I shuddered. “Kédra, I—I am so sorry …”
“Do not fear to speak of Shikrar,” said Kédra kindly. He gazed at me. “He took me aside the night before the battle, Lanen. He told me of his Weh dreams, and that he believed that his time was come to sleep upon the Winds.”
“Oh, Kédra!” I said softly. “I am so sorry that your dear father was taken from us. I knew him so very short a time, but he was always just and always kind to me, and I will miss him.”
“It is considered a great gift among us, Lanen Kaelar, to know when your life is about to end,” said Kédra, and his voice and his heart were calm, if sad. “My father lived a long and worthy life. His use-name was Hadreshikrar, Teacher-Shikrar, for he taught nearly every one of the Kantri now alive how to fly.” Kédra paused a moment, and stood in what I eventually learned was the Attitude of Recollection. “I am told that he was a wild spirit in his younger days, always in the air, trying new and different ways to fly, to manoeuvre, to test his own skills in flight, and to try them against those of his companions who dared try to match him.” His Attitude shifted a little, to include elements of Pride. “None ever did, not after his second kell. He served as Eldest of the Kantrishakrim for nearly three kells, as Keeper of Souls for seven, and in his last days he led us in our great return, flying home across the Great Sea to Kolmar.” Kédra’s voice quavered a little, then. “He was ridiculously proud of me, you know. I found it embarrassing, but that is who he was. And he was set fair to be even worse about his grandson.”
Kédra looked into my eyes then. “I know not what happens to the Gedri soul after death, but we believe that the departing spirit is met by those who have died before, to welcome the traveller home. My father Shikrar”—he had to clear his throat, and I felt my own tighten in response—“my father Shikrar loved my mother Yrais with a love exceeding deep. She was taken from him so early. I barely remember her, only as a soft loving voice and a dear presence.” He bowed his head for a moment, and when he looked up there was a peace in his eyes that I envied. “I mourn him, Lanen. I loved him dearly and I will miss him as long as I breathe, but I know in my deepest heart, as surely as I know that the sun will rise on the morrow, that he and my mother are together again in joy, where no pain or sorrow can touch them. It is well, Lanen Kaelar.”
“It is well, Kédra,” I responded. My heart could rest now, though I too would miss Shikrar’s great soul.
I bade Kédra good night and returned to my chambers, with but a single thought before me that followed me into sleep.
Akor, Akor, my dearling. We have survived the most dreadful test of our marriage, short of death—but now that the light of day shines upon our lives, now that the dread of battle and its aftermath are over—what is to become of us, my husband? Whatever in all the world is to become of us?
xvi
Ta-Varien
Lanen
There was much to be done and decided before we all left Castle Gundar.
The matter of my patrimony was eventually established on a more solid foundation. Mistress Kiri, who had know my father since he was a child, began by being terrified of the dragons and deeply suspicious of me and my claim. After she spent half a day closeted with Maran, discussing Goddess only knows what, she was forced to admit that I was indeed the only known child of Marik of Gundar. It seemed that he had told her once, in his cups, that he had a daughter, but she had never managed to learn any further details. Maran, seemingly, supplied sufficient details of her own to content Mistress Kiri, who then became my staunch ally and introduced me to the entire household as the right and legal heir.
It was very peculiar indeed to realise that these people, some of whom had been kind and considerate even when they believed our company to be complete strangers, had known of my existence for several years, while I had lived in complete ignorance of theirs.
Mistress Kiri, to my astonishment, even went so far as to convince the steward to give me access to Marik’s fortune. I tried to object. Mistress Kiri, looking at me rather more shrewdly than I would have expected, said, “Did your father, in his entire life, ever give you one single thing?”
“No,” I replied simply, realising that she might not want to hear the true answer, which would be Well, he gave me to a demon, or tried to. Does that count?
“Then he can make up for quite a long stretch of neglect,” she declared, handing me the key to Marik’s treasure room.
I had a long talk with the steward, Kesh, who was harmless enough if you didn’t expect much in the way of generosity. Marik had hired him for his grasping nature. I made him swear on his soul and in front of quite a few witnesses, including Mistress Kiri, to pay everyone in the place a better wage, thanked him for looking after the lands so well, told him to get in more cattle as we might expect any number of winged visitors in the near future, and left him to it.
I suppose I could have tried to live there, but it never even occurred to me. Spending more time than absolutely necessary in a place where Marik was honoured? No. I would presume far enough to provide myself and my friends with food and shelter for a week, and the staff with a decent living from my father’s ill-got gains, but more than that I could not do. I did leave the staff with the impression that I might return at any time. Just for morale.
I saw but little of Akor in that time. He spent his days among the three Houses of the Kantri, teaching, learning, listening, and avoiding me as surely as I was avoiding him. We were coming to terms with our new life, but it was hard, Goddess it was hard, and there was so much else to do. We found a compromise, finally. Akor had taken to lighting a fire on Shikrar’s hill in the evenings, and I joined him there, to talk a little, to consider what had happened to us both, to speak a little of our future, but for the most part simply to be in each other’s company. It grew easier, over even those few nights. He could still make me laugh.
A full seven days after the battle, when even Vilkas and Aral had recovered much of their strength, we held a last council in the Great Hall at noon. Its generous windows were flung open, and the light and air that flowed into the room were extraordinary. Spring came late to the mountains, but it seemed to be trying to make up for lost time. The orchards were heavy with delicate apple blossom, and there was some plant that grows in those hills that had the most wonderful scent I have ever known. If the High Fields of the Lady are worth achieving, they must smell like that.
We were graced with Salera’s presence as well, thanks in large part to those windows. Akor, too, could come near enough to see and hear. We had put it off for a time, while wounds were healed and tales told all round, but we, all knew that the time had come to go our own ways.
Jamie and Rella announced that they were leaving on the morrow. “Where are you going?” I asked. This last week had been a blessing, having the pleasure of their company without a single deadly threat in sight. I knew fine that Jamie would not stay in the House of Gundar even if I did.
“Somewhere warm and green and quiet,” said Rella. “Where they have real beds with feather pillows. You have spoiled me, girl,” she said, grinning at me. “This week of living at ease has got into my bones. I could bear to live like this.”
“We’re going back to Hadronsstead first though, Lanen,” said Jamie, smiling. “I shudder to think what that idiot Walther may have been doing to the farm. He’s a born horse-breeder, but I wouldn’t let him within smelling distance of the Great Fair at Illara.” He put his arm around Rella. “Ilsa is green and quiet, and I daresay we will manage to make enough warmth between us to be getting on with.”
Maran smiled, and only the slightest shadow darkened her eyes.
“As to that,” put in Akor from the window, “I am to tell you that Kédra offers to fly you as far as Elimar. He returns to his family tomorrow. He has asked me to say that he would be honoured to bear with him any who wish to journey so far.”
“Oh, excellent Kédra!” cried Rella, and Jamie went so far as to stand and bow to Akor. “We accep
t with deep and abiding gratitude, Lord Akor. Kédra is very kind.”
I turned to the Healers. “And what of you, O Dragon Mages?” I asked, teasing. Vilkas winced and Aral laughed. “I don’t think our services will be needed here for a time,” said Aral. “I was going to go home for a bit. Berún’s a fair step, but I haven’t seen my family for nearly three years.”
“Mistress Aral, might I have a word with you?” said Salera. Aral, taken by surprise, rose and joined her in a quiet corner of the room. They appeared to be discussing something quite solemn that was obviously important to Salera.
Vilkas returned my gaze evenly. “I think that where I go will depend greatly on where you go, Lanen Kaelar.” He nodded at my belly; I was now growing more obviously pregnant, practically by the day. “I suspect that all will be well for some time yet, but if you can bear my company I would rather be nearby. Especially in the last two months,” he added wryly, “lest I outstay my welcome before.” He pinned me with that brilliant blue gaze, smiling for a change, and for the first time I had a glimpse of what Aral saw in him. I suppose he was rather good-looking, at that.
“I think Aral’s idea is the best, for me,” I said, turning to Maran. “Time to go home.”
She nodded, resigned. “I suppose you’ll want to be in Hadronsstead, somewhere familiar, now that—”
“No, no, I didn’t mean that,” I said hurriedly. “Not at all.” I barked a short laugh. “Jamie, you know I love you like a father, but I cannot bear the walls of Hadronsstead. Maran, I know I haven’t asked, and Goddess knows there will be quite some train of us if you’ll have us, but—Mother, I would very much like to go back with you to Beskin.” I grinned. “I expect I’ll be tied down for some time over the next few years, and I’ve never seen the Trollingwood. Jamie tells me it’s quite something.”
Why it should have given me so much pleasure to see joy in Maran’s face, I don’t know. We still hardly knew each other, though surviving the death of the Demonlord had brought us sharply together. Perhaps now we would have the chance to put right what had gone wrong. Given enough time.
“What say you, Maran?” asked Akor gently. “Is there room in Beskin for a dragon? Can you take us both, and Mage Vilkas, and put up with two squalling babes when the time comes?” He hissed a little. “Though perhaps your home is too small for two babes and Lanen … . ?”
Maran laughed. “It held me and all my brothers and sisters, it can surely hold my daughter and her family. Oh, come and welcome!” she said, taking me in her arms briefly. “Though you, dragon, are almost certainly going to be a problem.”
“Hmmm,” said Vilkas calmly. “I appear to be going to Beskin, near the Trollingwood.” He grinned. “I always wanted to travel.”
Aral
The moment I was near enough to hear her quiet voice, Salera spoke.
“Mistress Aral, I have said no word, but the time is come. What is in your heart for my father Will?”
“I beg your pardon?” I asked, taken aback.
She gazed at me. “My speech is much better than it was, I am certain that you can understand me.”
I was going to feign surprise, but I could not, not in the face of that open soul. “I don’t know, Salera,” I replied honestly. “I can only guess at what he feels, and I don’t like guessing. He has never said a single word to me about his own heart.”
“Father,” said Salera. Her voice was not loud, but he heard and wandered over. I tried to read him as he approached, but he was just Will, just there, big and calm and golden-haired, a good friend.
Goddess save us all, Salera really didn’t know about human delicacy, for she greeted him with, “My father, why have you not spoken to Mistress Aral of what is in your heart?” Will spluttered. She ignored him and went on, “I know the depth of your feelings for her, but how can you expect to win her if you say nothing?” She turned back to me, leaving Will blushing furiously, and said in a conspiratorial tone, “It appears to be a male trait. My own suitor has waited a full year before speaking.”
“A suitor?” said Will, amazed. “But—you’ve only been awake such a short time …” His voice faded as he realised the obvious.
“I was awake before, my father, and I remember Tchaeros well. Now that we have speech, he is more courtly”—and she hissed a little with amusement—“but it has taken him a very long time to ask me to join with him.”
“Do you love him?” asked Will, frowning like any father at being informed so of a daughter’s lover.
“I do, my father,” said Salera, her wings fluttering. I could only guess that it was with pleasure. “I agreed to join with him this morning as the sun brightened. We will celebrate our—betrothal, is it called?—this very night, and I would that you might be there.” She turned back to me. “I would see you there as well, Mistress Aral, if your heart allows.”
She brushed past Will as she left, and I heard her whisper, “Speak your heart, Father. She is wise. She will hear.”
“Aral, I—drat that child, she doesn’t understand—”
I put my hand on his arm. He froze.
“I think she understands rather better than you or I,” I said quietly. I was suddenly shy, but I managed to mutter, “Will, please—I—please, just speak truth to me. Is Salera right?”
He took my hand from his arm. “Aral, I’m a good few years older than you,” he began.
“Not that much,” I said, smiling. “Look at Varien and Lanen!”
He grinned back. “Right enough, I suppose. I—I’ve never said word these last two years, Aral, because I know fine how you feel about Vilkas.”
I nodded. “I know how I feel about him too. Go on.” I felt one corner of my mouth go up. “You haven’t actually said anything yet.”
I practically felt him crack. He stepped closer to me as if he would have swept me into his arms that very moment; I could see him tremble with the effort of not doing so, and I was suddenly very aware of him as a man rather than as a friend.
And there he stood, this tall, handsome man, not daring to touch me, but telling me all his heart, speaking such words of love to me as I had only ever dreamed of.
I had dreamed of hearing them from Vilkas, of course, though my rational mind had realised that would never happen. No, he was not Vilkas, tormented, wildly powerful, terrified of life and of love. He was Will. Strong, calm, reliable, capable Will, who had loved me for two solid years now and said nothing until this moment because he knew I cared for another.
I never meant to do it, but in moments of high emotion I seem to call my corona to me without thinking. I swear, I could see his love, flowing between us strong as a river from a high mountain, and still he did not touch me.
“I knew the time would come when you’d bring Vilkas to the point,” he said, finally, when all else was said. “I feared it might happen when you were far from me, and I couldn’t bear that. I let myself be carried by those great beasts because I would not abandon you when you needed me.” He stopped and let himself smile. “Though I won’t pretend it was for your sake alone. I damn well intended to be there to catch you.”
“And so you did,” I replied. I would never forget his arms holding me up when Vilkas cast me from him. Vil and I had come to a working truce, but in that awful moment it was Will who had held me close and supported me until I could stand again.
He finally let himself go so far as to take my right hand in both of his. “By my word, Aral, I will not die if you do not, or if you cannot love me.” His eyes were alight, he seemed more alive than I had ever seen him. “But I tell you true, I would far rather live my days with you than without you.”
No matter what sentiment might say, I owed him the truth. I spoke quietly, for the others were not speaking much just at that moment and I did not wish to be overheard.
“Will, I won’t pretend I feel more than I do,” I said. “You know I care for you, you’ve been a wonderful friend to me ever since I met you. But—” I glanced at Vilkas, smiling now and
chatting with the others. His hold on my heart was less than it had been, but not by much. “You know also that my heart has long been his. I found out for certain that he doesn’t want it, but—it will all take time.”
I paused. I had been going to tell him that he should not hope, but as I was about to form the words, I found to my surprise that there might indeed be room in my heart for another. He stood, strong and true, his heart open and undefended, for me to wound or to heal. A curious thought occurred to me.
“Come with me out into the corridor, Will, I have something particular to tell you,” I said, and went before him out of the range of other eyes.
The corridor was deserted. He closed the door behind us.
“Kiss me,” I said.
For all his ardour, he was taken aback. “What?”
“Kiss me like you mean it,” I said, challenging him.
Gracious Lady. I got more than I had bargained for.
When we came up for air, he reeled as one drunk. I suspect I did too.
“Come with me, Will,” I said quietly. “Come with me to Berún and meet my family. I do not promise anything, and I do not yet have a whole heart to offer you. I would not offer you less.”
“I have waited two years, Aral,” he said, his voice lovely and deep. “I can wait a little longer.” He grinned wildly. “I’ve always thought I should see the rest of the South Kingdom,” he said, smiling and drawing me out into the broad spring day. “Tell me about Berún.”
If that’s how you always kiss, my lad, you may not have all that long to wait, I thought, and casually took his hand as we walked out into the sunlight.
Khordeshkhistriakhor
The next morning, all farewells said, the company of friends scattered to the Winds for that time.