“I am called Varien, Lady,” I said.
“Varien,” she repeated softly. “It’s a good name. And you can call me Maran, lad,” she said, grinning. “I’m a blacksmith, not a lady. Goddess, what a voice you have on you.” She stared at me, frowning, her gaze suddenly gone quite serious and her voice very low. “And you—I must know. Unless I’m mad, or unless that damned thing deceived me, you’re no man. You’re a dragon; transformed, somehow, but a dragon—that great silver one who watched over Lanen out on the Dragon Isle.”
“What!” I cried, taken aback.
“Don’t waste time being coy, man! Is it true?”
“You are neither mad nor deceived. I am both dragon and human,” I answered. Not for the first time, I wished that my mind might be more under my control when faced with the unexpected. The Kantri are seldom surprised. The Gedri, it seemed, were seldom otherwise.
She paled. “Bloody hellsfire. Then it’s true. A transformation of kind. It’s started.” She grasped me by my shoulders. “Do you have any idea how this was done, or who did it? How you were transformed?”
In my astonishment I answered without thinking. “I have no idea. Lanen and I thought it was—all we could imagine was that it was the Winds and the Lady.”
“Oh, save us all,” she said, sounding much like Jamie in a bad mood. “It probably was exactly that. Now all we have to do is find out who or what on the other side has undergone the same transformation.” She began cursing under her breath and strode off towards the inn, leaving me a moment or two for thought.
That this woman was Lanen’s mother I never doubted for an instant, though how Lanen could have grown so similar to one she had never known was a wonder. The same headlong rush into action without thought of the cost to herself, or indeed to anyone else; the same wildly focussed intensity and determination about her. And the Winds bear me up, the same eyes in a face so achingly familiar.
I stopped and blinked.
If she knew I had begun my life as one of the Kantri, what else might she have learned?
I ran after her. I was better at running these days. Time was, if I were lagging behind, I would have fallen by instinct onto my “forefeet” that I might fly to catch up. My hands and knees had not been that badly scraped for some months now. I was still far, far too slow to suit myself, but at least I remained upright. Will trotted easily beside me, tray in one hand, mugs in the other.
Vilkas and Aral awaited us outside, Rella beside them. Aral watched Maran suspiciously, and I could not blame her—whatever else might be said of her, she still reeked of the Rakshasa. As we approached I noted that Aral had begun to summon her power, just in case. Vilkas, however, simply stared.
As well he might. For the moment she was near enough, she took his right hand in hers and went down on one knee before him, bringing his hand to her lips. She might have been a great queen kneeling to honour a subject who had served her well, for there was nothing of servility about her, kneeling there in the twilight before him.
“I beg you to accept a mother’s blessing for saving the life of her daughter,” she said.
“Lady, arise, I pray you,” said Vilkas gruffly. I tried hard not to smile. Vilkas was, after all, a very young man. “I did what was required. I only wish I had been able to keep your daughter from the clutches of that bastard Berys.” Between his clenched teeth, he added, “We don’t even know where she is.”
Maran rose and grinned, and for a moment I saw her as one of the Kantri—for this was not delight. This was baring her teeth, and woe betide him who was its object.
“Ah. There I can help you. Did anyone think to bring my pack?”
Rella
“As ever, Maran, I have looked after you,” I said, pretending weariness. We grinned at each other as I handed over her pack. I’d begged a double handspan of thick leather and sewn it, with double stitches, over the gaping burn hole, so that it was as good as before.
We had been friends for nearly twenty years. I knew she would have done the same for me, twice over. It still hurt. Like it or not, Jamie stood between us now like a burning brand. It appeared that we were both going to ignore that particular raging fire until we were forced to deal with it.
She grinned, looking over the patch. “You do fine work. I never knew you were so good with a needle.” She drew out the Farseer once more, and I saw her flinch when she touched it Time she found a Servant of the Lady and got herself shriven. I thought. She’s getting twitchy.
“This is the Farseer that Marik and Berys created ere Lanen was born,” she said, handling it as though it burned her fingers. “I have used it for years, but when Lanen left Hadronsstead, I—well, you may assume that I have a rough idea of what has taken place.”
Varien stood beside me, and I could practically hear his heart pounding. “Do you know where Lanen is now?”
She turned to him, her eyes bleak. “I’m not certain, but I know she’s in Berys’s power. Where he is, there we will find her.”
“Can you not see where Berys is, that we may be certain where to look for her?” asked Vilkas.
“He’s wherever he has been living these ten years past,” said Maran shortly. “I’ve never seen the place in person, I don’t recognise it to give it a name. It’s a stone building with a large walled and cobbled courtyard closed by two wooden doors. There’s a guard on the doors, there are usually lots of people around—”
“It’s Verfaren right enough,” said Aral flatly. “It’s just over three leagues distant from here.”
“Then in the Name of the Winds and the Lady,” Varien cried, “let us be gone to Verfaren!”
“Patience, Master Varien, it isn’t that simple,” I said, hating to have to quench his resolve. “For one thing, these three”—I pointed to Will, Aral, and Vilkas—“are accused of murder in Verfaren, and I’d rather not have to fight off King Sulis of Elimar’s Patrols unless and until I’m forced to. For another thing, you must remember that whatever we may know about him, to the rest of the world Master Berys is still the head of the College of Mages, very highly respected and virtually untouchable. The College more or less owns the town. In effect we’d be storming all of Verfaren, and we don’t really have enough troops for that.”
Varien
I could not restrain the wild frustration that was sweeping through me. “Even a few of the Kantri could easily overwhelm a Gedri town,” I said urgently.
“Master Varien, I hear what your heart is saying, but Rella’s right, it’s a bad idea,” said Will, unexpectedly. His voice was, to my ear, maddeningly calm. “I know you’d risk anything for your lady: but I had a chat with young Kédra earlier, and I don’t think you want your people’s first act in their new home to be one of violence.”
“And don’t forget that Jamie is there now,” said Rella. “He’ll not be sitting on his hands.” She looked up. “Come, we’re all here now. Let us go in and talk over food. We won’t get Lanen back any the faster for starving to death.”
“How can you think of food?” I cried. “Lanen—”
“Varien, you’re human now, and you were rather busy earlier,” she said sharply. “That body needs food. You’re pale as midwinter snow. Eat before you faint.” She grasped my arm and towed me into the inn.
I wanted to object, but she was right. I was ravenous. The first course that Will had brought us had barely taken the edge off my hunger, and it seemed that the others felt the same. Rella had ordered a good spread and for once we’ all ate our fill: there was a cold roast ham, the rest of the hot roast beef with a thick gravy, carrot and parsnip, fresh bread and dripping from the roast, and roasted apples and honeycakes. The beer was nut-brown and cold.
When I had eaten my fill I stood up. The fire was warm and the excellent food tempted me to stay longer than I must, but ever I thought of Lanen. Truth be told, I could think of nothing apart from a burning need to rush in and rescue Lanen as swiftly as I might. Alas, I had not the power of my old form, or I could have flown
in and—
“And what?” interrupted the neglected part of my mind that was the voice of reason. “Slaughter innocents who got between me and Berys? Destroy buildings looking for her? Make the Kantri appear as monsters to be dreaded? Where is the wisdom in that? No. Wait. Think. Remember the Lost, five kells ago. If they had stopped to plan, they might not have been so devastated by the Demonlord”
“Varien,” said a gruff voice. Maran had come to sit beside me. She was smiling. “Just so you’re in no doubt, that was my daughter you married at midwinter, young—well, young as a man you certainly are.” She turned away suddenly, avoiding my glance. “She looked—she was absolutely beautiful, wasn’t she?”
It took a moment before I could trust myself to speak. “I had never imagined that such a creature as Lanen could exist,” I said quietly, just for her ears. “Such beauty of soul, such strength of heart and limb, and a glorious fearlessness that I am learning is rare in any race. Yes, she is also beautiful, but compared to the truth of her soul, I think her beauty is not important.” Maran still looked away. “She is a wonder, your daughter Lanen,” I said.
Maran did not answer straightaway, but when she did, she managed to look into my eyes. “I’m glad you know it, Varien. She is indeed.” She looked away again, and spoke as quietly as I had. “And in case you wanted to know, I wish with all my soul that I had never left her. I have wished that every day and every night since I went away I thought … my soul to the Lady, Varien, I thought I was saving her life by drawing danger to myself.”
“I hear the truth in your words, Lady Maran,” I said softly. “But I am not the one you need to speak them to.”
To my surprise she looked back at me and smiled wryly. “I know. I thought I’d try a practice run before it’s time for the real thing.”
Suddenly I liked her, this woman so like my beloved in spirit and in form. I drew her to me and kissed her cheek. “Do not fear it, daughter. She has a large heart. It will take time, as it will take the Restored time to adjust to a world forever changed. Trust her. I know she takes pride in you, for she calls herself Lanen Maransdatter.”
“Does she now?” she said, her eyes strangely vulnerable, a little half smile passing across her lips. “Well, well. There’s hope in that, certain sure.”
I was about to respond when I had the strangest feeling in my gut. I wondered briefly if I had eaten too much too quickly, but it was not that kind of feeling—more an urgency. It pulled me to my feet. I had gathered my cloak and my pack and was nearly to the door before I had a coherent thought.
“Whither away, Master Varien?” called Rella.
“I can wait no longer,” I said, desperate to be gone. “I have played my part; I have welcomed the Kantri, I have helped to restore the Lost. What is there now to keep me here, when Lanen is so near?” None spoke. “I go to Verfaren,” I said. “Let any who wish to join me follow after.”
I strode out into the dark night, down the road to the south, where my dearest love was held by one who wished her nothing but ill.
Jamie
I did not waste those two days of early spring walking down from the Súlkith Hills. I spoke at great length with Willem of Rowanbeck, who had lived and worked at the College of Mages for many years. I teased from his memory every corridor of the place, every room, every turn, every scrap of information I could glean, like a greedy harvester picking through the chaff lest a single grain of wheat be lost. When he could recall no more I turned to the young Healers, Vilkas and Aral. They reinforced the map I had built in my head and added a few details that might serve me. Serve Lanen.
It kept my mind off the ache in my knees, and the chill in my bones, and the deep winter in my heart.
For all I knew, the exercise might have been in vain, for we knew not where Berys held her captive; but if there was the slightest chance that I might need to know how to move through that place this was my best chance to learn.
And it kept me from running mad with inaction as we hurried to the plain to meet the other dragons.
I did not wait. I saw them arrive from a distance: aye, I was there when the dragons came. A part of me knew I was watching the world change, and in truth it was a goodly sight, but I could not feel it as Varien and the others did.
I could hardly feel anything.
I swiftly bade farewell to my comrades and took the fittest of our horses, all of whom were complaining.
Rella took my arm as I made to mount. “You insist on this still, do you?” Her voice was calm, but her eyes were troubled in the bright morning.
“I will not stay while there is the smallest chance I can find her,” I replied. My own voice surprised me. When had it gone so cold?
“Then keep to our plan. We will meet outside the gates of the College at the morrow’s dawn.”
“Or I will leave word with your friend—Hygel, was it? Your contact at that inn?”
She managed a small smile. “The Brewer’s Arms. Try the baker’s stall at the mercat square if you get there early and can’t find him, he’ll be the one buying bread by the basket load. Otherwise, take your midday meal at The Brewer’s Arms, but mind you look sharp or you’ll miss him. He’s very, very good at not being noticed.” She frowned then and gripped my arm tight. “Mind you do the same. Berys is a bastard, but he’s no fool. Don’t make us have to rescue you.”
One tiny corner of my mouth lifted, almost against my will. “I may be getting a little old, Rella my dear, but I’m not so far gone yet.” I laid my hand on her cheek for a moment, then mounted my poor horse despite its objections. “If you can manage it, why don’t you bring a dragon or two when you come, eh?”
Her brows lifted. “What a fine idea. Only two?”
“I shouldn’t think any more would fit,” I said. I tried, I did, to lighten my voice, to respond to her, but there was no lightness in me. “Be well, heart,” I said, and turning away from the gleaming dragons in that great field, headed southward.
Towards Verfaren.
I sat back in my chair, glancing around me, taking a deep draught of chélan. I could feel it hit as I swallowed, feel the borrowed wakefulness shiver through me. Goddess knows I needed it. We had all of us walked all day and as far into night as a safe descent would allow, sleeping as little as we could, on the way down from the hills.
The early afternoon sun fought its way through the small windows of the pub. Rella had told me the unlikely one to go to, where the members of the Silent Service met to exchange information—“Though you’d never know it,” she had warned me. “It’s a quiet place, and Hygel himself will be the one your eye passes over most easily.”
I hadn’t asked miracles of my poor weary horse, I’d ridden as gently as I could, but Verfaren was a good ten miles from the field where the dragons had landed and I had need of speed. The creature was too tired even to complain when we had finally reached the gates of the town at midday. I’d found The Brewer’s Arms without difficulty and the stabling was good enough to satisfy me. I left the bay covered in a decent stall, with a good warm mash and a promise of rest.
Lucky creature. I couldn’t see any rest for myself.
I’d not been in the common room long ere I began to see what Rella meant. The conversations around me were held in normal voices, and the speakers might as well have been discussing the weather. I tried to concentrate on one pair near me, but when I finally managed to distinguish their speech from the others, it made no sense at all.
So, the Silent Service had its own cant. I should have known.
The landlord came up and refilled my mug, then made to turn away.
“Hygel?” I asked quietly.
He glanced down at me, disinterested. “Hygel’s not here.”
“Shame. I’ve news for him.”
One corner of the man’s mouth turned up. “You and all the world. You tell me, then, and I’ll pass it on when he gets back.”
“Sorry, friend, can’t do that. Rella would skin me.”
“
Rella, is it? I know a Rella. Tall lass, red hair, sassy walk.”
I wondered if I really looked that much of an idiot. “Hells mend you for a liar, friend,” I said, gulping more chélan. “Hard to walk sassy with her back, truly, and if you think she’s tall you must be walking on stilts.” I glanced at him. “I’ll not speak to the hair, though. Alchemists have nothing on a woman who’s tired of her looks.”
The man put his jug on the table and sat down. “Is she well?”
“She is. My name’s Jamie. I’ve come on business.”
He leaned his arms on the table. “What business?” He lifted an eyebrow. “You’re not in the Service, that’s plain.”
I replied in mercenary cant. “No, I’m on my own. But a little co-operation could be profitable for both sides, if you’re who I think you are.”
“Enough of that,” he replied in common speech. “I’ll admit you’re not just some idiot walked into the wrong place.” His seeming-casual gaze was taking in every detail of my appearance. You don’t get eyes like that being a landlord.
“Kind of you to say so, Master Hygel,” I muttered.
“Yes, yes, fine,” he said, brushing at the air with one hand as if to shoo away all such nonessentials as his name. “I’m Hygel. What are you after?”
“Not what, who. I’m after him they call the master of the College here. He’s taken something from me and I want it back.”
Hygel let out a short bark of laughter. “Ha! That one!” He sat back in his chair, crossing his arms and gazing at me through narrowed eyes. “Old son, let me give you a word or two of advice, and because you’re a friend of Rella’s I won’t even charge you for it. First, don’t say his right name this close to the place, because he’ll bloody well hear you. And second—whatever it is you want to do, don’t try. Don’t even think about it. You might as well call yourself a goose and pick a spit, because sure as life you’re roasted before you start.”
Redeeming the Lost Page 9
