I moved to the very Boundary itself, stretching my neck so that our faces nearly touched.
“Lanen Kaelar, I am Khordeshkhistriakhor,” I whispered, and closed my eyes .
“You honour me,” she whispered back, and her heart in truespeech echoed her gratitude, her wonder. I shivered with the feel of her breath warm acrossmy eyelid. “We will meet again, at midnight.”
When I opened my eyes she was gone.
I returned to my hiding place, watching, thinking long on my folly and wondering where it would lead me, and was amazed to see the light rise about me hours later. For all my doubts I had never felt more alive.
I had never known the ferrinshadik to bring joy before.
Marik
I summoned Berys’s Messenger the night we landed on the Dragon Isle, and no sooner had it appeared than it spoke with his voice.
“So. You have survived the Storms, and since you summon me the Dragons have not killed you. How goes the Harvest?”
“Greetings to you as well, Magister,” I replied, speaking slowly to annoy him. “I am very well, I thank you. The Dragons remembered some treaty we had forgot, and all is arranged. Already the workers have made back the cost of the journey, and we have been here barely half a day. And you might be interested to hear that the child of Maran Vena is here as well. She knows nothing of the Farseer, but it is still possible that she is my child.”
“Indeed?” asked Berys with a sneer. “I am not interested in your conjectures. We cannot be certain until we have made tests. And for that we will need blood from her.”
This was news. “Blood, say you. And how should I go about getting blood from her?”
“You have guards, do you not, and men paid to serve you? Take her captive and cut her. What could be simpler?”
I had been thinking the same thing, but since Berys suggested it I thought of an objection. “And if she is my child? Do not your Masters require her whole?”
“You need not remove an arm,” he replied, disdain rich in his voice that came from the demon’s throat. “It will take enough to fill a cup, no more. Doubtless one so clever, who has arrived whole at the Dragon Isle, will be able to discover some way to acquire that much.” I would swear then that the small, distorted demon Messenger smiled with Berys’s smile. “May the Harvest prospect, Marik. I look forward to my share of your profits.”
The creature disappeared in a cloud of sulphur. I threw wide the shutters and left ward for Caderan to attend me in the morning. There was much I needed to know if my search for dragon gold was to be rewarded with other than death.”
IX
LESSONS
Kantri
I had gathered my thoughts and was preparing to return to my chambers when Hadreshikrar, my dearest friend among the Kindred, came upon me as I lay silent in the early dawn.
“Good morrow, Lord Akhor,” he said cheerfully. “I am glad to find you here: I began to wonder if the Gedri had put you under some spell in the night!”
“It is not impossible,” I replied. The idea had occurred to me more than once in the long darkness.
“Akhor, I spoke in jest!” said Shikrar.
“That is no surprise, my friend, you jest more than any three other of our Kindred.” I did not want to tell him of my thoughts, though, not for a few minutes yet. “Still I live in hope that more of my people will catch this light malady of yours. Tell me, what makes you so winghearted this morning?”
“It is no great mystery. Such a wondrous time for my family! I bespoke my son Kédra this night past, and he tells me Mirazhe has left for the Birthing Cove. Their youngling will be born ere the moon is past the full! Is that not enough to lighten the darkest heart?”
“It is indeed,” I replied, smiling at him as I rose. “And of course, any son or daughter of Kédra will be as great a blessing to the Kindred as his father has been.”
I teased Shikrar and he knew it, but his pride in his son was too great to be affected by anything I might say. He had invested in Kédra all the love he had felt for Kédra’s mother, his lost beloved Yrais. Kédra was, to his credit, a modest soul, and though he loved his father dearly he laughed at Shikrar’s excessive praise. They got along well, Kédra was bright and well liked, and Shikrar never stopped talking about his wondrous child.
“And so it will, my friend, mock me though you might,” he replied. “My Kédra has given me joy since his birth; I trust his youngling will do so as well. Mirazhe is a wonder, she all but glows with the littling. Idai stands birth sister to her.” Shikrar gazed keenly at me, which I as keenly ignored. “And when shall Mirazhe return the favor, Akhor my friend?” he asked pointedly. “It is widely known that Idai leans to you, she has these many years, spurning all others. Can you not find it in you to return her regard?”
I sighed wearily: “Hadreshikrar, must we go through this again? As Eldest you should know better. Should I take Idai as mate out of pit y? She would no more stand for it than I. I cannot count the numbers of those who have urged this joining upon me, nor the number of times you yourself have done so. Of your kindness, my friend, do not speak more of it. Idai is wise and worthy of all praise, but I do not love her.”
“Ah, well, I shall keep my peace. But with our numbers so few, it pains me to see you still without a mate and Idai yet yet barren.”
“That is her choice and mine!” I replied, stung by his bluntness. “You know I never said word, never asked any such devotion from her. If she chooses not to mate with another what word then should I give her to sway her? I will not bring a youngling forth where there is no love to sustain it, even if Idai were willing. And she would not be. Why should she settle for such a half-life when there are many who hold her in high regard and would take her as mate with honour? And it is no shame to choose a life of solitude.”
“Forgive me, my friend,” he said, as we walked a little away from the watch post. “I did not mean the words to gall. But the tire rises in me with the coming of a youngling, with my pride in my dear son—surely it is no wonder that I wish the same joy for you.”
“Ah, Shikrar, you old meddler,” I said. “You would have all of us mated before ever we left our mothers.” Truth to tell, his words disturbed me more than I could allow him to know. So few younglings, so few of the Kantri even taking mates. I feared for my people, but I did not know what I could do. It was not a new problem, there have never been many of us; but our numbers were halved by the Demonlord, and despite the long years between we had not even begun to recover. Still, no need to speak of that with Shikrar while his heart was so light. “Not content with instructing the young ones, you would teach us all what we must do to keep old Hadreshikrar happy.”
He laughed, as I knew he would. “That’s better. You have been overgrim this morning, Akhor.” He grinned at me. “Is it that old disease of yours, eh? It does come round this time of year, especially when the Gedri are so close. Still, no one has ever died of the ferrinshadik. “When I did not respond, he stopped and peered at me. “Do you know, I begin to wonder in truth if someone or something has not put a spell on you.”
“As for the ferrinshadik, Shikrar, you are not immune yourself. Tell me if you can in the Language of Truth that you have no longing in your soul to speak with them, that deep in your heart of hearts there is no burning desire to learn of them, to have converse with another Kindred and see the world through new eyes.”
He said nothing: I sensed no more from him than the amused tolerance of friendship, touched lightly by concern and by a grudging admission of guilt. I went on, “But I do not recall the casting of a spell. Surely I would remember such a thing.”
Instantly Shikrar’s voice sang in my mind, worried, caring as only a soul’s friend cares. “Khordeshkhistriakhor, I ask as your namefast friend, what has happened to you? I spoke in jest, but truly you are not yourself this morning. Your thoughts are guarded against mine as they have not been in my memory. Does the Weh sleep come upon you again so soon? Or have the Gedri indeed
cast binding spells upon you?”
“Hadreshikrar, I warn you, much has happened this night,” I replied cautiously, aloud. Then in the truespeech I added, “I will gladly open my thoughts to you, but for friendship’s sake do nothing, do not even move, unless you find the true touch of the Rakshasa.”
“I swear it, old friend.”
I let down the barriers of conscious thought and let Shikrar see the events of the night before. In a moment he knew most of what had passed, and in that moment I threw my wings and my forearms about him and held him fast. I had not known him all these years without knowing what his first reaction would be.
“You swore to me!” I cried aloud as he struggled to throw me off, to take to the sky, to seek out this Gedri and destroy her. “Hold to your word!”
In his fury he struck at me as best he could while I held him, raking his claws across my chest plates. If he had had any leverage my blood would have drenched the grass. My wings had hampered him, but now they were vulnerable and I withdrew them; they were far too delicate to risk in a struggle. “You fool!” he cried, thrashing. “Would you damn us all? Shall we be cattle in the Trollingwood, shall we be dragons because you trusted some pawn of the Gedrishakrim?”
“Enough!” I cried. I felt my grip weakening. Shikrar was older and larger than I. I focussed instead on using all the power of truespeech to cry out to him mind to mind, where I could not be ignored. “Hadreshikrar, listen to me! Did you find Raksha-trace?” I shook him even as he battled to escape me, even as I felt my hold slipping. “Tell me, your soul to the Four Winds, did you find any trace of the Rakshasa in me? Any trace at all?”
He stopped struggling then, suddenly, bowing his head in defeat. “No, Akhor. Your soul is as clean as the day you were birthed, you great fool,” he replied. Then he spoke aloud, as if truespeech were too painful. “What madness possessed you? For since it is not the Rakshasa, it must be that you have in truth lost your mind.”
I released my hold and stepped back, praying to the Winds that my tongue might be touched with the power of persuasion. If I could not explain this to Hadreshikrar, I could not explain it to any of the Kindred.
“Shikrar, do you remember my waking from my last three Weh sleeps?”
He stared at me, waiting.
“Hold your silence now if you will, but then it was you who spoke to me of my dreams. You reminded me then that it was the third time I had spoken of them, and how Weh dreams should be honoured as they are so rare. Do you remember my reply?”
“Is that it, then? Is that the basis for this madness, that you have dreamt a child of the Gedri calling to you? I tell you, Akhor, we have all had that fantasy—though the ferrinshadik has ever been a shadow over your shoulder.” He stared straight into my eyes and said, “Do you tell me, Akhor, that she called you by your name?”
“No,” I replied quietly. That had been a powerful element in the second Weh dream, that the Gedri had known my true, full name without being told. “She did not call me by name, my friend. But Shikrar, neither did she call me ‘dragon.’ ”
“What did she say? ‘Hello you great idiot’?”
“She called me brother, Shikrar. Brother, as in the first dream. And she told me she had longed to know us for all of her short life.”
“Did she also tell you that she had heard tales of dragon gold and might she please have some?”
I felt the tire grow in me, rising with my anger, but I fought it down. My own vehemence surprised me. “Have you so little respect for our fellow creatures that you will allow none of them to be greater than the worst?”
“Have you so far lost your reason that you forget what happened to the Lesser Kindred?” he growled. His anger was echoing mine and growing on it, flame fed by accusation. “Will you have us all live as soulless beasts? Shall we haunt the deep glades of the Trollingwood like the Lesser Kindred, slaughtered like cattle, with no soul and no reason? I am the Keeper of Souls, I have tried my life long to speak with the Lost, with the Lesser Kindred, to no avail. They were in the heart of their flower, Akhor!” he cried, as though the Demonlord’s destruction were a blow struck moments before. The youngest and best of us, struck down by this twisted child of the Gedri with no more thought than we give cattle.” He could barely contain himself. He had begun to crouch, and I could see small tongues of flame in his speech even in the bright light of early morning. With his next breath he would challenge me, and I was in no mood for a fight.
“Shikrar, I charge you by our friendship, restrain your anger. Let us guide one another in the Discipline of Calm, but I charge you to follow that Discipline now as my namefast friend.” I spoke quietly, with all the calm power I could muster. It did not move him at all that I could see.
I had hoped to avoid invoking my authority with so old a friend, but I could see no other choice. I bespoke him.
“If that will not reach thee, Hadretikantishikrar, I charge thee to honour my wishes by thy vow of fealty to the King.”
The use of his full true name shocked him—as well it might—and it had the desired effect. He stared at me in hurt surprise. I gazed back at him, standing in the formal Attitude of Kingship, wings fully extended, and my soulgem gleamed in the early sun as I stood in my power.
He bowed to me formally, gathered himself and began the Discipline. I did the same. As we took ourselves through its measured paces I spoke.
“I would not have you judge this child of the Gedri without knowledge, Shikrar my friend. I know the fear you speak of, better now than ever before, I assure you. Even if my distrust had not been awakened by my own actions, yours would have shocked me to awareness.”
Shikrar finished the Discipline. When he opened his eyes the deep anger was gone; what was left more closely resembled regret.
“What would you, my Lord King?”
I had asked for it, but still it stung. Shikrar had been the friend of my heart for many a long year. I had hoped my reminder would shock him out of his anger, no more. Well, he would thaw in time.
“I would have you accompany me this evening, when I will meet again with the child of the Gedri,” I replied. “I would ask you not to harm her unless she breaks one of our laws.”
“Do you not break those same laws, Lord King, when you call out to this—this Gedrishakrim?”
“You bespoke me, Shikrar,” I replied sternly. I would not let his formality wound me, nor allow myself to defer to our friendship. There was too much surrounding this meeting for that. “You well know that she called to me, not I to her, and that the law refers on their side simply to crossing the Boundary. As for my breaking of our laws—I ask you to let me carry that burden alone for now. We might find between us, you and I, that it is the law that is at fault.”
Shikrar did not reply.
“I will meet you at the watch post on the Boundary shortly before the middle night,” I told him, then in farewell said what we always said to the Guardian. The words came hard past my tongue.
“Watch well, lest we find a demon in our midst.”
I did not need deep understanding to know that he was thinking it more than usually likely, and that mine would be the burden of having allowed it to come in. It was, after all, just possible that the little one—no, use her name, that Lanen Kaelar was a pawn in some greater game, not herself corrupt but allowing corruption to gain entry.
It was possible.
But the moment I left Shikrar I felt the deep joy of our meeting seeping through my anger and disappointment, and I could not believe that evil lurked near her.
It is unfortunate but true that the proof that there are rocks in the field is usually the fact that we have just hit them with the plough.
Lanen
I don’t know how I managed to sleep at all that night. Every time I closed my eyes I would see that silver face so close to mine, the eyes vulnerable mere inches from me, hear that voice that sang in my mind, breathe in the wild, strange smell of him, and open my eyes to let out the tears of wonder.
I have discovered in the long years that I have been blessed above many others; for when I took the chance to follow my dream, I not only found what I sought in the deep shadow of trees beneath the moon—I was given the gift of not finding what I had hoped for. What I found surpassed my longing, my desire, my very imagination, beyond the power of my limping words to tell.
I was in a daze all the next day as I gathered lansip leaves with the rest, hardly speaking, not eating at all—but inside that daze I was gloriously alive. I heard every note of every bird’s song, every rustle of wind in the lingering leaves high on the trees; I smelled the different woods thrown on the fires, the heady scent of lansip all around me, even the subtle hint of spice and healthy autumn rot below all. I felt the smallest twigs crackle beneath my boots, and below that and around, the brown autumn grass bent and broke as I passed: The misty rain that came up in the early afternoon sparked cold on my cheeks. I opened my mouth like a child and sipped at the rain, and I could not remember a sweeter drink. The leaves as I gathered them in bundles were soft on my hands, harsh the raw canvas bags we stuffed them in, hempen rape rough against my palms as I tied the bags shut. I was like a child indeed, discovering the world for the first time, seeing all things new in this strange, frightening clarity, and in each moment and each sensation I came back to the wonder of the Dragon.
Kordeshkistriakor.
I had been afraid I would not be able to remember it, so long, so strange—yet as I came away from our meeting it rang in me like a wondrous bell.
I found, though, that the human mind can only hear a little exaltation. By midafternoon I was dropping on my feet, and I had to return to the tent and sleep while the others worked. Luckily I was not alone. It seems that the pattern among the Harvesters was to gather leaves until you were about to drop, then go back to camp, eat, sleep as little as possible, and back to it. I had heard people coming and going all night as I lay and tried to sleep, and all morning they came and went, no rhyme or reason. My comings and goings went unnoticed, for all were doing the same.