[Lanen Kaelar 01] - Song in the Silence (61 page)

“I
will,”
I replied softly.

There was no more time. We all went out into the
breaking dawn.

Rella

At least this time I could see where we were
going. I will never forget being borne through the
air by a Dragon. It is astounding
beyond words, but twice is enough.

Kédra carried me across first. The ship lay still
in its place in the harbour, but the decks this
morning were black with scurrying
forms as they prepared to weigh anchor and be off.

Until they saw us.

I couldn’t hear anything, of course, but it took
only moments for there to be a clear space on
the deck for Kédra to land. He
dropped me a little space, then landed and bowed. “Fare you
well, Lady
Rella, and know that you have the regard of the Kantri,” he said loudly.
“Should
you
need our assistance, you have only to call upon us.” It was what we had
agreed, but he
l
eaned
down to me and added a quiet “Though I have no doubt you’ll manage well
enough. Be
well,
lady. It has been an honour to know you.”

I bowed and bade him farewell. The whole ship
rocked when he took off.

Lanen

Idai bore me gently and in silence. She flew low
and back-winged, as Akor had done, though
not so smoothly.
“I can see this will take some practice,”
she said as she
landed, amused.
“Shall I then practice? Will you
return one day to the Dragon Isle, Lanen Maransdatter? Will
you and
Varien come here again, where you are most welcome?”

”If it lies
in my power, Lady Idai, I shall,”
I replied.

“Fare you well then, Lanen, and know that
you have the regard of all the Kantri. You have
only to call upon us,” she said
aloud. She bowed to me one last time, crouched on the deck,
and leapt
into the sky. The ship pitched violently from her leaving.

Varien

“Shikrar,
my friend, you are wounded. You have done enough. Let another bear me
thence,”
I
said as he prepared to take me in his hands.

“
If
you think, Varien Kantriakor rash-Gedri, that I am going to let anyone else
deliver you to
the Gedrishakrim, you are deeply mistaken.”
He gathered me in and took off.
“After
all my
years
of suffering with you through the ferrinshadik, should I let another have the
honour? My
wound
will keep. In any case, the others are all aloft already.”

”What?” I tried to look up, but of course there
was only the bulk of Shikrar to see.

And then I heard them.

It happens occasionally on the first warm spring
day after a long winter, or when autumn
breaks summer’s heat, or when there
is a reason for rejoicing, that many of my people will
take to the skies and sing the Hymn
to the Winds. I have done so myself many a time. The
pleasure we have in riding the Wind
is made manifest in song, both aloud and in the
Language of Truth. It is a
celebration, and a reverence, and an expression of joy.

And, in this case, of farewell.

Lanen

Never in all my dreams of Dragons had I imagined
such a thing. The sky was full of wings
and voices, singing to the morning,
and their music echoed in my mind as I heard the
language of the Kantri in truespeech.
It was lovely almost beyond bearing. Voice rang with
voice in harmonies that lifted the
heart and gave it wings, with new voices ever swelling the
chorus and
tuning to a new melody, words and serried ranks of souls touching memories
older
than
life. Dragonsong on the dawn wind—if I close my eyes, I stand there yet and
marvel.

Most of the others on the ship cowered in the
stern, crying out occasionally in fear, but a few I
noticed were looking up in awe, and I
remember thinking that perhaps we were not all lost.

When Shikrar approached, it was swiftly obvious
that he would not fit on the deck. Rella and
I rushed forward as he came as low
and as close as he dared and let Varien fall from a little
height, more
or less onto us. “Farewell, Varien,” he cried, circling the ship.
”We are ever at
your
service. Call and we shall come.” And in truespeech he added as he joined
the others
high
above,
“Be well my brother, my dear
ones. Remember the Lost.”

So it was that the ship Sailfar weighed anchor
and left the Dragon Isle under the benison of
music more lovely than men had known
for thousands of years, and (for a time) in the
company of the Kantrishakrim.

When the crew had recovered from the sights and
sounds, and realised that no more Dragons
were going to try to land on the
deck, the Master began bellowing orders, fast and furious.

Varien chose to go with Rella to watch over Marik
(she had told me no other was willing to
tend him), and I set to work with the
rest of the crew. True, we were all three avoided at first,
but once we
were under way there was more than enough work for all of us.

Marik’s second-in-command had been Caderan, so
that now a man named Edril was left in
charge who had never dreamed of such prominence. Once
we were well under way he sent for
the three of us. I believe that, at first, he meant to
confine us belowdecks, but a small nugget
of purest gold in his hand and the
promise of twice as much more on landing ensured our safe
passage. (Of
course, I might have told him that this was enchanted dragon gold, and that it
would turn to
base lead if we did not come alive to Corli. Varien might have gestured to the
Dragons, who
followed us at a distance for some time, to emphasize a point. It was a long
time ago, and
I am too old to remember such details.)

Rella was not best pleased to find herself in
Marik’s company every day, having to tend him
like an infant, but she took great
delight in providing Varien with more suitable
clothes from Marik’s overflowing
chests. I had to explain a few things about human clothing,
but he
learned quickly.

I suppose Marik was a pitiful sight—I glanced in
on him once, the day we left—but I at least
had no pity to spare for him. It was
long and long before I could stop seeing the torn and
bleeding body of Akor being borne on
the wings of his dear ones from the battle with Marik
and Caderan. Shame to say it,
perhaps, but I hoped fervently that Marik would die on the
voyage. We
were not so blessed.

I was amazed (as, I think, were the Master and
crew) that all the rumours about the Storms
were true. I had feared a journey
back twice as long as the one that took us to the Dragon Isle,
beating
against the wind all the way—but the winds blew now from the west, and the sea,
while not
smooth as glass, was not a third the strength of the raging tempest that had
greeted
us
on the way out. The work was as hard and the hours as long, but not having
always to cling
to
the rail for very life made it seem no hardship at all.

Do not wonder that I say little of my beloved.
The men and women were berthed in different
parts of the ship, and though I spent
as much time with him as I could, I like the rest of the
crew had a
great deal to do. To my surprise, I learned that he spent much of his time with
Maikel and
Rella, in Marik’s quarters. He was yet too unstable to walk well, and his soft
hands still
reacted to every breeze. He tried to help setting the sails at first, but after
the very
first
haul away his hands bled. We put it about that he was unwell, and though the
story was
received
in stony silence, he was allowed to perform the more delicate task of assisting
the
cook,
as well as apprenticing to the ship’s sailmaker. He was really very good with a
knife,
though
none were ever sharp enough to suit him.

Varien

I would not have chosen such an entrance to my
new life, but there were some advantages.

My balance, hardly established on land before I
went to sea, ended by being superb out of
necessity. I worked a little each
day—on such a small ship no one could sit idle, nor did I
wish to—and
by the end of the short voyage I began to have some strength in my hands. I had
learned a
little about Gedri food as well, its great variety and savour—though most of
this was
by
way of report from the crew, who told me what they would prefer to be eating.

As time went on I learned more and more about my
new body. Fortunately I seemed to have
the instincts I needed for this new form, but I also
had a few very curious conversations with
Lanen before I understood some
things. Truly the Gedri are astounding creatures, but I could
not help
thinking that they were put together rather oddly. The Kantri are of a more
sensible
shape
altogether.

On one of the few occasions when Lanen and I had
a moment to speak to one another in
private, she asked me how I could bear to spend so
much of my time in the same room with
Marik. When I told her that I was looking in the face
of my actions, she said she did not
understand. For answer I took her with me to see him.

Lanen

He lay on the small, hard ship’s bed, his hands
lying motionless outside the heavy blankets.

His eyes, when finally he turned to look at us,
were open and clear as a newborn babe’s, and
as free of thought. By the end of the
voyage he no longer had to be turned—he had begun to
do at least so much for himself—but
that was all the improvement there was. Strange to say,
he looked healthier than I had ever
seen him, but I could hardly grudge him that. At first,
Maikel attended him daily, putting
forth all his strength. He also fed Marik with another of the
precious lan
fruit.

Maikel told Varien once that he was certain that
without it Marik would have perished on the
voyage. On hearing that, I wished the
fruit had never been found in the first place—but then I
remembered it
was that same fruit that had saved my own life. I could hardly object, as I
looked down
at my arms. The vision of them in the sea was with me yet, but they appeared
surprisingly
unmarked. There were a few scars and puckers, but for the most part they were
whole. My
hands were soft and weak, no better protected than Varien’s, and at first I had
to
wrap
them in cloth to work the lines, but by the end of the voyage I had begun to
regain some
of
my calluses.

I never did know what the crew or my fellow
Harvesters thought of Varien. Our entrance had
done all we could wish for, and no
one asked any questions. I suspect that the seamen, a
superstitious lot, decided among
themselves that they did not want to know.

After some eight days at sea, Maikel approached
me late one afternoon. We could not have
been far out from Corli. I was
hauling in sail as the Master’s orders snapped across the decks.

“Lady, I am concerned,” said Maikel
quietly to me. ”Marik is a little better in body, but he
tosses in bis
bed like one who dreams nightmares and cannot wake.”

“Why do you tell me this?” I asked
harshly, tying off the line. “I bear no love for Marik.”

“I know it, lady, but Master Varien sent to
ask that you come to Marik’s quarters. He believes
you might be able to assist.”

I left my place instantly and followed him. He
led me to Marik’s quarters and left me in the
company of my friends.

He had not exaggerated. Marik was tossing and
moaning like one haunted. Even Rella looked
concerned. Varien took me by the
hands when I entered. “Lanen,” he said softly, and his voice
was balm to
my heart. “We believe he is trying to speak.”

“So Maikel said. What do you want me
for?” I asked, trying to keep the disgust out of my
voice. I
could not look at Marik without seeing Akor bloodied near to death, or a vision
of the
Raksha
reaching out for me.