The Lesser Kindred

XIII The Wind of Shaping Like Fire Burns

We sat as close to the fire as we could get. The inn was all but empty. I'd have preferred it to be full, that we might not be so obvious, but to be honest I was too tired to care, and I was the most wakeful of us three.

Vilkas and Aral slumped down on to the bench nearest the fire while I went to find Gair, but I noticed as I left that Aral still had her power about her. They were talking quietly.

Gair emerged carrying a steaming pie, and for two coppers I'd have taken it out of his hands, but he saw my face and pulled it out of my grasp.

"Ho, Will, it's that way is it? Well, there's another in the kitchen with your name to it, just let me serve these good folk and I'll be with you."

"We need food fast, Gair, these two are famished. Can I fetch beer and bread for now?"

"A moment, Will, I'll be right with you," he said, placing the pie before the only other people in the place, an older couple. I just stood and waited. Gair was like that.

I couldn't help taking note of the two he was serving, a sharp-featured man with dark hair sprinkled with grey, and a woman with a crooked back. They both looked done in, but while the man was slicing the pie into quarters the woman said, "I'll need something stronger than wine. What else have you got?"

"Is she in that much pain, then?" asked Gair kindly. "The poor lass! I've some Kygur, or there's a bottle of Kairhum wine."

"Stronger than wine, I said," the woman said sharply.

"No, mistress, you see—it's boiled down, like, and the water's drawn off and leaves the alcohol behind. It's strong, right enough."

The man barked a harsh laugh. "Kairhum is it. That stuff'11 take the shine off old leather, Rella, and Lanen's not used to spirits. Trust me, it'll help her until we can fetch a Healer from Verfaren."

"Bring it then, quickly," said the woman.

Gair turned to me. "Will, I—"

"Go. I'll get our beer, you help these folk."

I brought a brimming jug and three leather tankards to th table Vil and Aral had dragged over to the fire. "Did you hea any of that?" I asked quietly. I glanced at the older couple They were eating quickly, but more than half of the pie sa untouched in its dish.

"Not a thing," said Aral. She drank off a full tankard of Gair's best brown ale and sighed deeply. "Blessed Shia, that tastes wonderful. Where's the food? I'm starving."

"Coming. Gair's fetching strong spirits for those folk-seems there's more of their party and one of them's in a bad way." I lowered my voice. "They're heading for Verfaren to fetch a Healer."

To my astonishment, Vilkas rose instantly without saying a word and moved towards the corner where the others sat, Aral and I, of course, followed after. As always. I'll say this for the lad, he'd have made a fine player.

Vil stood before them and bowed. "Your pardon, my lord, my lady," he said. "My friend could not help but hear your conversation. You seek a Healer?"

The man just frowned at him, but the woman stared straight into his eyes. "Yes. We need the best Verfaren has and we need them quick. What has it to do with you?"

Vilkas drew himself to his full height. He was in a dreadful state, dishevelled and weary as he was, but there was a light in his eyes that would not be ignored. I think the day had been too long for him, too full of death and battle, too close to the dark places in his soul. He was at the same time exhausted and in that strange place beyond exhaustion where we are stronger than we ever imagine. Certainly, he risked a damn sight more than he should have.

"Everything, lady," he said. "At Verfaren today, one of the people I loved best in the world was killed by the head of the College because she dared stand up for me and mine. I would keep even a chance-met soul out of the clutches of that demon master lest the same fate befall them. I am a Healer, in the service of the Lady Shia, the mother of us all. It is my duty to serve those in pain. How can I help?"

"Hells' teeth, you puppy," muttered the woman, staring around her to be certain we were the only souls about. "How dare you say such things about the Archimage?"

"Because they are true," said Vilkas loudly. He was burning bright now, not with his corona but with a bone-deep anger that had at last found an outlet. "I am no fool, mis-tress," he said, his brilliant eyes alight with his fury. "I know all too well the powers ranged behind Berys the Bastard, but from this moment I refuse to support his lies. He is a demon master and a murderer and I will do all in my power as long as I live to bring about his downfall."

"And if I were to tell you that I am an assassin, and in his service?" said the woman harshly.

Vilkas wrapped a shield of power about her instantly and she was held motionless. The man beside her hardly moved, but he was watching carefully. "Aral," said Vilkas.

Aral moved forward and joined her corona to his, muttering,

"Great, thanks Vil, now we're both in it." She gazed closely at the woman through her corona. "It could be, Vil. She has killed before—but I'd swear she has not the slightest touch of Raksha-trace."

Vil released her and bowed. "If you are truly what you claim, I can only beg that you will drop your allegiance, else I will be forced to fight you and it would not be an equal contest. I am trained to healing, lady, and your death would weigh on my soul, but I cannot have you following me."

The woman smiled. It was a good smile. "Then be glad I'm not in his pay. My soul to the Lady, lad, it's good to see such courage, even if it is misplaced. I've hated Berys for years—but you should be more careful who you declare yourself to. Be glad there's no one else in here. How do you know about Berys?"

"I am his Enemy," said Vilkas simply. Cold, burning sim- plicity, like a new-forged blade plunged into the heart of ice. He might as well have shouted it. I shivered and felt Aral take my hand for simple comfort. I am afraid I found myself thinking that if the Death of the World were ever to speak, that would be its voice.

The woman stared at him, trying to take his measure. The man, however, stood and held out his hand. "Then you are welcome here, lad, but if you're going to call yourself Berys's Enemy you're going to have to stand in line. What's your name?"

Vil hesitated. The woman looked up at him. "Don't bother thinking up a false one," she said dryly. "I'm Rella, he's Jamie. Our real names. Who are you?"

"Vilkas," he said, taking the man's offered hand. "My soul to the Lady, I swear to you I am the strongest Healer you will find in or out of Verfaren who isn't demon-touched. How can I help?"

Well, that was enough of that.

"Your pardon, gentles," I said, coming up and putting a mug of beer in Vilkas's hand. "Drink," I told him, then turned to the couple. "His name is indeed Vilkas, he is what he claims, and before he can help anybody he needs food and a chair. Will you join us at the fire?"

They glanced at one another and the woman shrugged. The man, Jamie, got up and closed the door and latched it. Gair, who was just coming in with our food, put it down on the table and began to protest, but Jamie said, "If it means you lose custom I'll pay you for it. We need privacy."

Gair looked to me. "Up to you," I said with a shrug.

"Five silver will get you privacy and a closed door," said Gair decisively. Despite the atmosphere, I restrained a grin with great difficulty. He'd be lucky to make that much in a week. Obviously, Jamie knew as much, from his laugh. "Make it two, master, and I'll find it easier to believe!" he said.

"Don't bloody haggle," snarled Rella. She stood and Gair took a step back. There was that in her eyes that made me nervous as well. She drew out three silver coins. "There's for our beds, a closed door and food. Now where's that bottle of spirits?"

"Just coming, mistress," he said, taking the money and bowing his way out.

Aral and Vilkas were already eating like starveling waifs. Healing is a wearying business, I'm told, and they had walked ten miles on top of all that had beset them. Their youth was in their favour at least. Hard to believe that so much had happened in so few hours.

I should never think such things. Mother Shia seems to take it as a challenge.

A great cry came from somewhere beyond the kitchen. Before it had ceased we were all four on our way.

Lanen gripped my hands with all her strength while the pain swept through her. The moment the spasm relaxed I helped her to lie back against the wall. She could not lie flat, but at least this way she could relax a little. She closed her eyes as I covered her with a light blanket.

I tried to bespeak her but met only silence. It terrified me.

"Dearling, can you hear me?" I asked gently, and added in truespeech, "Oh, kadreshi, sleep not on the winds, not yet, I cannot bear it."

"Of course I can hear you," she said. She tried to keep her voice light, but it was taught with her pain. "I may be falling apart at the seams generally, but for the moment there's nothing wrong with my ears."

"Lanen, look at me." She opened her eyes wearily, and the agony behind them struck me like a blow.

"I'll admit the view is a fine one, Varien love, but I need to rest. Just let me close my eyes for a moment—"

She cried out then, in surprise as much as pain as another spasm seized her. "Akor! Oh Hells, it's worse!" She gave a great shudder. "Oh Hells," she said, and her voice sounded terribly distant. "Akor, help me—dear Shia it hurts—"

I happened to glance down from her face and saw a rapidly spreading bloodstain on the blanket. They tell me I shouted to bring down the roof tiles. I have no memory of it. All that remains to me of that moment is the memory of the bone-deep fear that I was going to lose Lanen, and the sickening knowledge that I could do absolutely nothing to help her.

I had never heard anyone yell like that. There were no words in it, but it was a command sure as life. Vilkas, already blazing blue and ahead of all, turned to Jamie and said "Where?"

Jamie pushed ahead of him and opened one of the many doors. Everyone else hurried in so I kept out of the way, but I caught a quick glimpse of the folk inside, for the bedroom was well lit and had a roaring fire in its own grate. There was a woman sat up in the bed, held in the arms of a silver-haired man, sitting in the middle of a spreading stain. I could smell the blood from the doorway.

Gair came rushing up. I sent him away again to fetch boiling water and soap and a fresh set of sheets, and told him to prepare food and drink for healers and healed after the work was done.

I only hoped the sheets wouldn't be needed to wrap a corpse in. The lady was so very white, and there was so very much blood.

It was a night of the young moon when I sensed him. I woke from my rest. All around lay my new companions, curled neatly around one another to share warmth and the comfort of another heartbeat. I had slept alone this night, and now though dawn was yet hours distant, I woke as to a voice calling me.

It was his voice, or the echo of it. In the deep heart of me I knew he was near and my heart rejoiced to think he drew nigh, lor the longing I had to see him again was stronger than ever. I was drawn east, walking away from the late-setting moon. I sought for any trace of him, drank in the wind: but his scent was not there. Still he drew me east—perhaps I would catch his scent higher up.

I climbed up one of the rock spurs that encircled much of the plain. It led soon to a ledge on the outer wall of the high rocks that might have been made for such a purpose. I leapt off and caught the air while my kinfolk lay sleeping. There was just enough lift to assist me, so I spiralled up and glided across the high meadow I had just left. It was a deep feeling, still and sacred, to be aloft when all the world was unaware. I saw distant lights to the north and much nearer lights south, and knew that he might be in either place, but still I was drawn eastward.

Not far in straight flight I noticed another light below and imelled smoke. I began to spiral down. Do not think I was using reason in any sense, for reason was not part of me then. Not yet. No, I followed some deeper instinct. How does a wolf find its mate in the deep forest, or a hawk its other half in the broad sky? There is a something that draws loved ones together that has no name and cannot be explained by reason.

I finally knew he was there as I came lower. Did I smell his trace on the air, catch the scent of his passing or of his footsteps grown cold on the frosty road? No.

But I knew he was there all the same.

It was an evil sight that met our eyes. Lanen was bleeding badly and Varien looked completely terrified. The lad Vilkas hurried in and with a curious gentleness sent his power to aid her.

"She lives yet," said Varien, "though I know not for how long." I think hearing that dead flat voice from him was the only thing that could make me take my eyes off Lanen. He stood beside the bed and held her close, as though daring death to come for her. I had never seen a living man so pale.

"My lord," said the Healer, Vilkas, never turning his face from Lanen, "make room, I pray you, I must come closer to the lady." Varien, with great difficulty, laid Lanen flat on the bed.

"I thank you, my lord. Be assured, she sleeps now, I have released her from the pain—"

Varien reached out and grasped the front of the Healer's robe and lifted him off the ground, all in one swift motion. Varien's eyes were blazing and his voice, far from flat now, echoed in the room. "I have heard these Gedri phrases for death before. If thou hast let her die, false healer, behold thine own death before thee!"

No one else moved but the lady Healer spoke softly. "Master, my friend speaks not of death but of the Healer's sleep. It is as if your lady had fainted, she does not feel pain. She is not dead, nor will be if you will let her healer get back to his work.""Forgive me," said Varien, putting the healer gently back on the ground. "I cannot hear her, I feared—Jameth, help me—"

I came and took him by the shoulders. Just for that moment he didn't resist. "Can we be of any assistance?" I asked the lady Healer.

'Take him back to the fire and feed him, if he'll eat."

"I will not leave her," said Varien, shaking off my light grasp. He looked to the Healers. "I will not interfere, my word to the Winds and the Lady, but I will not leave her."

"Let him stay," said Vilkas, deep in his healing trance. "The rest of you, out."

The little lass looked me in the eye then, and her brown eyes were kind and reassuring in her honest face. "She will live, master, if it is within human ability to save her. Vilkas was not boasting, though I know it's hard to believe chance met as we are. He really is one of. the strongest Healers alive." She stopped for a moment and smiled. "But if we're not down in half an hour, send up food and wine, and a jug of water. Even Vil needs food." She laid her hand on my arm and gently but firmly pushed me towards the door. "Now go, and take Will and your lady wife with you. We need quiet." I was helping Varien to the door when she called out, "Oh— what is her name?"

"Lanen," said Varien from the comer. All credit to him, his voice was steady. "Her name is Lanen Kaelar."

The little healer turned back to Lanen without looking to see if we had gone. She moved her hands and spoke a short prayer, and her Healer's blue corona grew brighter as she moved towards my heart's daughter.

I glanced over at the bed as I led Rella and the big fair-haired stranger, Will, out of the room. Berys's Enemy over there was completely absorbed in his work, and to my relief he was surrounded by what looked like a small blue sun. Maybe he really was that good.

Lanen slept.

That night was the first time I ever saw Vilkas working at—well, I thought at the time it was his full capacity. Certainly he was drawing on power that I had only suspected he had. I don't know if it was the relief of having finally told someone about his dreams, or that he was too tired to hold back, or if it was just that he was so glad to have a simple problem of healing to work with rather than having to hold off demons, but he threw himself heart and soul into helping Lanen.

It wasn't swift or simple to aid her. The obvious problem was that her body was rejecting the babes. I said out loud, "She's healthy otherwise."

"Yes, but—Aral, take a look at her blood," said Vil, in the faraway voice he gets when he's concentrating. "Not the stuff in her veins, just look at the blood around the problem."

I did as he asked, then I looked again. "What in all the Hells is that?" I said aghast. "That dark stuff, it's like there's a battle going on within her blood—sweet Shia, Vil, what is she carrying?"

"They are too young to see easily, but they look normal," he said. "And she has no taint of the Raksha about her, none at all." He looked up. "I've got her stable and asleep, but I'm working flat out just to keep her there." He turned to the silver-haired man, who now stood silent, watching every move with his great green eyes. "You—what is your name?"

"I am called Varien," he answered, far more politely than Vilkas deserved and with immense dignity. "And you are called?"

"I am Vilkas, and my colleague here is Aral of Berun," said the young man. "You are the father, are you?"

"Yes. Lanen is my wife and bears our child."

"Children," snapped Vilkas from the bedside. I was too astounded to reply.

He finally looked up at me. "Come here a moment, Varien, if you will. The difficulty your lady is having is not one I have seen before, and I must examine you to understand it and heal her. Do you permit?"

"Yes," I said. "But you should know, the last time a Healer tried to assist me he could not."

"I can believe that," said the young man as he sent the blue strength of his power to surround me. "I can't see a thing—a moment, I pray you." The glow about him brightened, and suddenly he gasped and straightened, staring into my eyes. Lanen had often said that my eyes were yet the eyes of Akhor of old. Perhaps it was that which made him step back.

"By our Lady," he swore. "Woman never bore you, nor man never fathered you. Of what kind are you? And what is that which should sit there but does not?" he asked, touching my forehead.

"That is my secret," I said quietly.

"Don't be a fool!" said Vilkas, angry in the instant despite his wonder. "Your wife is dying because there is a violent battle raging in her body over the children she bears. Your children. If I am to keep her alive I must know what it is that she fights." His eyes were hard.

"I see," I said. "Very well. I suppose the time of concealment is past, at least with you. Know, Healer Vilkas, that this knowledge is life and death to more than Lanen." I glared at him. "Know also that death will be thine at my hand if this knowledge goes beyond this room."

In full view of both of the Healers I drew forth my circlet and put it on. They both gasped at the sight of the golden thing, for gold is very rare among the Gedri. Blessed be the Winds, the moment the soulgem touched my forehead I felt my old self sweep through me, and since I was not using truespeech my head did not ache. I did, however, feel all my years come back and settle quietly on my shoulders, and I grew impatient with this unfledged youngling.

"Behold, Mage Vilkas," I said. "This is what I lack, this is what I bore through all my years that now is no longer a part of me." Before I could stop him he reached out and touched my soulgem. I heard his flesh sizzle, heard him cry out, and in a breath I was Akhor again, at what Lanen calls my stuffy best.

"You young idiot! What did you hope to learn from that? How could you forget that another's soulgem is sacred and never to be touched this side of death? Now stand you bold before me and show respect for your elders. If you want to know something, ask, but keep your claws to yourself unless you want to feel mine."

A thousand and thirteen winters are not so easily shed, alas.

He healed himself with a thought, swiftly and efficiently, and stood foursquare before me as I had so severely demanded. Already I regretted my words. His jaw hung open just slightly. I could not help smiling to myself. Add the head held just so and the wings thus, and he would have been standing in pure Amazement. "Hells take it, I never meant to say that," I sighed.

Vilkas took a great gulp of air, as though he had only just remembered to breathe, and managed to gasp out, "Claws?"

I sighed. "Yes, Vilkas. Claws. And fangs the length of your arm, the proud four, though the rest were smaller. And horns, and wings, and scales, and breath of fire."

"Sweet Goddess, how can it be? But you are, aren't you?" He drew the blazing blue about him and stared at me with all his might. "Dear Lady Shia," he whispered, "you're a dragon." He staggered backwards a step before he caught himself. "But how?"

"The story is long in the telling and now is not the time," I replied. "I am no longer one of the Greater Kindred of the Kantrishakrim," I said, a little sadly. "But so I was, Mage Vilkas. And so in my heart I shall always be. Before I became human I was one of the Kantri: the True Dragons, Lanen used to call us. My name was Akhor and I was the Lord of my people."

Vilkas was mastering himself and even thought to bow. "I—I thank you, Lord. It—that makes sense, it would explain—please, I must see your blood, and I cannot see past your skin. Can you spare a few drops?"

I drew the belt knife I carried and pierced my fingertip. "How much do you require?" I asked.

The Healer made a glowing blue cup of his hands. "Just a few drops will do. Into my palms—yes, that's fine, thank you."

He raised his hands before his eyes, and what he saw mere returned him to himself and to the healing before him. "Look Aral, it's the same," he said excitedly. "This is it, the dark fluid, it's his blood. Her body's fighting it."

I bowed my head. This was what I had feared from the beginning. "If my blood is yet the blood of the Kantri, it is no wonder that her body cannot bear it," I said as sorrow took me. "Of your kindness, save her life. The younglings cannot live, half Gedri and half Kantri. Poor creatures." I closed my eyes. "May the Winds bear them up and guard their souls," I muttered, beginning the dedication of the dying. "May the souls of the Ancestors—"

To my astonishment, Vilkas slapped my face. "Stop that," he commanded. "I need your help. No one is going to die if I can help it. Speak to her. Call her."

I was so surprised I did as he asked.

I heard Varien's voice calling me, but he must have been several fields away, I could barely hear him. I stood up in the stirrups and shouted back but he didn't seem to answer. I couldn't see him either.

I looked around me. I had been having the strangest dream, all about being sick and riding a lot of strange horses forever in a far country. I was delighted to have wakened to find myself strong and whole. Still, that far country had been lovely, what I had seen of it. I was tired of Hadronsstead, I wanted a change. I nudged Shadow into a gentle trot and went looking for Varien.

Suddenly, out of the stead came a tall dark-haired man. It seemed perfectly normal to see him, and it wasn't until he turned a sour face to me and grunted, "What are you doing here? Be off with you," that I realised with a shock who it was.

Hadron.

I half-jumped, half-fell off of Shadow and backed away. My dear mare Shadow. She had died in the fire. Hadron had been dead since last Autumn.

I ran with all the strength of terror towards the far fields, crying, "Varien! Varien! Where are you?"

I called to her aloud but she did not so much as twitch a finger. There was no help for it. I called to her in truespeech. "Lanen! Lanen! Come, you must waken."

"Varien! Varien! Where are you?" she called, her mind-voice weak and confused.

"Here, dearling." I said gently. "Come, I am here. Waken and come to me. You do but dream."

"Akor, damn it, get me out of here!" she cried. Her thought was oddly distant, as though we spoke through water. She was far away, so very far away, and death so near.

"Lanen Kaelar, Kadreshi na Varien, I call upon thee." I said with all the strength of my thought, sending all the depth of my love to her with all my strength, using her true name, sending love like water in a cold clear stream to one dying of thirst. "Come to me, beloved, my own Lanen." I said, reaching out to her in the regions of the mind. "Come, littling. Thine hour of death is not yet come. Leave thy dream and waken to healing."

"Akor?" she said, much nearer and stronger. "Akor, I can't see you."

I laughed. "Forsooth, dearling, it is no great wonder. Your eyes are closed! They are comely thus, it is true, but I love them better open."

I felt her hands take hold of mine an instant before her eyes opened. "Good point," she said. Her voice frightened me, it was so very weak. "Makes it easier to see, you're right."

I leaned over to kiss her. "It is good to have you back."

"Varien, I had the strangest dream," she began quietly, but I interrupted her.

"I will hear it later, dear one. Behold, these folk are healers to tend thee. This is Vilkas, a great mage, and this lady is his companion the healer Aral."

"Work faster, will you, great mage?" she said with a strained smile. "It still hurts like all the Hells."

"I am holding the pain at bay even as we speak, Lady," said Vilkas. "When all is done it will be gone, but not yet. You must understand what is happening and what you and I must do about it."

"We? You're the Healer," she said weakly.

"I am, yes, but—I have never tried the kind of healing your body requires," he said. "You know that at the moment your body will not consent to keep these children any longer."

"Child. Yes, I know. But it will not consent to leave." She frowned and turned to me. "I only wish it would not take me with it."

"You are not going to die!" cried Vilkas angrily, to my surprise. "There has been enough death. I have lost one I cared deeply for this day. By the Lady, these children will live if you will it, Lanen." He turned to me. "She knows what you are, does she?"

"She knows full well," I said, smiling down at my dear one.

"So I do," she replied. Her voice was stronger now. "You're an awkward so-and-so, but you're my husband so I have to put up with you."

"Lady, this is no time to jest," said the Healer solemnly. "You know that this man was once a dragon?"

"Of course, you idiot," she replied. "He just told you I knew. What of it?"

"It is the dragon in his blood that is causing the problem with your pregnancy," he replied, ignoring Lanen's insult. "I have stopped the bleeding and begun to repair the structures in you that are causing you pain, but unless you help me with the underlying cause the healing will not last."

"Very well, O great mage. What can I do?" asked Lanen.

Vilkas stood, thinking. "I do not know exactly how to say this. You must—it is a matter of acceptance—"

The lady Aral spoke then, and her voice was soft and gentle. "Lanen, it has a great deal to do with the way you think of things. Vilkas can do wonders, but you have to accept the strangeness of these children in your mind and in your heart, or your body will never let them live."

"I have tried," she cried, "but it is killing me! I don't want to die!"

Aral came close now and said, "Lanen, look at me." She grinned. "No, not like that. I'm a girl too, remember? Now really look at me."

Lanen relaxed a little.

"Forget your fear and anger for a moment and listen to me. It's important. Have you and your husband ever worried about the children?"

"Of course, I have been ill from this for nearly a moon now."

"No. I mean, knowing what he once was, have you feared what your union might produce?" The little Healer took a deep breath, swore briefly and said, "Monsters, Lanen. That's the word. Have you been afraid that you were carrying monsters?"

Lanen wept, all in an instant

"Oh, Goddess," she said, her voice breaking. "Yes! The words, they haunt me, Rishkan's words—oh Varien, help me! He said our children would be—would be—"

"What did this Rishkan say to her?" Aral asked me, "and why did it make such a deep impression?"

"He had a dark vision of world's ending," I said. "He tried to kill her, and only my friend Shikrar prevented it. Rishkaan said—"

"He said I would mingle the blood of the Kantri and the Gedri, that I would bear monsters, that the world would fill with Raksha-fire and there would be no one to stop it because of me," said Lanen, her tears falling unnoticed. "Is it true? Oh Goddess, no, is it true? Are they monsters?"

"Don't be stupid, woman. They are perfectly human creatures, if that can be said of babes so tiny," said Vilkas sharply. "But the mingling of the blood is not happening, and it must happen. If they are to live, the two must blend and become something new, something that will sustain both them and you."

"What in all the world can I do about it?" Lanen asked.

Aral spoke again. "It's all in your mind, Lanen—well, at least that's where it starts. This is all very new and we don't really have words for it, but I think—I think you have to let these babes be what they are, both dragon and human, no matter what you think of it, and—Vil, is this right?"

"Yes," he replied. All this while he had been sending a steady stream of power into Lanen, giving her his strength. "But there is more. For this change to happen, Lady," he said, gazing into her eyes, "you must love them. As they are, what they are, who and what they will become—you must love them and be willing to be changed by them, shaped by them, as they have been shaped by you and your husband."

"First is the Wind of Change, Second is Shaping, my Lanen," I said, with a shiver. "Although it costs me nothing to speak thus, for it is thou who art being shaped." I grasped her hand tight, making her look at me. "Kadreshi—"

"No, Akor," she said, and her voice had some of its usual strength. "They're right. Lady—I can't remember—"

"I'm called Aral," the little Healer said.

"Aral. What do I do?"

She smiled. "First, we ask the one who's the focus of the healing. Vil?"

He looked up, his face carefully neutral. "We will work together, Mistress Lanen. You must welcome the dragon—"

"Kantri, please," she said. "They call themselves the Kantri."

He managed a small smile. "You must welcome the blood of the Kantri into your body, and I will work to change your own blood that it might support both Kantri and human at once." He gazed at her. "You must understand, Lady. This is the only way you will be able to survive, but it will change you forever. You will not be able to go back to the way you were."

My valiant lady laughed, despite her pain and fear. From her true heart, in despite of all that beset her, she laughed. "Akor, you see, all is well. This is my turn!" She grinned at me. "Mind you, I have the easy part. I have these kind folk to keep the pain at bay, and I'm not going to be growing wings or losing anything I had before."

"Are you certain, my heart?" I asked.

"Certain sure, Varien," she said. "Very well, O great mage Vilkas. When shall we begin?"

"When you are ready, lady," he said.

"Then let it be done now," she replied.

He stood up, not touching Lanen at all. "Aral, I need you," he said. I was surprised at the flare in the girl's corona at those words, but she said nothing as she drew nigh to Lanen. They stood one on either side of the bed and raised their hands—well, Aral raised and Vilkas lowered—so that their palms were a finger's breadth apart. They stood thus with their eyes closed, allowing their coronas to combine. Together they were far brighter than they had been separately.

Aral, however, opened her eyes and regarded her companion. "Vilkas," she said gently, "this is too great a work to approach half-made. Behold, you are safe. There are none here that you need to fear, all is well, all is healing and the work of the Lady. We cannot do this with the tiny portion of strength you have restricted yourself to. We are going to need your true gift, my friend. The time has come, as you knew it would."

I have no idea why I said mat, but as the words passed my lips I knew they were true. Lady, it scares me when that kind of thing happens.

"I am not prepared, Aral," he answered me, but it was an excuse and we both knew it.

"You do not need to be prepared All the power you could ever need is within you, at your command, as it has ever been. Call upon it and loose it gently, Vil. All will be well. Gently, slowly, under control. The power that is in you, release it to serve the Lady Shia and the Lady Lanen who lies before us in her need, blessing and blessed," I intoned.

I suppose I should have expected it, but how was I to know?

When next I looked down Lanen was floating above the bed at waist level. Vilkas's waist level. Her eyes were open and aware, but only aware of Vilkas. I don't think he meant to do it; my guess has always been that it was just that his back was aching and he needed to see closer, so he brought her closer, but it was certainly a first.

I looked at Lanen, so near to my eyes, and was almost blinded by the blue Healer's fire from Vilkas. It was astounding. She was all but transparent—I could see every bone, every organ in her body, her very blood as it was flowing through her veins.

I stood amazed as Vilkas poured strength into her, as he watched the blood circulating, as he looked deep into the structure of blood itself and understood.

Then he spoke. Blessed Shia, that voice. I freely admit that Vil's voice is one of the best parts of him, but when he spoke from the heart of that healing sun he sounded wise and strong and—older. A lot older. Several hundred years older.

"Lanen Kaelar, it is time," he said.

"Whenever you're ready," she replied, and managed to add, "Name of the Winds, Akor, he sounds like the Kantri!"

Vilkas raised his hands high and summoned all that blaze of power into a ball the size of his hand. It glowed blue-white and was soon too bright to look at. With a gentle gesture he pushed that blue-white sun into her body, where it spread in an instant to fill her from top to toe. For a moment she floated there, pulsing with that power that beat with her

heart's rhythm. Then I saw Vilkas—this is so hard to describe—as if he held back the last note of a song, or the last drop of water that will make the jug overflow. It glimmered in the palm of his hand.

Then suddenly I felt the pulsation begin to falter. Lanen cried out. Vilkas shouted over her cries. "Bear with it, it changes, all is well, all is well—Lanen, know the truth of it, Kantri and Gedri become one, like your beloved but deeper, allow it, in the blood, in the bone—yes, that's it—Lanen, now!"

And he threw the last bright drop straight at her heart.

She screamed just once, a scream that shook her whole body, and then she lay still.

Vilkas lowered her then, oh, so gently on to the bed, where she lay still, so still—then I saw the bloodstained cotton gown rise a little. Fall. Rise again. Blessed be Shia, she was breathing.

I was shaking so that I could hardly stand. Vilkas had to take us both down, to release my poor little nimbus back to me, and—with what reluctance!—to let go the glory he had so briefly owned.

With the last of my strength I looked at Lanen with the fading remains of my Healer's sight. All the battle that had raged in her blood was gone. She looked now like any completely exhausted, perfectly healthy pregnant woman.

"Vilkas. Vil, my heart, my dear one," I said, too tired to be careful, "You did it. Wonder and glory! You found your deep power and used it, Vil! You did it. She's fine."

"Thank the Goddess for that. Mother of us All, but I'm weary," said Vilkas, and collapsed in a heap on the floor.

I heard the scream and ran to the room. I arrived just in time to see Vilkas collapse and Aral sink to her knees.

"Aral, what happened?" I demanded.

"All's well, don' worry," she murmured. "Need food, sleep—help Vil—"

I would have gone to Vilkas, but the silver-haired man was there already. He lifted Vilkas into his arms as though he weighed no more than a child. "Let the keeper of this inn bring food and drink to the finest room he has, that these two who have laboured so mightily may be cared for," he said, with the manner of a king.

Everyone else was right behind me, including Gair, so Vil and Aral were taken to the nearest bedroom and made comfortable. I knew just enough about Healers to wake them and force a little watered wine down their throats. Vilkas woke long enough to say, "Need sleep more than food, Will, bu' leave it here." He was asleep again almost before he finished speaking. We left them with food, drink and a good fire and closed the door.

When I went back to the common room Jamie was the only one there.

"I've seen Lanen," he said, relieved, and for the first time I saw that he had a good face. It had been sharpened by his fear before, but his brow was clear now and his manner very nearly gracious. "Rella and Varien are making her comfortable—changing sheets and bathing her and so on." He passed me over my drink.

"We owe you everything," he said, "you and your friends. No gold could ever repay you for what you have done."

"Gold, eh?" I said, grinning. "Well, you're right, of course, such service is beyond any amount of gold, but you could certainly try to make it up to us. You could just start piling gold on the table, we'd tell you when it was enough."

He laughed with me, a laugh full of deep relief. "Alas that I have no gold with me on this journey!" he said. "I fear we will be forced to offer silver. Will that serve?"

"I should think so," I replied, not really thinking about it. "For now, food and a place to sleep are a good start."

He smiled and said, "Aye, that of course, but we can discuss true payment in the morning. I have been riding since dawn—though to be honest, you look worse than I do."

I yawned and felt my jaw creak. "Ah, well, I am that weary, but as the other two are sound asleep I thought I would—well, master Jamie, truth is that one of us must be awake and wary and there's only me left to do it."

Jamie looked long at me. "Will, I think you're a good man," he said finally. "You know nothing of me, I know, and have no call to trust me, but I tell you true, we are keeping watch as well. Rella and I have the first shift, and believe me, we're good at it. Get some sleep. I give you my word I will watch over you and yours, and wake you should danger threaten." He held out his hand.

Well, you have to trust people at some point, don't you?

"Willem of Rowanbeck," I said, shaking his hand.

"Jameth of Arinoc."

"Well, Jameth of Arinoc, I am going to believe every word you say," I declared, "partly because I saw the way you looked at that poor girl in there and partly because I have had hell's own day and I could sleep through the end of the world," I said, standing up. "Wake me if anything untoward happens."

"I will that. Sleep well, Willem."

I rose, staggering, and stumbled to the room Gair had pointed out to me. I fell on the bed and I swear I was asleep before my head touched the pillow.

We lay huddled together on a hilly green rock in the ocean. There were a few trees and there was fresh water, but there was little else. Barely room for us all to he down, but that did not matter—the whole island was a mass of upraised wings, as those who were less tired kept the rain off those who slept. Beneath the shelter of friendly wings were heads resting on furled wings resting on nearby backs resting against other backs.

Idai and I lay curled around one another. It was very intimate, or it would have been if we were in a dry cave. As it was, we were simply huddled together against the cold, with Idai's wings over our heads to keep off the lashing rain, talking.

"Shikrar, my friend, I do not believe that we can bear Nikis so far again," said Idai wearily. "And by all accounts, the second leg of the journey is the harder."

I tried to move my aching forelegs. Even thinking about it hurt. "I fear you may be right," I replied. "I have not been this stiff and sore for many a long kell. Even with the assistance of you and Kretissh I nearly dropped her twice. But what choice have we?"

Idai looked at me. "We could leave her here, Shikrar," she said. "For a short time only, while we find somewhere to live in Kolmar, while we make our peace with the Gedri." She snorted. "While the wretch gets over the Weh sleep."

"It is hardly her fault, Idai," I began, but she was laughing.

"I know, Shikrar, but you do realise that she will be remembered among us forever as being the only soul to sleep through our return to Kolmar! Nikis the Weary, perhaps, or the Unlucky." With a groan Idai fluttered her aching wings, shaking off the water. "Though in my present mood I would be inclined to call her Nikis the Lazy."

I snorted at that. "The thought had crossed my mind as well. Especially last night, when so many of us could rest on the High Air and you and I had to keep working!"

"It might be a good idea for more of us than Nikis alone to wait here, Shikrar," she said quietly. "I have been thinking. Perhaps one or two should go first, to meet with the lords of the Gedri and speak with them." She hissed her amusement. "We are, after all, going to be something of a surprise."

Idai has always been able to make me laugh. "Ah, Iderri-sai, I thank you," I said. "It was well said, and I agree with you. It seems quite reasonable to send one ahead first. I will go."

"Either you or I, or possibly Kretissh," she replied. "Do not forget, Eldest, you are our lord while Akhor—while Varien is away."

"That was never decided, Idai," I said gendy. I knew she still felt pain speaking of Akhor, whom she had always loved. "Our King is chosen by acclamation, after all. Varien offered to give up the kingship, but still he is our King until the Kantri in lawful Council decide otherwise."

She snorted. "It was decided by everyone except you. And you are the Keeper of Souls, and—"

"Kedra is perfectly capable of performing the Kin-Summoning," I said, "and when I go to sleep on the Winds, you will be Eldest in your turn. What is a leader for, if not to lead?" I stretched my forelegs again, wincing at the cramp. "Besides, I cannot think of another way to avoid carrying Nikis for three more days."

"Ah, Shikrar, now I believe you!" she laughed. Trizhe, lying nearest us, raised a mild complaint about the noise.

Idai lowered her voice. "Besides, Teacher-Shikrar, I spoke easily just now of making our peace with the Gedri, but that may not be a swift or a simple thing. There are those among us"—she glanced at me sideways—"who despise the Gedri and will always do so, no matter what you may say or do."

I acknowledged her point, for until the year just past I was among those who felt that way. However, like the others I had merely been repeating the words and thoughts of my elders. When I finally met one of the Gedri—the Lady Lanen, now so dear to me—I was forced to reconsider the foolish opinions I had held for so very, very long. I was proud of myself for being able to admit to my own ignorance and to change, though with all that Lanen had done for me and mine I would have been the world's worst fool not to have done so. Still, Idai was undoubtedly right.

"What then should we do?" I asked mildly. "We cannot force the Gedri from their lands. Would those who refuse to share the land with them consent to take to the high mountains, or the deep forests? Surely in all that great land there are places where me Gedri do not live?"

"Surely," echoed Idai. "It is a very large place, and we are few." She sighed. "We are very few, Shikrar. Think you we will have any kind of a future in mat place?" She dropped her voice to the merest whisper. "Or any kind of future at all?"

I turned to her, surprised. "You are unusually bleak-hearted, my friend. Of course there will be a life for us. The Kantri and the Gedri have lived in peace for many long years. We forget, we children of a latter day, that it is the exile and the separation that are unusual. We are going home, Idai," I said quietly. "Kolmar is home to us, heart and soul and bone and blood, and the Gedri are our cousins. What other race can speak and reason, aside from our life-enemies the Rakshasa? Do not fear this change, Idai. All will be well. I know it."

She sighed and let her head drop heavily onto my flank. "Your words to the Winds, Hadreshikrar, may they prove true. And I am soaked through. Shift over and lift up those stiff old wings, O wise one, it's your turn to keep the rain off."

Lanen slept now, a deep sleep granted by the Healers to help her recover her strength. Rella and I had cleaned her and changed her garment, and I held her in my arms while Rella helped the innkeeper bring in a new mattress and clean sheets and bedding. I laid Lanen gently down and Rella drew the quilts softly over her.

"I'm off to keep watch, Varien," said Rella when I tried to thank her. "Jamie and I will keep wakeful. You get some sleep."

"Lady Rella—"

She smiled. "I know, son, but save it for morning. You're shattered."

I put my hands about her waist, lifted her up and kissed her soundly. "Dear youngling," I said as I put her down. She was sputtering a bit, but it was good for her. "In the span of my life you were born yesterday, and Lanen this morning. I thank you for your kindness—daughter."

She laughed at that. "Wretched bloody dragon! Right enough, I do forget sometimes."

"Watch well. I will take the duty tomorrow night."

"Done. Goodnight then, grandfather!"

I closed the door behind her. I still wore my circlet, still felt like my old self, and as long as I was not using true-speech it brought me no pain. I began to wonder if it might not be wise to have it remade to be smaller and lighter, that I might wear it always. Shikrar had fashioned it in a stolen hour when first I was made human, that my people might know me. It was deeply kind of him, and I thought of him every time I wore it, but our talons are made for fighting and rending, not for such fine work as this. It could be half the size and still hold my soulgem securely.

As I sat there, my gaze on Lanen, my thoughts wide-scattered in my weariness, a great stillness arose in my soul. I welcomed it and let it sink deep, let it soothe the ragged edges of pain, let my wandering thoughts return and fall like leaves gently down inside it.

I rose and opened the shutters at the window to let in the night, breathing deeply of the cool air and taking pleasure in the starlight and the sharp scent of pine. In the darkness and the silence I was more alone than I had ever yet been as a Gedri. Lanen, in her healing sleep so close by, merely made the loneliness stronger. In sleep our loved ones are utterly beyond us, separate, locked in their own thoughts and untouchable. The Kantri call sleep invorishaan, the little death, and so it is; a kind of preparation for us all, to make true death easier when it comes.

Death had nearly come for Lanen.

I rejoiced that she was healed, but my heart was almost as heavy as if she had not been. The anger that had taken me in Elimar had astounded me with its vehemence. I had not known it was there. My anger was not truly aimed at Lanen; it was a mask for the fear that chilled me. The dread of losing her I loved most in all the world went bone-deep. I had watched Shikrar mourn his beloved for eight hundred years, and I knew in my soul that I was every bit as devoted as he. I had been furious at Lanen for defying the Healer, for putting safety aside in pursuit of true healing—but I knew that I would have done the same. Who would have the courage to sit and wait for death, relying on help that might not come, knowing that death would soon find you in any case if you did nothing? I did not have that kind of courage, but I had asked it of Lanen,

I also admitted to myself, in the soft silence of the moonlight, that I was beset by fears for the future. What manner of strange creatures did Lanen bear now? What was to become of them, and of her? Her blood was now mingled truly with the blood of the Kantri. I shuddered as Rishkaan's words echoed in my heart. With a great effort of will I rejected them and clung to the truth of my own Weh dream, a bright vision of standing with Lanen and our children in the beauty of a new day. I let out a sigh and a prayer to the Winds that I might be proven right.

In this strange sadness I lifted the heavy circlet from my head that I might gaze upon it. My soulgem. How far beyond understanding, to be able to hold it in my hand while still I lived! In the normal way of things our soulgems are severed from us only after we die. Once the fire within is unleashed at death, it consumes the body; the soulgem remains as the sole physical remnant of our existence. It is our link with our past, with our loved ones, it is—

Akhor, my heart said to me starkly. It is your soulgem. It is no longer part of you. That means only one thing. You are dead, Akhor. You are dead, and all your life before is dead with you.

The knowledge beat upon my brow, beat in my heart against the cadence of life. No! No! I live! I cried silently, gripping my soulgem with all my strength, feeling the facets dig into my flesh, sharp against my palm. I live!

Yes, I live. And Akhor is dead.

I knew in that moment mat both were true, and die knowledge was agony. I would rather have been struck through the heart by the sword of an enemy, for surely it would not have hurt as badly. Was I to lose all that I had been? Was I become human to be no more than human? A young man's body with a thousand years of life and memory trapped within, with the knowledge of half a lifetime full of things that none would ever care about. I knew where the best fish shoaled off the coast of an island that was dead or dying. I knew how to catch the early thermals, where they lingered latest on a winter's night, a hundred tricks of flying that Shikrar had taught me and a hundred more I had learned myself. I knew the joy of dancing on the wind at midsummer, of singing with all my people in a great chorus to shake the heavens with a voice that I no longer possessed. To fly with all my strength up to the High Air on a summer's day, to find that broad wave and ride it, to dive swift as a falling stone and sweep back up into clear air at the very last moment, the fierce and soaring joy of it—never again with my own wings.

Never again at all, Akhor. Varien. Changed One.

So much that I knew, so much I had known and lived through, all useless now, all vain, all lost to me forever. The knowledge pounded against my breast like waves crashing on a rocky shore. I had been the Lord of the Kantrishakrim, the King of my people, ever restless, ever searching, desiring only their good in all that I did. In a moment I had cast it all away, when I bound myself to the woman who had caught my heart. It was a great shame to me to admit that I felt such a profound regret but I could deny it no longer. I loved her still, I always would, deeply and truly, but I was forced to admit to the silence of that deep night that my love for her would ever be touched by what I had lost. She had not changed me into a human, that was the work of the Winds and the Lady and we might never know the reason for it—but if I had never met her, I would be the Lord of the Kantri still.

The young moon sent gentle rays to bathe my hands and to bring a passing gleam to my soulgem, so bright in life—I twisted it this way and that, trying desperately to catch the moonlight again, to bring even a single moment more of life from the depths of it, severed from me for all time—ah, my heart!

I knelt in the pale rays of the moon with my soulgem cradled in my hands and wept. For the first and last time, alone in the soft moonlight, I mourned in my deepest heart the passing of Khordeshkhistriakhor, he whom I had been for more than a thousand years. All before and behind me was darkness and I was terribly alone.

It is often thus. When sorrow takes us, when after bearing overwhelming burdens we feel that the last weariness is come upon our souls and we would leave this life, it is because the Winds are preparing us for the next step. There must always be death before there can be new life. The soul understands no other way. Without darkness there would be no dawn; without winter, spring would never come.

This is a truth, but it does not make the winter less cold or the agony of death any easier to bear.

Still, perhaps I would not have been lost so deep in despair had I known that outside the window, even as I wept, stood my future.

My second task was to my first as darkness is to shadow.

I assumed my robes of state, for this time I called no Rikti. Only one of the Lords of the Seven Hells would serve my purpose. As a Master of me Sixth Hell I could command Rakshasa of the first through the fifth circles, and could negotiate with any of the great demons up to and including the Lord of the Sixth Hell. The only human who had ever dealt with the Lord of the Seventh Hell was the Demonlord, and it cost him his name, his memory and his life, in that order.

The task I had set myself in this second summoning was to learn how to get rid of the Demonlord once I had summoned him, in case he proved troublesome. I had learned much over the years I had worked on this final problem, but it was clear that I would have to summon the Lord of the Fifth Hell to learn what I needed to know. That Lord is the greatest demon that I have certain power over.

And still they try to tempt me, the fools. The Rakshi whisper words of power even as I prepare: so great a mage as I am has no need of precautions, my power is such that with it alone I will prevail over the degraded race of the demons, protection is for the weak—hah! Pitiful, pitiful. The screaming of spiders! I am no fool to give in to such obvious flattery. Before I complete the summoning I must know how to overpower him. I must be able to dispel him if I tire of him, or when I require him no longer.Good, they have stopped. Annoying things. My robes of state, tied at the waist with knots that protect me, to bind the demons I summon to keep within their allotted places. Incense, thin and light that my mind would not become fogged as I concentrated.

I checked the scribed circles and the sigils at the seven points—all were undamaged. I lit fresh candles at the seven points, drew back my sleeves, lifted my arms in greeting and began the Invocation.

"I, Malior, Master of the Sixth Hell, do here make sacrifice of water and blood"—I broke open the sealed jug and poured the dark, dank liquid on to the glowing coals—"of lansip and living flesh, to summon to me the Lord of the Fifth Hell."

I threw two handfuls of lansip leaves on the coals, then swiftly before I could think about it I drew out my knife, sharp as a razor and smeared with a salve to kill pain, and cut a strip of flesh from my arm. Even as I threw it on the coals I sealed the cut with my power to stop the bleeding. The pain was intense, but it helped me focus. The incense was fogging my mind despite my precautions.

Not the incense, fool, the Rakshasa. Don't stop!

"I bind thee by knife and by blood, by lordship earned and sacrifices offered and taken," I said. There before me in the coals a face began to form. "O Lord of the Fifth Hell, I summon thee"—and here I spoke his name. It was a spell in and of itself. I dragged the long syllables out of my memory, forced them past my lips. As ever, the end of the name was the hardest. I could feel the pressure of the Raksha on my mouth, on my lungs, trying to get me to speak too fast or stumble over my words, or best of all to fall silent—but I was not a Master by chance. Such things are commonplace when dealing with demons. If I were not able to resist and repel such attacks I would have died long since. I finished the name and stood back, for on the instant I completed it there was a creature sitting in the coals.

It was sitting because there was not room enough for it to stand in the small room. I had seen this Raksha before and knew it to be full eight feet tall. However, sitting comfortably on the glowing coals, in a semblance of a normal human body, it was surprisingly restrained. "What is it now, Gedri?" it asked. It sounded bored.

I knew better than to even appear to relax. "Thou art bound, thou art sealed to my service until I release thee."

"Yes, yes, I know," it said coolly. "What do you want?"

I had never seen this behaviour. It was disorienting. I almost stumbled over the chant I kept repeating in my mind to keep it out of my thoughts.

At that slightest suggestion that I might falter it screamed so loud my ears rang, and it leapt at me, transformed in the act into a ravening monster, horned and fanged with eyes of flame, reaching for my face with talons the length of my arm, like every demon of a child's nightmare.

I never stopped my internal chant, never loosed my hold on the spelled bonds that held it. Its lunge ended at the scribed circle as though at a brick wall. "Pathetic," I said, my voice calm and controlled. "Spare me your theatrics. I require information from you. Tell me what I need to know and I will release you."

"We have watched you, you know," it said mildly, retaining its new appearance but resuming its seat in the coals. "You entertain us."

"You are bound, creature."

"I know what you want. The way to rid yourself of the Demonlord."

"Yes," I said. The internal chant took less and less thought to continue.

"What have you to offer to me for so great a power as that knowledge would give you?"

"The price is paid already, creature. Blood and water, flesh and lansip. That is the price."

"Ah, but this is knowledge deeper than a simple summoning. You must know that." It grinned, showing several mouths in unlikely places; "You seek to change the balance of the world, little human. That is not purchased with a little strip of flesh, however tasty. I must have more."

"What more, monster? Tread carefully, foolish one. If you demand more than the knowledge is worth you will be bound to my service for a year and a day."

"You can barely hold me as it is, prey," it hissed, in a voice thick with contempt. "Sooner or later you will falter, or forget, or stumble on your words, and I will dine well with a sweet sauce of triumph."

"Stop wasting my time," I said, drawing the binding spell tighter. "What more do you demand? I would know how to rid myself of the Demonlord once I have summoned him. It is not so great a knowledge."

"It is worth much to you."

I sneered at it. "It is life and freedom to you, demon. Whose is the greater need?"

It shifted to the form of a great serpent and hissed at me, its coils writhing among the flames. "A price worthy the name, then. Lan fruit, little human! A Ian fruit, whole, or you may summon the Nameless One and die at his hands for all we care."

I did not laugh aloud, for that can be deadly, but in the privacy of my thoughts, behind the chant that kept it at bay, I laughed heartily at the demon. My sources had been right, it was not blood or flesh that would buy this but something far more rare. A lan fruit. Something no human could be expected to have. Until the autumn just past there had not been a lan fruit in Kolmar for nearly three hundred years.

"Then speak up, slowly and clearly, and tell me what I wish, for here is a Ian fruit, its skin unbroken, whole and perfect."

The demon's whole body shivered with its greed. I held the fruit just beyond its grasp.

"Behold, O starving one," I said, waving the precious thing back and forth through the air that the creature might smell it. I leaned forward, keeping both myself and the Ian fruit out of its reach, and whispered intensely, "Paradise."

It roared and the whispers began again, though they were now only one word, repeated a thousand thousand times.

give give give give give give give

"First the information," I cried, for the voices were growing louder. 'Tell me now or I eat it before your eyes."

"NO!" the thing screamed, slavering, its eyes never off the ripe gold of the Ian fruit. "I will speak, I will tell you, then if you eat it I will be free to rip open your belly and take it for myself."

"Tell me what I want to know and it is yours," I said.

It sat back then, in its nearly human form again, and looked deeply pleased with itself. "There is only one way to be rid of so powerful a demon master," it declared, "for before he died he ensured that if he lived again he would live forever. Still, for the great spell of the Distant Heart to work there must always be a way to destroy the wizard who casts it. The Demonlord declared that he could only be destroyed by a creature that, when cut, bleeds both Kantri and Gedri blood."

"No such thing exists!" I cried. "It is impossible. You lie, demon! I know the strictures of that spell, the destruction must be physically possible."

The demon shrugged. "The spell of the Distant Heart worked, so it must be possible. However, that is not my business. I have told you what you desired to know. It is truth, there is no other way to be rid of him," the demon said smugly. "Now, prey, give give give Ian fruit." I threw it at him in disgust. "Take it and get thee gone, wretched slave, be damned for all the good you have been to me," I said, but I was distracted by the news and forgot for a split second to banish it immediately.

It instantly took the chance and struck out at me, hoping to keep me off-balance long enough to free itself. In moments it had worked itself loose from half of the bindings I had laid on it, but I was racing through the exorcism and had completed it by the time it had shaken off the binding charm. I put the seal on the dismissal and banished it even as it reached for me.

I was left, shaking, alone, in the red glow from the brazier with the certain knowledge mat if I called up the Demonlord I would be stuck with him.

The third task lies before me still; the final summoning of the Demonlord, the embodying of that powerful soul and the binding of it to my service. Once I have Lanen in my hands I will speak the end of the spell and set it in motion. It will work, I know it. But after the Kantri were dead? I would still have the Demonlord on my hands, striving always to free itself. Could I—

I laughed aloud. What droughts were these, what foolishness had I been considering? Of course I could contain me Demonlord! What matter that I could not banish him? Binding spells could be reinforced easily enough. Long enough at least to find that heart of his and see whether my arts could not create such a creature as his condition demanded, or whether the physical heart he had once owned could be destroyed by simpler means. It would be a challenge, indeed.

And if all should fail? If the dragons win, if I summon the Demonlord and cannot banish him, if I cannot find Lanen, if one of a thousand things goes wrong—well, what then? I have lived now almost eighty years, and the lansip elixir has given me back fifty of them, for in the mirror and in myself I am now no more than thirty years of age.

If I am successful, I shall rule all of Kolmar until I grow tired of life and stop taking lansip. If I lose, I die. It is all one to me. Do you imagine I give the slightest damn about what happens to the world when I am gone? Not I. All is the great game. Evil is the same as good, you know, it is simply the other side of the scale. Dark and light, good and evil, life and death—it makes no difference. Only weak fools fear one or the other. I fear nothing. Not death, not demons, neither success nor failure. I am untouchable for I have no fear, and fear is the only reason that anyone ever does anything. Fear of being alone, fear of death, fear of pain. These are nothing. There is only the game, only the moving of the pieces on the great living board. And only the one without fear can win.

That is why I have spent years planning and working and waiting, like a great spider sitting quiet at the heart of my web until the prey is well caught. To see a soul helpless, begging for mercy—ah, that is true power in this world! Life and death, being or not being—and the knowledge that I do not care one way or the other is the best sauce.

I am not insane, you know. I do not recklessly kill. There is a far deeper, more exquisite pleasure in prolonged pain. To keep them on the edge, leave just enough hope for them to cling to until I am ready, then knock away the last support and let them die in despair. Ah, now, that is worth the doing, deep in the blood and the bone. Delight far beyond mortal ken, that knowledge, to watch a soul crumble in on itself. It takes me to the pinnacle of joy. For that I would cheerfully light fire to the world, could I only have the power to know the world was aware and screaming as I lit the kindling.

I was born into the wrong race. I have read what few of the Demonlord's writings still remain, and he said the same thing of himself.

I would make a better demon than any of the Rakshasa 1 have ever met.