[Lanen Kaelar 01] - Song in the Silence (23 page)

I wasn’t afraid anymore, though I
couldn’t tell you why. I suppose any sane person would have become witless with
fear or started to stammer something like I had the night before. Though I say
it myself, I did not so waste my time. Inspiration had struck and I knew in
that moment it was the only answer.

“May I speak to you in the
Language of Truth, that you may trust my words?” I asked.

Il worked. He was shocked out of
anger into silence.

I could almost feel Akor’s smile.

“That was well done, Lanen. If
you will be advised, collect yourself and concentrate on what you will say.
That may help keep some of your underthought a little quieter.”

I did as he said, wondering what in
the Seven Hells underthought might be, and waited for Shikrar’s reply to my
offer.

He spoke instead to Akor. “What
is this? Does she offer in truth, Akhor? How does this happen? The Gedri are
deaf and mute to truespeech.”

Akor only looked at him; as far as I
could tell. At any rate, Shikrar turned back to me, managing despite his vast
immobile face to express both disbelief and curiosity. “Very well, child
of the Gedri. You may bespeak me. I am called Shikrar.”

“And I am Lanen,” I said
aloud. I thought then, as hard as I could, trying to concentrate on the words
as Akor had said.
“I tell you in all truth, Shikrar, that I have come
here on the wings of my dreams, and for no other reason. I first heard of your
people many years ago in a ballad, the Song of the Winged Ones, and I have
longed to know you ever since.”

He seemed to hear a lot more than I
said.

Akhor

I heard her, of course. Younglings
have no discrimination, they cannot choose the target of their thoughts until
they have practiced for some time. Even though Lanen seemed to have this
ability as a natural gift, and to be developing at an amazing rate, still her
thoughts were readily audible to anyone nearby. They were a little more
focussed than before—she had managed to whisper her greeting to me without too
much difficulty, but I heard her on several levels when she spoke to Shikrar,
just as he did.

“I tell you in all truth,
Shikrar
, I wonder what his real name is Shikrar is too
short ugly for Dragon name
that I have come here
still so new a blessing
here at last
on the wings of my dreams
dear Lady those dreams that kept
me alive\
vision of waking in a dark chamber, staring at the
walls, great sorrow at finding herself there\
and for no other reason
.
at least not before now there is HIM
I first heard of your people
what
do they call themselves I’d wager it isn’t Dragon I know it isn’t
many years
ago in a ballad
,
\vision of many of the Gedri sitting around a fire,
one singing, feeling of surprise and wonder\
the Song of the Winged Ones
the song in the silence I heard their wings I know I did dear Lady I may yet
live to hear them in truth
\great joy at being so near us, at being so near
me\
and I have longed to know you ever since
\no thoughts under,
but a wash of longing tempered only slightly by joy, as if that which longed
did not yet recognise the fulfilment of its desire\
on my life I speak truth
you must believe me.”

The last deep underthought I heard I
furiously suppressed.
She is drawn to me because I answered her call,
nothing more,
I told myself.

I concentrated on Hadreshikrar’s
response.

He had obviously heard her, and heard
what I heard in her underthought; but he either took it as I pretended to take
it or he could not hear it—could not dare to hear it—any more than I could.

Bless his formal soul, he bowed to
her. He always did that, bowed to a youngling who had bespoken him for the
first time, no matter how scattered the truespeech had been. It was one of the
traits I loved in him, and it lives warm in my memory to this day.

“Forgive me, littling. Lhanen.
There is great reason for our people to distrust one another, but in all my
life I have never heard of a Gedri who could use truespeech. And you are so new
to it, unless your artifice is greater even than I could manage, I must admit
that you speak truth.”

“My thanks, old friend,”
I
whispered in his mind.

“I do not say that all is
resolved, Akhor, but I admit I am much impressed by hearing the Language of
Truth from her. For now I see no danger of speech with her, if another is
present,”
he told me.

“Will you be that other?”

“For now. I shall withdraw some
way, that you may have some privacy, but I shall hear all that is said. Will
that satisfy you?”

“It will.”

Shikrar gazed at Lanen. “It is
well, then. I greet you, child of the Gedri, in the name of my family and as
Keeper of Souls. Welcome, Lhanen, to the home of the Greater Kindred.”

She sank on one knee, her empty hands
open at her sides, her eyes fixed on him, her face joyful yet solemn. “I
thank you, Shikrar, Keeper of Souls. If ever I may be of service to you or your
family, you need only call upon me.”

Shikrar hissed his amusement.
“If ever that day comes, littling, I shall do so indeed. Enjoy your time
with young Akhor, and remember that even in the midst of joyous communion there
is room for caution.” He turned and left quietly, withdrawing as he had
said far enough at least for the semblance of privacy.

I smiled down at her. “Thar was
well done, Lanen. You have been shown a great honour.”

She rose to her feet, brushing the
dirt and leaves from her leggings. “I know it, and I thank you.” She
gazed after Shikrar and said quietly, “He is a good one, Shikrar. He
terrified me at first, but he thinks only of the danger to you and your people.
I—” She stopped herself. “Akor, forgive me. There is so much I want
to know, so much I want to ask, but I am afraid of overstepping the bounds.”

“Do not fear it, Lanen. If what
you ask is a matter for deepest secrecy, I will not answer. Will that content
you?”

“It will indeed.” She
smiled broadly. “And now, who shall have the honour of the first
question?”

“What is the custom in your
country?” I asked, bemused.

She laughed. “That fits. You
have asked first, and the honour usually goes to the oldest male. At least in
Ilsa.”

“Why the male? Surely the eldest
is the Eldest?”

She looked up at me and I could not
tell what she meant to convey. “I agree with you, and so would most of my
sisters, but in any event I suspect you are much older than I. How old are
you?”

“How do you reckon age?”

She seemed taken aback by the
question, then replied, “By the passing of the seasons, of course.
Thirteen moons and the three days of Midwinter makes a year. I was born at the
Autumn Balance-day, when light and darkness are equal. I have seen twenty four
years, and with any luck I shall see sixty. What of you?”

“We reckon the days nearly the
same, with a few variations—and our years are the same, certainly, since
midwinter’s shortest day is a festival here as well. I am older than you by
many hundreds of years.”

“Hundreds?”

“Our two Kindreds live very
different lives.” I settled myself on the ground, content, the
jerrinshadik
silent at last. This way I was closer to her. I laid my head on my forearms so
that I was just this side of the Boundary and said quietly, “I have seen a
thousand and twelve Midwinters, Lanen, and if I live as long as my father I
shall see at least eight hundred more.”

She was silent for a long time.
“I can’t even imagine it,” she said finally. “What do you do
with all that time? You have seen so much—dear Lady, when you were born there
were still people in Ilsa who lived in grass shacks on the plains and
worshipped horses! And you still have questions to ask?”

“Indeed,” I said. “And
if you will allow me, I will pose one now. What does it mean when you bend
yourself in half?”

“Bend in—oh: a bow!” She
demonstrated. “Like this?” I nodded. “I never thought. It
means—it is a way of showing agreement or respect.”

“I am familiar with the concept.
So that is a bow. Fascinating. What did you think Shikrar did after you
bespoke him?”

“That was a bow?” she
asked, delighted. “You’ve saved me a question. What a strange thing to do,
a bob of the head and the wave passing down the neck after it. But then I can’t
imagine you bending in the middle!” After a moment’ s pause she added,
“It was very kind of him.”

Lanen

Akor seemed to find that funny. I let
him hiss his amusement and looked more closely at him. The moon illuminated
his hide beautifully. It gleamed like polished silver, and in the cool blue
light it struck me again that he looked like the moon on the sea turned solid
and come to life, shimmering and changing as he moved gleaming through the
darkness.

I shook myself back to the moment. I
decided that if I ever wanted to find out anything important I might as well
try now. “Akor, Shikrar spoke of caution, and I don’t think he meant only
me. Did he?”

“No, he did not refer only to
you. We must both be cautious.”

“But why?” I asked again. I
felt like a child, asking such questions; but I knew that I would never have
another chance. “Is there time now for that tale? I cannot imagine a reason
for your law. You are ancient and powerful beyond imagination. What in all the
world is there for you to be afraid of?”

He lifted his head from where it had
been resting, very companionably, on his forelegs near the Boundary. He tilted
it a little, as if he listened to something, but whatever it was seemed to
satisfy him. “Have you never heard of the Lesser Kindred? They live in the
north, in the Trollingwood.”

“No,” I replied, feeling
like the merest idiot. I felt I should know, of course, everyone knows about
the Lesser Kindred and why Dragons are afraid of people, why didn’t I? It was
the first time, I think, that I felt the enchantment that I had heard of in the
ballads. Those who speak too long with Dragons come to believe everything they
are told…

“This may be difficult for you
to hear, little one. It is a tale full of darkness.”

“I still want to know.”

“Very well. I have then a
request to make. May I bespeak you? It grows tiresome winding my tongue around
the sounds of your language, and I fear I do not have all the words for this
that I shall need.”

I nodded. “You are most welcome
to bespeak me, Akor.”

This is the tale he told.

Akhor

THE
TALE OF THE LOST SOULS, OR

THE
DEMONLORD OF THE GEDRISHAKRIM

“When the world was younger and
the last of the Trelli but lately departed, our two peoples lived in harmony.
The wooden huts of the Gedri circled the caves of the Kantri teachers without
fear, and the Kantri taught the Gedri children with great patience and much
joy.

“This is the true way of life
for both peoples, as I understand it. The Kantri need the quick-living Gedri
to remind them that all life passes, that there is a need to live life in the
moment rather than ignoring the present as it rolls over them. The Gedri need
the ancient Kantri to remind them that their concerns, though pressing, are but
a part of life in its vast patterns. In that time, both peoples found in each
other a constant source of delight in other minds and other ways of thought.

“So they lived and so they
worked, and through many lives they throve together. The huts became houses,
farms, smithies. Soon beyond the circle of structures there blossomed fields of
grain, and pastureland to feed the cattle that fed both peoples. Beyond that,
orchards, graves and gardens. It was not the first time the two had lived in
peace, but it was the best. There was plenty, and harmony, and peace.

“At this time the Healers first
arose among the Gedrishakrirn. It happened that some, those who spent much
time with the Kantri and learned about truespeech, began to discover their own
gifts in the realms of the will and the mind. In time they found they could
heal small wounds; then there came those who could knit badly torn flesh
quickly; and once in a generation there would arise one who could join broken
bones in minutes. They were deeply honoured, and their services were a blessing
to the Gedrishakrim and a wonder to the Kantri, for my people have never had
the gift of healing. It was a new gift altogether, and a very great one.

“At the time when Lishakisaan of
the Kantri passed to the Winds, the greatest Healer of that time came to see
the remains before they were consumed (for our inner tire; released from our
control at death, destroys our bodies from within in a very short lime). Some
years later a youngling of the Kantri was wounded near to death in a tight, and
this Healer drew in her will and sent it forth in, a blue glow to surround the
wounded littling. The youngling was healed in a moment, but in that instant all
the Healer’s strength left her and her gift never returned. However, she passed
her knowledge on to her daughter, who was also a Healer, and from that time
some few of the Gedri were able to assist the Kantri when they were in pain,
without losing their power in the process.