[Lanen Kaelar 01] - Song in the Silence (38 page)

I bowed. “Bless you, old friend. For now, I
beg you, remain here as Guardian. Watch well, and listen for Lanen’s mind-voice
should she be too weak to call out.”

“Gladly. And do not fear to call on me at
Council. I shall be listening.”

I had no words. I could only bow my thanks again
and go from him.

I feared, oh how I feared leaving Lanen in the
hands of Marik. She had told me of the pact that had been made with the
Rakshasa, and of her danger should she be his daughter. But there was no help
for it. I listened for her every moment, even as I walked among my people.

The meeting place of the Greater Kindred is a
vast natural cavern in the southern hills not far from the Gedri camp. We had
changed it somewhat, added our shaping to the place, but in large part it was
as we had found it when first we came to this island home.

That night I saw it as new. A fire burned in the
center of the hall, below that place where centuries ago an escape for the
smoke had been created in the roof of the cavern. The walls gleamed with years
of carvings, some engraved on a background of
khaadish
, some rough-hewn
out of the native rock. It held the smell and feel of my people for five
thousand years.

On that night it was warm and alive with the
Kindred. I looked around the room carefully to see who was not there, and
realised that the only souls who were missing were Idai, Kédra and Mirazhe at
the Birthing Cove and three of the eldest of us, who were too feeble to fly so
far (they would listen through the ears and minds of their clan members, as
Shikrar at the Boundary listened through me). All my people had responded to my
summons, and to the tale that had spread fast as the wind about the Gedri who
had called out like a youngling.

To my sorrow I noted that the hall held us all
easily. I had in my earliest youth heard the Eldest of that day speak of a time
when the hall was crowded. My mother later told me that he spoke in his age,
that he was remembering tales his father told of other Councils in our former
home. Since the Lesser Kindred were cut down in their pain and we came to this
place, the hall has never been full.

I did not need that reminder of our last
encounter with the Gedri.

I had meant to give much thought to what I must
say and not say at this meeting, but since I had begun to live at the speed of
the Gedrishakrim I had discovered that time can on occasion move so quickly
there is not enough of it for much thought.

I had reached the raised dais at the far end of
the hall. There was room there, and place appointed, for the five eldest among
us and for the King. Shikrar and Idai would have been there; the other three
had not come, and none so far had chosen to claim the right as eldest present.

The five-yearly Council was a place for
grievances to be aired, a place to seek wisdom, to speak of those things that
affected the Kindred as a whole. In unusual circumstances, any one of us might
call the Council for a specific reason.

There had not been a special Council in my time.
That was appropriate, surely, for my reason was unique.

There was no help for it now. I must speak and be
judged as I stood.

I learned then the sickening sensation that
accompanies an act beyond the laws of a society. There must come a time when
society will demand an explanation or some form of retribution (especially if
the society is founded on Order, as is the society of the Kindred). I found a
deep fear then, one I had never suspected lurked within me—the terror of the
exile. The fear that I stood for the last time with my own people Literally
made me reel; I had to stand on all fours lest I fall. Now that it came to the
point, how could I live without them, without the friendly voices in my mind
and the companionship of my own kind?

And why should I?
whispered
some coward part of my being.

Surrounded by the souls I knew and had lived with
for centuries, my link with Lanen seemed a pale, weak thing, destined to be
broken. When I told them what had happened, I need only leave out my Flight
with Lanen. They would accept the rest, she would be honoured here for
assisting Shikrar’s clan, and I could stay. All I need do would be to renounce
our bond, treat her as a favoured youngling, no more. After all. what more
could we ever be to one another?

I thought with guilt of her plight, left alone in
the hands of Marik, and the fate that might hang over her. I touched her mind
lightly, and to my surprise there was a faint answer; she must be only just
conscious. She knew a Healer was with her, but the pain and the sickness in her
washed over me.

“How is it with you, littling?”
I
asked, in part to take her mind from her pain, in part to ease my guilt. I
could not call her by name. It seems I meant to deny her in public soon: I
found a need to deny her to myself first, to see how it felt.

Her answer was a whisper, but I noted with a
twinge that even then she tried to keep her thoughts focussed that only I might
hear.
“There is a Healer (oh hurry it hurts it hurts aaahl), he is
helping the bums heal (oh Lady help me oh help oh help) he says I am fevered he
has herbs (aaah!) he will give me when he has soothed the burns, I just want to
sleep/ get away from the pain. You sound strange, what’s wrong?”

”The Council waits upon me. Is there aught I may
do for you?”

“Just say my name, so I know my memories are
not a fever dream. Please, dear one, dear Kor—”

“Lanen, be silent!”
I
called sharply. Her sending stopped, thank the Winds.
”Littling, forgive
me, but you are weak and your thoughts scatter wide. You must not say my true
name, not now.”

Her sending at first was barely audible, a rush
and jumble of contrition.
“I’m sorry I’m sorry I never meant to oh I’m
sorry please forgive me Akor please I’m sorry, don’t be angry with me I could
not bear it oh! No noo don’t touch my hands nonononono
aaah
!”

Her thought stopped as though cut by a claw. I
learned later that she had fainted again. I hoped her silence was no more than
the easing of her pain. But I did know that scream—and indeed most of what she
said to me—had been heard by everyone at the Council.

Rishkaan, the eldest there and an old adversary
of mine, spoke for everyone. “Akhor, what was that? Or who?”

That was my Lady
, said my
heart,
rebuking my cowardice with her bravery
. How could I have let such
unworthy thoughts live past the moment of their birth? Habit, and old ways, are
deeply ingrained in us all; but old patterns can be broken.

We cannot control our thoughts. We can only
decide what to do with them.

I called to her, though I knew not if she would
hear me.

”Be brave, my Lanen. Thou art truly Lanen
Kaelar, dear one, Lanen the Wanderer who has followed her heart to a new
country and found it beating in the breast of another. As I am
Khordeshkhistriakhor of the Greater Kindred, we are pledged to one another. It
is no dream. Be well. I shall be with you as soon as I may.”

I could hardly imagine such courage as hers. Even
as she lay in her pain, a thousand leagues from home and Kindred, sick and
wounded nigh unto death in the service of those who would judge her here, I had
heard only the wounded body crying out. It was not until I rebuked her that her
soul weakened. All else she could bear.

Like a distant memory, I heard a whisper of the
song we had made. Its beauty melted my heart. If I denied her now, I denied
myself for all time.

I drew in a breath of Fire. Let them know the
solemnity of this occasion.

“Let the Council begin!” I cried, and
loosed Fire with my words towards the distant cavern roof. The breath of Fire
is sacred to my people, used outside of battle only at those times when we
commune with the Winds or consecrate some deed. Let them know that this was
consecrate.

“I am Akhor, called the Silver King. I greet
ye all, in the name of my ancestors. Ye are well come, my people!”

“All hail, King of the Greater
Kindred,” they answered as with one voice. It echoed in that place and
sounded like the voices of a thousand. My heart wept at the sound, with pride
at their strength and sorrow at the knowledge that I might never hear those
words again.

“Answer me, Akhor,” said Rishkaan
impatiently, breaking the formality. “Who was that? Was it the same Gedri
who spoke two days past?”

“My people, I have called you here that you
might know what I have done, and what has been done by that child of the Gedri
whose voice you have just heard cry out in pain, and who called out a warning
two nights gone.” I stood in Authority. “Know that our lives all are
changed henceforth, my people, because of my actions and hers. The Winds blow
cold across our times, but truly is it said that back of the winter is the Wind
of spring.”

There was a great deal of murmuring.

I ignored it.

“My first news is of the clan of Shikrar.
Mirazhe has brought forth her youngling, a fine son. Both are at the Birthing
Cove and both are well. The Lady Idai stands birth sister to Mirazhe, and Kédra
is with them now to dote on his family.”

This was news indeed, most unexpected good news.
Some laughed as they remembered Shikrar’s ostentatious pride in Kédra. Most had
known of Mirazhe’s distress, one way or another, and many stood in delighted
Surprise.

”Is Shikrar not with them?” someone called.

“He stands Guardian at the Boundary,” I
replied. “I know his feelings on at least part of the matter I wish to put
before you, and I cannot say that of another of our Kindred beside myself and
two of those at the Birthing Cove. But I begin at the end of my story.”

And in a style I have used a thousand times
since, I lifted my head and spoke to the Greater Kindred. I did not know it at
the time, but I have been told that my voice changed as I spoke.

It grew deeper and clearer, no louder than before
but ringing so as to fill the Great Hall itself.

“Harken well, O my Kindred. I have a tale to
tell you of dreams and waking life beyond all imagining, of danger and
sacrifice and love beyond all reason.

“Harken, O my people. This is the tale of
Lanen and Akhor.”

I told them everything.

Everything. From my Weh dreams to our first
meeting, her words with Shikrar at our second meeting and his warning. (Much
was made of this, that she had truespeech. It was undeniable and still seemed
little less than miraculous.) I told of our third meeting, that I had arranged
it without the knowledge of any other but that it had saved her life.

With a deep breath and a prayer to the Winds, I
spoke then of our reactions to one another, how we had been drawn to each other
beyond all reason and beyond all denying. I told of our flight to my Weh
chamber, of much that was said, and was about to begin the story of our souls’
Flight when some kind Wind blew my thoughts ahead to what their reaction would
be at this stage of the tale. Better to save that particular blast of fire for
the end, when they knew

her better.

All I gave them of that time was the knowledge
that there was more to hear.

Next I told of the Discipline of Clear Thought,
and the answer both of the Winds we revere and the Lady of the Gedrishakrim.
There was a louder murmuring at that. The Winds had spoken before to our
people, but not for many lifetimes. I heard the word ”omen” muttered around
the room. I knew some still saw me as a living omen, with my silver hide.

The events that took me to the Birthing Cove were
already known to many. Shikrar had indeed sought me everywhere, and of course
Idai had sent the elder females away when she realised they knew no more than
she (Idai was eldest after Shikrar and could so command the

others). I was grateful that Idai’s voice was not
there at that moment, but the duties of birth sister may not be neglected and
are most needed just after the birth. She would have her say about me later.

When I told the Council what my Lanen had done
for Mirazhe, for Kédra, for the youngling, all murmuring stopped. At first they
could not believe that such devotion by one of another race could exist. I felt
the first stirrings of doubt, even of disbelief. I had thought of that.

“My people, I call upon Shikrar, Eldest and
Keeper of Souls, as witness to this thing beyond belief. Will you take his word
as truth?”

They would. All knew that Shikrar was beyond
reproach.

He was waiting.

He spoke with us all from the Boundary, using
wide-scattered speech that all might hear. He spoke simply and with great
reverence for Lanen and took them to the end of the tale, that she lay now so
terribly burned and sick and in the hands of her people, hence her cry of pain.
He gave then an account of our arrival at the place of Summoning, and seemed
almost proud of his part in the proceedings.

I was wondering how to fill in the final verse,
the tale’s heart that I feared would turn my people from me, when Rishkaan
saved me the trouble.