[Lanen Kaelar 01] - Song in the Silence

by Elizabeth Kerner

That pulled me up short, for it was then I realised that I did not seriously intend to leave.

  Akhor

  I watched her walk away. I could almost see the joy in her step. Truly there was a universal nature to the Attitudes. If she had been a youngling of my Kindred I would have expected her to take off into the night sky, singing.

  “That was well done, Akhor,’” said Shikrar from the darkness.

  “No, my friend, it was not,” I replied. “I wished to speak with her for some time yet. Why did you demand that I cut short our speech?”

  “You were losing your perspective, Akhor. She is an engaging creature, surely, and for all I can tell she is as free of Raksha-trace as you or I. But that cannot be said for all her people who are here. Surely you have smelled it?”

  “Many of them are tainted, yes, and their leader worst of all: I have never smelt a shipload of these merchants that did not have its share of the Raksha-touched. Yet now that you have heard Lanen’s truespeech, can you honestly believe that she would have dealings with them?”

  Shikrar sighed. “Akhor; my friend, your innocence in these matters concerns me. Surely you know they use force on one another? What is to stop one of the tainted ones from holding a blade at her heart and demanding that she tell all she has learned?”

  I did not answer. Truth to tell, I had forgot for the moment how debased the creatures could be, for in her I knew only good. However, I kept my thought to myself when Shikrar asked his question, for the answer in my heart was simply “I am.” It did not require thought on my part, it was as natural a response as breathing. I was certain that if Lanen found herself in danger she would bespeak me, and no boundary existed that I would not break to save her.

  And still I did not realise. I think Shikrar did, at least in a vague way. He bade me call a full Council to inform the Kindred of my meetings and ask their permission for one more. I agreed, left him as Guardian and walked slowly back to my chambers.

  The long autumn night was nearly over; false dawn lit the sky, the leafless trees casting intricate shadows against the light. Their complexity gave me obscure comfort, as though the existence of something so simple yet wondrous as a naked tree against the sky meant that there was in truth an underlying pattern to all things. I hoped against hope that my people would be able to hear my words, that some others who knew the burden of the ferrinshadik would listen to me.

  And my heart was large with the thought of being Lanen’s protector and advocate. I was still unaware of the depth of what I felt for her, or that what I was truly feeling was love—but I had never known love before.

  I have no other excuse.

  X

  TWILIGHT

  Lanen

  I arrived back in the camp, being careful to disguise the direction I had come from, just as false dawn began to lighten the sky. Many were stirring but none seemed to notice me. Even Marik, who appeared to be madly busy, spared me little more, than a glance. In passing, though, I heard a few words dropped about “fruit,” and suddenly the frantic activity made sense.

  We had been told several times on the voyage out that finding a late-fruiting tree was like finding your own private fortune buried beneath a stump. The fruits were large and their weight in silver was considerable, but it was a mere fraction of their worth. Lan fruits can restore lost years, or lost health, to any creature still or live, and when the Harvest ships had been used to return from the Dragon Isle every ten years, any fruits that might be found were purchased long ere the ship left the harbour.

  From what I overheard that morning, there were rumours that someone had found a sheltered holt where the fruit hung still on the boughs. All the Harvesters rushed where rumour led as soon as they heard it, and several fights broke out even before they left the camp. I could imagine what would be happening at the grove and decided I was not interested in forcing my way in among the crowds. I had to keep gathering leaves for now, lest Marik take note, but I did not seek vast wealth.

  I may not have needed silver, but I did need sleep. I decided to stay at the camp and rest a few hours, though I did take breakfast with those who stopped long enough to eat. By that time I was ravenous, and the warmth of chélan was most welcome. It smelled better than usual as I filled a mug and drained half of it in one draught. I was not prepared for the taste.

  You must realise that I have had no experience with what some call the finer things of life. I grew up on a farm. Our lives tended to be strong rather than beautiful, and fairly simple (to the point of boredom, I often felt).

  Someone had crumbled a few leaves of lansip into the chélan, which had been transformed from a warm spicy drink that got sluggish blood moving in the morning into a draught straight from the Lady’s cup. Surely the gods did not have finer drink than this. I instantly shook off my weariness, fell the warm glow of lansip spread like friendly fire through my body. I felt more alert, more alive; and where my memories of the night just past had begun to blur with the need for sleep, they now sprang sharp before me.

  I realised that I would have to find some time to sleep that I might be awake and aware this evening, for it might be the last chance I had to speak with Akor. If his people decided he should not speak with me, I believed that he would obey their wishes in future. This night could well be the last.

  I also lost my reluctance to join the crowd, and hurried off to where the fruit had been found, carrying my sacks. It would all be gone by the time I got there, I suspected, but the long walk would give me time to think.

  I found, not surprisingly, that I felt physical pain at the thought of never seeing Akor again. For all our differences, I saw behind that silver mask a mind much like my own, thoughts that mirrored mine in a way no other’s ever had. Even Jamie had not had my dream of seeing the Two Peoples living in peace—and now that I knew it had once been true, it might be done again. I found myself daydreaming about that time as I walked, wondering, wishing that I could somehow bring its spirit back into the world.

  The first step must be to undo the wrong that had separated us—to restore the Lesser Kindred. But how, after so many centuries of failure by their own people? I could see no answer, nor could I stop looking for one. I could all but see the soulgems of the Lost lying in some dark cavern, flickering unheeded through their long night; and imagination filled my heart with the agony of the two hundred souls trapped there, living every moment a weariness, waiting in patience, fear, finally in desperation for their kin to release them once more into life.

  And even if that were somehow done, how to unite two peoples with such a history behind them?

  It seemed impossible. It must be impossible.

  I spent every waking moment that morning, as I gathered leaves (the fruits were indeed all taken before I arrived), filled my sacks, carried them the long walk back to camp, wondering how Akor and I might make it happen.

  Time was against me, against us. After our meeting at sunset I would have no way of knowing if I would ever see him again. I would have to speak to him of this, of restoring the Lesser Kindred, that very night, hoping he would listen rather than grow angry. I was not sure I was yet ready to risk a Dragon’s anger, but I could not stop thinking of it. Of course I had grave doubts as to the wisdom of what I was considering, but that could not be helped, and in any case was not a new sensation. My head was dancing with what I had learned (and with lansip), my heart was full of Dragons, and I did not want even to think of having to leave them so soon.

  No. Truth, Lanen. Say what you really mean.

  I did not want to think of leaving Kordeshkistriakor.

  Marik

  “Berys, we have found lan fruit!”

  “Excellent. It shall be as my prophet foretold, we shall be wealthy beyond the reach of imagination. It is good. And what of the girl?”

  “She will be taken this evening, and blood drawn. Caderan and I have prepared the rite.”

  “May we both prosper in all things. Farewell.”

  Akhor

&n
bsp; I had just deceived my oldest friend. I had no intention of telling him or anyone else about meeting with her at dusk. I meant it to be a gift to Lanen, and to myself; a few moments of communion between we who for thousands of years had been apart.

  I desired to have only the two of us there, as on the night of our first meeting. There was also some obscure part of me that wanted, no, needed to see her in the light of day, and for her to see me.

  I could not understand why I felt so pleased. Deception should have lain heavy on me, should have interfered with my very movements. I walked back to my chambers with great difficulty, it is true, but that was only because I did not dare to take to the air so close to the camp of the Gedri. The Kindred had long ago decided to remain largely a veiled mystery to the Gedri who came to gather dead leaves and in their stead provide live cattle, in case their foolishness ever extended beyond those few suicides who stepped over the Boundary. If they did not know our strength, they could not know what they would need to counter it.

  I longed to fly, to sing my joy to the Winds, to take her name above the earth and give it to the sky. As I walked, I indulged my fancy and let my mind take flight. I watched myself fly straight up until my wings grew weary and the air too thin, then dive down with wings close folded and the wind screaming past, pulling up just before I met the ground, into a great loop, into flight for the sheer joy of it.

  And in this vision I looked into the sunrise and saw another, a lady of my Kindred but with Lanen’s heart and voice. We flew together in delight, without thought, making pattern as we flew, singing to the dawn, singing to each other a new song that only we two…

  I opened my eyes with a start. My blood pounded in my veins, with fear and with other things.

  I had finally realised what I was doing.

  When two of the Kindred decide to mate, they announce their bond with the Flight of the Devoted. It is long, intricate and unashamedly sensual. They create their own patterns of flight; some are based on their families’ pattern, some on their own individual style, and something new is added, something that has not been before. Flying separately they fly as one, and at the end of the flight leave all those who have gathered to watch and wish them well. There are places far away from any chambers where they may join in privacy, with only the sounds of sea or forest to keep them company.

  I had never chosen a mate, as Shikrar often reminded me. The Lady Idai had long made it known that she would welcome my interest—and by rights I should have welcomed her, she was wise beyond common knowing and devoted to me—but I had told her on several occasions that I had no desire for any lady of the Kindred yet alive. I had reconciled myself to mating late in life or not at all. I began to tremble, standing there on the path to my chambers, as I realised that I had well begun the Flight of the Devoted in my mind, ready to consecrate myself to one lady and to join with her for life.

  And the lady was Lanen Kaelar of the Gedrishakrim. Somehow I made my way back to my chambers. I was horrified and elated at the same time. I had sometimes feared I had no capacity for the love of a mate, yet here it was in all its wonder—but oh, my soul to the Winds, for a child of the Gedri!

  Or had I allowed myself that licence in fantasy because there was no possibility of such a joining ever taking place? Of all the unattainable females, Akhorishaan, I said to myself, laughing aloud. Yet the vision of her as one of my Kindred would not leave me, and gave me a pleasure and a lifting of the soul I had never known. I felt like a youngling myself, despite my many years of life, and decided there and then to simply enjoy the sensation. It was wonderful. And since there was no possibility of such a thing ever coming to pass, I might as well enjoy the feeling while it lasted. Soon she would be gone, my life would return to its quiet ways and I would have but the memory of these times to hold close all my days.

  I drew a deep breath. I had to call the Council, as Shikrar had requested. I must summon my people to meet on the morrow at the Great Hall, not far from the Boundary.

  I stood in Receiving and began the Discipline of Calm, but soon gave up the effort. How could I call the Council to decide on whether to allow my meetings with Lanen when her very name still sang in all my thoughts?

  It would have to wait for a few hours. In the meantime, I allowed my fancy to run free; let her words and her thoughts find their homes in my heart. I knew that after a short while we had spoken for only a few hours—they would all be settled, and I could trust myself to speak to my people.

  Eventually.

  Lanen

  When the lansip wore off I barely had the strength to drag myself back to the camp with my sacks and go to bed. I slept like a dead thing some hours past noon. The sun, white and insistent at that hour despite the lateness of the year, roused me at last. I woke from a dream of a great light in a forest and with a memory of a song I had not heard before. The sunlight warmed me, I was well rested, and my first and only thoughts were of the meeting to come.

  I could not sit still while my thoughts chased themselves in circles, and found myself deeply grateful for the unpredictable hours we Harvesters kept. There were a few souls stirring, some around the cookpot, some heading for sleep after a night and morning of gathering, some groggily arising to drink chélan. None paid heed to me or my movements, and Marik I had not seen at all.

  I wrapped my cloak close about me and headed towards the sea. The cold of the night was gone and the day blessedly mild, nearly warm in the sun even as a breeze blew in over the water. I threw back my cloak and reveled in it, for if it stayed clear l feared I was in for a bitter cold night.

  I tried, truly, to look around and enjoy simply being on the island that had drawn me for so many years. The sea was like a living thing dancing with the sunlight on it; there were gulls laughing in the air, the wind tasted of salt freshness; but the living face of Akor rose before me, seen only in moonlight yet sharp and present wherever I looked. I could not think why I was reacting so. Yes, he was the first Dragon I had seen surely reason enough to be impressed but should I not be remembering his words rather than his eyes? Not that I could well ignore his appearance, but there was another edge to what I was feeling. I couldn’t place it, but it was definitely familiar.

  Artur.

  I stopped short. Artur from Bearsstead, in the Méar Hills above my old home? Why in the name of the Lady had I thought of him? He had been my childhood sweetheart. True, I had longed for him, wept when he wed another—but that was years ago, and what did it have to do with Akor?

  You loved him.

  Yes, as a child loves. Yes, I loved him.

  And for days after his wedding, you saw his face on every farmhand at Hadronsstead.

  Yes, but—oh. Oh! No, no, it couldn’t—I—oh dear Lady, no, I can’t be!

  Really?

  Give me this much, at least I laughed. In love with a Dragon? Surely not even I could be so stupid! I was no child to be infatuated with a creature so vastly different. I could never—

  “We are not so very different, you and I,” he said. If he were a man you would love him, wouldn’t you?

  The thought was immensely appealing. I tried to picture him as a man, and almost without effort he rose before my mind’s eye like a portrait already completed. There he stood, lithe, handsome, with silver hair and green eyes full as deep as the sea, beautiful face incredibly smiling and long-fingered hands that took mine and drew me towards him—

  Then the huge form I had seen in the night appeared again, soulgem glinting in hammered, horned silver face, voice like a song and thought like love itself speaking its name.

  Kordeshkistriakor.

  Very well. (Oh sweet Mother Shia, help!) Very well, I love him. There, I’ve said it, I love him whatever his form, an the heavens help me. And what in the Lady’s name should I do about it?

  The voice from within had no answer to that.

  I stood there thinking—even laughing to myself, I am glad to say. I could not take myself seriously. I quite enjoyed the idea of him
as a man; but I was still entranced by his true Dragon form for its own sake.

  The Lady only knows what I would have thought about had I let my mind wander on, but I soon had more to think about than my love for a creature a thousand years old and the size of Hadron’s farmhouse.

  I had stopped just past a bend on the path some time back, in the midst of my mad thoughts; now as I stood I heard voices. I did not wish to see anyone in my present mood, so I stepped into the shelter of a thick, low-growing stand of fir trees. They were just the colour of my cloak. In the shadows, with my dark leggings and my hood over my face and hair, I was nearly invisible.

  Just as well. The voices had come closer, and one of them was Marik’s.

  I hoped they would simply pass by and let me return to the camp, but instead they stopped just the other side of the bend in the path. I could hear them clearly.

  “It goes well, Master, does it not?” said the other voice. It was high and nasal and extremely unpleasant, and I recognised it at once. It. was Caderan, the weaselly creature that danced attendance on Marik. I had no idea why he had come on the voyage, and as long as I could avoid him I didn’t care. “Fruiting trees on your first voyage; It will be a triumph! And you will soon be uncomfortably wealthy.”

  “I look forward to such discomfort,” said Marik lightly. The beauty of his voice was even more marked in contrast to Caderan’s. “May I be thus burdened as long as I live! I trust you have worked well this day.”

  “Indeed, my lord. I have prepared the salve you requested as protection, and the rite is prepared for sunset this very day. But I must tell you, my lord, that what you plan with the articles Magister Berys prepared for you is not possible.”

  “What do you mean, not possible?” Marik ·snapped.

  “My lord, I am doing what I can—but you ask much, and all takes time.” He lowered his voice, but I could still make out his words. “The summoning of demons is a delicate art, my lord. It cannot be rushed, and what you demand is far beyond the ordinary. I am no Magister of the Sixth Circle.”