“Is this the wonder I saw in your mind, Akhor?” he asked. His speech was hard to understand, but I could tell what he was saying. “She is much smaller, and I do not see the radiance about her that you do.” He carne very close to me very quickly—if I had not been so frightened or determined not to move, I might have been more impressed by the speed at which he moved. As it was I stood there frozen, using all my strength to hold still.
When his head was only inches from mine he stopped. He seemed to be smelling me, which bothered me a great deal—it made him seem for a moment like a huge misshapen beast, a freak of nature, horrible. I could feel a scream welling up; those huge fangs needed only open and shut once. With that speed, I might never know I was dead.
Akor spoke and saved me. “Well, Shikrar, are you satisfied? You could smell Raksha-trace in her grandmother at that I range.”
I relaxed a little, began to breathe again. Shikrar drew back (for which I was intensely thankful), but he never took his eyes from me.
“Why do you stare at me?” he asked harshly. “I am not the soft fool you spoke to last night, and I will know the truth when I hear it.”
I tried for a second to think of something courteous to say, then realised that my idea of courtesy was unlikely to mean anything. The truth was bald, but I dared say nothing else.
“I was staring because it is much brighter out tonight—there are no clouds—and I can see you both so much better I than I could see Akor last night. And because you are even larger than he, and I do not know you, and I am frightened.”
Akor hissed with laughter. “Well answered, Lhanen!” he said. “There, my friend, was an answer worthy of any youngling. Are you still convinced that she opens the door for the Rakshasa?”
Shikrar snorted; a great puff of steam. “There is much yet to discover,” he said in a gravelly voice. “I do not believe the tale she told you. She is not a youngling, Akhor, no matter what you may think, and even for the Gedri she is no child. What brings you here, Gedri?” he growled at me. “What tale has brought you so far from your Kindred? Are you mad? Do you seek after gold? Or is it the thrill of near approach without violating our law, thus to flout death in its very teeth? I charge you now, tell me the truth of your call, or I shall dare my friend’s vengeance and break you where you stand, Boundary or no.”
I wasn’t afraid anymore, though I couldn’t tell you why. I suppose any sane person would have become witless with fear or started to stammer something like I had the night before. Though I say it myself, I did not so waste my time. Inspiration had struck and I knew in that moment it was the only answer.
“May I speak to you in the Language of Truth, that you may trust my words?” I asked.
Il worked. He was shocked out of anger into silence.
I could almost feel Akor’s smile.
“That was well done, Lanen. If you will be advised, collect yourself and concentrate on what you will say. That may help keep some of your underthought a little quieter.”
I did as he said, wondering what in the Seven Hells underthought might be, and waited for Shikrar’s reply to my offer.
He spoke instead to Akor. “What is this? Does she offer in truth, Akhor? How does this happen? The Gedri are deaf and mute to truespeech.”
Akor only looked at him; as far as I could tell. At any rate, Shikrar turned back to me, managing despite his vast immobile face to express both disbelief and curiosity. “Very well, child of the Gedri. You may bespeak me. I am called Shikrar.”
“And I am Lanen,” I said aloud. I thought then, as hard as I could, trying to concentrate on the words as Akor had said. “I tell you in all truth, Shikrar, that I have come here on the wings of my dreams, and for no other reason. I first heard of your people many years ago in a ballad, the Song of the Winged Ones, and I have longed to know you ever since.”
He seemed to hear a lot more than I said.
Akhor
I heard her, of course. Younglings have no discrimination, they cannot choose the target of their thoughts until they have practiced for some time. Even though Lanen seemed to have this ability as a natural gift, and to be developing at an amazing rate, still her thoughts were readily audible to anyone nearby. They were a little more focussed than before—she had managed to whisper her greeting to me without too much difficulty, but I heard her on several levels when she spoke to Shikrar, just as he did.
“I tell you in all truth, Shikrar, I wonder what his real name is Shikrar is too short ugly for Dragon name that I have come here still so new a blessing here at last on the wings of my dreams dear Lady those dreams that kept me alivevision of waking in a dark chamber, staring at the walls, great sorrow at finding herself there and for no other reason. at least not before now there is HIM I first heard of your people what do they call themselves I’d wager it isn’t Dragon I know it isn’t many years ago in a ballad, vision of many of the Gedri sitting around a fire, one singing, feeling of surprise and wonder the Song of the Winged Ones the song in the silence I heard their wings I know I did dear Lady I may yet live to hear them in truth great joy at being so near us, at being so near me and I have longed to know you ever since no thoughts under, but a wash of longing tempered only slightly by joy, as if that which longed did not yet recognise the fulfilment of its desire on my life I speak truth you must believe me.”
The last deep underthought I heard I furiously suppressed. She is drawn to me because I answered her call, nothing more, I told myself.
I concentrated on Hadreshikrar’s response.
He had obviously heard her, and heard what I heard in her underthought; but he either took it as I pretended to take it or he could not hear it—could not dare to hear it—any more than I could.
Bless his formal soul, he bowed to her. He always did that, bowed to a youngling who had bespoken him for the first time, no matter how scattered the truespeech had been. It was one of the traits I loved in him, and it lives warm in my memory to this day.
“Forgive me, littling. Lhanen. There is great reason for our people to distrust one another, but in all my life I have never heard of a Gedri who could use truespeech. And you are so new to it, unless your artifice is greater even than I could manage, I must admit that you speak truth.”
“My thanks, old friend,” I whispered in his mind.
“I do not say that all is resolved, Akhor, but I admit I am much impressed by hearing the Language of Truth from her. For now I see no danger of speech with her, if another is present,” he told me.
“Will you be that other?”
“For now. I shall withdraw some way, that you may have some privacy, but I shall hear all that is said. Will that satisfy you?”
“It will.”
Shikrar gazed at Lanen. “It is well, then. I greet you, child of the Gedri, in the name of my family and as Keeper of Souls. Welcome, Lhanen, to the home of the Greater Kindred.”
She sank on one knee, her empty hands open at her sides, her eyes fixed on him, her face joyful yet solemn. “I thank you, Shikrar, Keeper of Souls. If ever I may be of service to you or your family, you need only call upon me.”
Shikrar hissed his amusement. “If ever that day comes, littling, I shall do so indeed. Enjoy your time with young Akhor, and remember that even in the midst of joyous communion there is room for caution.” He turned and left quietly, withdrawing as he had said far enough at least for the semblance of privacy.
I smiled down at her. “Thar was well done, Lanen. You have been shown a great honour.”
She rose to her feet, brushing the dirt and leaves from her leggings. “I know it, and I thank you.” She gazed after Shikrar and said quietly, “He is a good one, Shikrar. He terrified me at first, but he thinks only of the danger to you and your people. I—” She stopped herself. “Akor, forgive me. There is so much I want to know, so much I want to ask, but I am afraid of overstepping the bounds.”
“Do not fear it, Lanen. If what you ask is a matter for deepest secrecy, I will not answe
r. Will that content you?”
“It will indeed.” She smiled broadly. “And now, who shall have the honour of the first question?”
“What is the custom in your country?” I asked, bemused.
She laughed. “That fits. You have asked first, and the honour usually goes to the oldest male. At least in Ilsa.”
“Why the male? Surely the eldest is the Eldest?”
She looked up at me and I could not tell what she meant to convey. “I agree with you, and so would most of my sisters, but in any event I suspect you are much older than I. How old are you?”
“How do you reckon age?”
She seemed taken aback by the question, then replied, “By the passing of the seasons, of course. Thirteen moons and the three days of Midwinter makes a year. I was born at the Autumn Balance-day, when light and darkness are equal. I have seen twenty four years, and with any luck I shall see sixty. What of you?”
“We reckon the days nearly the same, with a few variations—and our years are the same, certainly, since midwinter’s shortest day is a festival here as well. I am older than you by many hundreds of years.”
“Hundreds?”
“Our two Kindreds live very different lives.” I settled myself on the ground, content, the jerrinshadik silent at last. This way I was closer to her. I laid my head on my forearms so that I was just this side of the Boundary and said quietly, “I have seen a thousand and twelve Midwinters, Lanen, and if I live as long as my father I shall see at least eight hundred more.”
She was silent for a long time. “I can’t even imagine it,” she said finally. “What do you do with all that time? You have seen so much—dear Lady, when you were born there were still people in Ilsa who lived in grass shacks on the plains and worshipped horses! And you still have questions to ask?”
“Indeed,” I said. “And if you will allow me, I will pose one now. What does it mean when you bend yourself in half?”
“Bend in—oh: a bow!” She demonstrated. “Like this?” I nodded. “I never thought. It means—it is a way of showing agreement or respect.”
“I am familiar with the concept. So that is a bow. Fascinating. What did you think Shikrar did after you bespoke him?”
“That was a bow?” she asked, delighted. “You’ve saved me a question. What a strange thing to do, a bob of the head and the wave passing down the neck after it. But then I can’t imagine you bending in the middle!” After a moment’ s pause she added, “It was very kind of him.”
Lanen
Akor seemed to find that funny. I let him hiss his amusement and looked more closely at him. The moon illuminated his hide beautifully. It gleamed like polished silver, and in the cool blue light it struck me again that he looked like the moon on the sea turned solid and come to life, shimmering and changing as he moved gleaming through the darkness.
I shook myself back to the moment. I decided that if I ever wanted to find out anything important I might as well try now. “Akor, Shikrar spoke of caution, and I don’t think he meant only me. Did he?”
“No, he did not refer only to you. We must both be cautious.”
“But why?” I asked again. I felt like a child, asking such questions; but I knew that I would never have another chance. “Is there time now for that tale? I cannot imagine a reason for your law. You are ancient and powerful beyond imagination. What in all the world is there for you to be afraid of?”
He lifted his head from where it had been resting, very companionably, on his forelegs near the Boundary. He tilted it a little, as if he listened to something, but whatever it was seemed to satisfy him. “Have you never heard of the Lesser Kindred? They live in the north, in the Trollingwood.”
“No,” I replied, feeling like the merest idiot. I felt I should know, of course, everyone knows about the Lesser Kindred and why Dragons are afraid of people, why didn’t I? It was the first time, I think, that I felt the enchantment that I had heard of in the ballads. Those who speak too long with Dragons come to believe everything they are told…
“This may be difficult for you to hear, little one. It is a tale full of darkness.”
“I still want to know.”
“Very well. I have then a request to make. May I bespeak you? It grows tiresome winding my tongue around the sounds of your language, and I fear I do not have all the words for this that I shall need.”
I nodded. “You are most welcome to bespeak me, Akor.”
This is the tale he told.
Akhor
THE TALE OF THE LOST SOULS, OR
THE DEMONLORD OF THE GEDRISHAKRIM
“When the world was younger and the last of the Trelli but lately departed, our two peoples lived in harmony. The wooden huts of the Gedri circled the caves of the Kantri teachers without fear, and the Kantri taught the Gedri children with great patience and much joy.
“This is the true way of life for both peoples, as I understand it. The Kantri need the quick-living Gedri to remind them that all life passes, that there is a need to live life in the moment rather than ignoring the present as it rolls over them. The Gedri need the ancient Kantri to remind them that their concerns, though pressing, are but a part of life in its vast patterns. In that time, both peoples found in each other a constant source of delight in other minds and other ways of thought.
“So they lived and so they worked, and through many lives they throve together. The huts became houses, farms, smithies. Soon beyond the circle of structures there blossomed fields of grain, and pastureland to feed the cattle that fed both peoples. Beyond that, orchards, graves and gardens. It was not the first time the two had lived in peace, but it was the best. There was plenty, and harmony, and peace.
“At this time the Healers first arose among the Gedrishakrirn. It happened that some, those who spent much time with the Kantri and learned about truespeech, began to discover their own gifts in the realms of the will and the mind. In time they found they could heal small wounds; then there came those who could knit badly torn flesh quickly; and once in a generation there would arise one who could join broken bones in minutes. They were deeply honoured, and their services were a blessing to the Gedrishakrim and a wonder to the Kantri, for my people have never had the gift of healing. It was a new gift altogether, and a very great one.
“At the time when Lishakisaan of the Kantri passed to the Winds, the greatest Healer of that time came to see the remains before they were consumed (for our inner tire; released from our control at death, destroys our bodies from within in a very short lime). Some years later a youngling of the Kantri was wounded near to death in a tight, and this Healer drew in her will and sent it forth in, a blue glow to surround the wounded littling. The youngling was healed in a moment, but in that instant all the Healer’s strength left her and her gift never returned. However, she passed her knowledge on to her daughter, who was also a Healer, and from that time some few of the Gedri were able to assist the Kantri when they were in pain, without losing their power in the process.
“It is perhaps not surprising that from this great good came great evil. The balance of all things will not be denied. It was a Healer who turned to the Rakshasa and so to the sundering of the peoples.
“He was a son of that line, the kin of the first Healer of the Kantri. He lived in the south of the Trollingwood at the edge of a settlement. As a child he was content enough, willing to work, listening to the Kantri teachers with a single-mindedness unusual in one so young. When he reached the first stirrings of manhood he demanded to be tested, for Healers were discovered in youth that their training might begin at once.
“His power was shown to be that of the lowest of Healers, able to cure small wounds, help in a small way. Even that little was more than most were given, but for him it was never enough. From the moment he discovered that only the smallest portion of power was his, he sought to increase it, convinced that he was born to surpass his revered ancestor. He began by wanting to learn more from the Kantri, working hard for many years and ask
ing penetrating questions, but he learned at last that there is no way to gain more power than the Winds have given.
“It was his ending and his dark beginning. He left the settlement and burned his home behind him. The fire spread to several other dwellings and one young girl was killed; thus his first death was accomplished without thought or concern. It became the pattern of his numbered days.
“No one knows how he discovered a way to treat with the Rakshasa. Did his curses simply fall on receptive ears, or did he stand in seven circles and call some dark name, or make some offer that degraded race could not deny? It is a moot point. The Rakshasa have always known the needs and the frailties of the Gedrishakrim, and they nurse ever their hatred of my people. It is enough to know that he summoned them, and the world is the worse for it.
“He is called only the Demonlord. His name is not remembered. He traded it, before the end, to one of the Lords of Hell for a great power in this world, and when it went to that Lord it took all memory of itself from those who had known it. He surrounded himself with the lesser race of the Rakshi, the Rikti or minor demons. Thus, with no name to give power to another, and a defense that seemed to him impenetrable, he was free to work his will.
“It is difficult for rational beings to understand what moved the Demonlord. Did he seek the domination of Kolmar? Of the entire world? Or perhaps it was an integral part of that small, mad soul to require all power once he had even a taste of it.
“He went first, disguised, to others of the Gedri, in a place where there were none of my people. He demanded that they worship him as their king, showing them but a portion of his power. When they denied him he grew wrathful and stood before them in his new person. The Rikti that surrounded him became visible to natural sight, and the only survivor of that place described a luminous glow about him, of the hue common to Healers but scored with broken black lines like a mad spider’s web. The teller of the tale admitted that he ran terrified from that sight alone. Looking over his shoulder he saw that black-shot blue coyer the villagers, and he heard them scream as from a great distance. When he returned with others of the Two Peoples, they found nothing but dark steaming stains on the ground stinking of the Rakshasa.
[Lanen Kaelar 01] - Song in the Silence Page 16