The Lesser Kindred

III So Much to Know

I must be cautious a little time longer. As I was leaving the Great Hall of the College of Mages this morning, Magister Rikard looked long at me. "I still say you are ill-advised to leave the College just now, Magister Berys, but at least you are fit for the journey," he said sourly. He is always sour. He has been sour every moment of every day of all the years I have known him. "Indeed, I have never seen you look so well. It must be the morning light, I'd swear you look ten years younger."

I laughed and said it was the effect of the heavy mist. "If the ladies knew it smoothed out so many wrinkles, we could turn to weather-mastery to earn our keep," I said to him.

"It is no light matter," he replied nastily. He is very full of himself, Rikard, though he is but a kestrel in human form— small and skinny with a nose like a hawk. Suspicious bas-tard. "I am not the only one who knows what the essence of lansip can do, and it is known that you have lansip and to spare since you financed that poor mad Merchant to the Dragon Isle. You meddle with forbidden knowledge, Berys, though I am certain you would deny it."

"Deny it! There is nothing to deny. Rikard, I know your motives are of the best, but you make much of nothing. You know I have not been well lately. If the lansip I have had the luxury of taking for healing has restored a brief semblance of youth so much the better, but I am no fool. Youth once gone has gone forever."

He just looked at me. " 'Ware pride, Berys," he said at last. "It has brought down greater men than you."

I smiled at him, secure in the knowledge that sometime in the near future I would be able at last to plunge a dagger in his heart. I have known Rikard for the last twenty years, during which we have cordially hated each other. However, he comes perilously near the truth and I am not quite prepared to let all my secrets go. None have connected Malior the demon master of the Sixth Circle with Berys the Archimage of the College of Mages in Verfaren, and I do not wish that to be known just yet. Not long now and I will not care, but for the moment my respectable life as Berys is worth protecting. Rikard may have to be—well, accidents happen, and I begin to tire of Rikard. He is the only one of the Magistri who knows anything of demon lore, apart from me, and his knowledge is not convenient.

We have made good time on our journey so far. The weather has favoured us, cold but clear and sunny. If it holds thus, Elimar is only six days' travel from where I stand. Had I prepared a demonline I had been there and returned in moments, but I carry one with me on this journey—one end anchored in my hidden chambers in Verfaren, the other to be set in Elimar when I arrive, to allow a future visit to be swift and untraceable. It will be good to have an escape route to Elimar. I will also establish the return journey, in case I require it, and will fix the "destination" at Verfaren when I re- turn. Demonlines must be established physically at either end and they are not easily erected. Still, though they last for only one use they are worth the price—instant transporta- tion between two places, no matter how distant. Even dragons cannot move so swiftly; and once used the lines disappear and none but the maker knows where the traveller has gone. Well worth the price. One never knows when such a thing might be useful. I believe in being prepared for all eventualities.

I am no closer, as yet, to learning how the dragons might he defeated, but I have collected every reference book from the library at Verfaren and I am reading them through. Surely someone, somewhere, has learned a better way of defeating dragons than risking themselves in combat! The Ring of Seven Circles works, but the worker must be within range of the beast, and when Marik used the one I prepared for him the creatures broke into his mind. I do not wish to take that chance.

I had not known they could do that. I must be more wary in my dealings with them.

First, though, I must heal Marik and learn all that he knows. I cast this very recording spell upon him when he went on his journey to the Dragon Isle, so that every thought, every word, was written as he thought it in a book in my own chambers. That was well, as far as it went, but when his mind broke so did the link. The book finished long before I had intended it to.

Poor fool. He thought, to the very end, that I aided him in his search for his daughter that he might be rid of his pain. He promised her to demons before she was born, in exchange for the making of a Farseer. Marik's incompetence allowed that particular object to be stolen as soon as it was made by Lanen's mother, one Maran Vena, but since the price was never paid the demons put pain into Marik's leg to remind him. The pain would never cease until his firstborn child should be given to the Lords of Hell. Search though he might in the years between, he could never find Maran again, or her child. However, the Powers Below look after their own; he met the daughter by chance last autumn. He intends to give her to the Lords of Hell to pay his debt and so he freed of the pain that has haunted him since that day.

I let him believe that I would assist him in return for the body of his daughter after her soul was taken by the Lords Below. Marik has always been a credulous fool. Let him suffer agonies from now until the end of the world. I need his daughter, whole and unharmed, to fulfill the prophecy spoken by one of our number many long years ago.

The first two lines are yet unclear to me, though I have considered them. I have long wondered if the "breach" refers to the time the dragons left Kolmar, the day the De-monlord defeated so many of them. It has occurred to me that the breach—if it is the one between the Kantri and the Gedri—might already be healed, for I heard from those who accompanied Marik on his journey that his daughter Lanen and her companions were carried to the ship by the dragons themselves. I have no idea what the "two joined in one" might be. However, in the absence of other interpretations, I assume that the lost ones from the past are either the Trelli or the Rakshi, the demons who were banished from this world at the time of the Choice. The Trelli dwindled and died out many long ages since, and there is not one left that could ever live or move again. I therefore assume that the lost ones referred to are the Rakshi, who have no bodies as such and cannot live on their own in this world. It is therefore my task to find a way to provide a body or bodies for at least one of the Rakshasa, that the prophecy may be fulfilled.

However, I have learned much from my research. He who trusts in the power of prophecy without making adequate preparations is at best a fool and at worst a dead fool. I have therefore been quietly ensuring that the children of the Kings of Kolmar have been meeting with dreadful accidents. Many years apart, mind you, and with no trace of any evil-doing, and certainly with no way to trace the deaths of the poor creatures to me. It has been most useful to have Marik's Merchant House at my disposal. Each branch in each town has its own healer and many of them are my own carefully chosen men and women. After all, Healers are accustomed to working with power. It is only a small step from there to working with demons, and if the step is paved thickly enough with silver there are many willing to take it.

As for the healed breach, it is very much in my mind that the greatest threat to my ambition is the Great Dragons, now that they are again aware of us and have made a bond with the one person in the world I require for my purposes. I had thought them all safely out of the way on that island in the west and had left them out of my plans altogether, until Marik's ill-fated quest for the precious lansip leaves that grow there roused them like a stick in an anthill. By all accounts, three people had been carried to the ship by the dragons themselves; carried and protected, by those who before only killed! Until that journey, the heasts had done no more than allow the gathering of lansip—which will grow nowhere else—and kill any who crossed their boundary. Then of a sudden they were become the champions of a hunchbacked old woman, a silver-haired man who came from nowhere, and Marik's long-lost daughter, Lanen. So much the accounts of those who were there had taught me.

I lit my dark lantern and blew out the candles in my summoning chamber. With a swift gesture and a whispered word I locked the door and sealed it against prying eyes. Any could find the door or knock, but should he touch the handle he would forget why he was there and wander away. It was unlikely that anyone would do such a thing, but safe is best.

All perfectly harmless, all done with pure Power untainted by the Rakshasa.

The lantern lit my steps back up the narrow stair to my very sedate College chambers. Once through the hidden door beside the fireplace, I stirred up the fire and sat at my desk. There was much to consider.

The hunchback the dragons favoured was one Rella, a highly placed member of the Silent Service and long an en-emy of mine. When I learned she was on the ship I had arranged to have her killed if she should manage to return from the voyage. A swift knife in the ribs appeared to have, done the deed, but I have had a report in the last few days from the Corli branch of Marik's Merchant House—Rella lived. It appears that Marik's daughter Lanen and the silver-haired stranger had taken the woman to a Hospice and left! her there. The Healers were well-paid enough not to be will-ing to release her until she was fully fit, they would not al-low any of the "visitors" I sent in to see her, and by the time she was healed she was on her guard and gave my men the slip. They had been able to find no trace of her. Pity, really. They had never failed me before. Still, there are always others willing to take on such tasks.

I opened my ink-pot and drew the candle closer to the paper.

"Devlin, I require your services. You and each of youi men will earn four silver pieces for every fortnight you serve me, as well as expenses for your journey, and a bonus of ter silver each will go to the men who find what I seek, upon delivery. You must divide your forces into two groups. One is to search the country just north of here, in the Sulkith Hills between Verfaren and Elimar. The other will go to the north of Ilsa, west of the River Arlen and south of the Mear Hills. Find for me a tall, plain, grey-eyed woman with light brown hair, of about five-and-twenty winters; one who has been away through the autumn, or one who has recently arrived in a new place and acts in a strange manner or has peculiar companions, notably a man with long silver hair. If she is us-ing her right name, it is Lanen Hadrpnsdatter. Bring her to me unharmed."

It would do for now. When my preparations are further advanced I may seek her more urgently. I could use demons, but the price they demand for such things is far higher than silver, and I must conserve my resources. There is much to do, and most of it men cannot accomplish. Let Devlin and his men do what they can, it is a simple enough task. I shall need all I have to bend the demons to my will when the time comes.

On a slightly different note, I should mention that I have been engaged in a little experiment since Marik returned. My share of the lansip harvest was considerable, and I had round in the archives of the College of Mages a method for extracting the essence of lansip that legend said could restore youth. It had cost a third of a ship's crew, Caderan's life and Marik's mind to get the lansip back to Kohnar from the Dragon Me, and to me it was cheap at that. The wretched plant grows only on that one island: every sapling, every seedling, every half-grown tree that has been taken away in the past and planted in the earth of Kolmar has died.

Lansip is a heal-all, strong to cure all the ills that beset men. A weak infusion of even a single dried leaf in water is said to be a sovereign remedy for everything "from headache to heart's sorrow." The rare Ian fruit, of which an astonishing three dozen were found on Marik's ill-fated journey, can heal all wounds save death alone. I sold the dozen that were my right for enough silver to purchase anything I might need for the rest of my life. Their worth was roughly that of Verfaren, this town that supports the College Of Mages where I reside as the beneficent Archimage. Is it not a supreme jest?

Better than that, though, better than all, is what I have learned about lansip and its properties. Legend, that true servant of those who would learn from the past, records the old belief that essence of lansip can restore lost years. I have long known the tale of the rich merchant who was found dead and forty years younger than he should have been, for though that tale has been much corrupted in the tellng I found the original report here in the great library at Verfaren. I have not repeated his mistake. He took a great draught all at once and died of it. I have been taking infusions regularly but in small quantities.

Legend was right.

I am growing younger by the day.

"Good morning," I murmured happily, turning to face Varien. He stretched and casually put a long arm around my waist. "Good morning to thee, my dearling," he replied, kissing me lightly. The sun was only just up; it was pale and grey behind the shutters and I was glad to be still warm and in bed. Even in that light Varien all but shone. I braced my head on my hand and leaned back a little, just looking at him. Sweet Lady, but he was beautiful.

"Surely, I have not changed so much in the night?" he said, smiling at me. "Or is there something amiss that I should know?"

I reached over to stroke his hair. "Every now and then I still have to convince myself that you're real," I said, smiling back. "Sometimes I wonder."

"I am here and I am real, my heart. Why should you doubt?"

I ran my hand across his chest, revelling in the feel of him, of his skin beneath my fingers. "Until I went to the Dragon Isle I had spent the whole of my life alone, and I expected to spend the rest of it so. And now here you are, my own husband, so much more than I..." My voice faltered for an instant before I spoke my worst fear aloud. "I swear to you, Varien, sometimes I dread that I shall wake one day from this dream and curse the waking forever."

He drew me to him and held me tight, his arms strong around me. The scent of him was making me giddy, like too much strong wine. "I am here," he murmured in my ear. am no dream to fade with waking." He drew back justj enough to kiss me, a blessing, a promise. "You had best be-lieve that and grow accustomed to my presence, for you are mine, proud Lanen Kaelar, and I will not leave you as long as life remains."

"You'd better not, or I'll bloody well come after you and find out why," I growled.

I'm afraid my anger wasn't very convincing.

After Varien had shown me how un-dreamlike he really was, and we were resting again in each other's arms, I said quietly, "You know, Varien, I was wondering—have you ever yet wakened in the morning and wondered what happened to your tail?" I grinned. "Or why you were lying on your back? I'd wager the Kantri don't do that."

He smiled back at me. "Ah, but we do—at least, younglings do so sometimes, while their wings are still quite small, but it quickly becomes uncomfortable." He grinned. "As an adult I have only rolled on my back a few times, when I had a terrible itch and mere was no one around to help scratch it. I did so envy human their long arms! Why do you ask, dear-ling?"

I took a deep breath. "I was wondering if you were regretting the change."

He was silent for a moment, thinking. I have always loved that in him—that he never replied with some easy answer but thought about everything that he said. "I will not he to you, my heart. There are times when I miss my life as it was," he replied honestly. "We are creatures of fire and our leelings are deep and strong, and we are not used to sudden change. But even if I have mourned the loss of my wings and the joys of the air, if I have missed the strength that could protect us both, I have not yet wished to undo this change that the Winds have sent. I know not the purpose of it, beyond loving you and seeking to aid the Lost, but I have so far delighted in being human." He gently swept an errant lock of my wild hair away from my face. "Lanen, kadreshi, the love of the Kantrishakrim is not given lightly. I would have loved you my life long no matter what shape my body held. Why should I regret that we now may join in body as well as In spirit? No, dearling, I do not regret being human." He leaned across to kiss me again and smiled. "What wind blows that shakes you so this bright morning?"

I loved the way his voice echoed in his chest. Deep, clear, resonant.

I drew back a little so I could look at his eyes. "I don't know. Sometimes it just comes over me. I never really planned—I had only just started living when I went to the Dragon Isle. I had no larger idea of what to do with my life beyond wandering through the world, learning new places and new people, finding new ways of seeing the world." I laughed. "It seemed enough—and to be fair, you and your Kindred have taught me a great deal. But for all my life un-, til then I had dreamt only of travelling through Kolmar. And now—"

"Now?"

I sighed. "Now Shikrar has put a duty on us. I know that we are bound to do what we can to help restore the Lost. That duty is an honour, but I fear—" I sat up and looked away. "And Rella told me to go to my mother. I know I will have to do that sooner or later. And now I don't know which is more important, which I should do first—and of course it's not just me anymore, we are both going to have to decide what to do, and in what order. Sometimes I swear this is all beyond me. For pity's sake, Varien, I grew up on this little stead a hundred leagues from anywhere!" My voice rose with my frustration even as I wondered where this flood of self-doubt was coming from. "I'm not some clever, brave warrior in a bard's tale, I'm flesh and blood and more likely to be wrong than right about most things. I know a bit about horses and gardens and enough about crops to keep from starving, but that's about it. I'm not some great and glorious hero in a ballad, I'm—I'm the bastard child of a madman and a mother who left me as a babe!"

"Is this what troubles you, my heart?" asked Varien gently, as he sat up and took me in his arms. I held tight to him, for I was filled with a terrible sense of being overwhelmed, of frustration and anger at the expectations that had been put upon me, and suddenly I was weeping.

Bless him, he didn't try to comfort me or talk me out of crying, he just held me close until the storm passed. When my tears were spent I lay still in his arms, heart to heart, and I could feel his beating against mine strong and steady.

Only then did he speak, and his heart and his voice were light.

"Lanen, my true Lady, I shall never cease to be astounded by the depths of you. So young as you are, not even old enough yet to fly, and each day I learn more of your great soul." He moved a little away from me so that he could see my eyes, which was very brave of him. I once caught sight of myself in a mirror after I had been crying—I have seen some women who only look more beautiful when they cry, but my eyes go bright red and puffy and my nose runs. Bless him, he kissed me anyway.

"Dear heart, if you believed that we would soon accomplish all that Shikrar hopes we might one day achieve, I might be pleased at your enthusiasm but I would be seeking some way of telling you that it was unlikely. At the very best, I would assume that we have long years of work ahead Of us, my dearling, of searching and learning in the knowledge that all may come to nothing in the end despite our best efforts. Sometimes so great a thing can only be faced if it is known before we start that it is impossible. Only then are we free to know that we cannot do worse than fail."

"I wish I knew why I feel so awful about it," I murmured.

He stroked my hair. "I cannot know, dearling, but I begin tohave a sense of you. I know how deeply the tale of the Lost affects you. Have Shikrar's words made you feel responsible for them?"

A few last tears leaked out and I nodded. "Yes, they have. I do feel responsible for them," I muttered. "And what if I can't do anything? What if we make no difference to them at all, after all that has happened, all we have been through?"

"Kadreshi," he said gently, "we of the Kantri have believed it to be impossible for years thick as autumn leaves, but every year we try again to speak with our distant kin. If it is impossible we have nothing to lose." His voice grew soft and low, the words barely loud enough to reach my ears, and beyond us not even a whisper escaped. "The weight of the world is not on your shoulders, my Lanen, nor is the fate of the Lost in your hands. If we are to attempt to help them, we must do so out of concern for our fellow creatures in this world, not for glory or because you think Shikrar believes you to be some heroine in a bard's tale." Varien smiled at me, melting my heart. "He does not, and he would be dis-tressed to think you took his words so. I know him well, and| like me I am certain he hopes that a fresh mind might bring a new insight—that in looking at the problem from so different an angle, from the point of view of the Gedri rather than of the Kantri, perhaps something will arise in your mind that would never have occurred to us. That is all, my dear one. He does not expect the two of us to work miracles for him. But he always hopes for one."

He gazed long at me and I was drawn in and comforted by the ageless depths of the emerald eyes that filled my vision. "Once you know that a tiling is impossible, my heart, and that in all likelihood you cannot do anything about it at all, you are suddenly free to think of it differently than you would if you had any hope in the matter. If a thing obviously cannot be done, it becomes a game, a mystery, a challenge, to think of a way around the impossible part." He grinned at me. "You have, this moment, already mourned your failure—our failure—to help the Lost. The Kantri have tried foi five thousand years and accomplished nothing at all. Therefore we have nothing to lose, for we cannot make matters worse or do less than has been done before." I could almost see the flame behind his eyes as he added, "The only truly unforgivable thing is not to try."

"Then in the name of the Winds and the Lady, let us begin!" I cried, all ablaze to be up and doing.

He grinned at me. "Even as we are? I admire your spirit, my heart, but I fear that even you might find the winter air frosty on bare skin." He ran his hand over the nearest bit of bare skin he could reach and I began to regret that I had taught him what "tickle" meant. For all my enthusiasm I couldn't help but laugh.

Joy lit his face like the morning sun as he drew me closer in his arms. "We will leave soon enough, but for now, kadreshi, let us see what love can make possible at this very moment."

I laughed again, from pure delight. It was still so strange and new to be desired.

"Varien Kantriakor, I swear you are getting addicted to this. I thought the Kantri only mated a few times in their lives!"

He stopped kissing various bits of me just long enough to say, "Behold, another of the joys of being human!"

And yet we managed to be dressed and ready by the time Jamie sent for us. It's amazing what you can do when you put your mind to it.

It was a heavy, cold, grey morning, cloudy with the kind of damp cold that gets in your bones. I knew I would only be watching as Jamie instructed Varien, and I had hunted out every warm garment I possessed, leggings under my skirts and a tight woolen shirt under my heavy linen shirt under a long-sleeved wool tunic under a hooded sheepskin cloak. I looked half again my normal size but I was warm. Varien was also dressed in woolen tunic and leggings, but he refused to wear a coat. "I shall be warm enough, I trow, an Master Jameth hath his way," he said.

"He will," I replied. "But for pity's sake don't call him Master Jameth this morning. Jamie hates that name and you really don't want your swordmaster mad at you."

I saw Varien take a breath and I knew he was going to ask why. 'Trust me," I said. "Come, Jamie's waiting in the courtyard."

Jamie was trying out the pell he'd set up, a tall thick log braced upright in the middle of the courtyard. It was a lovely Might and one that brought back a hundred memories, though the light here was considerably better.

Jamie had taught me what little I knew of fighting over a number of years and, as my stepfather Hadron opposed such knowledge for his daughter, we had been forced to practice In the feed storeroom in the dead of night. I remembered every move of Jamie's, though, and the patterns made my own muscles twitch in response. Jamie made it look like a dance. Forehand low, backhand high, forehand high, back-hand low, head strike, then again, and again, until the mus-cles knew where to go without having to be told—then vary the pattern, practicing, building strength and endurance— then learning to parry, which took me forever—then the first tentative matches against Jamie, against a thinking target, when patterns disappeared and you had to rely on reflexes and parrying badly got me a thump with the flat of his sword and a cry of "This isn't an exercise, girl, you're fighting for your life!"

I sighed, watching him finish the pattern and straighten up. He was right, I just didn't have the speed. If I paid attention I should survive a brief skirmish, but in a pitched battle with a half-decent swordsman I'd lose every time. The worst of it was that when my opponent got me upper hand I kept wanting to drop the sword and start swinging my fists, which is deeply stupid and a good way to get yourself killed. I used to think he was terribly disappointed in me, but his heartfelt words the night before had gone deep to heal, and my lack of ability didn't hurt nearly so much as it used to.

To my surprise I heard Jamie calling my name. I walked slowly over to him, picking my way carefully over the cold stone cobbles, and gazed at Jamie out of my woolly nest. "What did you want?" I asked contentedly.

'To find out if you can still fight," he said briskly, moving swiftly behind me and twitching my hood off. "Just because you'll never make a living at it doesn't mean you don't have to defend yourself. Come out of there and take up a sword." I don't know if it was the cold or the practice, but Jamie looked ten years younger and his eyes were sparkling.

Muttering to myself, I shrugged off my cloak, shivered, and picked up the practice sword Jamie had brought along. By the Lady, it was heavier than I remembered! I hauled it upright and Jamie pointed gaily at the pell. "Five minutes there first, while I talk to your other half," he said, swatting me. I raised my sword and growled and he danced lightly away. "Do you remember your drill?"

Without a word I stood before the pell and readied my sword, thanking the Lady in my heart that Jamie had thought to scatter earth on the cobbles around the pell to keep us all from slipping.

Right. Deep breath, concentrate—go.

It helped that I'd just watched Jamie go through the pattern, but after a few passes my arm seemed to remember anyway. Truth to tell the practice felt good. On my trip to the Dragon Isle there had been several times I'd wished I was better with a blade. Strange to be doing this in full daylight, though—and with room to swing the sword at full stretch at last! I settled into the familiar movements—one, two, harder, harder, overhand, use the weight, two, three, harder, overhand, one, two ...

I watched Lanen, fascinated. When she first started hitting the log—the "pell" was a tree trunk a handspan in width— she stood stiffly, aware of other eyes watching, but after a very few strokes she relaxed into it as a familiar action, using only the muscles that she needed. I didn't know why she kept her right arm crooked high in front of her chest, but I expected I would learn soon enough.

Jamie walked over to me as Lanen was practicing. He stood before me and said, "Draw your sword."

I laid the sheath gently on the cobbles.

"Now, feel the edge."

"There is none to speak of," I replied immediately, for I had examined the blade the night before. "Is it meant to be this dull?"

Jamie just looked at me, but even with three moons' practice I could not read that expression. "Forgive me, Master Jam—Jamie—but I cannot tell what you would have me understand."

"Unless you want to lose an arm by accident, yes, it's meant to be dull," he replied dryly. "The sharp one comes later. Have you got the partem that Lanen is practicing?"

"I have watched the sequence. Is there a particular mean-ing associated with it?"

One corner of his mouth lifted in a half-smile. "No. Just practice." He walked with me to the pell. "That's enough, my girl," he called out, and Lanen straightened, lowering her sword and allowing her right arm to drop. She shook it for a moment. "Damn. Stiff already," she said, ruefully. "Sweet Shia, but I'm out of practice."

"No, are you? I'd never have dreamt it," he said. "You can have another session later, and you will practice every day until you've got some strength back into those arms. Now, young Varien, step up and show me what you saw Lanen doing. Start slow."

I lifted the sword and swung it. It felt awkward and alien. I attempted to follow the pattern as Lanen had, but I overbalanced on the third stroke and nearly fell.

Jamie stopped me. "Are you sure you're left-handed?" he asked. "You looked damned awkward."

"I know not. I am doing as Lanen did. What is 'left handed'?"

Jamie sighed, taking the sword out of my left hand and put it into my right. 'Try it that way," he said, and it felt better immediately. He stood beside me at the pell, guiding my arm. "Forehand low, backhand high, forehand high, that's right, let the weight of your sword do half of the work for you, now backhand low, yes, now head strike—straight over the top, and every now and then vary that with a side strike to the head." He showed me, moving my arm with his, and soon I could feel the rhythm of the swings on my own. Then he had me crook my left arm up and forward, as Lanen had her right. "That's where your shield will go one of these days," he said. "Might as well get used to having it there. Remember to keep this arm angled to the side, where an op-ponent's sword would land."

"Surely this overhead strike is slow and clumsy," I said, keeping up the pattern. "Does not the foe see the sword coming and have time to get away from it?"

"Aye," said Jamie, "you're right, as a killing stroke it's practically useless. However, believe me when I tell you there's nothing like seeing a sword coming towards your eyes to make you step back and reconsider. Besides, once his shield's up you've a better chance at hitting something vital next stroke, if you're quick and he isn't. Just you keep at it, I'll come stop you in a moment." He took hold of my left arm, which had wandered down to my side, and lifted it again. "Remember, keep your shield arm up." He left me working at the pell.

Jamie wandered carelessly over to me, but his glance was sharp and he spoke urgently. "Now, my girl. If you want to convince me once and for all that your tale is true, use that Farspeech of yours to tell him you're in trouble and he should drop his sword and come help you."

Ah, well.

I answered quietly. "If you want proof I'll ask him to come over here, but I can't lie to him. It doesn't work that way."

"Why not? Just say those very words. Surely that's not so hard."

"Jamie, it's called the Language of Truth for a reason. It's not like writing a message, it's like—like overhearing a conversation. Some of the older dragons can hide a little of what they are thinking, but I've only managed it once and that was with a lot of help. Flat lies are impossible; your thoughts would show the lie even if you don't mean to. At the very least it'll make him angry."

He raised an eyebrow. "Interesting. Very well." He looked around at Varien. "Ask him to try practicing with his left hand again."

I did not bother to answer but bespoke Varien. "Dearling forgive me but Jamie is putting us to the test again Jamie has asked me to request that you try the pattern with the left hand again, I wish to goodness he'd just know the truth when he hears it." I tried to keep silent about what Jamie had actually asked me to do, but I was still fairly new to true-speech and I never was much good as a liar in any case.

Lanen's underbought was obvious, as was the fact that she was trying not to show it. "You'd have thought he'd re-alise by now, he wanted me to lie to you, I told him It couldn't/wouldn't he still doesn't trust you or me for thai matter, I wouldn 't lie to you aloud much less in truespeech."

I instantly switched to my left hand and became instantly awkward again. I went through the full pattern three times to emphasize the point, but I could feel my anger building with each stroke and on the last I let loose my full strength and drove the sword deep into the wood. I left it there and strod< over to Jamie and Lanen.

Jamie impressed me, for by the time I arrived he was already moving and wary. So he should be. If I had still had my old shape I might well have killed him out of hand.

"How darest thou ask Lanen to lie to me?" I cried. Even as I spoke, a detached part of me noted both that I was using a form of speech that was far too old, and that my body was physically shaking with the effort of holding back fron striking him. "The Language of Truth is so named for a rea-son! How should we deceive each other when our very thoughts are made clear? Truespeech is not some idle amusement, it is deep communion with another. You cannot open your thoughts, your very self, to another soul without revealing the truth of your mind and heart. Never think it again, Jameth of Arinoc, nor ask Lanen to do so."

Jamie nodded. "It's true, then," he said. "You really can hear her." He looked at me. "You'd like to hit me, wouldn't you?"

"Desperately," I said, still shaking.

"Go ahead and try," he said. "Even if you manage it, I'll live."

"I dare not," I replied, turning away from him, breathing far too fast and too deep, "lest I have still some of my old strength and I injure you."

"Ah. Come over here," he said, catching my arm and leading me back to the pell, but never turning his back on me. Wise man. "Now. Pull your sword out with your right hand and use your full strength when you're drilling. Take out your anger on it—and don't worry, if you damage the pell I can make another one."

It was a relief to let out my anger in striking something, to feel the steel bite deep into the wood and to pull it out again by main strength. I thought it was dissipating until Jamie cried out, "Now! Kill it!"

His timing was superb. I had just begun a high forehand swing, and I put all my anger and my whole body into the stroke, shouting as I hit.

There was a noise of tearing wood, a loud crack, and a dull thump and clatter as the top third of the pell landed on the cobbled yard.

There was deep silence for a moment.

"Hellsfire, Varien," said Jamie then, very quietly. "Let me thank you now for not taking me up on my offer to let you strike me. Lanen's lost one father this year, that's enough for anyone." He kept staring at the lump of wood on the ground.

I grinned. "You are welcome."

I was calm again, all my anger gone in that last stroke. I had seldom had the satisfaction of using my full strength as one of the Kantri. It was good to know that I could do so in my new form. "In any case," I said to Jamie, "at least you believe in truespeech now."

"Varien, lad, I believe absolutely everything you two have told me," said Jamie, still gazing at the severed lump of wood. I could not entirely recognise the tone of his voice, but it sounded a little like awe. "Absolutely everything."

"Shall I continue my practice?" I asked.

He looked up at that, clapped me on the shoulder and smiled. "No, lad, I think this will do for a first session. Besides," he said as he took me by the arm and led me into the house, "I need to make a new pell."

Lanen

I was still a bit dazed as I watched the pair of them disappearing into the mud room off the kitchen. I leaned down and picked up the sheath of Varien's sword, forgotten for the moment, and like Jamie stared at the result of Varien's anger.

He had cut through a block of wood a hand-span thick with a blunt sword.

Jamie was right, Varien didn't really need too much prac- tice. All he needed to learn about swordplay was how to avoid his opponent's strokes—and how to aim.

Roughly.

On my return from Terash Vor I landed in a clearing some distance from my chambers, in cold darkness. Judging from what Kedra had said, I guessed it must be no more than the first full moon of the new year—there were then several hours of darkness yet to come before dawn brought better hope and clearer thought. I remembered from my early youth having seen what looked like the end of the world in the darkness over Terash Vor. My father had taken me back the next day to show me that daylight would restore my perspective wonderfully. I had seen in the sunlight that day that there was not nearly so much fire as there had seemed. I had little hope on this occasion that daylight would bring any more illumination than the sun itself provided, but I would have to go back and make certain.

For the moment, however, I decided to walk the rest of the way back to my home, for my wings were stiff and sore and my new-healed shoulder ached with the chill of the high air. Winter lingered still, but the calm cold of the ground felt positively warm compared with the moving chill of the high winter wind.

Seeing die red glow of the earth's wounds is very like watching the ground bleed, and it is profoundly disturbing. Seen in darkness it inspires fear even beyond its merits. I kept repeating this to myself as I walked, for the little comfort it brought, for I knew in my bones that when I returned to the firefields this noontide I would find no comfort in that sight.

As I drew near my own chambers I was delighted to see that Kedra was there before me and had lit a fire in the pit to welcome me. Of course he had warded the Chamber of Souls while I kept the Weh sleep, it was his duty, but I was deeply cheered nonetheless to see the light. Warmth engulfed me as I entered my chamber again and I sighed deeply with relief.

"Ah, Kedra, I rejoice to see you, and the blessing of the Winds upon you for lighting a fire. This night has got into my bones." I stood in the flames, revelling as the fire licked around me and the piercing cold of the high air left me. Fire is life to us, and though it warms, no flame born of wood could possibly harm us. I closed my eyes and arched my long neck, putting my nose almost to the base of the fire to let the friendly flames warm my faceplate, sighing delightedly with the warmth. The fire licked gently at the soulgem in the centre of my forehead, sending a shiver of heat through me. I pulled my tail into the circle and folded my wings tight against my sides, letting every surface be caressed by the fire. Kedra hissed his amusement at my self-indulgence as I bathed in the generous warmth.

He had a large bowl of water warmed for me as well, flavoured with itakhri leaves. This brew is not for us the sovereign remedy that hlansif is for the Gedri, but it has a pleasant taste and warms from within, and it is cheering on a winter's night. As soon as I could tear myself away from my fire-bath I drank deeply.

Kedra had waited a long while but he was far too curious for much patience.

"Well, my father?"

I did not answer immediately. The vision of the firefield was before me still, and me words to encompass it did not come easily.

"My father, what did you find?" he asked again. His voice was grown a little solemn, for he knew me well.

My own voice would have turned traitor had I allowed it. Instead I said calmly, "Kedra, my son, you have kept well since the birth of your littling? You do not neglect your exercises in the air for the joy of beholding your son?"

"Mirazhe and I both fly every day," he said, smiling. "A good two hours each, as you taught me long ago."

"And Sher6k enjoyed being held as you flew last night. That is well." I closed my eyes. "He will not be wing-light for many years yet, poor littling, and I fear there may be a great deal of flying to be done long ere that time comes."

I do not know if Kedra was being stubborn, or if it was only that he had not seen what I had. "To what end? Why all this talk of flying, Father? The firefields bear watching surely, but what need has my Sher6k of flight at his age?"

I bespoke him, showing him in the privacy of our minds that which I could not yet put into words.

Kedra swore. "Name of the Winds, Father. Are you certain?" he asked quietly. His voice held little hope—as I say he knew me too well.

"Ask Idai if you will, for she flew with me," I replied have seen—once, when I was barely past my second kell,. I saw the firefields roiling in the starlight. What she and I overflew last night makes that seem as perilous as cloud across the moon."

"I see." Kedra heaved a sigh and was silent for a moment, then looked at me and said wryly, "You know that there will be some who will blame even this on the Lady Lanen and Lord Akhor. So soon after that great upheaval, our very home destroying itself—I do not envy you, Father. How will you convince them otherwise?"

"I shall knock their heads together until I rattle some sense into them," I replied shortly, for K6dra had said aloud what I had been thinking. I had known since Akhor left with his lady that every ill for many years to come would be laid at their feet, but I had never imagined that anything so drastic would happen so soon. Ah, well. Life delights in catching us napping. I yawned.

"My son, would you watch here with me yet a few hours? I feel the need of rest. The earthshake woke me from the Weh, and I am weary yet."

Kedra was instantly solicitous. "Your pardon, my father, in the turbulence I forgot you had been wakened untimely. Feel you the need to return to your Weh chamber?"

"No, I thank you," I replied, settling on my bed of khaadish. "For the most part I am healed. My shoulder is stiff and a little sore, but no more than I can bear. No, I need only rest, and meat when I wake." I had shaken my wings just so and was tucking my tail under my head when Kedra said, "Father, truly, are you well enough to deal with the Council and what may come after?"

I glanced up at K6dra, who was gazing down at me and standing in the Attitude of Concern. I looked away and sighed. "Perhaps you are right, my son, and I am simply growing too old," I said, attempting to sound piteous.

It had the desired effect, though I could not sleep until he stopped laughing.

The Summer Field is so called for its loveliness in high summer, when the flame's heart, with their bright crimson flowers, bloom in their vast numbers alongside the deep purple and vivid green of summer midnight and the spiky yellow blossoms of the sunstars. I have not made a study of such things and know no more than their names, but their beauty always cheers me in the warmer months. The field it-self is no more than a broad expanse of grassland, with enough room for all of us who remain to gather comfortably.

In the winter it tends to be a hard, frosty plain full of old stubble, neither comfortable nor lovely even in a stark win-ter fashion. However, it is outside and a wingbeat away from open air and safety, rather than being warm, underground and a constant danger, as is our Great Hall when the earth is unsettled. I knew not how many would come, as I had not called a formal Council.

The day was grey and cheerless when Kedra roused me from sleep, wing-stiff, sore and muzzy-headed and not at all inclined to tell the gathered Kantri that it was possible that we would all have to leave our home. Kedra had let me sleep as long as he could, leaving me only time enough to eat the haunch he had brought me before I had to leave for the gathering. I had hoped to have time to consider further what I might say, to soften the blow perhaps, to have alternatives to put to them. Still, sometimes it is best simply to lay the truth in all its starkness before those who must hear it and be done with it. No matter how much blame was laid at Akhor's feet—or more likely thrown at his absent face—we still had to consider what to do, and that quickly.

I drank deeply of the cold spring near my chamber and that roused me enough to think straight. I started walking to warm my muscles, but eventually I had to stretch my stiff wings and fly the rest of the way to the Summer Plain, not knowing who or what I would find there.

As it happened, there were fewer there than I had anticipated. Earthshakes even as violent as the ones in the night were common enough not to inspire much fear in us, and the others had not seen what Idai and I had seen. Still, a score of the Kantri had gathered in that cold, windy place, one in ten of our number, to speak of what was to do.

I thought I had landed reasonably well for one both stiff and sore, but Idai bespoke me with her concern. "All is as well as may be, my friend. Help me now." I replied, and bowed to the assembly. "I give you good morrow, my friends, and I thank you for attending," I called out loudly. "There is much to be done."

Kretissh spoke first, a soul nearer my age than Kedra's. His voice was a strong comfort in the feeble daylight. "Shikrar, Keeper of Souls, what have you to tell us beyond what we know? The earthshakes were strong last night, truly, but no stronger than others have been and others will be. I know you of old, Teacher-Shikrar. What has moved you to call your students together?"

That raised a little laughter. I have an old habit of teaching. I taught flight to the younglings when there were enough to teach and I cannot seem to get out of the way of it. Akhor used to tease me about it as well, calling me Hadreshikrar, that is Teacher-Shikrar. How I missed him.

"Kretissh, would that there was aught I might teach any of you now. I am rather in need of knowledge myself, and hope that one among you might enlighten me." I had no need even to raise my voice, so few of us were gathered. "My kindred, I went to Terash Vor after the earthshakes last night, and it was ..." I closed my eyes for a moment. "It was worse even than fear could imagine. Never in all my years have I seen the firefields so active, so much of the ground flowing like water. It has shaken me to my bones. As witness I call the Lady Idai, who met me there."

Idai addressed us all in truespeech, valiant, angry, bitter with the telling, for she was farsighted and knew what lay before us even as I attempted to deny it.

"Shikrar, the Keeper of Souls, speaks truth. Terash Vor is alight, and Ail-neth, and both Lashti and Kil-lashti burn. The other mountains do not sleep, but they are not yet as awake as are those four. My people, I have seen the Wind of Change sweeping over the very earth we stand upon. We must consider this deeply."

From among the mutters a voice called out. "Eldest, you have seen such things many times. If this is worse than you have seen before, what of it? All things pass in time."

"I hear you, Trizhe," I replied. "And I too have had that thought, which is why Kedra and I are preparing for the Kin-Summoning. Perhaps one of the Ancestors might know more than we, might have seen such an upheaval before."

I looked out over them. Most were not seriously concerned and seemed to think as Trizhenkh did, that this was merely the worst that had been for a while and, like all the others before it, would go away in its time. Maybe he was right.

Then in that cold and barren place I saw again in my mind's eye the firefields alight, the ground all but boiling, and knew that he was not.

"I will speak of the outcome of the Kin-Summoning on the morning after the second full moon from this day. Let us gather here, for I shall here summon you all to Full Council for that time. Until then, I would ask three things of you gathered here. First, that others fly to Terash Vor to see for themselves why I am so filled with foreboding. Second, that at least one in each household might begin to keep watch. If the earth sleeps but lightly, so must we." I hesitated, but knew I had to speak of this. "It may be, my friends, that our time on this island is at an end. I would therefore ask a third boon—that the younger of us should fly far, east, south, north and west, as far as wings will bear you, to learn if there is another place where we may make our home. We will ask the Ancestors, but sometimes newer knowledge is useful as well."

That brought a surprised silence from most, but I was not the only one who had had that thought, for a voice rang out, saying "And what if there is no such place, Eldest? You know that we have long sought such a place and have never found it. What then, Teacher-Shikrar?"

I turned to Kretissh, for it was he who had spoken. "Then, my old friend, we are going to have to think very seriously about returning to Kolmar."

"And the Gedri?" he asked angrily, amid loud murmurs.

"Let us not borrow trouble from the morrow, Kretissh, for surely we have troubles enough this day. If we must deal with the Gedri, we shall, but that day may be far, far distant, and in any case such a decision would have to be made by us all. Let us speak with the Ancestors first and learn what we may."

Kretissh was not satisfied but in truth there was no more to say. When all who had come were scattered again, I bespoke all of the Kindred, letting my concern colour my thoughts as I called out the words of summoning that were used when a special Council was called. Never used for nearly six hundred years, then twice in six moons. Truly, the Winds must laugh at us sometimes.

"Hearken, O my people. Let all who are wing-light come to the Summer Plain at midday on the first day of the second full moon hence, and let those who cannot attend be certain to share truespeech with one who is present. I, Shikrar, Eldest and Keeper of Souls, in the name ofVarien the Lord of the Kantri, call a Council of the Kindred, for there are deep matters to consider and much to be done to guard our future. I summon ye, my people all. Come to the Council."

I sighed and set out for my chambers. If I was to perform the Kin-Summoning there was much now to do.