“I believe you never accepted my people as your equals, even in the days of the Peace. Always we have been the Gedri. the Silent Ones, our very name in your language a dismissal, a cause for contempt. We are smaller, weaker, we live a fraction of your lives, we cannot fly—but you have never admitted that we have a greatness that you do not possess.”
There was much muttering at that. More stood in Anger. I had no plan, no idea of what to say, but the words came for all that. I still did not understand why I sought to anger the Kindred. I trusted in whatever was leading me and followed as best I could. But the hall had begun to hum, low and deep, with murmuring, and the beginning of the most unsettling melody I had ever heard.
“What of the Gedri is worthy the name of greatness, Maran’s daughter?” growled Rishkaan from behind me. “They have brought only darkness and blight on the world. My mother’s granddam was changed by the Demonlord in the iower of her youth, she was riven from her daughter when she could barely fly, along with all the rest of my family that ever was. I shall bear the Gedri ill will always.”
“That is your choice, Rishkaan of the Kantrishalcrim, but you do not speak for all the Kindred.” Akor’s truespeech rang clear and firm. “Now silence all, by our own laws, and let her continue.”
I took a deep breath. ”I have never heard of a Healer among your people,” I said calmly. “Has there ever been one?”
All was silent.
“No, Lady,” said Shikrar, trying to keep a quiet delight out of his voice, ”you are correct. None of us has ever had that gift-“
“Many of my people are Healers now. They are better than you remember, if the last you knew was what Akor told me in the Tale of the Demonlord. Not a full day past he carried me to the camp nearly dead, my hands and arms so badly burned I thought I should never use them again. A Healer came to me and, I am told, spent his whole strength on me— but this very morning I was recovered and nearly managed to escape from captivity. A captivity in which I was being held for dark reasons I had nothing to do with. I could have made my life easier by betraying you to the Merchant Marik, but I did not, and some time before I warned you to beware of him.”
“Your people have Healers and you are not traitors,” came a voice (translated by Akor). “The first is a gift of the Winds, the second but the lack of a weakness, and neither of them true achievements of your Kindred. What else have you to recommend your kind?”
“Generosity and courage!” I shouted back. “I know you have heard how near I came to death. I saved the lives of Mirazhe and her son, I drew the child—the youngling—our of her body with my hands when I already knew that pain would be my only reward.”
I stopped a moment. “Why do you think I did that?”’ asked calmly. I turned to Akor. “Even you, Akor my hear-Why do you think I did what I did?”
He drew breath to answer, changed his mind, stood in what I guessed was Curiosity and said,
“I do not know, littling. Why did you?”
Akhor
“She is besotted with you, Akhor, she would throw herself into the fire if you asked her,” growled Rishkaan from behind me in the speech of the Gedri.
“No, I would not!” she cried. Her eyes were blazing, were she one of us she would stand in Defiance and Instruction, “I am no child. I am a woman grown, no young fool to kill myself for love. Not even for one so dear to me as Akor.” She glanced at me briefly as I translated, almost an apology, but her warrior’s blood was afire and she had no time for delicacy.
“I helped Mirazhe because I wanted to, not because Akor asked me. I have learned the midwife’s skills with the females of my race, I have helped bring forth newborns before. I would do the same for any soul who suffered in childbirth. It was because I saw Mirazhe as a fellow creature in need that I risked burned hands and sickness to save her and her littling.”
She lifted her voice, all her frustration and anger ringing in the Council chamber. “Who among you would do as much for one of my own? And how? You could not, you cannot assist so, your hands are made for rending and killing. Those claws, so formidable as weapons, can barely touch one of my people without wounding. That is a thing you must learn, O people of my beloved. How to touch without destroying!”
The murmur of discontent grew swiftly louder, the unsettling melody now easily heard. My people began to stir, fluttering their wings in anger. ”How dare you speak so, we are the Eldest of the Four Peoples and have you in our charge!”cried Rishkaan in truespeech, ignoring Shikrar’s commands to be silent. “All know it. Why else are you made so much smaller and weaker, with only your short lives to live and no re:membrance of others to guide you? You should hold us in reverence!”
“Reverence must be earned!” she yelled back. “Let you learn of my people before you condemn. You would have sentenced me to death or exile without ever hearing my voice. How dare you take such judgement upon yourselves! Who made you the keepers of life and death over us? Are we so terrifying, so evil, that we must be killed on sight? Dear Goddess! What courage!
“A few nights past, one of my people was killed for daring to cross the Boundary. Akor tells me the idiot had had dealings with the Rakshasa; I am sure he did, in some way at least— an amulet for luck, perhaps. Perhaps more. But is death the only answer? His name was Perrin, and though I did not know him we had travelled together. He was a youth and foolish in the way of youth. Youth makes mistakes.
”Maybe Perrin deserved death, O Kantri, but maybe he did not. You are so bound by your laws, you creatures of order, they dictate so much of your lives. They are killing you! As you forget how to value time, as you lose sight of the joy of each single day as it comes and passes, I believe you forget how to value life itself. Even—especially—your own.”
Her eyes blazed as she stood tall and faced the Kindred, her courage bright around her, her heart as high and fierce as any of the Kindred that ever lived. “Every time the Harvesters have come, I would guess that there is at least one who crosses the Boundary against the treaty. Is that not so?”
“It is,” I answered her.
“And what is the fate of that one, or two, or however many?”
“By the terms of the treaty they have written their own death in the crossing,” growled Rishkaan in truespeech.
“Death! Always death! Yet consider, O ye of the Greater Kindred. In all these centuries, what retribution have the Gedri remanded? What restitution for all those deaths?”
”They are due none,” Rishkaan replied coldly.
“And if my people claimed that Akor broke the treaty in crossing the Boundary to come to my aid, that he interfered with Marik, destroyed property, and that restitution was required? As I understand it, there is no provision in the treaty for such a thing, though he did what he did in full view of all my people. What if we in our foolishness were to demand his death, as we have paid with death so many times? Do you tell me you would sit calmly and accept it, treaty or no?”
The murmur died down, as many stopped to consider her words. However, from one corner a mind voice rang out.
“You cannot kill us, Gedri, You are not strong enough.”
She paused a moment for effect, then said one word, her voice very low and calm.
“Demonlord.”
Every soul in the assembly drew back and hissed, but she raised her voice and called above the noise, “All it would take is one demonlord, from among the many thousands of my people. One demonlord, to exact revenge for all the deaths over all the centuries. Yet there have been none!”
“Do you call for Akor’s death?” hissed Erianss.
“Sweet Goddess, no! No! Not death! Don’t you understand, do you still not understand me? I call for life. Life!”
I smelt the seawater as it ran down her cheeks. “Life for both races, dear people of my beloved, life truly shared between Kantri and Gedri—as when the world was younger, and our two peoples dwelt together in peace.” She bowed her head. “Oh, my brothers and sisters,” she said brokenly, su
ddenly spent and weary, “I call for life.”
She had no more words. The final echoes of her voice rang round the walls and met only silence.
Lanen
I had them. One more word and Akor and I would walk free.
Ah, well.
I heard Kédra’s voice clearly. “Lanen? Lord Akhor? The Lady Rella whom you left in my charge bears news of the Gedri that you must hear. She says it is urgent.
“How could she have news if she has been in your keeping?” I asked him.
”One came from the camp seeking all of the Gedri, and spoke with her as I kept out of sight listening. She followed after him and was gone for some while, but she has returned.”
I stood motionless on the dais, filled with the fear that I had not reached the Kantri, and aware of a rising dread. What news could possibly have sought her out so far from the camp? Dear Lady, what had happened now?
Kédra’s voice was grim when he spoke again. “Lady, it is the Merchant Marik. His order has gone out among your people that you are to leave on the morrow. They are beginning even now. And the Lady Rella says that there is no sign of Marik, and that you will understand when she says that she saw him with the demon master not half an hour gone. She says you will know what this means.”
I did. I knew as if I had heard it from his own lips. I whirled on Akor.
“He got away, didn’t he? He got out of the cabin before your battle.”
“He did.”
I nearly choked on my own words. “Akor, don’t you understand? He has already been across the Boundary and returned. He boasted of it to me!” I ground my teeth. “I meant to tell you earlier, but in the face of that demon I forgot. Akor, he and that slug Caderan must have found a way to hide all trace of his passing from you and yours, even the smell of the Rakshasa!”
My fists clenched, my gut tightened, I felt the whole fabric of my impassioned plea to the Kantri crumbling from under my fingers, but there was no help for it “Akor, I tell you he is here in your lands even as we speak. I know in my bones that he has found kadish or something he desires even more. As sure as I live he will take it with him tonight and be gone in the morning. He must be stopped!”
Akor stared at me. “It would explain much. I could not find you in your imprisonment until you bespoke me, though once past the wards the Raksha-sign was obvious and the very air was thick with it.” He shook his head, a very human gesture. “Name of the Winds, is such a thing possible?”
“It must be. He told me, Akor. He meant to kill me, he taunted me with it. Oh, dear Lady. Now we are lost.” I bowed my head, despair rising in me like a flood until I could hardly bear it. Here I had stood before the Greater Kindred, forced them into silence with my version of the truth, forced them to see their failings as a people, and now I must tell them their fears were true and my words the ramblings of a dreamer. I felt as though I had held out a new beginning for Kantri and Gedri shining in my hands, and Marik had snatched it away before ever it knew life.
There was nothing else for it. I mustered my thoughts, how to tell them, how to—
”My people, hear me!” called Akor. His voice caught me unawares, stirred my blood. Even those few words had my heart hurrying to answer. His truespeech sang like a call to battle.
”Truly it is said the great balance will not be denied. While we work here to find justice, another has brought a great evil upon us. The Merchant Marik, he who would have sacrificed Lanen to the Rakshasa, has made some new league with them.
“He has been in our lands already, though no Guardian sensed him sight or smell, and none felt the Raksha-trace even so near. We must disperse now and find him. He seeks plunder or worse. Go carefully, find him if you can. If not, find what has been taken. Look even unto the khaadish in your chambers. Go, my people.”
There was some movement among the gathered Dragons, but suddenly a voice rang loud in my mind. Someone else was shouting in the Language of Truth.
“She is here as distraction, Akhor, it is a plot between them!” cried Rishkaan before any other could speak. His voice flew high, cracking with emotion. I shrank back. Suddenly Rishkaan reminded me of Marik, Marik with his knife at my throat. “She must be kept under guard lest she escape the Council’s decree!” He moved towards me with the grace and speed of a striking snake, he was upon me in an instant. I cowered and raised my arms, turning my head away, for I knew that my death was come upon me.
And so it would have been, but Shikrar was faster. He all but flew to stand between, taking across his chest plates the swipe that was meant to appear accidental. It barely scratched him. It would have cut me in half.
I fell to my knees.
None of the Kindred had moved.
They watched.
Akhor
Shikrar stood, wings spread wide to protect my Lanen, all his being fixed on the furious figure before him.
“Why, Rishkaan?” I asked quietly. “This is not for some ancestor you never knew. This burns in your heart.”
“Burns! Burns! Yes, yes, you speak truth at last, Silver King. She must die, she is a Lord of the Hells in Gedri guise. You have not seen what I have seen!” he raved. His voice echoed in the shocked stillness of the chamber, throbbing with a truth that spoke only to him. “I have seen, I know what is to come. I too have had Weh dreams, Lord Akhor, but mine have been of death and ending. My people, she would mingle the blood of Kantri and Gedri! Her children will be monsters, the world will fill with Raksha-fire and none to stand between because of her!”
Shocked silence swept the low murmurs out of the air. Where could such thoughts, such words come from? I had heard tales of madness among our people but never thought to see it myself. I did not for a moment believe that he had had such a dream in Weh sleep.
Kédra called out to all of us, his voice urgent in our minds. “Akhor, what is happening? Are you there yet? Time is precious. The Lady Rella says that this Marik will not wait, and I believe her. Find him, I beg you, lest he do more harm. Quickly, Akhor my friend!”
I needed time to think, but there was no time. I could make only a few swift plans. “Shikrar, take Rishkaan with you to my chambers. They are nearest, there you will find water and a place to rest until this is over.”
“Akhor, no!” cried Shikrar. “The Chamber of Souls! I must go, I am Keeper of Souls, I cannot—”
“Then call Kédra to watch over Rishkaan for you, but guarded he will be. I know Kédra is Guardian tonight, but I think we need not fear other Boundary crossings for this while. Wait for Kédra to arrive before you go to the Chamber of Souls.” When Shikrar and Rishkaan had gone I turned to the others, my people, tumbling as was I in a wind we had never known. “The rest of you, go now out into your chambers, into all our lands. Find if there is khaadish missing or aught else. And if you can, find the hidden thief.”
For one last time they obeyed me. Still in silence, the Greater Kindred left the Council chamber quickly. I had seen vengeance in some eyes, fear in others, wonder and excitement in the very youngest, but below and beyond all of these something new. I did not know what it might be, and I had no time to think.
Lanen
I knelt still, unable to move. So close to my dream, so near the joining of the Two Peoples, and the shadow side of both rose up to blight my bright, shining vision of peace. Rishkaan’s words had pierced my armour of courage with the shaft of a dark vision at least the equal of my own.
She would mingle the blood of Kantri and Gedri! Her children will be monsters, the world will fill with Raksha-fire and none to stand between because of her!
The black pull of despair closed like dark water over me. If I was truly destined to bring such evil to the world, better far that I should die at the hands of the Kantri. Shikrar at least would be merciful.
“Rise, Lanen. You must hurry, there is no time.”
It was Akor, speaking in tones that dragged me to my feet. Whatever I might need must wait now upon a larger purpose. I stood ready and asked, “What
would you have me do?”
”Wait outside this chamber for Kédra to arrive. Then you must go with Shikrar to safety.”
“Akor, please, let me do something! Anything! I have to help you, I must, there must be something I can do to help stop that damned son of a bitch—”
Akor waited, a very little time, until I ran down of my own accord. “Littling, I will not allow it. What should you do that I and my people cannot?”
The worst of it was that he was right. I’ve thought since that if I had any decent sense of the dramatic I would have begged, nay, insisted on going with Akor, as so often happens with the women in the bard’s tales. I never did have time for those idiots. Why stand by unarmed and helpless in a fight, waiting to be taken hostage or distract your loved one’s mind during a battle? Despite my anger, my despair, my frustration, I did no more than bow my assent and say, “The Winds and the Lady keep you, dearling. I will await you here.” And in truespeech, focussed as tight as I could, I added the blessing that Jamie had given me when we parted. “Akor, beloved, go you safe and keep you safe, and come safe home to me.”
His own farewell was a swift touch of the mind like a caress, and then he was gone. I took a small brand from the great fire that lit the chamber and followed the passage out. I had little hope now for myself, but in the face of Marik and his demon master I cared little for that. In my heart I begged the Winds and the Lady to keep Akor from the evil of the Rakshasa, and protect him from Marik.
It was deep night when I emerged, some hours past midnight. I had not realised we had been so long in the Council chamber. A brisk wind blew past, carrying the glorious scent of lansip on the night air, sharp and crisp.
I sat, leaning back against the rocky entrance to the Great Hall. Weariness wrapped round me like my old cloak as I waited for Kédra under the clear cold stars. Pain and terror, exultation, delight and despair may sound the very fabric of adventure from a distance, but even singly they are exhausting. Together I was no match for them, and sleep took me.