[Lanen Kaelar 01] - Song in the Silence (33 page)

“Yes.”

“My people mate quite cheerfully without
pledging themselves to one another, though that is done, too. I have never
mated, though some have offered; and I have never loved, or been loved,
before.”

Lanen

I could hardly believe that it was my voice that
spoke. I meant every word, but I had not known that I would say them until they
were spoken.

“Tell me, do you take this as seriously as
if it had happened in truth, with a lady of your Kindred?”

“Lanen,” that wondrous voice said to
me, “it has happened in truth. Simply because we do not choose to leave
the ground. it does not make the rest of our song untrue.”

“Bless you for that, dear heart!” I
sang. “I could not bear it if only I felt that way. For good or ill, Akor,
for all the insanity of it, we are pledged to one another soul to soul.”

“For good or ill, Lanen my heart. And we may
be fools—I would not be surprised—but what extravagant fools we are!”

I laughed for heart’s ease, with my one beloved,
who would remain always apart from me yet closer than any.

“Come, let us go outside, the night is
fine,” he said.

I wrapped my cloak about me and followed him out,
he on four legs folding his wings close about him, I walking upright. The
passageway didn’t bother me at all.

I missed my wings of song.

Akhor

It was a fine clear night, frosty and crisp. The
moon was finally rising, a blessing on the night.

Lanen blew out a sharp breath as we came out of
the passageway.

“What was that?” I asked.

“That was me starting to freeze to death.
It’s cold out here!”

I laughed at her. “Dearling, I am fire
incarnate. Gather wood and I shall…”

“Hold that thought!” she cried and
hurried off to collect branches. In moments there was a small fire blazing,
Lanen leaning as near to it as she could without catching alight herself.

Carefully I wrapped myself round her to keep her
warm, to keep her near me. Every moment seemed precious now. I stared with her
into the fire, my head beside her as near as I could come. We seemed almost shy
with one another.

She spoke first, rubbing her hands together,
staring into the fire, thoughtful.

“Akor, what is happening, and why? Do you
know?”

“What mean you, dearling?”

“I’m not sure. But I can’t believe mat our
meeting, our— our love for each other, is just part of the normal way of
things.” She looked into my eyes. “Akor, we first spoke to each other
only two nights past. This night was the first time we had to speak freely of
our Kindred to each other, and almost the first thing we said was ‘I love you.’
Doesn’t that strike you as strange?”

I smiled. “No. ‘Strange’ was when I first
saw you step foot on this island. I was serving as Guardian then, did you know?
From that moment I was drawn to you, to your laughter and to your feeling of
coming home. Since then, I fear, ‘strange’ has given way to unbelievable,”

She laughed and reached out to stroke my face,
light as a breath on my armour. “That’s what I mean. But here we are,
pledged to one another no less!” We both laughed, but I was relieved to
hear her add, “Not that I would have it any other way, dear heart. Still,
it passes belief. Human and Dragon. Kantri and Gedri. Surely this has never
happened in the history of the world.” She furrowed her face and stared
into the fire. “I don’t know about you, my dear, but I feel decidedly
peculiar.”

Perhaps it was cowardly, but I decided to take
refuge for a moment in simpler things. “Then you won’t mind my asking you
about the way you furrow your face and turn your mouth down. It seems to
reflect thought, but has it a name?”

She laughed. “Trust you. It’s called a
frown. The opposite of a smile, more or less. I frown when I’m thinking, or
when I’m angry or upset. Usually angry.” She laughed again, wryly. “I
have a terrible temper.”

“Temper?”

“I get angry easily.”

“Perhaps we are related after all. The
Kantri are creatures of fire, and I fear it occasionally shows in ways other
than flame.”

“Like when you are amused, for
instance,” she said. “I’m getting used to your grins, complete with
steam, but I’d hate to see a belly laugh.”

“A what?”

“When you find something really funny. Just
warn me beforehand, will you?”

“Assuredly I shall.”

“And before I forget, I’ve been meaning to
ask you something. I am quite happy to call you the Kantri or the Kindred, but
is there something wrong with ‘Dragon’?”

I was slightly taken aback. “I thought you
knew, dearling, since you have never used that word to me.”

“No. I was going on instinct. I was right
though, wasn’t I?”

“Absolutely. It is—I am afraid it is
considered an insult among us. It is the word your people use for the Lesser Kindred;
to use that word for one of us is as much as to say that we are no more than
soulless beasts.”

She grinned up at me. “Thank goodness for
instinct.”

We both fell silent, and I let the night come in
on us. It was a relief to speak of such trivia, to take refuge in minor
concerns for a moment. However, her question echoed in my mind: What is
happening, and why? If another had told me of so strange a thing, I would have
said Meditation of the Winds would—of course!

“Lanen, dearling, I have just realised—if I
am to have any hope of learning what is afoot, I must set my soul in Meditation
of the Winds. To you it will appear that I am doing nothing, but it requires
great concentration, and I must have quiet.”

“May I watch?” she asked.

“Certainly, but there is little to see. If
you will need more wood for the fire, please gather it now before I am well
into the Discipline.” I was surprised to feel a tinge of hurt from her,
though she said nothing. Then I understood. “Ah, Lanen,” I said,
moving swiftly to where she was collecting branches. She looked up at me.
“Dearling, forgive me,” I said, bowing, then in the Language of Truth
told her,
“I could never send you away, dearling, not even so far—I am
trying desperately to be practical. You must know that you are distraction
enough, my heart, without moving about.”

She laughed then, and all was right again. So
delicate these emotions at such a time—so similar our peoples, that I knew
without words how my words had stung.

Lanen

He was right, there wasn’t much to see. By the
time I got back with more firewood he was sitting bolt upright, his wings
close-furled and his tail wrapped around his feet (like a cat, I thought,
stifling a laugh). His eyes were closed, his forelegs resting on his knees. I
sat by the fire and, just for a moment, let the wonder of it all wash over me.
I had loved stories of Dragons since I was a child, but what Akor and I had
done was not for children. It was real as wind and water, as earth and fire. I
had wondered since the night before what was happening, and had no more idea
now than when I first asked myself the question.

There was one more thing I could try, at least
until Akor was finished.

I am not much given to calling on the Lady, but I
have always felt close to Her. I even wear a Ladystar of silver around my neck,
though the set rituals that many take part in mean little to me. So, as Akor
and I sat in the frosty night before that little fire, I simply opened my heart
to Lady Shia, the Goddess, the Mother of Us All, who ruled in the heavens and
in the earth. She was the Mother in the ground beneath me, the Old One in the
moon that rode overhead, the Laughing Girl in the rains that fell and nourished
the land. I called on all three and asked the question that was in my heart.

Perhaps it was my imagination, fired from my
“flight” with Akor; perhaps it was being out in the night sitting on
the Mother and seeing the Old One high above, with the Girl chuckling in her
little stream-fed pool off in the trees. Perhaps the night was simply full of
magic, and I had touched part of it.

I felt lines of light go through me: the first a
white staff straight up my back from the earth; the second a wide, wavery beam
of moonlight down from on high; the third a scattering like drops of rain from
the direction of the pool. And caught in this web, this net of light, I heard

Her speak.

Daughter, have no fear. All is well. Let not its
strangeness concern you. All will be well. All will be well. Follow your heart
and all
will be well.

Akhor

The words of the Discipline were old friends to
me. I had always prided myself on clear thought. But then, I had never known
emotions like those of the past few days.

In the words of the invocation I called on the
Winds to blow clear the cobwebs of emotion, let clear thought remain. I
breathed in the sequence I had practiced for a thousand years, felt the
whirling passions in me subside.

“I am Khordeshkhistriakhor, Silver King of
the Greater Kindred of the Kantri, living on the Dragon Isle in the Great Sea
of Kolmar.”

That was truth.

“I have spoken with a child of the Gedri,
broken the Great Ban set on our two Kindreds.”

That was truth.

“I have flown the Flight of the Devoted with
Lanen Kaelar, child of the Gedrishakrim, with whom there can be no joining
beyond mind, heart and soul.”

That was truth.

For all my Discipline, my heart ached at those
words. Our people are few, they always have been. I had longed for younglings
of my own, I envied that bond in others. Idai had offered herself many times,
as mate and mother, but I had refused, for I judged our souls too far apart to
meet in the making of younglings.

That was truth.

“I must present Lanen to the Council of the
Kindred. We must determine what is to be done. Shall she be allowed to remain
here, or must I go with her to some distant shore?”

You will go with her.

“What? Who speaks?”

You will go with her.

“Whither shall we go?”

All will be made clear to you.

“What is happening?”

Your people are dying, Khordeshkhistriakhor. So
few younglings, so many elders. You and your dear one may save them, if you
will.

My heart leapt “How?”

You will know in good time. It will he hard.
There will he great pain. But you will live to know joy again.

“Who speaks? In the name of all my fathers,
who speaks?”

There was no answer, only the wind through the
trees freshening upon my face.

Only the Wind.

Lanen

He opened his eyes with a jolt. I knew how he
felt.

“Akor? Are you well?”

“I am not certain,” he said, coming
back down on all fours. “I am—surprised, to say the least. It is a night
of new beginnings, Lanen, in all truth. Never in all my long life has that
happened.” Don’t tell me, I thought, your gods spoke to you, too. Please
don’t tell me that.

“I heard the voice of another in my
thoughts. It was not truespeech, I am certain. I do not know who it could have
been.”

I stood up, threw more wood on the fire.
“Akor, this night I have flown with you above the earth, then under the
earth. I have with you defied the rest of your Kindred and all of mine, I have
pledged my troth to you on wings I never had and now miss, and I am tired of
being surprised. The only thing that amazes me any more is that I am still
alive and more or less sane.” I found that I was growing angry. “As
you sat in your Discipline I called out to the Lady, the goddess of my people,
for comfort, or perhaps for inspiration. And do you know what, my impossible
beloved? She answered me! Not with a vague sense of comfort, but with
words.”

He did not say anything, only stared. I went on.
“What would you be willing to wager on that voice you heard being the
voice of the Winds you call on?

“Akor, what are they doing? What do they
want of us?”

Akhor

I tried to keep my voice calm, for her sake. I
must tell her. “Hlanen, therre iss much I sstill musst tell hyu,” I
began.

Damn!
“It is too important for Gedri
speech, will you hear me thus?”

“Yes, if you wish. I’ll try not to answer
the same way. I’m so tired I suspect they would hear me at the Boundary.”

“Littling, that I heard a voice while deep
in the Discipline was no trifle. I have never heard of such a thing among all
my Kindred. But at least as surprising was what it said to me. I was told that
I must go through great pain for my people, but that if I was willing I might
save them. No—that we might save them.”