“What?!”
“I tell you only what I was told.”
“Akor, I told you, I spent most of yesterday wondering how to ask you if I could stay here on the island with you if I kept on the far side of the Boundary. I was afraid you’d be angry with me or have to refuse outright, but I couldn’t think of any other way to stay close to you.” She smiled, albeit grimly. “Things have changed now, of course, but still—how could you possibly go with me? How could you live in any part of Kolmar where there are people, without your own Kindred?”
“I do not know. I cannot imagine it, unless we were to find a cave far away from the rest of the Gedri. I shall have to think about this. May I ask what your Lady said to you?”
Lanen
“Only that what we are doing is right, and that all will be well if I follow my heart.”
He hissed gently. “Your Lady is kinder than the Winds. Perhaps we could speak with each other’s gods? At this moment I much prefer yours.”
I laughed. I was surprised I could still do it, but I laughed. Akor joined me. Suddenly it all seemed so absurd, everything from our first conversation to switching gods, and we both let go our fears. I laughed till I cried, not least because the whole clearing was filling with steam from Akor’s hissing.
“Be hwarned, Hlanen,” he managed to gasp out, throwing his head back. A wide swath of flame split the night and left me blinded for a moment.
It was, it had to be. A dragon belly laugh. What a mad, wondrous world it was.
Then he began to speak. His speech seemed to have recovered. “Ah, Lanen, what a life I am learning to lead! I stand here in the night and cannot yet believe the truth of all we do.” His voice, so warm and alive, grew deeper yet and richer. “For the first time in years beyond living memory, Kantri and Gedri exchange lives and hearts and laughter, and we both are the stronger for it. The Four Winds guide all our destinies, Lanen,” he said quietly. “The first teaching rhyme for younglings is our oldest knowledge.
“First is the Wind of Change
Second is Shaping
Third is the Unknown
and Last is the Word.
“It is not elegant, but it is true. All of life is a great cycle. I believe that you are the wind of change, Lanen Kaelar, blowing cold across the Kindred for good or ill, and for good or ill you have come to me. You must know, none of the Kindred have ever had silver armour before. I am the first and only, as best we know, since time began. My birth was seen as an omen by my people, but what it portends none can say. I believe this change is fated, as are you and I.”
At another time his words might have surprised me, but I was beyond it by then. I do not know how or why, but I felt I could almost have repeated that rhyme along with him. I was in a most remarkable state, as if part of my mind listened to words spoken long before and only repeated now. Akor was only stating the obvious.
“Does that mean that you are to shape me?” I asked.
“I suspect we have already begun to shape one another, dearling,” he answered. “I have expected you, or someone, for some time now, but I did not know you would come so soon. I believe that between us we will do our share of shaping others as well.”
So soon?
Not for the first time I wished to all the gods that I could read that immobile mask of a face more easily. It was terribly distracting. The tone of his voice often made his meaning clear, and he shifted his stance so often it must have some significance, but without thinking I kept looking at his face. Which never changed.
“What do you mean, so soon?” I demanded. I was getting tired of learning things after the fact. “What do you know that I don’t?”
“Ah, dearling, forgive me. We have had so little time together and there is so much you do not yet know. I have had Weh dreams, and in one of them I had seen you before ever your foot stepped on this shore.”
He had mentioned this before. “What is a Weh dream?” I asked. He had said the words with reverence. He answered in truespeech.
“It is a dream during the Weh sleep. And the Weh sleep is one of the most closely guarded secrets of the Kindred, my Lanen. I will tell you of it—I cannot keep anything from you—but you must give me your word, on your life, never to reveal it to another of your people.”
If I had not been so tired I would have been angry that he could doubt me even now. As it was I simply said, “You have my word, as Lanen Kaelar Maransdatter. I will never tell another soul.”
And so I have not, and would not here did I not know that the Kindred are safeguarded now against any danger during the Weh sleep.
He spoke quietly but aloud.
“The Weh sleep is our one great weakness as a race. If word of it reached the Gedri, we surely would be slaughtered one by one as we slept.
“We do not require food as often as you. One meal in a week, if it is large enough, will sustain us. We also do not require sleep as often as you do—an hour or so in every day is enough, though some take more.
“I understand that your people reach a certain size early in life and never grow from that time on. I have long thought that a convenient way of living, but it is not our way. The longer we live, the larger we become. You have seen the size of Shikrar; he is more than six hundred years older than I.
“Knowing this, do you not wonder how it is that we can grow surrounded by armour?
“The answer is that we cannot. Every fifty years or so (the time is different for each individual) the Weh sleep comes upon us. We may have an hour’s warning or a day’s, but no more than that. We have learned that the only thing to do is to find a protected place and let it happen.
“When it begins, it is little more than a great weariness. That is the warning. We let our mates or our closest friends know that it is upon us and leave immediately for our chambers.
“This cave is not where I spend most of my life. This is my Weh chamber, my safe place for the Weh sleep. That is why it is so far from my Kindred, so hidden, so difficult to get into.
“Next comes a terrible itching, as though our hide were too tight (which indeed it is). In the privacy of our chambers we scratch, and find that we can easily tear off the scales that normally protect us from all assaults. It is a strange and frightening time. We try to remove as many scales as possible for our own comfort, but usually the sleep takes us before much can be done.
“The Weh sleep. During it we cannot move, even if we can be partially awakened for a short while. Our old armour falls from us as the new dries and hardens underneath, and for that time we are vulnerable to any creature that wishes us harm. And the sleep lasts until the new armour is hardened, or until any wound we have has been healed—for it will also come upon us if we are badly injured—or until the Winds wake us. It can last anywhere from a fortnight to full six moons, or vastly longer if we are badly wounded. We heal but slowly.
“In the beginning, and on many occasions since, some have tried to guard their loved ones during the Weh sleep. The reason we take the sleep so far away from our Kindred is the same reason that the idea never worked. The Weh sleep is catching—at least the sleep is. A mated couple tried it once when I was young. He was fully into the Weh for but a single day when one of us tried to bespeak her and received no answer. She was found fast asleep in the middle of the day, outside the cave. She was awakened easily enough, but she refused to leave. She was awakened anew by friends every few hours for the next fortnight before she at last admitted that it was impossible.
“You see now, dearling, why you must never speak of it. We are asleep, unprotected by Kindred or armour, unable even to call for help or defend ourselves. It is our greatest weakness and our greatest secret.”
Lanen
“I understand. But why should dreams then be more important than dreams at any other time?”
“Dreams during the Weh sleep are very rare. They are generally taken to be the word of the Winds, and we are told by the Elders to pay close attention to them.”
“
And you had one about me?” I asked, very pleased though I was beginning to drowse. All this talk of sleep had made me realise just how tired I was. It had been an unbelievable day.
“I have had three Weh dreams, one each of the last three times I have slept. In the first I met you. It was the first day of the Harvest and I saw you come ashore, as I did in truth. In the second half of that dream I heard someone call to me.” His voice went soft and loving. “It was the voice of a child of the Gedri, pleading in the dark, and it called me brother.”
I smiled. “I’m glad I got it right. What about your other two dreams?”
“In the second you and I stood on a clifftop, and I helped a pair of younglings on their first flight. There were others there, but I did not recognise them.
“And in the third—ah, it was even more mysterious than the other two. A female of your race, whom I had never seen, approached me and called me by my full, true name, but I was not frightened. It was as if we were old friends meeting after centuries apart.”
I liked the sound of them all—very reassuring, somehow. I tried to say something sensible but couldn’t think of anything; I was too busy yawning. Looking around, I saw that the sky was beginning to lighten.
“Akor, forgive me, but I think even talk of the Weh sleep must be catching. I don’t know about you, but I’m cold and hungry and I need sleep in the worst way. Would you mind if I slept in a corner of your chambers?”
He was amused. “Come, rouse yourself to gather firewood enough for a little time. I shall light that which you took in before.”
I dragged myself round the edge of the forest twice collecting wood. Much of it had frost on it. I knew how it felt. Tired as I was, I was thankful for the exercise if only to warm my cold bones. When I brought the second armful in, Akor had already started a cheerful blaze. I found him curled onto the floor of khaadish. I purposely ignored the gleam of gold that surrounded me, not that I had to work very hard. I was exhausted.
I stood before the fire for a while, getting as warm as I could.
“Lanen, dear heart, forgive me. I forget that you feel the cold so. Come close by me, take my warmth; it is greater far than the fire.”
I grinned to myself. Too tired, Lanen. You never thought of that.
There was a space on the ground, in the midst of the curl as it were. I leaned back against him and instantly relaxed against the warmth that poured from his armour. It felt wonderful. I just managed to mumble, “Goodnight, dear heart,” before I fell asleep.
Akhor
I lay there for many hours watching her. She was both beautiful and strange. How peculiar not to have wings! I found myself idly imagining a world in which the Gedri had once had wings, but had lost them and been forced to walk on two feet. It still seemed an unnatural way to travel, though it did free the forelegs to carry. That was one thing I had long envied the Gedri.
She sighed in her sleep and stirred. I found myself thinking of her as a youngling again, simply because of her size. Without thinking I lay my near wing over her to keep her warm. She did not wake, only pushed herself closer to me. It was a wondrous feeling.
I knew that I must leave her by midday to join the Council. What I would tell them now, I had no idea. I must give it thought. But I would not give up a moment with Lanen that I did not have to.
They live such quick, fiery lives, the Gedrishakrim. I had known more changes, more surprises, more emotions in the last three days than I had felt in as many centuries. My sense of time was becoming distorted also; I had begun to think in terms of hours instead of days, or moons. Or years. I had, in effect, known a little time of living like the Gedri, and it was a new and wondrous thing. I hoped I could convince the Council of that.
In the meantime I lay beside my beloved in my own chambers, something I would have sworn mere days ago would never happen. Idai will be furious, I thought, smiling sadly to myself. Dear Idai, she had wanted me for so long. I simply never felt for her as I must feel towards a mate. I hoped she would understand when at last I had to tell her. I did not think it likely.
My heart was at peace, despite all that I knew must come. The word of the Winds, the Council, having to explain about Lanen and me: none of it would be simple. But for now there were only the two of us, and I let my heart fill with the kind of joy I had despaired of ever knowing.
Lanen, my heart. Lanen, my dear one. Lanen, my betrothed.
Lanen Kaelar.
My life had changed forever.
Marik
In the end I waited some hours after Caderan left. It was all very well for him to assure me that the beasts were bound by law—but in my experience, if you fine a butcher, you are more likely to get brains or tripe than the finest cut joints. If I were in their place I would do the same. No, I would go among their dwellings and discover what I could for myself.
I left my cabin normally clad, carrying the boots of silent movement and the cloak of unseeing. The amulet, which would mask my smell, would last but a very short time indeed, and I had decided to save it until the night we were to leave, when I would collect whatever I had found.
I put on boots and cloak and crossed the Boundary some miles east of our camp, near the sea, that their Guardian might have the longer trip to find me. At first, I might just as well have been walking the halls of Castle Gundar, for there was not one of the creatures in sight. The moon was bright enough to guide me easily.
I walked warily but unhindered, seeking their lairs and the storied riches therein, but at first found little. Past the Boundary I went a mile north, keeping the shoreline in sight, then turned inland. I should have known, I suppose. Do not all the ballads describe the lairs of such beasts as being in caves? Half a mile in from the sea I came across a low line of hills, and the first of their dwellings.
From the outside it was plain rock. I approached cautiously, even though the boots masked the sound of my footsteps. I heard no movement, and my dim sight saw nothing, but I did not trust it. I stood and listened a good ten minutes, then crept slowly in keeping well against the wall, but there was no need, it was deserted. I lit a small taper I had brought, lifted it high and gazed about me dumbfounded.
The tales were true and more than true. I did not know there was so much gold in the world. The wall, the very floors were covered with it. I looked all round, noting all but touching nothing, then moved on.
I saw three more caves; the first two were occupied and I went near enough only to hear the inhabitants and leave, but the third was the charm indeed. Its tenant was absent, so I brought out my tinderbox again and lit the taper. When finally it caught I lost my breath, for I had surely found the lair of their treasure-keeper.
The walls were covered with gold to the depth of my second finger joint, deeply graven with strange symbols and set with many-hued crystals from the earth and vast pearls from the sea. But at the back was an opening into a second chamber. I went swiftly towards it, meaning only to glance inside, but I defy anyone to look on such wonders and not linger.
The inner chamber was forty feet on a side and, though it was lined floor to ceiling with gold, you barely noticed the gold for the stones. Faceted all, the largest I saw as big as a duck’s egg, and every colour known to man. Emeralds, rubies, wondrous sapphires, topaz the colour of smoke and of sunlight, and huge beryls green as the sea. But even these paled by comparison to the centerpiece of all the splendour.
It was all I could do not to laugh out loud for the sheer joy of it. Before me lay riches even I could not conceive of, a treasure trove beyond price, beyond imagining. There in the center of the room, in a cask of gold on a golden pedestal, lay casually heaped one on another the most wondrous gems in the world. What would not kings or the greatest of the merchants pay for these wonders I had found? There must be two hundred of them, each the size of my fist. Why, I would demand payment for a glimpse of them in their cask before ever I needed to sell off the gems themselves. And when I did sell, I would charge the world for them, sell but one
in a year, or two perhaps if times were hard and all my other ventures doing poorly.
Who had seen their like?
Who could resist them, having seen?
Perfectly cut, flawless gems, with the very flicker of life in their depths.
I was reaching out to touch one when I heard a soft clatter outside the cave mouth. I blew out the taper, but not before I caught sight of what awaited me. A vast shape of dark bronze was sliding into the cave and coming straight towards me. I could not see in that sudden darkness, but had the sense to move to the wall next to the entrance to the chamber. I heard the creature sniff, then start to hiss. Sudden as a snake I felt rather than heard it flow past me to the back of the inner chamber. I took my chance and slipped out the entrance, through the outer chamber and on, not pausing for breath until I had run the full two miles to the Boundary and beyond. I dared not look behind me, but I had heard nothing and would not spare the time to stop and see if I was followed.
For all their usefulness, for all their ruinous cost, the precious articles that Berys made were so flawed they were barely worth using. The boots raised such bloody welts on my feet that I could barely walk when I returned, and it took much out of Maikel to ease them. The cloak appeared to work well enough, but the shadow it created affected me as well. I could barely see and found I stumbled like a blind man until my eyes grew accustomed to the lessened vision. My vision was blurred, and my old pain stabbed at me dreadfully.
I spoke with Caderan, and he admitted that the spells could protect me only, not that which I might be carrying. Thus the cloak might hide me from sight, and the spells hid Raksha-scent, but only my footfalls would be silenced. Should I cough I would be heard, should I strike a light the scent of burning would be evident, as would any light illuming anything beyond the circle of my cloak.