[Lanen Kaelar 01] - Song in the Silence (42 page)

Akhor

When I next bespoke Shikrar, as
noon
approached,
it was to find the Council still divided on
my fate and Lanen’s. Our union they
all (save Shikrar) discounted as madness and agreed it
would have to be severed. As for our
fates—there was still much debate on whether Lanen
should be allowed to live. If so, it
seemed most felt she should be kept here and not allowed
ever to
rejoin her people. A few, led by Shikrar, kept her deeds before the others’
eyes and
argued
for her freedom, combined with her sworn word that she would not return
on pain of
death. As for me, some argued that I be forced to give up the kingship and
another
appointed;
some felt I had been gripped by a passing fancy or subtle spell and that I
would be
fine
once Lanen had gone, one way or another; still others that I must simply be
kept away
from
the Gedri for the rest of my life, never again to be the Harvest Guardian, and
that in all
other
ways I was still fit for the kingship.

Shikrar’s arrival had caused quite a stir, it
seemed. Rish-kaan, disgruntled, had no choice but
to give way to him as Eldest. At the
beginning of the latest debate on Lanen’s fate one of the
younger
males, a distant cousin of Idai’s, called out, “Let us ask the Eldest. He
is Keeper of
Souls,
it is his family that is most deeply involved. Let us hear the words of
Hadreshikrar!”

Shikrar waited for complete silence before
speaking (and got it—our people revere the
wisdom that comes with age). He
raised up to address the Council and stood in Righteous
Anger, taking quite a few by
surprise.

”My friends and my Kindred, what is this that I
have heard? Much discussion of whether we
should do to death the beloved of our
King, or let her live alone in exile in a foreign land? I
cannot believe
I hear such things from the children of the Winds. Is it our place, is it our
law,
to
deny love? Akhor has been faithful to the kingship, faithful to us all, his
life long. Are we
now
to turn on that faithfulness, tell him he is be-spelled, deny him the love he
has found at
last?”

“But it is the love of a base creature. A
Gedri!” one voice called out.

“You, Rinshir, should know better than to
flaunt your ignorance,” Shikrar shot back. “The
Gedrishakrim
are intelligent creatures, they can speak and reason. They are by nature no
more base
than we. They can become so, surely, by their own actions. If they choose to
deal
with
the Rakshasa, then truly they are debased; but in and of themselves they are
not an evil
people.”

“This is a new song, Hadreshikrar,”
said Rishkaan bluntly. The debate on the nature of the
Gedrishakrim is as old as our people,
as old as the Choice. Always before you have spoken
against the Gedri. Why are you now so
changed?”

Shikrar let the appreciative murmur die down
before he replied. His Attitude had not
changed, but it was overlaid with
Teaching, the most natural in the world to him. “Tell me,
Rishkaan, was
there not a time in your earliest youth when someone described flight to you
before your
wings were strong enough to bear you?”

“Yes, of course. What of it?”

”And was their description a good one?”

“It was good enough,” replied Rishkaan.
He stood now in Defence, not liking this nor able to
guess where it was going.

“And do you remember your first
flight?”

“Who does not? It was the beginning of true
life for me, as it is for us all.”

”Yet tell me, Rishkaan, had that good
description captured the essence of flight?’

“Not for me,” he replied instantly.
“There was no way the teller could describe the joys of
flying to one
who was earth-bound. It would be like telling fish about singing.” There
was
some
scattered laughter. I laughed myself, in the brightness of my chambers. Shikrar
had
made
his point well.

“Then, my old friend, how should I not
change my view of the Gedri once I had met and
spoken with one of them, especially
this one?” He turned to the others, and his voice began to
deepen. He
stood in Anger and Teaching still, but with Authority now behind all. ”All of
you,
my
Kindred, have spoken of the impossibility of this joining between Akhor and the
Gedri
female
Lanen, that they must dissolve a bond of love, a Flight of the Devoted even if
only
flown
in the mind. But of you, who has ever spoken to a child of the Gedri? Speak
now, let
me
know your names.”

The silence spoke loudly indeed.

“Yet you are so quick to condemn. Why? What
harm does their love do to you? They have no
illusions of joining, they have both
condemned themselves to a life of barrenness, for the sake
of this bond
they did not ask for but cannot deny.”

“How can they have flown the Flight of the
Devoted in mind only!” cried Erianss. “It is
impossible. Flight is part of our
being, we are made for it, it is life and rejoicing to us. Can
Akhor deny
it? The Gedri is earthbound, the two of them can never meet in the skies. Why
then should
such an imaginary ‘Flight’ be honoured?”

Shikrar altered his Attitude, and Rebuke was
clearly reflected in his stance. “Erianss, hear
now the words of the Eldest. We
respect age for many reasons, among them the fact that age
has seen much
that youth has not, and does not have to rediscover fire. Youngling, in my own
youth I knew
both a lady with a misshapen wing and an Elder who had found his mate late in
life. Neither
could fly when they took their mates, yet both flew the Flight of the Devoted
and
lived
out their lives together with their chosen ones, none the worse for it. I spoke
to the lady
once
about it and she told me they had flown together in a vision, just as Akhor
described his
Flight
to me.”

“With respect, Eldest,” said Rishkaan
with a hiss, “you are not impartial in this. I believe you
would defend
a Raksha who had saved the lives of your loved ones. You do not see the Gedri
with clear
eyes.”

Shikrar did not respond immediately, but drew in
his breath and began the Discipline of Calm.

When it was completed, he answered.

”I have a question for you, Rishkaan. If a
Raksha had saved your life, would you not question
its very existence as a Raksha, a
creature of chaos and darkness? For in saving your life it
would have
gone against its very nature. Thus it would be an unnatural demon, which might
be a very
good thing indeed for it as a soul, but very bad for it as a demon.

”My Kindred, Akhor did not exaggerate when he
said this little one might well die from her
efforts on behalf of Mirazhe. We all
heard her cry of pain; I saw with my own eyes the
wounds she had from too close contact
with Mirazhe’s inner fire. Before you condemn my
impartiality, before you deny my
wisdom in your own outrage and ignorance, think well on
this and speak who dares; who among
you would undergo such torture for an unknown child
of the Gedrishakrim?”

There was silence in the Great Hall, but my heart
rejoiced at his words.
“Bless you
Shikrar,
the
Winds bless you, you have saved us. I have never heard you speak so. I thank
you
from
my soul in the name of the Winds of our Kindred and the Lady of the
Gedrishakrim.”

“Thank
me when all is over, Akhorishaan. There is much
yet to do.”

Marik

This time the Messenger appeared from Berys. Just
as well; Maikel would not be able to heal
my arm again for some time yet.

“Yes, Magister? What would you?”

“How go your preparations for the
dedication?” he asked.

“Well enough. Caderan seems in no
difficulty,” I replied.

“I would speak with him. Is he nearby?”

“Near enough.” I sent for Caderan to
attend me. “The girl is fully healed.”

“How?” Berys sounded faintly surprised.
“From what you told me of her injuries I thought it
would be days
at least.”

“So did I. The idiot old woman I have
attending the girl fed her the whole Ian fruit instead of
half. It
means I have had none, but I know now that legend, if anything, is less than
the truth.
Even
with all the effort of my Healer, he was not certain that she would live
through the
night.”
I rubbed my head absently, cursing when my fingers found the lump at the back.
“The
bitch
is well enough to have knocked me out with a chair when she tried to escape.
Caderan
has
her in a sorcerous sleep; she will not be allowed to wake again until the
ritual is
prepared.”

“Good.” The demon Messenger had a slimy
smile on its grotesque face, and I got the
impression that Berys was laughing at
me.

“Magister?” said Caderan’s voice from
the door. “What do you want of me?”

“I would go over the ritual with you,”
he said. “Marik, do you leave us. This is not for you to
hear.”

I left cheerfully. The minutiae of demon
summoning has always bored me. It is best left in the
hands of those who find interest in
such details. I went out to supervise the salvage of what
was left of
the storage shed. Luckily very few bags of leaves were actually destroyed, as I
have them
conveyed to the ship on a regular basis, but it was a nuisance and had
distracted my
guards
long enough to allow the woman Rella to disturb me.

I had her brought to me for a fitting rebuke for
that disturbance and for giving the girl the
whole of the lan fruit, though I
moderated it as she was the one who had discovered the fire in
time to save
most of the contents of the shed. Still, she looked unbalanced with one eye
swollen and
black. The second, which I gave her, was a great improvement.

Lanen

The day passed in a confused welter of
dream-tossed sleep and worse waking. In dreams I
wandered lost, trying to run in
stretched-out time from the darkness that followed behind me,
calling aloud
to Akor for help, seeking him in the forest and not finding him. As I ran I
cried
out
that I wanted true speech with him, only true speech.

But worse, far worse, was the nightmare that
alternated with this one. In it I would seem to
wake, but that waking found me in my
old bed in Hadronsstead, alone as ever and a world
away from what must have been no more
than a vivid dream of the True Dragons. I screamed,
unable to make a sound, and longed
for death, so much kinder than that false waking.

Then I would wake in truth, fuddled in mind from
the nightmares of loss, only to find before
my open eyes a demon of the lesser
kind, one of the Rikti. In futile panic I fought my bonds,
struggled,
but the padded chains that bound me were strong and solid. The demon would cry
out in a
high-pitched shriek, and Caderan would come. I do not remember how many times
it
happened,
but I seem to recall that he was surprised the last few. Each time he spoke a
few
words
and poured some liquid onto coals, and I would sleep again. And each time as I
fell
back
into the darkness, my last thought was that I should have used truespeech and
called out
to
Akor.

Once as I dreamed, it seemed that Akor’s
mindvoice called to me, asking if I were well, if I
were yet awake. I tried to reply, to
call out for help, but the dream that gripped me left
my mind so befuddled I could barely
remember my own name, much less recall how to use
the Language of Truth.

I only stayed awake long enough each time to
begin to be terrified before the Rikti cried out
again, Caderan performed his rite and
blackness claimed me once more.

XIV

RAKSHASA

Akhor

At times through the day I listened for her, but
there was no response. At first I was not overly
worried. Could I not hear her
lightest whisper? I knew she would call out if she needed me,
and I had no
idea how long she might sleep after all the healing was done.