I barely noticed what we were doing. I fancied I could smell Dragons on the air, feel their presence in the trees beyond, watching and waiting.
For me, of course.
Ah, Lady bless us. Was lever truly that young?
Kantri
When I had tracked them to the Gedri camp and it grew clear that the one I watched so closely did not mean to call to me yet, I turned over the watch to Hadreshikrar. It was nearly time for the renewal of the treaty, if the Gedri remembered. More than a hundred years had passed. I knew from my studies that in their brief lives such a span encompassed three or four generations. Few of my people had even noticed.
Thus I was pleased to find at the appointed place and time a new Speaker. This one was tall for their kind, with hair of golden red—from the little I had seen I guessed he must be the leader of this Harvest. He waited but a moment before he called out, “Very well, it is noon and I am here. Show yourself, Dragon, I pray you; I have much to do.” There was an insolence in his voice that surprised me. The Gedri are seldom so arrogant in the face of my people.
When the sun stood directly overhead I moved into the gap in the trees, where I might be seen, and answered him. “Greetingss, childt off the Gedri. Hwat bringethh thee ofer ssea to the landt of my people?” I make certain that my man-speech is archaic and a little rusty when the Harvesters renew the treaty.
The Speaker started violently when he heard my voice. “You’re real,” he said, his voice much lower and shaking now. “Forgive me—I was told—I thought you were legend.” He stood in a cloud of fear.
“It hathh been many a yeear ssince thou hasst come for the hlanssif. Knowest thou sstill the termss off the treeaty?”
He managed to speak at last. “I—no, your pardon, Lord Dragon, I knew not even that there was a treaty,” he said. I was struck by his voice. Despite his fear he sounded much like one of the Kindred—it was pleasing to hear a Gedri voice musical.
“Thou art hhere for the hharvest nonethelesss?”
“Yes, Lord Dragon. But—what treaty—forgive me, lord, I didn’t think you would be here.”
“It iss ssimple, childt off the Gedri. The Boundary iss well sset to north and far away west, a ffence off woodt between thy people andt mine. Ssouth iss thy landing place, easst iss the ssea. Keep thysself and thy kindred on thine own sside the ffence, hwere the hlansif trrees arre, andt for ourr part we sshall not cross the Boundary to interffere with thee. An thou or one of thy kindred dost cross oferr, thy livess are fforfeit and we sshall ssslay thee on ssight. Sshouldsst thou require to sspeak with uss, be heere at noon and thou sshalt be ansswered. Thou hast until dawn off the sseventh day from thiss moment to gatherr hwat hlansif thou willt. On that day thou sshalt meet with me here to ssay farewell when the ssun riseth ofer the rim off the worldt. Ffail not off that meeting, ffor it iss the assurance that thou art departing. Shouldsst thouremain affterr, thy departure will be assissted. Dost undersstand?”
“I—yes, yes, I think so. We stay on this side of the Boundary, we have six days to gather and I must meet with you before we leave at dawn on the seventh day. If we need to talk come at noon. Is that it?”
“Hyu lissten well, merchant. Hwat issthy name?”
“I am Ma—Master Bors of Trissen, Lord Dragon. How should I call you?”
I smelt the lie and put a low growl in my voice. “Truth, Merchant. I assk only thy ussename, but I will have the true one.”
“Marik. Marik of Gundar,” he said swiftly. “And you are?”
I hissed my amusement. “I hight Hlorrd Drragon.” He seemed disconcerted by my laughter. “Know that thou andt thy people arre watched alwayss,” I told him. “Ssendt the cattle through the gate at ssunsset. Sshouldsst thou have needt to sspeeak with me, come to thiss place andt call for the Guardian. Barring ssuch a meeting, we sshall not sspeeak again until thou art ready to depart.”
He bowed shakily in my general direction and left, far more swiftly than he had come.
That was the extent of the prescribed contact between our peoples, save a formal farewell when they left.
For me it was not enough.
There is among the Greater Kindred a longing which we call ferrinshadik. It may be, as some believe, a racial memory from aeons past, for it is felt to some extent by us all—but to some, as to me, it is a bitter pain to be borne. It is the deep longing to speak with another species; to converse with another Kind, to learn, to see the world through different eyes. It has been my burden all my life. I have learned all that is known of the Gedri among my people, thus trying to ease the pain, but it only grew worse.
How should I describe a deep longing of the heart for that which cannot be? There is a ban against our races meeting, for the dangers to both sides are too great. Since the coming of the Demonlord, there is too deep a temptation for my people to desire the death of the Gedri. That is why we first came to live on this island. The Great Ban has been in place for three thousand years, a long time even by my people’s reckoning, and we could not see a way to end it without grave danger to both sides.
Some have tried to speak with trees to ease the ferrinshadik, but that slow ponderous speech takes a lifetime to learn, even one of our lifetimes; and it knows only wind, water, earth and tire, sap rising and leaves falling. The true ferrinshadik is for speech with a sentient being. The Trelli have all gone, as far as we know; we do not speak with our life-enemies the Rakshasa; there remain only the Gedrishakrim. Our old fear and loathing is hard to overcome, and most of the Kindred believe that it is foolishness to try—but the ferrinshadik is not to be denied, and I had it in greater measure than any I knew. Hadreshikrar knew it as a scholar, but that is the lesser kind. My blood ran with it, my Weh sleep was plagued with dreams, and every year I waited for some sign that the time had come.
The one who laughed. My heart was full of her. I longed to speak with her, but I must not. I myself had helped establish the Harvest laws, and a king cannot act against his own decree. So I must wait and hope, and see if she also felt the longing.
She must come to me.
Lanen
After the tents were set up and we were more or less settled I had to fight my instinct to hide myself. It was not possible, of course. Marik knew I was here and there was no way to avoid him, so I decided, perversely, to seek him out. I asked Rella if she knew where I might find him.
“He’s gone to talk with the Guardian, I hear,” she said. “If he’s uneaten yet he should be back soon enough.” She seemed to have a hearty contempt for Marik, which made me feel a little better. At least it helped balance the fear.
But even as she spoke I saw Marik’s long figure emerge from a gap in the trees. He seemed terribly excited as he strode along, and my good intentions vanished like smoke in a high wind. I ducked back in the tent and tried to keep hidden.
I might have saved myself the trouble. The Master called out to the company and told us all to assemble in a wide clearing just north of the one where we had set up camp. I realised that that was the direction Marik had come from.
I put up the hood of my old black cloak and wandered over to the gathering, despite all sense frying to walk hunched over and with bent knees. Marik stood nearby, but it was the ship’s Master, he who had signed me on back in Corli, who spoke to us.
“Here it begins,” he said simply. “Lord Marik has spoken with the Guardian of the Trees and learned the terms of the treaty. That old fence along the trees—” He pointed behind him to an obvious line of trees with an overgrown but still visible path alongside it and a decaying fence before. “—is the Boundary. The fence runs for some miles to the west, and according to our records bends south to meet the coast. The sea is the Boundary east. We are allowed to collect any leaves we find on this side of the line, also any fruit, but there’s no sense bringing back trees, they just die. Ifs leaves you’re after. The more the better, we’ve sacks enough to strip bare every lansip tree on this island. Fruit still on the tree is to be brought in person by the finder back to Ma
rik, who will occupy the larger cabin. The finder will be credited with the weight of the fruit in silver.” Here his mask cracked slightly and the Master let loose his gap-toothed grin. “I hear the things weigh as much as a melon. Guard them with your lives.”
That got an appreciative murmur.
His voice grew louder. (I was impressed despite myself; I knew how hard it was to make that kind of noise.) “But believe me when I tell you—you will not pass over that Boundary and live. I heard some of you on the way here saying the Dragons were something we Merchants had created to keep lansip to ourselves. “He grinned again, briefly. “I wish we had, ifs a wonderful idea. However, they beat us to it.
“No matter what you heard or didn’t aboard ship, Lord Marik has now spoken with one of the beasts. The Dragons are real. They live here, this is their island, and you Cross that Boundary on peril of instant death. All the records we have of the old voyages say that they will slay on sight anyone who tries to cross over, and the Guardian has said it again not five minutes past.
“Keep on this side, work like fury for the next seven days, and you should all be disgustingly rich when we get back to Corli. Cross that border and you die, simple as that. Any questions?”
Silence.
“Leave your gear in your tents, get as many sacks as you want from the quartermaster after the midday meal. Dismissed.”
The rest went their ways, leaving me staring still into the dark wood ahead. I could see no farther than a few feet through the thick branches, thinned though they were by autumn nakedness. I nearly spoke out then and there when the Master called to me.
It was not the time, I knew that perfectly well; yet I turned away reluctantly, staring over my shoulder until the clearing was out of sight.
VIII
VOICES BY MOONLIGHT
Lanen
By nightfall reckoned I’d made back at least what I’d spent in Corli before the voyage. I had a feeling for weight, and the leaves I’d carried even in half a day came to a decent amount in silver. Tonight and thereafter we’d have to go farther afield, but even I had already seen thicker groves farther off and I wasn’t paying much attention. True enough, I wouldn’t object to the silver my efforts would bring me, but there were other things on my mind.
I still hoped that by the morrow I’d have found a Dragon to talk to. Marik had not sought me out nor sent for me—I began to hope that now he was here his mind was on lansip, not on me. But ever in my inner ear I heard a small voice whisper that this might be my father, and I long promised to demons.
The evening meal was warm and plentiful, and the moment ii was over most of the others collected more sacks and went hack to the trees. A few, with whom I remained, went into their tents, planning to start again as soon as they were rested. Most planned to rise after only a few hours. I was surprised to find that no watch was set on the camp and asked Rella about it as we were preparing for bed.
“And what would it be we’d watch for, eh?” she replied, bemused. “By all reports there’s three creatures larger than a mouse on this island—us, the cattle we brought, and the Dragons. We’re all either too tired to do any mischief or off gathering, the cattle are in the keeping of the Dragons now, and if a Dragon attacked nothing would save us anyway. Now go away and let me sleep, there’s a girl.”
I left her wrapped in blankets and went outside, up to the fire for warmth, waiting for the last stragglers to go to bed or back to the lansip harvest. My mind would not let me rest this night until I went to the Boundary and at least tried. I paced as I waited, and my thoughts seemed to travel round the same circle time and time again, like a yearling on a lunge lead. Partly I thought with solemn fear of Marik and whatever his purposes might be, but uppermost in my mind now were the Dragons themselves. Now I was here at last, at the end of my first journey and on the point of adventure, I was strung tight as a bowstring. Was Marik lying yet or were they real, now I was here at last? Had I wasted my life chasing dreams in the dark? And if they were real, why in all the world should one of them want to talk to me, rather than killing me where I stood for my insolence? And what, dear Goddess, what in the Seven Hells would I say? The fine flowery speeches I had made up in the silence of my chamber at Hadronsstead turned to dust, fell like dead leaves away from my mind, leaving not even their shadows behind.
Into that dusty darkness came a soft voice from the edge of the clearing.
“Lanen?”
I was close to the fire, I could not see past its light. But then, I didn’t really need to. “Yes, Marik, ifs me,” I replied quietly. I looked up as he approached, and managed a slight smile. “Or would you rather I called you Bors? In any case I seem to be working for you now, so perhaps ‘my lord’ is more in keeping.”
“I thought I saw you on board the ship, but I wasn’t certain until yesterday,” he lied cheerfully. “When the Master told me none had asked for a berth in the name of Bors of Trissen I was convinced you had decided not to corme.” He reached out suddenly and lifted my chin with his cupped hand. I put a tight rein on my temper; it would be far too dangerous to lose it now. “I had nearly convinced myself you were a dream. How wonderful. Now I am doubly blessed. I am certain you will be a hard worker, and” —he grinned—“mayhap you get back a portion of the ruinous price I gave you for that mare.”
His smile was kind and his voice echoed it. But his slight stoop and his hawk no se seemed terribly reminiscent, in the flickering light, of the pitiless bird of prey Jamie had compared him to, and his eyes did not speak of kindness. Even in the firelight they were cold, with a peculiar quality, a flint y hardness I had seen only once before.
At least Jamie had been on my side.
In that moment I decided to play the innocent. What could it cost me I had not lost already?
“What keeps you wakeful this night, Lady Lanen?” asked Marik graciously. His hand was poised negligently on his sword hilt, as though there were no other sensible place to put one’s hand. A coincidence, no more.
I looked down and swallowed, but could not banish my fear. My voice I knew would betray me, so I kept silence and hoped I might seem merely distracted.
He laughed softly. “I know the accommodations are not as spacious as those at the White Horse, but surely you don’t mind a little rough living for the chance to make your fortune? Or do you still seek the True Dragons?” He smiled, chilling me. “You know I have spoken with one. They are real, as you believed and I did not. And I was the first to speak with one in more than a century.” There was a portion of wonder in his voice, but underneath it lay a kind of petty smugness. He was pleased that he had spoken with the Dragons before I had, that he’ had taken that much of my dream from me.
I had no choice but to reply, and I feared he would hear it if I lied. “Yes, Marik. I still seek them, above even the riches of lansip, and I envy you the speech you have had with them.” That at least was true enough. As for who he was, I prayed silently that the Lady would make my ignorance believable. At the least it was worth a try. “But I still don’t understand about your name. Marik suits you better than Bors anyway, and what is the difference?”
He was surprised and more than a little suspicious. “Do you tell me you have never heard my name before?”
I smiled my most gracious smile, hoping it would at least be convincing by firelight. “Your pardon, Lord Marik of Gundar, but it is not an uncommon name in Ilsa. There were two Mariks in my village,” I lied smoothly. How to get rid of him, how to protect myself—then I remembered something Jamie had taught me. A lie is best served with an open countenance, a sincere voice, and buried deep in the midst of truth. “Jamie once told me of a Marik, someone my mother knew, but he must be twenty years older than you.”
“Your mother?” he said, slightly curious, no more. “Do you know, I thought you reminded me of someone. What is her name?”
“Her name was Maran Vena,” I said, trying to hold my voice steady, frightened at being this close to truth.
 
; “You amaze me. I did indeed know her, for surely there has never been more than one with that curious name. But you say was? Is she dead?” He tried to restrain himself, but even in firelight I could see his whole body tense, his voice give the merest suspicion of a waver as some strong emotion gripped him.
“I don’t know. Probably. She left me when I was yet a babe in arms, I have no memory of her at all.”
“Indeed. It sounds like the Maran I knew, if you will forgive me. She left me as well, after she stole a certain trifle from my home. Did she even speak of it to you? Or” —and in one swift move he was at my side: not a handsbreadth away, and his voice was low and intense—“did she perhaps leave it with you for a birth-gift? It was a globe of smoky glass, no larger than might be held in two hands. A mere bauble, but I would fain have it back. Tell me, Lanen, do you have it?”
I turned to him, my eyes clear and truth in my voice. “I have never seen such a thing. If she took it, she must have it still, if she lives. I hope you find her—I owe her nothing but I cannot help you. I have her looks, I am told, but apart from that nothing of her. I’m sorry.”
He stepped back and bowed, and his eyes were a little more kind. “I thank you. But still I wonder,” he said, “does not your father know where she might be found? Surely the life of a child is a bond not so easy to break—”
Help me, Lady, I prayed silently. “My father Hadron died at midsummer. If he knew where she was he took the knowledge with him.”
“I see. Well, it cannot be helped, I suppose.” He stared at me still, and I took advantage of the silence.
“My lord, it has been a long and wearying day, and I suspect I won’t get much sleep for the next week, so if you will excuse me—?”
He hesitated a moment, then bowed gracefully, smiling, his dancing eyes on mine the whole time. “Of course. It is not as if you could leave me as you did in Ilsa. There will be time later to speak of such things—but for now, sleep well, and work hard for both of us. We shall speak again soon.”