[Lanen Kaelar 01] - Song in the Silence

by Elizabeth Kerner

  I did not rest long. I woke to a buzzing of voices and realised I had slept only an hour or so. It might have been five hours past midday. Marik had called us all to assemble by the cookfires. His lovely voice was grim. Around me the others murmured, wondering what was to do.

  Marik stood by the tire, his men behind him, a horrible bloody bundle at his feel. “I was called by the Guardian this noontide,” he said loudly. He need not have bothered, he had everyone’s attention. “This poor dead fool decided I was a liar and crossed the Boundary last night. They returned his body this morning. He looked around at our closed faces. “I need your assistance with this, I fear. I would ask you to come and look at the body. I do not know this young idiot’s face or name; perhaps one of you might be able to tell me.”

  I knew perfectly well who it was, but his brother was there long before me. I had not seen him in the darkness last night, the body was too far away; now I saw clearly, as could we all, the wreck of that young man. The huge gash in his body, the head at a sickening angle, and on the dead face a grimace of terror. It turned my stomach, I wrapped my arms about myself and was glad I had not eaten for many hours. I had seen death before, but this was horrible. I kept telling myself he was a thief, he was a thief—but it made no difference. He had been a young man with all his life before him to change his ways, to atone for any evil.

  A general murmur arose, filled with outrage and anger. Marik was waiting for it.

  “If you’re thinking of revenge, you may as well give it up now,” he said over the muttering of the crowd. “How should you revenge yourselves against creatures that can kill like that? I have seen them. They have claws the size of my arm and teeth to match, and they can fly. You fools, they are True Dragons! You could all stab at them with swords of the finest southern steel for a hundred years and they would never feel it. I tell you again; the Treaty protects us, the Boundary protects us, but if you cross it you will be as dead as—as—”

  “Perrin,” said his brother Darin brokenly, his face white with shock. “His name was Perrin.”

  Perrin, I thought. Perrin. I will not forget.

  No one should die like that. Not even for being a thief. Somehow I must say that to my large brother.

  Marik

  Caderan and I wandered back to my cabin together after the body was identified. “A useful lesson, at least,” I said as we walked. “It should stop any more forays into the dragonlands. I can’t afford to lose any more Harvesters.”

  “Indeed, my lord. It is certain that the Harvest cannot be extended? We are so shorthanded.”

  “If you want to go and ask the beasts and be killed for your pains, I do not,” I snapped. He just looked at me. “Forgive me, Caderan,” I said, “the pain is bad today. No, the Guardian told me six nights, leave at dawn on the seventh, and I intend to do just that. Now,” I said as we entered the cabin, “we have gone over the artifacts that you and Magister Berys prepared the boots that mask sound, a cloak of deep shadow to hide me in darkness, the amulet to cover scent, and all with no trace of the demons that made them. Now, what is this ring he has sent?”

  “The Ring of Seven Circles: It is a great work, Lord Marik,” simpered Caderan. “There are none alive save Berys who have the power to make such things. This alone would be worth the tenth part of your harvest.” He lowered his voice, as if he feared he might be overheard. “It is a weapon that will work against True Dragons. Each circle is more destructive than the last. With this, you may withstand one of the creatures easily—two, if you are prudent—but you must have it on your hand for the spell to work. Each circle has a release word—should you wish to fire off the first circle, you would point the ring at the Dragon, speak the ward and twist the outer circle thus.”

  I took a close look. It seemed no more than an ugly piece of jewellery, but when I put it on I could feel the pulse of the fires that coursed through it. I quickly removed it. “Surely this is a last resort. My whole plan is to avoid a pitched battle, and if it works—what shall I do if I do not need it? What then of the price I have paid?”

  “Magister Berys told me that he hoped you would not need it, for he could sell it at three times the price to any number of adventurers.”

  “Very well.” Soberly I began to consider the possibility of having to fight Dragons. “There is one more thing to be done, though, and Berys said that you could do it. He said you would be able to weave a spell to protect me from dragonfire.”

  “Yes, he mentioned it to me. I have been gathering the materials I need, but a few things I still lack, and you must provide one of them.”

  “Somehow I am not surprised. What do you need, then? Lansip? More blood?”

  “Something a Dragon has touched.”

  I was shocked for just a moment, then felt a broad smile cross my face as I realised what would serve. “Nothing could be easier. How large a thing?”

  “Enough to fill my cupped hand. But if I may ask, lord, what—”

  “I knew that death would be useful,” I replied. So simple!

  “Certainly a Dragon touched young Perrin. He is yet unburied—if I ask his brother to allow me to arrange the burial, surely he will not grudge me a handful of flesh around the wound? Especially if he never knows.”

  Caderan bowed. “You are truly a worthy master. If I may enquire, what are your plans regarding the child of Maran Vena?”

  “You know them,” I said sharply.

  “Forgive me. Your immediate plans.”

  “I shall wait.” When he started to protest, I snapped at him, “I told you I am shorthanded. She is bringing in as much lansip as the others, it would be foolish to take her from that task before I must. Tomorrow night is soon enough, and I shall have had a full day’s more work out of her. Tomorrow you will instruct me in the rite of summoning that particular Rikti that will tell us about her blood.”

  Caderan bowed. “In truth, my lord, I will be glad to, but know that we must call upon the Rakshasa for such information. It will not be cheap.”

  “It never is,” I replied sharply. “Go now, and report to me tomorrow when you have finished your preparations.”

  He bowed and left. I sent one of my guards to make arrangements about the body with the surviving brother, then sat musing over a cup of lansip tea. It eased a little the pain that never left me, the price of the Farseer I had never used. Oh, Lords of the Seven Hells, I prayed, let her be my daughter, that this agony might end!

  Tomorrow night I would bring her to be bled. We would know soon enough thereafter.

  Lanen

  Ever I waited for Marik to accost me again that evening. It was almost worse when he did not. All I could think as I worked, was that he was waiting until I had done my share of Harvesting, that he might not lose by it. It seemed fairly petty, but I would not put pettiness beyond him.

  I went out gathering with a group immediately after poor Darin took his brother’s body away, just as the sun was starting to sink. I saw Rella and called to her, and we worked together for hours by lamplight, sorting lansip leaves from all others, making sure no twigs nor dirt went in with the leaves. We came back many hours later, stumbling and weary, and fed ourselves from the last of the late stew that had been kept warm over the tire. The full bags we all brought back from our forays were taken to the ship regularly, and by my rough reckoning there must by now have been hundreds of them.

  I ate gratefully in the tent with Rella, She was complaining in a general way of how sore her back was, to which I added my hearty assent, when she glanced up and said, “And how goes your search, my girl? About given up after that specimen they brought in today, have you?” I had forgotten that I had spoken to her of my true reason for coming here. “They didn’t talk much with him, I’d wager.”

  I hesitated. Wrap it in truth, Lanen, I reminded myself. “No, it didn’t look much like talk. But I haven’t given up. Marik said Perrin crossed the Boundary. I won’t.”

  “Best not, girl. If you come back looking like tha
t even I won’t have to do with you.”

  “And you, Rella,” I said, trying to make it seem natural. “What brought you here on this fool’s errand? You never said.”

  “Not a fool’s errand if it makes me filthy rich, is it?” she said with a grin. “I reckon it’s the same as everyone else, bar you. Though I notice you don’t hold back from gathering lansip, despite your words.”

  I laughed, though she worried me. I had made a particular effort to keep up with the others as best I could, so as not to stand out. “And why should I hold back my hand from riches when they are in my grasp?” I said, defiantly.

  “And there’s my answer to your question. Now either shut up or go away, dearie. I didn’t sleep this afternoon like you did and I’m shattered.”

  I lay back on my bedroll, resting while I gave Rella time to go to sleep. This was the second of our six brief nights, and the pattern continued of Harvesters coming and going at all hours, for which I was desperately thankful. It was just before midnight and all was still in the camp when I rose as I had the night before, pulled on boots and cloak and went out into the night.

  The moon was well up in the sky, full and bright, the night gloriously clear. I had not forgotten Perrin—or Marik—but for all my misgivings my heart was as light as a littling with nothing on her mind but wild flowers and a clear summer day; like a village maid new-struck with a lover and giddy with delight. I was living my dream at, last, and even the shadow of death could not keep me from joy. I could barely keep my feet on the ground, barely keep myself from laughing out loud.

  I sobered a little as I drew near the Boundary. I peered through the moon-washed trees but could not see him; I had opened my mouth to speak that name that lay gleaming on my heart, I had even said the first syllable, when a near-physical jolt struck me, dumb.

  All my lightness left me. I must not be stupid when I spoke with him.

  I had been about to speak his true name aloud, betraying the trust he had given me, without a thought. Thank the Lady I stopped in time.

  Should I resort to “large brother”? Or use a part of the narne? Or—

  Ah.

  I took a deep breath, concentrated, pictured in my mind’s eye that silver face close as a whisper to me, and murmured a whisper back in my mind. “My brother?”

  I could hear his pleasure as he replied. “Well met, little sister.”

  I knew where to look for him now, I could make out the fragments of his silhouette among the branches. As close as he had been to me last night, it had been terribly dark save for fitful gleams of moonlight through the clouds. This night, though, was beautifully clear and near as bright as day. The wind had slackened to a soft breeze, and the full moon looked down on our meeting place. He moved to meet me, and for the first time I saw him clearly in all his splendour.

  His face was terrifying, all sharp and hard, like shaped steel armour. There was a spiny ridge that started at the top of his head and ran down the length of his back (as best I could see) to the tip of his tail. His wings, vast and leathery, were folded against his back; his fangs were huge even from a distance, und showed sharp and cruel even when his mouth was closed.

  That was the frightening part.

  The rest of him took my breath away.

  He looked like the moon on moving water, the moon on the sea. His hide seemed to have a light of its own and it shimmered when he moved, glittering in the blue moonlight. As he came towards me his long sinuous body moved with a slow grace and the veiled promise of terrifying speed. His scales seemed to stop just under his jaw and at the top of his head, leaving his face one solid surface. It looked as though it had been hammered out of purest silver, and the darkness I had seen in his forehead last night showed itself a bright green gem like a vast, living emerald set in a silver lake. A great pair of curving horns swept gracefully up and back from his head, all in a piece with the rest of his face.

  I could not speak.

  “Little sister?” he said softly. “Does something trouble you?”

  I found myself breathing hard, near overcome. I wanted to run away, wanted to fall to my knees and worship this creature, and knew that both were wrong. I closed my eyes.

  And that deep sibilant voice, with a truer gift of music than Marik could ever hope for, whispered, “Little one, are you not well?”

  With my eyes closed at least I could speak.

  “I’m fine, my brother, I—forgive me, I’ve never truly seen you before. It was so dark last night…” I opened my eyes again. He wasn’t quite so overwhelming this time. “You are so beautiful.”

  He dipped his head on his long neck, and the Language of Truth sang in my mind, rahg in my heart, nearer than ever whisper might come.

  “You honour me, Lanen Kaelar.”

  I felt my heart fill like an empty cup, fill to overflowing, felt a wash like light sweep over me from top to toe until there was no room for darkness.

  I had heard my true name spoken by one I loved, however disparate our races, and I would have died content at that moment. I would have missed other, more wondrous things, but I knew even then that there is no greater joy.

  Kantri

  “Well met, I say again, Lanen. Is that how you would be called?”

  She smiled up at me, her eyes bright in the moonlight. “Yes, Lanen is what I’m called. How shall I name you?”

  “I am known as Akhor.” I returned her smile in the way of my people. (She did not flinch this time, though I learned later that the sight of my teeth was still frightening.) “And still you leak seawater. Do tears come so easily to you, Lanen?”

  She laughed. “No, not usually. Only since I met you, and then only for joy.”

  I bowed. “May all your tears be for joy then, sister Lanen. And have you thought on our words last night?”

  “I have thought of little else, Akor, all last night as I lay awake and all today,” she said. I noticed she could not truly pronounce my name, but from her “Akor” was meet. “Can you tell me something? You said that our meeting was forbidden. I think I know what you meant, but if your people have laws I don’t know about, please tell me.” She paused, but I did not speak yet. “I don’t want to cause trouble for you over our meeting. I didn’t know if it was an actual law or well, ever since I left my home I’ve talked to people about wanting to meet you—your people, I mean. And everyone I spoke to thought I was crazy, one accused me of wanting gold, one said you weren’t real—and I think the only one who actually believed me spent most of his time wondering how he might get a trade advantage.”

  I had to laugh—I had heard variations on those arguments from my own people for hundreds of years. She did draw back at that. When I asked, she wrinkled her head at me and asked if I was amused or angry.

  “I laughed. That is the word, is it not? Laugh?”

  “Laughing means you find something funny. Is that what you meant?”

  I hissed my amusement at her. “Yess, Lhanen. If you think, you do the same—I saw you, the day you arrived—but as you are not creatures of fire, there is no steam or flame to accompany the laughter.”

  “We’re a damn sight smaller, too, and don’t have near so many teeth,” she answered in what seemed a wry tone of voice.

  “To answer your question about the ban, littling, would require the telling of a long tale, and that must wait. Suffice it for now to say that my people have made it a law that we should not come too near friendship or trust with the Gedri, for in the past great evil befell my people and yours because of such trust.” I bowed. “Indeed, I have broken that law to speak with you even so much.”

  “But why?” she asked, genuinely puzzled. “How could I possibly hurt you? Your lightest thought could destroy me.” Then she shook me as she echoed what I had said to Shikrar. “Forgive me, my brother, I speak in ignorance, but could it be that your laws are too harsh in this?”

  “You speak with my words!” I stumbled over the words even as I spoke, so many thoughts were trying to come out
at once. “Where now are the insurmountable differences between us? It is true, I had to learn your language, but I understand your Attitudes without thought. I am not as certain of the changes that come over your face. I know they have meaning, and I suspect that they mesh with the Attitudes of your people; but taken all in all they are not so strange, and with a little time I will come to know them. We both laugh when we are amused, we shed flame—or tears—with great emotion, we watch out the night when there are great things to ponder … and we do not bear well under laws that are too strict. Surely, my soul to the Winds, there are no creatures in all the world so similar as we two, for all our differences.”

  And a deeper voice from behind me said quietly, “And it appears that the Gedri also are heedless in their encounters with other races.”

  Lanen

  I must have jumped back ten feet. I landed in a fighter’s crouch—bless Jamie!—for all the good it would do me here. They just stared at me, with what I hoped was curiosity. The newcomer had moved forward a little, and the moon was higher now. I could see them both very clearly indeed.

  It didn’t really help.

  The first thing I noticed was the other was considerably larger than Akor. His great fangs gleamed as he spoke, the vast wings tucked against his body rippled in the moonlight. His hide was much darker than Akor’s, but I could still see the gem in his forehead, above and between the eyes. Both gems caught the moonlight and sparkled, though I suspected that much of the sparkle came from within. (A fleeting thought struck me that if Marik ever saw those gems he would move mountains to get hold of them.) His horns, as he stood, framed the moon for a moment. It was frightening, but it was unutterably lovely.

  And to be truthful, I was fascinated. I had forgotten their wings when I saw Akor last night, and now I was terribly curious about them, and about the purpose of the gems. I would like to say I forgot to be afraid of the newcomer, but in truth I was proud of myself for simply not running. I had never imagined that something that big could be alive.