[Lanen Kaelar 01] - Song in the Silence (59 page)

I know Shikrar brought wood and started a roaring
fire in Akor’s chambers for Varien and me.

I cut the meat I had brought with me into smaller
pieces and roasted it on a stick over the fire.

It seemed to take forever but it tasted like very
heaven when it was finally done. It was
Varien’s first meal; I wondered what
he made of it all, but I was too weary to ask and he was
no better. As
soon as we were finished we lay down as near the flames as we dared and slept,
facing each
other across the fire.

I remember nothing after that until Shikrar woke
us hours later.

XIX

THE WORD OF THE WINDS

Lanen

When Shikrar woke us it was late afternoon. Idai
had kept watch over us and kept the fire
warm and bright, while he and Kédra
had taken Rishkaan’s soulgem and the soulgems of the
Lost to the Chamber of Souls and
reverently restored them to their rightful place. He
apologised now for disturbing us, but
we had been summoned by the Council, and there was
news from Rella that he had forgotten
to tell us. (I only learned later from Akor how
extraordinary it was for one of the
Kantri to forget anything, no matter how slight.)

I dragged myself upright and found that I could
not turn away from Akor—no, no, he was
Varien now—still unable to believe it, still not
knowing why we had been granted such a
grace. It was long and long before I could look at him
without a measure of awe.

I put the rest of the meat on a spit and began to
cook it as Idai left to attend the Council and
tell them our tale in her words. We
ate as quickly as we might. Our drink was spring water,
but I had to smile—we drank it from
rough, heavy vessels of gold that Idai had fashioned for
us,
remembering how I had needed to kneel to drink from the pool. Kings would envy
such
vessels.

Shikrar told us that Rella had spoken with Kédra
that very morning. It seems the Master
wanted to start as swiftly as possible on the journey
back. Kédra had asked her to request a
delay of but one more day, and she had promised to
try. I found myself wishing that she had
truespeech, and began to discover
some of the frustration the Kantri must always have felt
around my
people.

Finally Varien stood. “Very well. It is
time. Let us go before the Council that they might see
what I have become,” he said.
“I am yet unsure on these two legs, Lanen. You must be my
strength.”

“I thought we had already agreed on
that,” I said, smiling. “But first give me a moment to
make you more
presentable.” Two quick knife slashes for armholes and my belt around all
and Varien
stood clad in a makeshift tunic rather than wrapped in a cloak. “Now, my
dear
one,”
I said as I put his arm about my shoulder and mine around his waist, “let
us beard the
Council
once more.” I turned to him, to that wondrous face mere inches from mine,
and
grinned.
“I can’t think of a thing to say to them, dear heart, but perhaps they
won’t need many
words.”

“Before you go, I too have a gift for you
… Varien,” said Shikrar shyly. He handed Varien a
rough circlet
of
khaadish
, with a gap at one end. “I
made it while you slept. I thought— your
soulgem—perhaps if you are seen thus,
it might lessen the shock.”

Varien’s eyes went wide.

I drew the green gem from my scrip and handed it
to Shikrar. He scraped from the floor a
quantity of gold and breathed fire
onto it until it glowed, then made of it a flattened strip,
melding the
edges to make a circle the size of the soulgem. Taking the gem in his great
claws,
he
placed it gently within the circle and bent the edge above and below, finally
joining the set
stone
to the circlet with Fire. I longed to help him, lend nimble fingers to those
huge unwieldy
talons—but
even if there had been some way for me to work near-molten gold, I would not
have dared.
Such a gift can only be the work of one pair of hands, however ill-suited to
their
task.
He quenched it in the stream that ran in one corner of the chamber.

The setting was rough, but it held. Shikrar bowed
and gave it to Varien, who pushed himself
gently away from me to stand on his
own. He received it reverently in both hands. He lifted it
to put it on,
but with some inborn hieratical sense, stopped short.

He faced Shikrar. “From you, my soul’s friend,
Hadreshikrar, I accept this gift and bless you
for the honour.” He bowed
stiffly (so as not to fall over, I suspected), then turned to me. “To
you, Lanen my
heart, I give it freely.”

I did not even pause. I took the rough crown from
his hands, held it aloft, and said quietly, ”In
the name of the Winds and the
Lady,” and placed it on his head.

His soulgem lay again on his forehead, framed by
silver hair, beautiful and heart-piercingly
familiar.

There were no more words. We all walked together
into the golden sunlight of the dying day
and down to the Council chamber.

Varien

I have never since done so hard a thing as to
walk through the aisle my people made for me to
the dais of the Council chamber. Idai
had told them the tale and Shikrar came behind to add
his word, but what would you? Full of
wonder, they stared in disbelief, in silence, for what
words had ever been made for such a
thing?

I climbed awkwardly onto the platform and stood
with La-nen’s help. What had been a slight
ledge was now become an obstacle,
taxing my fragile coordination and balance. I stood
shakily before my people and a sea of
souls looked back. I could see they all bore the sorrow
of Rishkaan’s ending, yet still from
old habit they reached out to their King, to me, even as I
stood in my
small, helpless Gedri shape, as to a sheltering cave in deepest winter. Most
stood
in
Wonder; some held to Disbelief, though that could not last. And over all there
was the
faintest
hint, like the green haze of earliest spring, of something very near to hope.

I did not know what to say. I feared I had lost
the truespeech altogether with my Dragon-form,
but now my soulgem lay in its proper
place. I had to gather my thoughts like the veriest
youngling to be heard—this body of
mine was not accustomed to such effort—but to my
soul’s deep delight, I found that I
still had the Language of Truth.

”My people,
I greet thee with the love of thy King,”
I said. It
was the broadest kind of
truespeech that all could hear, but it was undeniably the Language of
Truth, and my
mindvoice
though weakened was unchanged. I understood, though, why Lanen so reluctantly
bespoke
anyone if she could avoid it. It immediately caused an ache behind my eyes that
threatened to
grow worse. Still, I knew that only thus would they believe.

“I am
the soul you have known as Akhor, the Silver King. My people, I stand before
you
changed
beyond all possibility; and I cannot tell you how or why this has happened, for
I do
not
know. My love and care for you have changed no whit, but I am shaped now by the
Winds
into
the semblance of a man, and must so live. I return to you the kingship you gave
me so
long
ago, and desire you to choose another to serve.

“I am no
longer Akhor the King; I am become Varien the man. My fate is in your hands,
whatever may
befall; but I ask you for old love to spare my dear one, Lanen Maransdatter.”

I leaned against her, my strength spent, the pain
of true-speech too great.

It was enough. There was no more to be said.

Lanen

I held him and waited. There was nothing else to
do.

The silence seemed to last forever. The tension
in the air bore down upon me like a heavy
cloud and time slowed to a crawl. I
felt an hour pass between each breath, and in that time
there sped through my mind any number
of wretched ends to this mad act of the gods, each
worse than the last; but I began to
wonder when the silence stretched on still unbroken, and I
yet breathed.

And finally I began to think that perhaps they
had all had enough of death and destruction and
had no desire to do us injury. I
could not be certain, but among the various Attitudes they
stood in, I
did not seem to see Condemnation. It seemed rather the opposite.

Hope?

And in the moment I knew, as though the Lady had
told me herself, that the taking of the
soulgems of the Lost and Rishkaan’s
dying had wrung their hearts as it had wrung ours, and
that in the Lost they saw their own
future if naught else was changed. Their saving, so dearly
won and now
so dearly paid for, was become the saving of the Kindred; our hope was become
their hope,
standing before them now on two legs in a rough black tunic and ill-fitting
crown.

And all their longing was like to my longing, to
hold communion with the eternal Other and
make a place for it in the heart.

And the silence was broken at last by a single
voice like the music of heaven, high and
gloriously triumphant, and it cried
out, “Long live King Varien! Long live the King!”

And hundreds of throats joined to it their music,
voices raised in wonder and glory. “Long live
King Varien! Long live the
King!”

And the King knelt, humbled, before them.

And in the center of that music I found a
remembered silence, and in the silence heard music
still, wild and deep with wonder
beyond all knowing, and bright with rejoicing beyond all
hope.

Varien

I never dreamt such a thing could happen. I knew
even as they called my name that I could
not be King in truth, but the
blessing of their acclamation overwhelmed me. When once again
there was
silence I stood, with Lanen’s aid, and bowed to them in the manner of the
Gedri. I
tried
once again to speak in the Kantriasarikh, for the return of truespeech had made
me hope,
but
my tongue and jaw made mockery of it. I concentrated, ignoring the pain that
truespeech
brought.

”Dear my
Kindred, I will carry this memory to my death, and ever in my heart I shall
hold it
dear.
We have all grown, my people, and the Word of the Winds is the seal to the
learning,
but
I will not leave you without a King. It grieves me, but I cannot even speak to
you in the
Kantriasarikh.
If you would be guided by me, for old love, I here offer unto you Hadreshikrar
to serve in
my place.”

“He is Keeper of Souls, Lord Varien,”
said Erianss respectfully. “Surely that is more than
one soul
should be asked to do.”

“It is,
Erianss, you speak truly, and I had considered it. I therefore would ask
Shikrar to
surrender
his position as Keeper of Souls to his son Kédra, who has already shown a
facility
for
the Kin-Summoning and a constant and deep respect for all life.”

There was a silence, broken at last by Shikrar in
the Language of Truth.
“These are
deep
matters
and will require much thought and much time. For the moment, if it is agreeable
to
the
Council, I will remain as I am and guide the discussions as Eldest, which is
not open to
debate.”
There was some scattered laughter.
”In
any case, both Lord Varien and the Lady
Lanen must soon leave us to go east
with the rest of the Gedrishakrim. Has the Council
considered
the Word of the Winds regarding
Lanen Maransdatter?”

Lanen

Somehow I had never thought of my fate being
different from Varien’s. Just for a moment my
heart dropped to the pit of my
stomach.

”The Winds
have spoken, Shikrar, and we dare not ignore their words,”
said a voice in my
mind,
and I turned in surprise to Idai.
“She
is the beloved of our King, and for her sake the
Winds
have given him new life in the shape of the Gedrishakrim. How then should we
speak
against the Winds? It is my thought
that she be honoured as Varien’s beloved, and sent back to
her people with him.”