[Lanen Kaelar 01] - Song in the Silence (18 page)

“And what would it be we’d watch for,
eh?” she replied, bemused. “By all reports there’s three creatures
larger than a mouse on this island—us, the cattle we brought, and the Dragons.
We’re all either too tired to do any mischief or off gathering, the cattle are
in the keeping of the Dragons now, and if a Dragon attacked nothing would save
us anyway. Now go away and let me sleep, there’s a girl.”

I left her wrapped in blankets and went outside,
up to the fire for warmth, waiting for the last stragglers to go to bed or back
to the lansip harvest. My mind would not let me rest this night until I went to
the Boundary and at least tried. I paced as I waited, and my thoughts seemed to
travel round the same circle time and time again, like a yearling on a lunge
lead. Partly I thought with solemn fear of Marik and whatever his purposes
might be, but uppermost in my mind now were the Dragons themselves. Now I was
here at last, at the end of my first journey and on the point of adventure, I
was strung tight as a bowstring. Was Marik lying yet or were they real, now I was
here at last? Had I wasted my life chasing dreams in the dark? And if they
were
real, why in all the world should one of them want to talk to me, rather
than killing me where I stood for my insolence? And what, dear Goddess, what in
the Seven Hells would I say? The fine flowery speeches I had made up in the
silence of my chamber at Hadronsstead turned to dust, fell like dead leaves
away from my mind, leaving not even their shadows behind.

Into that dusty darkness came a soft voice from
the edge of the clearing.

“Lanen?”

I was close to the fire, I could not see past its
light. But then, I didn’t really need to. “Yes, Marik, ifs me,” I
replied quietly. I looked up as he approached, and managed a slight smile.
“Or would you rather I called you Bors? In any case I seem to be working
for you now, so perhaps ‘my lord’ is more in keeping.”

“I thought I saw you on board the ship, but
I wasn’t certain until yesterday,” he lied cheerfully. “When the
Master told me none had asked for a berth in the name of Bors of Trissen I was
convinced you had decided not to corme.” He reached out suddenly and
lifted my chin with his cupped hand. I put a tight rein on my temper; it would
be far too dangerous to lose it now. “I had nearly convinced myself you
were a dream. How wonderful. Now I am doubly blessed. I am certain you will be
a hard worker, and” —he grinned—“mayhap you get back a portion of the
ruinous price I gave you for that mare.”

His smile was kind and his voice echoed it. But
his slight stoop and his hawk no se seemed terribly reminiscent, in the
flickering light, of the pitiless bird of prey Jamie had compared him to, and
his eyes did not speak of kindness. Even in the firelight they were cold, with
a peculiar quality, a flint y hardness I had seen only once before.

At least Jamie had been on my side.

In that moment I decided to play the innocent.
What could it cost me I had not lost already?

“What keeps you wakeful this night, Lady
Lanen?” asked Marik graciously. His hand was poised negligently on his
sword hilt, as though there were no other sensible place to put one’s hand. A
coincidence, no more.

I looked down and swallowed, but could not banish
my fear. My voice I knew would betray me, so I kept silence and hoped I might
seem merely distracted.

He laughed softly. “I know the
accommodations are not as spacious as those at the White Horse, but surely you
don’t mind a little rough living for the chance to make your fortune? Or do you
still seek the True Dragons?” He smiled, chilling me. “You know I
have spoken with one. They are real, as you believed and I did not. And I was
the first to speak with one in more than a century.” There was a portion
of wonder in his voice, but underneath it lay a kind of petty smugness. He was
pleased that he had spoken with the Dragons before I had, that he’ had taken
that much of my dream from me.

I had no choice but to reply, and I feared he
would hear it if I lied. “Yes, Marik. I still seek them, above even the
riches of lansip, and I envy you the speech you have had with them.” That
at least was true enough. As for who he was, I prayed silently that the Lady
would make my ignorance believable. At the least it was worth a try. “But
I still don’t understand about your name. Marik suits you better than Bors
anyway, and what is the difference?”

He was surprised and more than a little
suspicious. “Do you tell me you have never heard my name before?”

I smiled my most gracious smile, hoping it would
at least be convincing by firelight. “Your pardon, Lord Marik of Gundar,
but it is not an uncommon name in Ilsa. There were two Mariks in my
village,” I lied smoothly. How to get rid of him, how to protect
myself—then I remembered something Jamie had taught me.
A lie is best served
with an open countenance, a sincere voice, and buried deep in the midst of
truth.
“Jamie once told me of a Marik, someone my mother knew, but he
must be twenty years older than you.”

“Your mother?” he said, slightly
curious, no more. “Do you know, I thought you reminded me of someone. What
is her name?”

“Her name was Maran Vena,” I said,
trying to hold my voice steady, frightened at being this close to truth.

“You amaze me. I did indeed know her, for
surely there has never been more than one with that curious name. But you say
was? Is she dead?” He tried to restrain himself, but even in firelight I
could see his whole body tense, his voice give the merest suspicion of a waver
as some strong emotion gripped him.

“I don’t know. Probably. She left me when I
was yet a babe in arms, I have no memory of her at all.”

“Indeed. It sounds like the Maran I knew, if
you will forgive me. She left me as well, after she stole a certain trifle from
my home. Did she even speak of it to you? Or” —and in one swift move he
was at my side: not a handsbreadth away, and his voice was low and
intense—“did she perhaps leave it with you for a birth-gift? It was a
globe of smoky glass, no larger than might be held in two hands. A mere bauble,
but I would fain have it back. Tell me, Lanen, do you have it?”

I turned to him, my eyes clear and truth in my
voice. “I have never seen such a thing. If she took it, she must have it
still, if she lives. I hope you find her—I owe her nothing but I cannot help
you. I have her looks, I am told, but apart from that nothing of her. I’m
sorry.”

He stepped back and bowed, and his eyes were a
little more kind. “I thank you. But still I wonder,” he said,
“does not your father know where she might be found? Surely the life of a
child is a bond not so easy to break—”

Help me, Lady,
I prayed
silently. “My father Hadron died at midsummer. If he knew where she was he
took the knowledge with him.”

“I see. Well, it cannot be helped, I
suppose.” He stared at me still, and I took advantage of the silence.

“My lord, it has been a long and wearying
day, and I suspect I won’t get much sleep for the next week, so if you will
excuse me—?”

He hesitated a moment, then bowed gracefully,
smiling, his dancing eyes on mine the whole time. “Of course. It is not as
if you could leave me as you did in Ilsa. There will be time later to speak of
such things—but for now, sleep well, and work hard for both of us. We shall
speak again soon.”

And he was gone, striding off to the cabins in
the darkness. I breathed again, but I knew my relief must be short-lived. He
was right. There was nowhere I could go, and for some reason he seemed quite
willing to wait, I felt like a mouse in the paws of a cat—I might provide him
some amusement, but in the end I was caught sure.

I went back to my tent, moving quietly so as not
to disturb Rella, whose snores were reassuringly safe and homelike. I drew off
my boots and lay on my blankets, my mind whirling. How if I was his daughter?
From what Jamie had told me, Berys had made the deal to have control of an
infant. I couldn’t imagine what it would mean to be given to demons as a
thinking adult, but I suspected that death would be preferable. I could think
of no escape, no way out, when like a candle in darkness I saw all clear. I
very nearly laughed.

The Dragons. Those whom I had sought all my life,
they were my way out. If—no, I reminded myself grimly, when—Marik and his
cronies tried to trap me, I would do my best to lose myself in the deep forest,
but if that failed all I would need to do was cross the Boundary. I did not
relish the idea, but death was not as frightening as being demon fodder.
Unless, of course, my madness bore fruit before then. Unless I really did
manage to speak with one of them.

And with that thought, I was whisked away from
the intrigues of evil. I had meant to sleep for an hour or so, but I could no
more sleep than I could fly. The Dragons were so near I could all but smell
them. I could wait no longer. I rose quietly, slipped my boots back on and from
some sense of fitness I laid aside my old black cloak and wrapped myself in my
fine new green one.

As I stepped outside I was thankful for the
weight of my lovely cloak and the thick weave of it, for the night had turned
cold. I pulled the hood over my head, for warmth and to cover my hair, lest it
reflect moonlight and betray me. The moon was up and only a night before the
full, but a thin layer of clouds obscured its light, scattering it blue around
the clearing. The dying grass was soft under my feet; a noise like the sea
surrounded me as I walked, listening to the light breeze as it swished the last
lingering leaves against the sleeping branches overhead.

I kept to the shadows and moved as quietly as I
could. It had occurred to me, belatedly, that I might not be the only one
abroad; that thought saved me from crying out when I glimpsed a cloaked figure
ahead of me. I was nearly at the Boundary when I saw it ahead of me, moving
quietly through the tree shadows. I was about to speak when there was a break
in the clouds, and the change in light made the figure whirl around.

It was one of the young men who had been on
Joss’s boat with me—Perrin or Darin, I couldn’t remember which. I had seen them
in passing on the journey over. Surely the idiot boy realised this was the very
thing we had been warned against. Hadn’t he listened to the Master? Or did he
think…

Satisfied that he was alone, he turned north
again, planted a foot on the top rail and disappeared into the dark woods on
the far side of the Boundary fence.

Almost immediately I heard a huge hiss. It was
oddly soft for the size of throat it came from, terrifying in that quiet
darkness. It was followed by an immense sound just on the edge of hearing, as
of air displaced by something very fast and very, very large. There was a
single thin, sharp cry, then silence.

I stood trembling in the darkness and knew what
had happened as if I had watched it. There was a guard at the Boundary—of
course there was—and he had executed the man
(the thief,
I told myself)
without an instant of hesitation.

It was horrible—a life snuffed out in the blink
of an eye but it was what they had said they would do.

I was not trembling with fear. I was trembling
with the nearness of Dragons.

I walked slowly up to the Boundary.

“Hello?” I said softly to the night
air. Silence.

I realised they must think l was with the poor
idiot they had just killed. Surely no one had approached them directly for
anything but dragon gold, even in the days when these journeys were not so
rare. How could I get them to listen to me?
Nothing for it,
I thought.
I’m
going to have to call out.
I reached for breath, but hesitated—what could I
possibly say? What words could make a difference, here at the edge of two
worlds?

I stood uncertain in the deep night, knowing my
words might bring my heart’s desire or the end of all. My mind was whirling
with the verses of bards’ songs, finding only “Dragon,” knowing in my
bones it was wrong.

And suddenly I realised how I had thought of them
ever since. I heard the Song of the Winged Ones so many years ago, the song in
the silence.

I drew in a breath and called softly, “My
brother?”

There was a movement in the darkness between the
trees.

I began to tremble in earnest now, my voice
unsteady and my knees threatening to betray me, but it was too late for fear.
“Oh please, my brother, please, come to me. I have waited for you so
long—” and my throat closed against the words, as the memory of endless
awakenings in my solitary bed at Hadronsstead rose up before me. I shook my
head and banished those thoughts. That darkness was over; and the formal
greeting I had crafted so carefully all those years before rose to my lips
unashamed.

“I call to thee, my brothers of another
kind; through the parting of ages I call to thee. I know not why our peoples
live apart, but I summon thee through darkness to come to me, that together we
may create a new light. I long for thee, through all my life I have sought
thee, to learn thy ways and thy hearts, to tell thee of my own people and our
dreams. Oh, my brothers of the Dragon kind, I summon thee by all I hold holy;
by the Lady of the Moon, by Blessed Shia the mother of us all, I call thee
brother and I long for thee.”