[Lanen Kaelar 01] - Song in the Silence (26 page)

You must realise that I have had no
experience with what some call the finer things of life. I grew up on a farm.
Our lives tended to be strong rather than beautiful, and fairly simple (to the
point of boredom, I often felt).

Someone had crumbled a few leaves of
lansip into the chélan, which had been transformed from a warm spicy drink
that got sluggish blood moving in the morning into a draught straight from the
Lady’s cup. Surely the gods did not have finer drink than this. I instantly
shook off my weariness, fell the warm glow of lansip spread like friendly fire
through my body. I felt more alert, more alive; and where my memories of the
night just past had begun to blur with the need for sleep, they now sprang
sharp before me.

I realised that I would have to find
some time to sleep that I might be awake and aware this evening, for it might
be the last chance I had to speak with Akor. If his people decided he should
not speak with me, I believed that he would obey their wishes in future. This
night could well be the last.

I also lost my reluctance to join the
crowd, and hurried off to where the fruit had been found, carrying my sacks. It
would all be gone by the time I got there, I suspected, but the long walk would
give me time to think.

I found, not surprisingly, that I
felt physical pain at the thought of never seeing Akor again. For all our
differences, I saw behind that silver mask a mind much like my own, thoughts
that mirrored mine in a way no other’s ever had. Even Jamie had not had my
dream of seeing the Two Peoples living in peace—and now that I knew it had once
been true, it might be done again. I found myself daydreaming about that time
as I walked, wondering, wishing that I could somehow bring its spirit back into
the world.

The first step must be to undo the
wrong that had separated us—to restore the Lesser Kindred. But how, after so
many centuries of failure by their own people? I could see no answer, nor
could I stop looking for one. I could all but see the soulgems of the Lost
lying in some dark cavern, flickering unheeded through their long night; and
imagination filled my heart with the agony of the two hundred souls trapped
there, living every moment a weariness, waiting in patience, fear, finally in
desperation for their kin to release them once more into life.

And even if that were somehow done,
how to unite two peoples with such a history behind them?

It seemed impossible. It must be
impossible.

I spent every waking moment that
morning, as I gathered leaves (the fruits were indeed all taken before I
arrived), filled my sacks, carried them the long walk back to camp, wondering
how Akor and I might make it happen.

Time was against me, against us.
After our meeting at sunset I would have no way of knowing if I would ever see
him again. I would have to speak to him of this, of restoring the Lesser
Kindred, that very night, hoping he would listen rather than grow angry. I was
not sure I was yet ready to risk a Dragon’s anger, but I could not stop
thinking of it. Of course I had grave doubts as to the wisdom of what I was
considering, but that could not be helped, and in any case was not a new
sensation. My head was dancing with what I had learned (and with lansip), my
heart was full of Dragons, and I did not want even to think of having to leave
them so soon.

No. Truth, Lanen. Say what you really
mean.

I did not want to think of leaving
Kordeshkistriakor.

Marik

“Berys, we have found lan
fruit!”

“Excellent. It shall be as my
prophet foretold, we shall be wealthy beyond the reach of imagination. It is
good. And what of the girl?”

“She will be taken this evening,
and blood drawn. Caderan and I have prepared the rite.”

“May we both prosper in all
things. Farewell.”

Akhor

I had just deceived my oldest friend.
I had no intention of telling him or anyone else about meeting with her at
dusk. I meant it to be a gift to Lanen, and to myself; a few moments of
communion between we who for thousands of years had been apart.

I desired to have only the two of us
there, as on the night of our first meeting. There was also some obscure part
of me that wanted, no, needed to see her in the light of day, and for her to
see me.

I could not understand why I felt so
pleased. Deception should have lain heavy on me, should have interfered with my
very movements. I walked back to my chambers with great difficulty, it is true,
but that was only because I did not dare to take to the air so close to the
camp of the Gedri. The Kindred had long ago decided to remain largely a veiled
mystery to the Gedri who came to gather dead leaves and in their stead provide
live cattle, in case their foolishness ever extended beyond those few suicides
who stepped over the Boundary. If they did not know our strength, they could
not know what they would need to counter it.

I longed to fly, to sing my joy to
the Winds, to take her name above the earth and give it to the sky. As I
walked, I indulged my fancy and let my mind take flight. I watched myself fly
straight up until my wings grew weary and the air too thin, then dive down with
wings close folded and the wind screaming past, pulling up just before I met
the ground, into a great loop, into flight for the sheer joy of it.

And in this vision I looked into the
sunrise and saw another, a lady of my Kindred but with Lanen’s heart and voice.
We flew together in delight, without thought, making pattern as we flew,
singing to the dawn, singing to each other a new song that only we two…

I opened my eyes with a start. My
blood pounded in my veins, with fear and with other things.

I had finally realised what I was
doing.

When two of the Kindred decide to
mate, they announce their bond with the Flight of the Devoted. It is long,
intricate and unashamedly sensual. They create their own patterns of flight;
some are based on their families’ pattern, some on their own individual style,
and something new is added, something that has not been before. Flying
separately they fly as one, and at the end of the flight leave all those who
have gathered to watch and wish them well. There are places far away from any
chambers where they may join in privacy, with only the sounds of sea or forest
to keep them company.

I had never chosen a mate, as Shikrar
often reminded me. The Lady Idai had long made it known that she would welcome
my interest—and by rights I should have welcomed her, she was wise beyond
common knowing and devoted to me—but I had told her on several occasions that I
had no desire for any lady of the Kindred yet alive. I had reconciled myself to
mating late in life or not at all. I began to tremble, standing there on the
path to my chambers, as I realised that I had well begun the Flight of the
Devoted in my mind, ready to consecrate myself to one lady and to join with
her for life.

And the lady was Lanen Kaelar of the
Gedrishakrim. Somehow I made my way back to my chambers. I was horrified and
elated at the same time. I had sometimes feared I had no capacity for the love
of a mate, yet here it was in all its wonder—but oh, my soul to the Winds, for
a child of the Gedri!

Or had I allowed myself that licence
in fantasy because there was no possibility of such a joining ever taking
place? Of all the unattainable females, Akhorishaan, I said to myself, laughing
aloud. Yet the vision of her as one of my Kindred would not leave me, and gave
me a pleasure and a lifting of the soul I had never known. I felt like a
youngling myself, despite my many years of life, and decided there and then to
simply enjoy the sensation. It was wonderful. And since there was no
possibility of such a thing ever coming to pass, I might as well enjoy the
feeling while it lasted. Soon she would be gone, my life would return to its
quiet ways and I would have but the memory of these times to hold close all my
days.

I drew a deep breath. I had to call
the Council, as Shikrar had requested. I must summon my people to meet on the
morrow at the Great Hall, not far from the Boundary.

I stood in Receiving and began the
Discipline of Calm, but soon gave up the effort. How could I call the Council
to decide on whether to allow my meetings with Lanen when her very name still
sang in all my thoughts?

It would have to wait for a few
hours. In the meantime, I allowed my fancy to run free; let her words and her
thoughts find their homes in my heart. I knew that after a short while we had
spoken for only a few hours—they would all be settled, and I could trust myself
to speak to my people.

Eventually.

Lanen

When the lansip wore off I barely had
the strength to drag myself back to the camp with my sacks and go to bed. I
slept like a dead thing some hours past noon. The sun, white and insistent at
that hour despite the lateness of the year, roused me at last. I woke from a
dream of a great light in a forest and with a memory of a song I had not heard
before. The sunlight warmed me, I was well rested, and my first and only
thoughts were of the meeting to come.

I could not sit still while my
thoughts chased themselves in circles, and found myself deeply grateful for the
unpredictable hours we Harvesters kept. There were a few souls stirring, some
around the cookpot, some heading for sleep after a night and morning of gathering,
some groggily arising to drink chélan. None paid heed to me or my movements,
and Marik I had not seen at all.

I wrapped my cloak close about me and
headed towards the sea. The cold of the night was gone and the day blessedly
mild, nearly warm in the sun even as a breeze blew in over the water. I threw
back my cloak and reveled in it, for if it stayed clear l feared I was in for a
bitter cold night.

I tried, truly, to look around and
enjoy simply being on the island that had drawn me for so many years. The sea
was like a living thing dancing with the sunlight on it; there were gulls
laughing in the air, the wind tasted of salt freshness; but the living face of
Akor rose before me, seen only in moonlight yet sharp and present wherever I
looked. I could not think why I was reacting so. Yes, he was the first Dragon I
had seen surely reason enough to be impressed but should I not be remembering
his words rather than his eyes? Not that I could well ignore his appearance,
but there was another edge to what I was feeling. I couldn’t place it, but it
was definitely familiar.

Artur.

I stopped short. Artur from
Bearsstead, in the Méar Hills above my old home? Why in the name of the Lady
had I thought of him? He had been my childhood sweetheart. True, I had longed for
him, wept when he wed another—but that was years ago, and what did it have to
do with Akor?

You loved him.

Yes, as a child loves. Yes, I loved
him.

And for days after his wedding, you
saw his face on every farmhand at Hadronsstead.

Yes, but—oh. Oh! No, no, it
couldn’t—I—oh dear Lady, no, I can’t be!

Really?

Give me this much, at least I
laughed. In love with a Dragon? Surely not even I could be so stupid! I was no
child to be infatuated with a creature so vastly different. I could never—

“We are not so very different,
you and I,” he said. If he were a man you would love him, wouldn’t you?

The thought was immensely appealing.
I tried to picture him as a man, and almost without effort he rose before my
mind’s eye like a portrait already completed. There he stood, lithe, handsome,
with silver hair and green eyes full as deep as the sea, beautiful face
incredibly smiling and long-fingered hands that took mine and drew me towards
him—

Then the huge form I had seen in the
night appeared again, soulgem glinting in hammered, horned silver face, voice
like a song and thought like love itself speaking its name.

Kordeshkistriakor.

Very well. (
Oh sweet Mother Shia,
help!)
Very well, I love him. There, I’ve said it, I love him whatever his
form, an the heavens help me. And what in the Lady’s name should I do about it?

The voice from within had no answer
to that.

I stood there thinking—even laughing
to myself, I am glad to say. I could not take myself seriously. I quite enjoyed
the idea of him as a man; but I was still entranced by his true Dragon form for
its own sake.

The Lady only knows what I would have
thought about had I let my mind wander on, but I soon had more to think about
than my love for a creature a thousand years old and the size of Hadron’s farmhouse.

I had stopped just past a bend on the
path some time back, in the midst of my mad thoughts; now as I stood I heard
voices. I did not wish to see anyone in my present mood, so I stepped into the
shelter of a thick, low-growing stand of fir trees. They were just the colour
of my cloak. In the shadows, with my dark leggings and my hood over my face and
hair, I was nearly invisible.

Just as well. The voices had come
closer, and one of them was Marik’s.

I hoped they would simply pass by and
let me return to the camp, but instead they stopped just the other side of the
bend in the path. I could hear them clearly.