He rumbled deep in his throat. It was a terrifying noise, like the growl of some unimaginable bear. His truespeech lanced into my mind. “Gedri, speak to me of this in the Language of Truth or I shall flame you where you stand. Where is Akor, and how came you here?”
Those were better odds than I had hoped for.
I concentrated as hard as I could. Like a small hole, Akor had said, send your thoughts through it, no larger than it must be, concentrate on what you are saying.
“My lord, I tell you but truth. Akor and I came here last night to speak with each other. A great deal happened that we did not expect and we were talking until dawn. I slept and when I woke he was gone. I swear on my soul that I speak truth. I do not and have never wished harm to any of the Kindred.”
I don’t know how much of my underthought got through. Shikrar at any rate did not appear to be shocked or to grow more angry than he was, which I would have expected had he gathered more of the truth than I had meant to tell him.
“This must be brought before the Council. Where is Akor?” he asked, in my own language.
“I don’t know, truly, my lord.”
“I must find him! He will not answer me, his mind is closed.” I heard his voice go grim with the thought. “Child of the Gedri, will it be open to you?”
I tried not to shake, with the result that I stood firm enough but my voice quavered like an old woman’s. “I believe so, my lord. I will—I will try.”
“Come out of there. It will be easier outside,” he said. He backed out of the opening. Only then did I realise that he was too large to enter the passageway easily.
I gathered my courage as best I could and wrapped it round me like my cloak. If he means to kill you outside at least Akor will not have to move your bones from his Weh chamber, I thought to myself. I stepped out into the middle of the clearing. Deep breath now, Lanen my girl. See him in your mind, call him.
“Akor? Where are you? It is Lanen.”
He answered me instantly. I could hear the smile in his voice. “Good day, dearling. I am on my way back to you. I have been hunting that we both might eat. And I thank you for your name, my heart, but I would know your mindvoice among a thousand. I shall be with you very soon.”
Keep it concentrated, lass; Shikrar can hear your speech but not Akor’s. “Lord Akor, your friend Shikrar is here and would have speech with you. He is greatly concerned about something.” I tried to keep my fear out of that last sentence, but I don’t think I managed it very well.
Akhor
“Lord Akor very formal keep it very formal your friend Shikrar is here growling at me and would have speech with you. been trying all day resents that I can bespeak you he cannot He is greatly concerned about something horribly upset hasn’t killed me yet but I fear for my life.”
I instantly opened my mind to Shikrar. He hardly had to speak; I saw the source of his concern even as he formed his words. “Akhor soulfriend at last you answer me. No, not me, the Gedri—not now. Akhor, I beg you, it is Mirazhe, her time has come, something is terribly wrong. Help me! I know not where to turn.”
It happens sometimes that births are difficult for our people. Such things used to be rare, but even in those days they were feared.
I instantly dropped the beast I carried. “I fly now to the Birthing Cove, Shikrar, but you must swear to do something for me.”
“Anything!”
“Bring Lanen with you.”
“NO!”
“Hadreshikrar, soulfriend, you must. You know I do not ask this lightly, I have an idea, you must bring her for Mirazhe’s sake. Promise me! For the sake of your son and his.”
I cringed at the anguish in his voice as he agreed.
I flew on the Wind’s wings to the Birthing Cove and called to Lanen to tell her what I had requested.
Lanen
I wasn’t any more pleased to be Shikrar’s passenger than he was to have me. He held me away from his body so only his hands would have to touch me. I could appreciate the sentiment, but I got cold very quickly. If his hands themselves were not so warm I’d have frozen.
It was a long flight, but at least this time I could see what we flew over. The Birthing Cove, it seemed, was on the northwestern side of the island, so that I saw a great deal of the island pass below me. We went across the center, a longer way than straight so that Shikrar could fly through a gap in the mountain range that split the north of the Dragon Isle from the south. It was the only gap in that fearsome ridge that I could see.
The northern half of the island was very different from the south. Here the forests were much thinner; in some places bare black rock was all that lay below us for many leagues. A spur of the mountains shot away northward, and at its end another large mountain arose, smoking sullenly in a hundred places. One whole side of the mountain was dark with what looked like rock that had melted away. I could not imagine the kind of force that could make stone run like mud.
It was at the edge of this desolation that we came to ground, after what seemed hours. The sun was nearly down, but in the afternoon’s grey gloom I saw a cliff of stone and a wide beach below, rock-strewn and dark, with a large pool a little way inland.
There were four of the Kantri waiting for us. The largest, only a little smaller than Shikrar, was like dark copper. The one sitting in the pool shone like polished brass even on that cloudy day, the one at the pool’s edge was close in colour to Shikrar’s dark bronze, and the last gleamed purest silver (I breathed again), strange among them, the Silver King come to help his people.
Shikrar dropped me just before he landed. To be fair he was as delicate about it as he could manage, but I was so cold my cramped limbs would not hold me up. I fell to the rocky ground with a cry.
Akor was at my side in an instant. “What ails thee, dearling?” he asked, his voice in my mind warm and loving.
“I’m near frozen,” I told him through chattering teeth.
Without a word he breathed on me. Gently, steadily, a warm wind in a warmer fog. It was like taking a steam bath.
At first the warmth hurt as much as the cold had, but after a little I began to melt. My face, my hands and feet still ached with cold, but now I could at least move about enough to keep my blood from freezing.
“Littling, the lady nearest you is the Lady Idai,” said Akor in truespeech, as he kept breathing warmth into my bones. “The younger one who gleams so bright is Mirazhe, she who is having difficulty with the birth. The one beside her is her mate Kédra, the son of Shikrar. I am glad you are here. I may need your help if all else fails.”
“Anything I can do I will,” I replied aloud. I thought of his words the night before. Kédra’s child was the first youngling to be born in three hundred years, and it was in danger. I could all but smell their distress—I think, despite their impassive faces, I would have known something was wrong just looking at them.
Akhor
Shikrar and I went to Idai, who appeared to be the calmest among them, but when she bespoke me her concern rang nearly as loud as her anger. “Lord Akhor, I have sent all the others back to their own chambers. There were none who remembered more than I, not even Kerijan, or could do anything more here than surround Mirazhe with their concern, which is the last thing she needs. Akhor, I fear for her. She has been straining since early last night. Even the more difficult births took perhaps the half of a day. Those that took longer we lost.”
“Mother or child, Idai?”
“Both, my lord. Both.” She glared at me, standing obviously in Anger now. “And you would bring your pet Gedri here to witness it! How could you so betray your people? Do you care so little for Shikrar’s feelings, for Mirazhe and Kédra, that you would bring the enemy of our people here, of all places? Shikrar has told me of your meeting, and of your obsession. It is not right, Akhor. It must leave, or I shall destroy it where it stands. Never in the history of the world has a Gedri come to so sacred a place. It should not be!”
I found I was moving into A
nger myself. For Mirazhe’s sake I fought to keep my head, keep some measure of calm as Idai threatened the life of my beloved. “Lady Idai, how great a fool do you think me?” I said sternly in the Language of Truth. “Or do you believe me mad, or evil, or so heartiess I would throw Shikrar’s dislike of the Gedri in his teeth? This child of the Gedri—Lanen—is here to witness not death but birth, and she may be of service to us. She
stays.”
“No! Akhor, are you bespelled? This is ill done, it is not the way of things, I will not permit!”
“I do not ask your permission, Idai. You will not harm har, and she will stay.”
“NO!” cried Idai in a great voice, and ran towards Lanen.
Lanen
I had wandered over to the pool. I don’t know why, but it seemed impolite just to stare. I bowed to the one in the pool and to the other who waited on the far side. “I am called Lanen,” I said. Mirazhe stared at me with unreadable eyes, but did not move or speak. Her mate leaned down his head and looked at me closely. He said something out loud that I didn’t understand, but in a moment what I guessed was his voice said in truespeech, “Lanen, may I bespeak you?
I am called Kédra.”
“You are welcome to. You are Shikrar’s son?”
“Astounding! So Akhor spoke no more than truth. A Gedri with truespeech! You are the friend of Akhor?”
“Yes,” I replied. “I am sorry for your lady’s trouble. Is there anything to be done?”
He might have answered, but I was distracted by a loud hiss, and suddenly there before me was the large one Akor had called Idai. Then everything moved in a blur—the creatures moved so swiftly I could not tell what was happening until it stopped. Mirazhe, the one in the pool, had thrust her head between me and Idai and hissed. Apparently Idai was so shocked she backed down, and around the edge of Mirazhe’s jaw I just caught sight of Idai lowering her vast claw with its five swords. I’d have been deader than Perrin and twice as surprised.
Akhor
Thank the Winds for Mirazhe; I was too slow to read Idai’s intent. When the moment had passed I walked slowly over to the pool. ”Idai.”
She stood frozen in amazement, and Mirazhe kept her head between Idai and Lanen, who never moved.
“Idai! Come thou before thy King and answer!” I commanded in the formal speech of kingship. As I had hoped, it shook her out of herself. She came to me, where I stood near the sea, and bowed as fealty demanded.
“Idai, thou art birth sister to Mirazhe, and in the stead of attending her wishes thou hast driven her, mute as she is, to the edge of challenge. What say est thou in defence?”
“I say it is thine own actions have brought me to it, Lord King, and thou shalt answer to the Council!”
“Very well. Then we both shall. But you will swear to leave the Gedri in peace while we are here, or I shall banish you, birth sister or no, from this place.”
“Very well,” she said aloud, albeit through clenched teeth. “It shall live for all of me. But there are more pressing concerns.”
“Agreed. First let us bring Mirazhe to delivery of her youngling. You say you know this trouble. What is the difficulty?”
She bowed her head, and I began to see that her anger was half grown from frustration and helplessness. “Akhor, the youngling is turned the wrong way. It cannot make its way into the world.”
It was the worst news possible. “Is there nothing to be done?”
“On a few occasions in the past, a smaller female could assist in the birth, reach into the birth passage and pull the youngling out.” She lowered her voice. “Sometimes the newborn survived, but our hands are not created for such things. These hands, these claws the Winds gave us for defence, to kill our food and our foes, are not gentle. Even in those few cases where the youngling survived, the mother died.”
“Always?”
She stood in Sorrow, her head turned away from me. “Always.”
I saw Shikrar and Kédra standing in Fear mixed with Concern, both striving for Calm so as not to overly alarm Mirazhe. The lady herself lay back now in the warm birthing pool with her eyes closed. Her body, so lovely with the shape of new life, was straining to no use. Her soulgem was dull. And to my surprise, there at the side of the pool knelt my dearling, her face furrowed with sorrow. She could not understand the speech between me and Idai, we spoke in our own tongue, but somehow she knew that all was very ill.
Idai’s Sorrow was washed with Pain now, and my fear and anguish answered hers. “My lord, I can think of no other way. I must try to save the littling lest both die.”
“Wait,” I said aloud. My vague thoughts had finally crystallised. How I had envied the Gedrishakrim their hands, those tiny, delicate hands.
The two peoples were meant to live in peace. Together.
”Lanen, will you join us?” I said in her own tongue. And to her alone, “Come, dearling. I need you.”
“Anything I can do, Akor my heart. How can I help this valiant lady?”
Lanen
I realised in a passing thought that I had answered him in truespeech without trying to focus, and the others must surely have heard. I forgot it in the next breath.
“Lanen, have you any knowledge of giving birth?”
I smiled, even then. What a way to put it! “Not of my own, but I have assisted many times, both with my own Kindred and with horses.”
“Our history tells us of Healers among your people who could do great things with only the power of their hands and minds. Have you this skill?”
I hoped this was not his only idea. “No. I was tested when I was a child, there wasn’t even a glimmer of the Healer’s aura in me.”
Akor finally let his voice match his mood. It became grim as Shikrar’s had been at the cave. ”Come, my friends,” he said in wide-scattered truespeech, and led us all over to the birthing pool where Mirazhe lay in her pain and fear.
”Dear ones all,” said Akor in the same fashion, ”I will not sit by and watch one of my people in pain without doing all I may to help. Mirazhe, littling, can you look at me?”
She opened her eyes—they were bright blue, beautiful— and gazed up at him as best she could.
“You have saved this lady from an unprovoked attack, for which I owe you a great debt. I propose now that we ask Lanen to assist you. Her hands have no claws like ours, she might he able gently to coax the youngling out.”
“Akhor, no!”
“Idai, you will he silent in this. I ask Mirazhe, her mate and his father. What say you, Shikrar? Kédra? Will you allow her to attempt this?”
I think he expected a chorus of dismay when he finally came to it, but obviously the others—bar Idai, who seemed to hate me on sight—were willing to try anything, even this. I, on the other hand, was not ready for this idea.
“Akor, no!”
“What is wrong, littling?”
“I—she’s—Akor, I have never…” Then I realised that none of them had ever, either. ”Very well. If the lady will allow it.” I bowed to the kind eyes that had saved me. ”Lady, what say you?”
“She cannot speak, Lanen,” said Akor. “During birth our Kindred become silent, and in any case Mirazhe does not speak your language.”
“Does she still have truespeech?”
“A little, though it is difficult.”
I looked at the lady and even I could tell she was in pain. ”May I bespeak you ?”
She nodded, and Kédra said for her, “She is called Mirazhe.”
I concentrated. ”I am Lanen. Lady Mirazhe, do you permit me to assist you?”
Even truespeech seemed an effort, but she managed it. ”I have not been told all the truth about you Gedri,” she said and her mindvoice was gentle despite her pain. “If you have the Language of Truth, who knows what might be possible. Yes, try what you can. Ahhh!”
I cringed at her pain in my mind. She was in a bad way indeed. And she was obviously not moving from where she was. I barely stopped to think. I took off boots
and cloak, heavy tunic and shirt, and stepped into the water in leggings and my shift—and found it warm, almost hot.
It felt wonderful.
At first.
I do not recall much about the rest of what happened. The sun was setting. It grew darker and darker and I had to rely more on feel. Mirazhe spoke with me when she could in true-speech, and I got her to nod or shake her head to let me know what helped or hurt. It kept her from having to speak, which seemed incredibly hard for her.
The worst moment was when I first tried to put my hand in the birth canal. I thought I would faint from the pain. I drew it out instantly and let the water of the pool wash it. It still burned, though not as badly, but what could I do?
I got Akor to tear my cloak, my beautiful green cloak, in half; and so concerned was I by then for Mirazhe and her child that I hardly cringed at its passing. I wrapped each arm, shoulder to fingertips, in one half of the wool. That was much better; its thick double weave was like so much soft annour. I could manage for a long while. When I had finally got the kitling turned, though, I had to use my unprotected hands to pull. I think I screamed as loud as
Mirazhe when the littling came out.
But I will never forget the moment when I lifted the small, soft head above the level of the water for its first breath. All pain left me as there in the pool I held, for a second, a newborn Dragon in my arms. It was not much larger than a colt fresh from its mother. Its eyes were open and it looked at me, almost as if to speak its thanks. I laughed aloud in delight, then turned it towards its mother. It started to make sounds not unlike a human child just born.
Mirazhe nuzzled it.
My hands were terribly burned, and once free of the spell of that greeting I climbed out of the freshwater pool and hurried to the open sea to quench the fire, shaking off the rags of wool that had been my protection. The shock of very cold water on the rest of my body was a great relief, though I could feel nothing on my arms at first. That coldness was all I had sought.