“Yes, I did,” said a quiet voice from the door. It was Lanen as I had never seen her, with her hair all loose about her, and dressed in a soft green gown that flowed when she walked. I was enchanted.
Lanen
“I thank you for those words, dear heart. It’s a shame Jamie couldn’t hear them.”
“You know, my girl, in the end it doesn’t matter,” said Jamie, smiling a little sadly at me.
“Whether he’s just a man or a Dragon become man is all one in the end. I have never seen you so, Lanen. You are positively glowing. Do you love him so very much, then?”
”Beyond reason, beyond death, beyond all understanding I love him, Jamie.”
Jamie stood and held out his hand. ”Then welcome, Varien, whoever you may be. Come, stand up and face the fire, let me see your eyes.”
Varien
“Why?” I asked, as I moved to oblige him.
“They are called the window of the soul, and I would look in yours if I may.”
I obeyed, kneeling that he might see better (for he was much smaller than I).
I think perhaps my eyes convinced him.
Lanen has told me since that, despite all other changes, my eyes (though human) have yet the semblance of the eyes of Akhor, who had lived at that time a thousand and twelve winters. I think perhaps Jamie saw in my eyes the years weighing upon years, the memory of time beyond his imagining. Or perhaps he simply saw my love for Lanen, and was content.
“Be welcome, Varien,” he said, and took my hands to help me up.
“I rejoice in thy welcome, for thou art dearest kin to my beloved,” I said formally. The words came as a surprise to me. They were the words used by the Kantri on such occasions, and though I had taught them to a few younglings (notably Kédra) I had never thought to find them on my own tongue. “I fear I come ill prepared, for I do not know thy customs well, though Lanen hath tried to instruct me. Our wedding is set for three days hence, but what have I to give thee, in thanksgiving for so rare a gift as thy heart’s-daughter?”
“What is the custom among the Kantri?” asked Lanen, when Jamie had no answer.
“The usual gift is a song,” I replied.
“Then that will content me,” said Jamie, his face unreadable. “Let you sing a new song at the wedding, before you take your vows, as Lanen’s bride-gift.” He took me by the shoulders.
“But Varien, know that I am giving into your keeping the only thing of value I have ever had claim on. If you do not treat her well, I will come for you.”
Lanen laughed, making light of his words, but I knew well that he meant them with all his heart. I was grateful for his honesty. I was beginning to learn that it was a rare gift among any people.
I spent the next three days and nights working on my gift. I was beginning to discover that, if I needed to, I could do with as little sleep as the Kantri needed. It was just as well, for I had not had time to learn how to use this new voice of mine. It resonated in a completely different way, and it took some time to find the best placement, but I had been singing for a very long time and I found it soon enough. The melody was obvious, a variation on the theme of our Flight, but it was very difficult to make meaningful verse in another language. It was not perfect, but as an idea of the finished whole it was a good beginning.
Lanen
I hardly saw Varien those next three days, which I suspect was just as well. Jamie and I went over the year’s accounts and finished the business of the stead for the year, which had to be done, but every spare moment I had I spent in making a gown. Had I time enough to have sent to Illara, I’d have been wed in samite, but as it was I had only homespun cotton cloth on hand.
Still, with the help of a better seamstress than I and three nights of pricked fingers as I embroidered, I was not so ill a sight on Midwinter’s Day.
There were few to come to the ceremony at noon—Walther and Alisonde, brave souls (I think Walther wanted to apologise, but I wouldn’t let him), a few women from the village, all of the stable lads and Jamie in the place of honour standing for my family. I thought briefly of Marik, babbling still, with only part of a mind left him, and of Maran, away in Beskin— but they were no more than phantoms, while Jamie stood real and solid beside me.
The priestess of the Lady stood waiting at the end of the hall, which Alisonde and some of the village women had made gay with such flowers as bloom in winter. Around my brow holly and ivy were entwined, vivid green and red against the cold white of winter, and green and gold the embroidery on my white dress. Jamie took me by the hand and walked with me down the hall, to where Varien stood waiting.
He took my breath away. He was all in green, a simple belted tunic over stout leggings, but upon his brow sat the circlet that held his soulgem. His silver hair blazed against the green he wore, and his soulgem seemed to shine with its own inner light, clear and steady.
When we were come nigh, he opened his mouth and sang.
It was the Tale of Lanen and Akor.
I suspect you have heard it often, though it is certain you have never heard it sung so. For he wore his soulgem on his brow, and I heard all his song echoed in truespeech, where he still had the voice of a Lord of the Kantri.
Jamie cried. That strong, toughened soul, farmer, horse-master, assassin, wept openly at the beauty of Varien’s bride-gift to me. I was beyond tears, in a place where joy has wings.
In the name of the Winds and the Lady we were wed, lighting candles at midwinter to drive back the darkness. And in the silence of our minds, we pledged to each other in the Language of Truth, in which lies are impossible.
”Varien Kantriakor rash-Gedri, Kadreshi naLanen, I take you as my husband and my mate for as long as life endures. In the name of the Winds and the Lady, beloved, I am thine.”
”Lanen Kaelar, Kadreshi naVarien, I take you as my wife and mate for as long as life endures. In the name of the Winds and the Lady, dearling, I am thine before all the world.”
That is the true tale of Lanen and Akor.
There is more to tell, but there always is.
True stories never end.
GLOSSARY
Chélan Name of a plant and the brew made from it. It is drunk as a stimulant. We would say it tasted rather like mate with a hint of cinnamon.
Ferrinshadik The longing felt by (esp.) the Greater Kindred to join in fellowship with the Gedri, though they describe it more generally as the longing to speak with other races.
Gedrishakrim Humans. Usually shortened to Gedri. In Old Speech (OS): “the silent people.”
Kadreshi na Kantriasarikh phrase, meaning “beloved of.”
Kantriasarikh The OS word for the language of the Kantrishakrim.
Kantrishakrim The Greater Kindred of Dragons (originally all dragons). In Old Speech (OS) the word means “the wise people.” Usually shortened to Kantri.
Khaadish Kantri word for gold.
Language of Truth The telepathy natural to the Kantri. It also has elements of empathic awareness. The Gedri call it Farspeech.
Lansip Name of a tree and the brews made from it. It grows only on the dragonlands, all attempts at transplanting having failed. Made into tea, it is a tonic and general remedy for minor ailments from headache to heart’s sorrow; taken in quantity, it is an elixir of youth. The precious and rare fruit of the lansip tree, called Ian fruit, is a sovereign healer, and when eaten will heal nearly anything outside of death.
Old Speech The name in the common tongue for the language created by the Kantri and used by all the peoples before the Choice. Since that time it has developed into distinctly separate languages.
Rakshadakh Literally ”demon droppings” (that is the polite translation). It is the ultimate insult as far as the Kantri are concerned, and generally refers to a demon master or one who treats often with the Rakshasa.
Rakshasa (obs. form: Rakshi) Demons. Singular, Raksha (greater demon) or Rikti (lesser demon). OS: “peoples of chaos.” This is plural because, at the time of the Choic
e, the Rakshasa were already differentiated into two distinct peoples.
Trellishakrim Trolls. OS meaning is simply “the troll people,” as this word came from the Trelli themselves, and they never translated it. It is almost the only word of their speech that survives, notably in the name of the great north-em forest of Kolmar, the Trollingwood.
PRONUNCIATION GUIDE
As a translator/transcriber, I feel the frustration common to all those faced with similar difficulties. The jaws, throats, teeth and tongues of Dragons are vastly different from those of humans. It is not, therefore, surprising to realise that the written forms of these names are approximations only. The names of Dragons are not commonly known, nor are they often seen in print! I have therefore attempted to spell them as they are pronounced. Often in English there are graphs (letters) that are present for historical purposes; this is not the case with Dragon names in this volume.
Vowels are essentially those of Italian or Hawaiian, each with a consistent value and always pronounced. A rough guide would be:
a = ah, as in father
e = ay, as in say
i = ee, as in see
o = oh, as in vote
u = oo, as in true Consonants are essentially as in English, with a few exceptions:
K before a vowel is always followed by an aspirant (h) R, unless initial, is always “soft” and slightly rolled Labials (m, p, b) are generally unpronounceable by Dragons without a great deal of practice, with one exception. The “m” of Mirazhe’s name is so written to indicate the nearest English equivalent of the actual sound, which is very like a nasal liquid. Lanen heard it as “m.”
The plosive that occurs between s and r (-khistri-, -issdra-) may be represented by either d or t in English—the pronunciation lies somewhere between.
Hadretikantishikrar (Hah-dray-tee-khan-tee-shee-krahr), primary accent on the last syllable, strong secondary on the first, weak secondary accent on the fourth. Usename Shikrar, accent on the second syllable. He also has a formal usename, Hadreshikrar (Hah-dray-shee-krahr), accent on the third syllable.
Iderrikanterrisai (Ee-deh-ree-kahn-teh-ree-sah-ee). Primary accent on the last syllable, strong secondary on the first, weak secondary on the fourth. Use name Idai (Ee-dah-ee), accent on the second syllable. Formal usename, Iderrisai (Ee-deh-ree-sah-ee), accent on the penultimate syllable.
Khétrikharissdra (Khay-tree-khar-eess-drah). Primary accent on the penultimate syllable, secondary on both first and second. Usename Kédra (kay-drah), accent on the first syllable.
Khordeshkhistriakhor is pronounced roughly, in English (core-desh-kiss-tree-ah-core), with the primary accent on the penultimate syllable and a secondary accent on the first syllable. His usename, Akor, is pronounced [ah-core], accent on the first syllable. The fact that Lanen’s pronunciation of his name is written without the aspirant throughout indicates that she could not reproduce the aspirant, or indeed was unaware of its existence. A diminutive of his name, Akhorishaan (Ah-core-ee-shaan), is occasionally used.
Lanen There appears to be some confusion as to the proper pronunciation of Lanen‘s name. It is pronounced (lah-nen ky-lar). The accent is on the first syllable for both names. And since English does not often make use of the “ae” spelling, it should be noted that the first syllable, Kae, rhymes with sky.
Mirazheshakramene (Mee-rah-zhay-shah-krah-may-nay). The primary accent, again, is on the next-to-last syllable, with a secondary accent on the second syllable. Her usename, Mirazhe, is simply the first three syllables of her name, accent on the second syllable,
Shurishkerrikaan (Shoo-reesh-kher-ree-kahn). Primary accent on the last syllable, secondary on both first and second. Usename Rishkaan (Reesh-kahn), accent on the second syllable.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I count myself fortunate to have been the recipient of so much love and support from so many good friends over the years. I cannot possobly say in this small space the thanks I owe to them all, but let me do what I may.
A deep bow and thousands thanks to Claire Eddy of Tor Books for taking on the mammoth task of breaking in a new writer, for her encouragement in the face of endless revisions, and for being willing to take a chance o my work. Thanks also to Betty Ballantine for making the time and taking the trouble to read the original manuscript and pass it on, and again to Deborah Turner Harris for well-timed kick in my direction and a kindly word in Betty’s hear.
And, in chronological order—thanks to Sue Davis Claus for putting up with me and this story from the very beginning, and for being the inspiration for “Mead Paul and Brandy,” where this all started (and Sue, here is your formal apology for the time I knocked you over in my rush for a pen and a paper); to James Quinck, my hanai brother, for his constant love and support over the long years; to the late Harry Phelps, for confidence in my work and belief in myself; to Mary and the late Curtis Scott, for their solid friendship and for reading my short story and telling me it was a nce sketch, but when was I going to write the book; to Jan Buckley for reading damn near every version (now that is friendship) and telling me she enjoyed it; and to Betsy Palmer, soul-sister, patient friend and teacher, for throwing me a rope when I most needed it.
Thanks , guys.
—Elizabeth
Elizabeth Kerner, [Lanen Kaelar 01] - Song in the Silence
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