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.
xvi
In the Deep Night
Marik
Ow! This damned spike hurts, I’ve scratched my chest with it already. Thirsty for blood the damned thing is. Now take it in the right hand, run the middle finger of the left onto it—damn! Shouldn’t have hurt that much. Never mind. It looks rusty as well, I must have Maikel salve the wound once I am on board the ship. Now, what did Berys say—yes, that was it, fill each of the four little wells at the corners with blood. It’s damned hard to see the things in the dark. This cloak that hides me from other sight leaches colour from the world. Still, on balance I come out on the profit side of the ledger—I pass unseen, and can see well enough to get where I am going. And anything that gives off light shines like a beacon. Ah, the moon! Such pain in my eyes. It is overbright but at least I can see what I’m doing.
There! The flash Berys said would signal the beginning, then it goes dark again. Two hours only have I now, in which to make my fortune and that of my House forever, but for these two hours I shall leave behind no spoor of either world; no natural human smell, no Raksha-trace to lead the Dragons to me.
I move in a mist of blurred outlines and shadows, drawn by vengeance and desire, glide like a ghost across the Boundary and speed towards their treasure chamber.
Shikrar
As we left the Great Hall, Rishkaan (much subdued) asked if we might survey his own chambers, which were close at hand, before we examined Akhor’s. I itched to be gone to the Chamber of Souls myself, but I understood the concern behind his request. When I bespoke Kédra, he agreed to meet us at Akhor’s dwelling as soon as he might, but said he was searching along the Boundary for sight or smell of the Gedri Marik and would be some little time, and that we might as well make certain of both our chambers first. He would come as escort to Rishkaan as soon as he could, that I might guard the Chamber of Souls. In passing I bespoke Idai, who flew at best speed from the Birthing Cove. She had just set out, leaving Mirazhe and the youngling in a protected cave. She said little beyond that she came as swiftly as she might.
When we reached Rishkaan’s chambers I was hard put to it to mask my dismay, for the disrepair and neglect could not be ignored. I had begun, over the last few decades, to suspect that he was one of those for whom long life was no blessing. It sometimes happens that one among us will grow old in mind before his time, and so it appeared to be with Rishkaan. The only relief is that those so afflicted often pass into the last Weh sleep well before their full years are accomplished. In sorrow I began to hope for such an ending for Rishkaan. In any case, it was swiftly apparent to him that nothing had been disturbed.
My own dwelling and the Chamber of Souls stood nearby and we were there in a moment. Stopping outside the door I lit a branch and offered in truespeech a prayer of Remembrance to the Winds as I entered, the flaming brand in my mouth. The ancient soulgems of my people, ranged against the back wall in symbolic patterns and set in khaadish, blinked reassuringly back at the fire I held now in my hand, and the soulgems of the Lost lay still in their rough cask, flickering as they had through the ages. I bowed in the old sorrow of their presence, and as always renewed my vow to release them if it lay in my power. It occurred to me to speak to Lanen and Akhor about them, if (as I hoped) the Council changed their minds after hearing her words. Perhaps in this new blending of the peoples there might be new hope for the Lost Ones. I breathed a thought to the Winds to guide the Greater Kindred to wisdom, bowed to the Ancestors, and we left.
As we returned to Akhor’s chambers, close by the Great Hall, we found that many of the Kindred had assembled nearby after ensuring that no intruder had been near their chambers. The talk was all of the Council, and of the Gedri, and of seeing one of the Silent Ones close to at last. This they had a good chance to do, for Lanen slumped fast asleep against the outer wall of the Council chamber. All spoke softly so as not to disturb her—I wondered what she would dream, for all the speech was in our ancient tongue and beyond her ken even were she wakeful.
Most, I noted with pleasure, remembered to speak of her by name, and as I listened I realised that Akhor was right—she was truly the Wind of Change. For many, the anger that Lanen had stirred up in them had been transmuted all in a moment to shame at her words, at their realisation that perhaps the Kindred had been unfair to the Gedri through the ages. She had touched a deep truth and most of our people were responding, despite the threat of a demon-aided thief from among her people, for which she could hardly be held responsible. Few save the eldest spoke now of death or exile; I even heard in passing a suggestion that she be honoured as a teacher. I allowed myself a secret smile as I escorted Rishkaan into Akhor’s torchlit chambers. Akhor would have so much joy at least.
No sooner were we inside, however, than Rishkaan spoke his frustration. “Hadreshikrar, I obey our King, but in truth I do not know why I must be held here. I have seen what I have seen, and spoken truth in Council. Are my Weh dreams worth less than those of Akhor?”
“No, Rishkaan, of course not,” I said sadly, “but you have attacked Lanen, the Gedri child, while still she addressed the Council, and that action has yet to be considered. She is not a Raksha to be killed on sight.”
“I tell you she is the end of our world! I have seen it!” he cried.
“Calm yourself, old friend,” I said gently. “I heard you both in Council. But I do not understand how both could be true. Akhor
saw our people’s salvation arising from his joining with Lanen, he told us the Winds spoke with him and said as much. How should I believe such communion false?”
“Perhaps he did not tell the whole truth,” growled Rishkaan. “You well know that our Kindred are not above stretching the truth if it suits their need.”
I bowed. “True enough. Akhor concealed his twilight meeting with Lanen from me, he has admitted it. But Rishkaan, did his words in Council not strike you as those of one who has done with conceal? And why should he invent so clumsy a lie? If he sought to justify his actions, surely the voice of the Winds would be more use to him ere ever he and Lanen were joined. What good does that good word do him afterwards? No, to me it has the ring of truth. And—forgive me if I am blunt—how could there possibly be a mingling of the blood of Kantri and Gedri? I agree, it is a thought to sicken the mind, but surely it is beyond possibility. It is as if you asked us to beware the offspring of a bull and a butterfly.”
“Fool!” cried Rishkaan. “I tell you I have seen it! She had our form, Shikrar, she was one of us! And her children I saw in terrible guise, half-Gedri, half-Kantri, caught between in a black hour, changing from one to the other. The sky was filled with hideous forms, the world was aflame with Raksha-fire, and because of her there was no Akhor to stand between the Lords of Hell and the last defenders of Kolmar.” He bowed his head and did not speak for some time. “Ah, Hadreshikrar, I grow old before my time,” he said sadly.
“Rishkaan, my friend, I hear you,” I replied, “and well I know the years bring sorrow with wisdom. But I cannot believe the world is doomed, not by love, though I hear the truth in your voice and know that you at least believe it. I beg you consider though, for the sake of Akhor, that perhaps he and Lanen might also be right. It may be that you have seen most but not all of what is to come. Might there not be a last verse, a final turn on the wing or beat of the heart that has not been revealed to you? Or,” I said, quietly voicing a thought that had been growing in my mind, “perhaps you have each seen only one side of a balance that might go either way. Perhaps the Council’s decision to exile them will bring about its destruction, while allowing them to stay together would be the saving of our Kindred, as Akhor has foretold.”
Rishkaan was mustering a reply when we both heard the sound of someone arriving outside the cavern entrance, and the sudden silence that came with it.
We did not wonder long. Kédra entered the cavern. “I could find no trace of him, Father,” he said, his voice in some strange place between defeat and merriment.
“Are you certain the Gedri who spoke with you told the truth?”
“And who might you be, to call me liar to my face?” asked a high voice I had not heard before. And in behind Kédra walked the second child of the Gedri I had ever seen close to. She stood bent over, and I saw that she could not straighten. She was smaller and darker than Lanen, but full of the same fire. I was too surprised to be angry.
“I am the Keeper of Souls, lady,” I answered sternly. “Who are you, and know you a reason why I should not slay you for crossing the Boundary?”
She did not flinch, but Kédra answered me. “I stand her advocate, my father. Lanen commended her to me though this lady knew it not. She sought protection where she might, for Marik has learned that she aided Lanen in her escape, and seeks her life. She told me—”
“I told him, Master Keeper of Souls, that I’d rather die clean and fast than go the way Marik would send me,” said the crooked one. “I am called Rella. And I would still rather be sent to my rest by you than by his fools of guards.” She bowed to me. “Do as you wish, Master. I am old enough, and now I’ve set her free I’ve done my duty and shall sleep peacefully.”
I looked Kédra in the eye and saw there the curious merriment I had heard in his voice. It was clear he had come to like this creature and her boldness. To my amazement, I found that I agreed.
“If you stand friend to Lanen, how should I do other than welcome you?” I said.
She bowed again. “Then I thank you for my life.” She gazed straight at me. “Seems you are true friends to her, after all, though I must say sometimes you’ve an odd way of showing it. Where is she?”
“I heard Akhor ask her to wait outside the Council chamber. My son, if you will keep the watch with Rishkaan I will swiftly escort this lady to Lanen, then go to the Chamber of Souls as guard.”
“As you wish, father. Go well.”
I leant close to the crooked one’s face. “Come, mistress, let us walk together to the Council chamber. I would speak with you.”
She bared her teeth in what appeared, by her voice, to be pleasure. “It will be an honour, Master.”
Strange that so short a time could change so old a feeling.
I looked forward to speaking with her.
The Wind of Change, indeed.
Marik
I walk through dry leaves and feel small twigs snap under my feet, but no sound escapes to my ears or any other’s. I am like a small boy that has outwitted his parents; I suspect I am grinning like a death’s-head. My breath comes faster now as I approach the cave where I saw the gems in their golden cask. The time limit on my amulet beats in my mind as my heart beats in my chest. I know well that it has taken me little more than the half of an hour to get to this place from the Boundary. There is plenty of time in hand.
And there, just before me, darker in the general blackness, lies the entrance to the cave I seek. Steel your nerves, Marik, stir up your courage to enter and seize the treasure—
Hell’s teeth! What was that? Freeze, don’t breathe, turn slowly—aah! What’s that brilliance that burns my eyes?
Fire. Hell’s teeth, it’s a blossom of fire from nothing, searing my eyes, near but not yet upon me. Back away, remember there’s no sound, duck so as not to move the branches, hide beneath the shadow of the bare trees, better than nothing. My mind knows they cannot see me, but if they turn suddenly or run into me by chance all is over with me. By damn, those things are huge, and two of them draw near to the cave mouth.
The largest—dark bronze, with a gem in his forehead that winks deepest ruby in the firelight—enters with the flaming branch, while the other, bright copper with lackluster eyes, sits without not twenty paces from me. Breathe, Marik, breathe, if this one waits the other surely will not be long.
At last! I have waited an eternity here, and at last it comes out again. The painful fire is quenched in the leaf mould, the bronze one joins its companion and they move away northward. Breathe, Marik. It is astounding. For all their size they move swiftly and silently as cats, leaving only the least trembling of the grass, the lightest whisper of rustling leaves to mark their going.
Wait but a moment longer, beat steady my heart, breathe deep and lose the fear that caught me. The peril now is past. Before me the cave mouth beckons with the promise of riches untold, lying there now unguarded. I see in my mind’s eye the open cask full of flickering gems and enter the Dragons’ treasure chamber.
The outer room is huge and lined with gold to a depth of some inches. Its call would be difficult to resist were it not for the gems.
Even in this cave the dark is not absolute. My eyes, now recovered, catch the glint of the many vast gems thickset in great slabs of gold on the back wall. Still I am not tempted, it would take far longer than I have to dig them out of their settings. I step closer—
And there, on its golden pedestal, sits the object of all my cost, all my travail. A rough golden cask, like a great bowl, filled nearly to overflowing with the gems that flicker and change with the patterns of their inner fire. It is all I can do not to laugh aloud. Here at last, and so simple withal. I put my hand out to touch, and pause.
They are so very beautiful. I, with my good head for business and sharp eye to the value of a thing rather than its artistry, stand entranced by the wonder of what lies before me. Time seems to pause, hovers in my hand, in the eternal moment between thought and action.
How long h
ave I stood here spellbound? Listen for the beat of the amulet—still strong and steady, I have not tarried too long. These gems have blinded me, deafened me, immobilized me, until at last some deep instinct has warned me that I am bounded by time and must do what I have come to do or leave.
Or?
No, not or.
And.
The cask is heavier than I thought it would be, surely this much gold alone is worth many lives of men. In seconds it lies with its contents in the pack I have brought, a dead weight, a precious burden on my shoulder beneath my cloak of borrowed darkness.
Now to leave swiftly, back into the night, back towards the Boundary. I gather my strength and start to run. Lords of Hell, this thing is heavy! But the worst is that I have lost track of time and cannot tell how much longer my amulet will last.
What is that noise? A high keening sound that grates on my nerves, speeds my heart even faster, sets my teeth on edge.
Hell’s teeth. It’s coming from the gems.
Lanen
“Lanen, child, wake up. You’ll catch your death out here.”
I swam reluctantly up from a deep well of sleep to Rella’s touch on my shoulder and her voice in my ear. I blinked in the moonlight, slowly realising that many of the Kindred were standing in the clearing talking in very low voices. It took me a moment to work out exactly where I was—leaning against rock, cold and stiff—a cave, no, the Council chamber—then I was wide awake.
“Rella, how did you get here?” I asked, stumbling gracelessly to my feet.
When I heard the hiss of amusement, I turned to find Shikrar on the other side of me. I nodded to him, trying to hide my disappointment at seeing bronze instead of silver.