in tact from Jamie, I thought, cringing. You'll never make a friend again.

"I'm Tolmas, stonemason and builder," replied the man hotly, "and I've a family, young man. I kept them safe last night. Fighting demons is your work, not mine."

"Fighting demons is work for all of us, Master Tolmas," said Shikrar quietly.

"Except for Berys," snapped Rickard. "He's the one that called that abomination down on us."

"How do you know?" replied Tolmas, undeterred. "And how did you escape and all? We thought all the Magistri were killed."

"I am the last," said Rickard, his face stony. "To answer your question, Tolmas, I escaped because I was suspicious, and when I saw the armed guards at the doors, ere ever the Archimage arrived, I ran. I am a rank coward but I live. Are you answered?"

I winced for him. He was a straight arrow, sure enough, but I didn't see the need for truth that stark. Maybe I could give him lying lessons.

'Then how do you know this was all Berys's doing?" snarled Tolmas, speaking still for the crowd.

"He doesn't. I do," said the tall lad.

"Aye, and who in all the Hells are you anyroad?" demanded Tolmas.

I heard rather than saw a slight movement at the back of the crowd. Will, Vilkas, and Aral had arrived, and behind them Varien and Lanen were moving swiftly towards us.

"M'name's Chalmik," said the lad sullenly. I couldn't blame him. Never mind sullen, I'd have been furious if some loudmouth had been annoying me after I'd fought for my life, but I think he was too weary for it. "I've been at the College for four years. I was to take my warrant exams next month. Wasn't doing too badly either." He glanced behind him and said laconically, "Not too many warrants going to come out of there, now, are there?"

"Was it really Berys?" asked a new voice. "Did you see him?" This was an older woman. Her voice trembled, poor soul. They had all trusted him.

"Yes, it was really Berys, him that was the Archimage." Chalmik's voice rose and he pitched it to carry to the back of the crowd. I was impressed. "He showed up wearing robes with demon symbols on 'em, asked us students if we wanted to side with him and the demons, and when we refused he called up his little pets and threw them at us while he laughed," said Chalmik. "I've never seen such coldhearted evil in my life. Oh, it was Berys alright, in the flesh and twice as ugly. And if I ever see him again, by the Lady's hand I swear I'll kill him."

Jamie murmured, "Get in line, lad," but very, very quietly.

"What did the dragon have to do with it?" someone cried. Oh, well, yes, it might have been me. Caught up in the moment. As it were.

The corner of Chalmik's eye shivered, but he never did so crass a thing as wink. "We were all gathered in the main hall, trying to get through doors that had been locked with sorcery. We were about to choose whether we'd rather be cooked in the fire or eaten raw by the demon when some voice the size of a mountain calls out to stand away and we saw this huge claw come through the wood like it was so much paper." He grinned back at Shikrar. 'We thought it was another demon at first, but it pulled the doors off and let us out. If we'd been in there another minute, we'd all have died. My word to the Lady on it. He saved us."

A middle-aged woman moved out of the main crowd then. She was short and stout, but with a bright eye and a kind, worried, very pale face. It didn't take a Healer to realise that she was in shock. Ignoring Magister Rikard, she walked straight up to Chalmik and laid her hand on his arm. "My daughter is a student. She's done really well in her Healers work. Magistra Erthik said she'd be a fine worker with women and babes." The woman glanced along the scant faces of the score of students, her eyes seeking desperately what her heart knew was not there. "I don't see her. Her name's Elishbet. Please—please—where are the others? Where is my daughter?"

Chalmik, that great gawk of an awkward young man, leaned down and took the woman's hands in his, calmly. "She's gone to the Goddess, Mother," he said, gazing straight into her desolate eyes. "I'm so terribly sorry." His voice shook then, but only for an instant. "Elishbet was a friend of mine. You should be proud of her. She was a damn fine Healer."

The woman nodded once to him, stood motionless for a moment, then went over to Shikrar. Chalmik followed, at a discreet distance. So did we all.

Shikrar regarded her gravely. She stared at him. "You killed the demon, did you?"

"I did, Lady," he said simply.

"You're not even scratched."

"I was badly wounded," he answered, hearing the accusation under the statement. 'Two of the students honoured me and healed me last night. If you care to look, you will find the new scale on my back and my right flank. It is lighter in colour than the rest."

He shifted himself so that she could see. She went right up to him and touched the new scale, noting the extent of it. It covered half his back, but at that moment it was her bravery that wrung my heart. "That's a right bad wound, sure enough. But perhaps you don't feel pain like we do."

"Despite the healing I feel it even now, Lady, I assure you," he said, keeping his voice level. "If the students had not been so kind to me I would be in agony for many moons to come, at the very best."

She stared up at him. "They had to heal you so you could kill the thing?"

"No. I killed it first."

"But you didn't kill it before it killed all the other Mages," she said, anger rising with every word. "You didn't kill it before it murdered my daughter, damn you!" She balled up her fists and struck out at him as hard as she could, again and again, putting her back into it, beating out her pain on that dark bronze hide. You could see that he barely felt it.

The crowd shivered but Shikrar ignored them. He lowered his great head to the level of her eyes, slowly, so as not to frighten her, and he spoke as gently as he might and still be heard.

"Lady, my only child still lives, so I cannot know your pain: but I swear on my soul that I destroyed the Raksha the instant I could. I am not a god." At that she stopped striking him and looked up, into those huge eyes so near her own. Shikrar's red soulgem blazed in the morning light. "I am not some beast out of legend, with magical powers to change the way things are. I am a creature of this world, like you, flesh and blood. I can fail, like you. I did what I could. If I could turn back time and save every single soul who died last night, I would do it, were it to cost my own life— but I cannot, and such words are empty. I grieve for your loss, Lady, as I do for all those whose loved ones are gone to the Winds, but I am not responsible for it. You must look to Berys for that."

She stared at him still, not even seeming to notice that she was starting to shake. Chalmik moved up to stand beside her. "Mother, come, let me help you, you're in shock—"

"I'm not your mother," she snapped. "My child is dead." Her anger gave her just enough strength to turn away from Shikrar, but at her first step her knees gave way. Chalmik caught her as if he had been expecting it and half led, half carried her gently away.

That was the turning point. It was as if a string had been cut, or a spell released. The crowd let out its collective breath. Those who had no one to look for drifted away. Of the rest, some few went to speak with Magister Rikard, but most moved forlornly towards the ruins of the College and started to shift the rubble.

It is such a human thing. Even when we think all hope is gone we still look, not able to understand such devastation and death, not willing to let such a terrible disaster be real all at once. We look, just in case there might be someone trapped, someone escaped by some miracle, who still needs our help, every slightest noise shattering through us as hope tries to return in the face of terrible tragedy, as we listen for what we know will not come— but we cannot help it. It is in our bones. Move stone. Shift rubble. Dig down to ground level. Look for survivors.

Look for bodies.

Shikrar, watching three men trying to shift a large lump of wall, rose with a sigh and went to help.

We had all been willing to do our part, but Shikrar did most of the work. Vil and Aral were gone, with Will as witness, to make their peace with their former comrades and Magister Rikard. The rest of us took a little time to rest and speak together. Jamie came over to join Varien, Lanen, and me, and Lanen stepped forward into Jamie's waiting arms.

"Jamie," I whispered in his ear as we held each other tight.

"Lanen, my girl," rasped Jamie, stretching up to kiss my cheek. "Don't you ever do that again!"

I laughed, as he knew I would, my arms about him. "I swear, I'll avoid demon-masters in future!"

"Just you do that, fool child," he said, moving back a little and feigning a cuff at my head. He kept hold of one of my hands, though. "I thought I'd taught you better than that."

"I was fighting magic, after all," I said in mock self-defence. "But it's true. I owe you my fife again." My hand gripped his and found an answering pressure the equal of mine. "Goddess, Jamie," I said, shivering, "I was sure we were dead—"

"Now, my girl, no need to go over it," he said. "It's done. You're safe." We embraced once more, and I whispered, "Thank you, my father," before I let him go.

Varien came to my side and without warning went down on one knee before Jamie and bowed his head. I ignored Bella's unladylike snort.

"I am more deep in your debt than ever I might repay," he said solemnly. "I was too far distant last night to help my beloved when her need was greatest. If ever I or mine may serve you, only let ' your desire be known and it will be done."

"I thought you owed me one anyway, for letting you marry Lanen," said Jamie, grinning.

Varien rose and returned the grin. 'Then the score stands at two."

"I'm glad that's settled. Now if you two are finished posturing, there is still work to be done," said Rella pointedly.

Jamie had been watching the workers and shook his head. "No need, my girl." He nodded at Shikrar. "He's better than ten horses and two score men," he said quietly. "I just wish to the Goddess they had something worth looking for."

"They won't find all the bodies, you know," muttered Chalmik as Vil, Aral, and Will rejoined us. 'That fire wasn't natural. It burned hotter than real fire, that's what set the stones ablaze. And the demon—I saw it pick some of them up and—and—" He stopped and turned away.

"And what, boy?' said Jamie sharply. "Say it!"

Stung, Chalmik whipped around and shouted, "It ate them!" far too loudly. "It ate them, right? It didn't even kill them first, they were all screaming until it bit—"

And Chalmik ran around a corner. The sound of a person being violently sick is unmistakable. My own belly heaved in sympathy. Take it easy, little ones, I thought to my babes. All is well.

Vilkas began to draw in his power, but Jamie put a hand on his arm. "No, lad, leave him be," he said. "He needs to get it out of his system. He'll be the better for it." Jamie glanced at Rella, who nodded.

"I remember what it was like, seeing violent death for the first time," she murmured. "Vomiting is the least of it. The nightmares that will come, if they haven't already—those are the worst."

I shuddered. Perhaps I hadn't been so badly off, there in my silent cell.

Chalmik returned. He looked rather greener than I prefer to see people, but he seemed to be a little better.

It's a shame, really, that Salera chose that moment to land more or less directly in front of him.

He cried out and stumbled backwards, but as no one else seemed to be bothering to panic he gathered his scattered dignity about him and stood firm. Amazed, but firm.

Will was at her side in a moment, grinning. "Welcome back, lass. I've missed you."

"And I you, Father," she said.

There was a thump from Chalmik's direction, which we all charitably ignored.

"Though I have spent my time well," she added. I noted with some pleasure that her speech was improving, though she still spoke slowly and carefully as her mouth grew accustomed to the shape of speech. "My people and I have made ourselves known to the Kantri and to the Dhrenagan, the Restored." Salera's eyes were gleaming, blue as a summer sky. "We live in a time of wonders! We are sso many, Hwill, and all so different! I never dreamed of this bounty ere we Awakened." Her wings were fluttering in her excitement. "So many minds, so many souls to see the world and learn from one another."

"Have they taken to your people, then?" asked Will, anxiously.

She lowered her head and touched his forehead with hers, just for an instant, to reassure him, for all the world as if she were a huge, bright copper cat. "Do not fear for us, my father. We all are the same Kindred. My people and I, the Aiala, the Awakened, together with the Dhrenagan and the Kantri—we are facets of the same soulgem. The Kantri"—and here she sighed—"the Kantri cannot help themselves, as yet. We appear to be younglings in their eyes, and in truth we are new-come to our true lives, but we are not nearly so young as they think. Still, all is new, all is changed. They will surely learn to see us in time."

Varien stepped forward. Instantly Salera bowed, the sinuous bow of the dragon-kind. He reached out to touch her jaw, a greeting, a brief caress. "Littling, I beg you, have patience with us," he said gendy. "For thousands of winters we have sat round fires in our chambers, telling over the old tales to pass the long nights.

For five thousand winters, Salera, we have told the Tale of the Demonlord and tried to find some way to communicate with the Lesser Kindred. In all our dreams of restoring the Lost, we never imagined that you were growing into a different people! Name of the Winds, it is yet less than a se'ennight since you and your people changed, and not even a full day since the Lost have been restored!" He grinned. "The Kantri come to Kolmar, the Lost restored—it is a winter's tale come to life, a wonder as great as your own Awakening. Bear with us, I pray you."

"We do not bear with you, Lord," replied Salera. "We rejoice in you. The wider world is yet so new to us, and we have much to learn." Her eyes twinkled. "We all have much to learn. The Kantri do not know this land, and there we may assist them. The Dhre-nagan remember it, but not as it is. Much has changed over the long ages. They will have to learn again, an old song transformed, or a new one with echoes of the old. It will be difficult at first, but surely we will sing together in time."

"Bloody hellsfire," muttered a voice from near the ground. Chalmik hadn't bothered to stand up again, which I suspect was just as well. "What is this?"

Salera stretched her long neck around Will to gaze at Chalmik s seated figure. "I am not a what, Master Gedri, I am a who. I hight Salera, of the Aiala. What are you called?"

"Mik," he replied, staring wide-eyed. "How—you're—talking!"

"It is the way of a reasoning creature to use speech, is it not?" she asked.

"But—but I always thought—I've seen you in the forest, I thought you were . .. just.. ." He ground to a halt under her un- blinking gaze.

"Beasts," finished Salera. Mik nodded. "We were, but the Wind of Change has blown upon us all. I believe you are the first Gedri I have met who was not present at our Awakening." Suddenly she glanced back at Will. "Father—there are words for a first meeting among Gedri, I can feel the shape of them in my mind, but I do not know what I must say."

Will could hardly keep from laughing and Varien was no better. Men! I replied calmly, 'Tou have a choice, Salera. You can say 'well-met,' or 'good day/ or you can give your use-name."

"I have done that," she said, worried, "but the shape of the words is not what it should be."

Mik stood up, brushing off his robes. He approached Salera slowly but without fear. Good lad. "Good morrow to you, Mistress—uh—Sa—"

"Salera," I whispered loudly.

"Mistress Salera. I am honoured to know you." He put out his hand as if to shake hers.

She stared at it for a moment and looked back at me.

"We shake hands, one Gedri to another," I said. "Will, come here, put out your hand."

Grinning like an idiot, Will obliged me and we shook hands. Salera sighed and extended her hand, twice the size of Mik's, each finger tipped with a long sharp talon.

"I cannot," she said sadly. "I would harm him."

For once in my life inspiration struck at the right moment. "Here, lass, you hold up your hand, but open it as much as you can." She did, and the talons spread wide, leaving the tough skin of her palm exposed.

"Here, Mik," I said. 'Tou raise your hand too, and touch palms."

Mik touched Salera's palm briefly and said, simply, "Welcome, Salera."

"Well-met, Mik," she replied.

I couldn't help but smile at the odd solemnity of it, but withal I found myself moved. As it happens, Mik, all unsuspecting, was the first to use the gesture of greeting between Aialakantri and Gedri that is now commonplace.

It's a shame the moment couldn't have lasted a bit longer. Ah, well.

I had been crouched over moving stone for some time. My new-healed back began to ache, so I paused, stretched my wings on high and reached out with my head and neck, easing the stiff- ness. I had not considered the effect of my full height on the nearby Gedri—I heard some cursing and, glancing down, saw that most of them had moved swiftly away from me. I am ashamed to admit that my chief thought was that, all in all, it would not be a bad thing for the Gedri to remain a little fearful of us for a time. There were so few of us, so many of them; and I was certain that the mob that had come casting accusations would not be the last to blame all their troubles on the Kantri, and others might throw more than accusations. It occurred to me as well that in all this long time, perhaps they had invented some weapon that would do us harm.

In the midst of my musing, my eye was drawn to a robed figure riding towards the town. I paid no attention until Salera shot into the air not a wingspan from me.

My mindvoice was echoed by Varien s as we both cried out to her in truespeech.

"Raksssshi!" she hissed, and launched herself at the rider on the road.

I could not get airborne nearly as quickly as she, I had to run instead. Out the ruined gates of the College and swiftly north to where the rider sat in the road, his horse long gone, gaping up at Salera as she gathered the breath of Fire. I just managed to shelter him from her Fire with my wing.

"Rakssshi! Evil!" she cried, trying to maneuver around me for a clear shot. I had never seen her fly like this. She was amazingly agile in the air, turning on a wingtip.

"We do not judge the Gedri, Salera!" I cried, struggling to protect the creature. "Others of its kind must punish it if punishment is due. For all our sakes, control yourself!"

She screamed her frustration and wheeled away, breathing her Fire to the Winds in protest.

"You are wise, Old One," said the creature under my wing. The stench of the Rakshasa rising from it all but choked me. The moment Salera had given up her attack, I folded my wings away. It laughed, and the eyes of the Rakshi gazed back at me from that human face. I spat Fire, carefully missing it by only a talon's width.

"Take no comfort from my restraint," I growled. "I would sooner destroy you than not, and I would be less forgiving than the little one—but you wear the guise of a child of the Gedri."

"An excellent shield, is it not?" the thing mocked quiedy. "And so hard for their useless eyes to see past."

"Goddess, it's Healer Donal!" cried a voice. Magister Rikard came running up.

"Perhaps it was Healer Donal," said I, cold fury in my voice. "It is now the shell around a demon."

"I was just riding down the road when those things attacked me!" false Donal cried, as more of the Gedri crowded round. They are ever curious, as a race. The students came along close behind Rikard. Vilkas's dark head rose above the others; at his side, as ever, kind Mistress Aral, and behind her the Lady Rella.

"Friend, if either one of them had attacked you, we'd be looking at a pile of cinders," drawled Rella. Her voice was light but her eyes were flint.

"The big one didn't want to be seen to kill a human!" cried false Donal loudly, trying to back into the crowd. "It said so!"

"You poor man," said a new voice, with nothing of pity about it. I had not seen Maran approach but there she stood, at the side of the demon-caught Healer. "Here, this should give you comfort." She took something from around her neck and pressed her palm to false Donal s forehead.

He screamed and tried to fight her off, but she held him in a grip that regularly bent iron to her will. Eventually several men managed to remove her hand from his forehead, but still he screamed. There, as though it had been graven in his flesh, was a shape I remembered well. A star with many points around a central circle, the points in groups of three.

"What have you done to him!" cried one of the students, who was drawing in his power to help the afflicted one. False Donal tried feebly to fight him off.

"Nothing that would hurt a true Healer," said Maran, scowling. "It's my Ladystar," she said, holding it up for inspection. "I had it blessed this morning. Just as well."

The student laid his hands on false Donal and sent his power into the creature. The Gedri stopped screaming and growled, a grating, hideous noise from a human throat. "Leave off!" it snarled, knocking over the Healer and standing up. "Gah!" It rubbed the black shape on its forehead.

Magister Rikard made his way through the gathered folk. His face was grim and he glowed a clear blue, far brighter than the hapless student. "Donal, in the Lady's name, what has happened to you?"

The thing started to curse. Rikard's eyes widened. "True names—perhaps—I call you, Donal of Ker Torrin, Donal of the East Mountains, Donal ta-Wylark, speak to me!"

The man shuddered violently, closed his eyes, and collapsed. When next he opened them, they were no longer the eyes of the Rakshi. A plain human stared back at us all. Shaken, revulsed, terrified, but human.

"Save me, Rikard!" he cried. "It is not banished, it lurks and waits its chance to take me over once more." He began to weep, suddenly, shockingly. "Shia's heart, Rikard, I beg you, kill me, don't let that thing come back!"

"How did this happen?" asked Rikard. His voice struck even me as being overly harsh in the face of such desperation. "Demons follow laws. How could they take over a man—a Healer!—if he did not invite them in?"

"I did, I confess it!" cried Donal. "For the love of Shia, I beg you, shrive me, kill me, I cannot bear it!"

"How did you fall?" demanded Rikard.

"Power," said Donal. He was trembling in the mild air as though he lay naked in winter. "They gave us all power, power to heal, so much more than the Lady granted! And all for so small a price, that might never need be paid." His whole body shook now, his voice thick with revulsion. "But they have called in our debt. I was drowning until you called me forth, Rikard. I know not how long I will last, I fight it with every breath as it is."

"How may it be banished?" asked Lanen swiftly. "What have we to do to help?"

"It depends. Did you sign in blood?" asked a cold voice, and suddenly Vilkas stood over the wretch.

"No, no, it was just a lock of hair, that's all they took from any of us." Donal's eyes grew wild. "Save me, Rikard, it returns. I beg you, take my life before I am lost forever!"

"You poor fool," muttered Vilkas. "From such a compact the only way out is the death of the demon-master who made the agreement with you."

"Who did you compact with?" demanded Maran, pushing her way forward. "Quickly, man, a name!"

"Marik of Gundar and Archimage Berys," Donal replied, panting, as one who has run a long race. "It returns—in Shia's name, I beg you, strike to the heart while yet my soul has hope of paradise!"

Maran went to draw her sword, Rella pulled out a dagger, but they were too slow. I went for my own weapon, but I was too late.

"Now!" screamed Donal, his face a mask of terror.

Shikrar's talons pierced his chest, four talons sharp as swords. The Raksha, forced outside the body now that it was dead, barely had time to scream its frustration before Salera and Shikrar flamed it into oblivion.

With his last breath, the poor Gedri sighed "Thank you" to bright Salera and to me, and left this life to sleep on the Winds.

I bowed and sent a benison after the departing soul, and began to speak aloud the ancient prayer for the dead. I had never known it to be used for a child of the Gedri, but the Wind of Change blew stark across us all. Perhaps it was time for the Wind of Shaping to speak while the world shifted around us.

"May the Winds bear you, Donal ta-Wylark, to where the sun is ever warm and bright. May your soul find rest in the heart of light. May you join your voice to the Great Song of Tune, and may those you love who have flown before meet you and welcome you into the Star Home, the Wind's Home, where all is well, and all is joy, and all is clear at last."

The words were meant to give comfort, but I felt none. I had killed a Gedri Healer in full view of a hundred witnesses. No matter that I had done so to grant him release from bondage—no matter that he had begged for that mercy—it was an ill way to begin, and I did not like it as an omen.

Lanen

Varien had not flinched, even when Shikrar solved the problem of who was going to release that poor soul, but I couldn't bear to look at the mangled body. I turned away, deeply regretting my breakfast—and there she stood. We had been near the back of the crowd when I heard some woman saying something about a Ladystar, but I hadn't seen who it was.

Maran, my mother, stood at my left shoulder, gazing at Jamie and Rella as though her heart would break.