The Lesser Kindred

by Elizabeth Kerner

  Jamie swore vigorously, and though the firelight obscured his face I heard the strange note in his voice as he spoke. “Are you seriously trying to tell me you’re more than a thousand years old?” I couldn’t tell if it was fear or disbelief or anger, or some mixture of the three.

  Varien, unmoved, said, “I speak only the truth in this, Jameth of Arinoc. I have seen a thousand and thirteen winters, and were I still of the Kantri I should hope to see yet a thousand more. We are a very long-lived people; if nothing hurries it, many of us can hope to see the turn of our second ceat ere death comes to claim us.”

  “Damnation!” cried Jamie. He could sit no longer; he sprang from his chair and began to pace the room—away from the fire and Varien—then all in a moment turned and came straight to me, ignoring Varien altogether. He stood before me, his face to my amazement a mask of hurt. “Lanen, damn it, what has come over you? Why are you two doing this? You know there is nothing I would condemn, nothing I could ever deny you. Why invent so mad a tale? Do you not trust me to love you after all these years?” His voice thickened. “Have you gone so far from me, lass, in so short a time?”

  I stood to face him, put my hands on his shoulders and looked him straight in the eye. Well, looked down. I have been taller than Jamie since I was twelve, but suddenly he seemed small and fragile. That came as a shock.

  “Jamie, my hand on my heart and my soul to the Lady, I swear, I give you my solemn oath this is not a tale. It is the exact truth,” I said. The look of doubt and betrayal in his eyes was terrible to bear. “Do you think I don’t know it sounds insane?” I said angrily. “I haven’t gone mad, and you know me too well for me to ever try to lie to you. It’s all true, Jamie. All of it. If I hadn’t been there I wouldn’t believe it either, but I swear on my soul it’s true. I first met Varien when he was Akor, the Lord of the Kantri, the True Dragons. I loved him even then, knowing that nothing could ever come of such a love. I saw him fight a demon master and I saw the terrible wounds that tore him apart. Sweet Lady, I saw bone through one of them.” I shuddered and passed my hand over my face, trying to dismiss the vision of Akor so horribly wounded by my own father, Marik. “Shikrar, Kédra and Idai carried him to his chambers, and there he—well, we thought he died, and with his friends I mourned him. I myself found Varien, as he is now, mere hours after the death of my beloved Akor, naked as a newborn and lying on the ashes of the dragon he had been. His soul is the same, his heart, his mind, his memories—it is only his body that has changed.” Jamie stared at me, still hurt, still unbelieving. I turned away and sighed, then realised I couldn’t help the half-grin that crossed my face as I sat down again with a thump. “Hell’s teeth, Jamie. I can’t blame you. If I’d only heard the story, I’d think I was mad as well, or lying.”

  Jamie turned then to Varien, who stood silent, gazing still into the flames. “Well, Varien?” said Jamie, his hurt turned now to cold anger. “I will have it now, whatever it may be. Murderer, thief, demon master, penniless singer, mercenary, whatever you are—I charge you by your soul, by your hope of heaven, by your love of my daughter and as you hope to see the Lady’s face on the day of your death, once and for all, tell me who and what you are.”

  “And why should you believe me this time?” asked Varien, beginning to grow angry in his turn.

  “Because I will not ask again,” said Jamie, staring straight into Varien’s eyes.

  To my surprise and Jamie’s, Varien bowed low. “Very well, Jameth of Arinoc. My soul to the Winds, by all I hold sacred, by my love for Lanen and my hope of heaven, however different a heaven it may be from yours, I will tell you first and last who and what I am, so far as a little time will allow.

  “My soul to the Winds, Jameth—and among my people that is a binding vow—I was born a thousand and thirteen winters past, the son of Ayarelinnerit the Wise and my father Karishtar, of the line of Loriakeris. I had a silver hide, like nothing that had ever been seen before among my people, and it was seen as an omen, though an omen of what none ever knew. My eyes and my soulgem were green, as they are yet, but that is not unusual among my people. I flew at the age of thirty winters, full twenty-five years before most others. I reached my majority at the turn of my fifth kell, as do all of the Kantri, and less than a kell later I was chosen as the new King when old Garesh, Shikrar’s father, died. I first knew the ferrinshadik as a youngling, at the age of two hundred and forty, when I first saw the Gedri come onto our island. They had been lost at sea and some of our people took pity on them. We helped them repair their ship, though it was difficult, for our two peoples spoke very different languages. Still, we helped as we might. When they found lansip and discovered it helped to heal them, we allowed them to take away as many of the leaves as they liked, along with a dozen saplings. They left after a very short time, but I had watched them every waking moment and longed with a deep longing to speak with them. That had been forbidden. There was a Council called when they first arrived and it was decided that only the King would have direct contact with them, as many of the Kantri were still roused to fury by the very sight of the Gedri. When they left I had learned the meaning of a few—a very few—words of their tongue, and over the centuries I learned everything I could about them.”

  He looked to me. “When Lanen arrived I had almost given up hope that ever another ship would come for lansip, for it had been a long kell since any of the Gedri had stepped on our shores.” He smiled, coming forward and taking my hand. “Ah, Lanen! Never as long as I breathe will I forget the sight and the sound of your first step on the island of my people! I saw you laugh with delight as you walked on the grass.” His eyes locked with mine and the passion behind them lanced through me. “I watched you kneel down and smell the very earth on which you walked.”

  I shivered. My most powerful memory of my first moment on the Dragon Isle was the smell of crushed grass. I had not known until this moment that Akor was watching me then.

  “The first night we met in secret.” In my mind I heard him add, “And you called me brother, my Lanen, across so wide and deep a chasm of hurt and hatred. I loved you even then.” “The next night we met under the eye of the eldest of us, my soulfriend Shikrar, who feared I was touched by demons or under the spell of a Gedri witch.” He laughed. “He learned better in time! But he forbade our meeting again. And for the first time I, the King of my people and the most bound by our laws, I broke that forbidding, for I could not bear to say farewell so soon. I bore Lanen to my chambers, far beyond the boundary established to separate our two kindreds, and our fate was sealed that very night. For she loved me and I her, despite the barren future that must lie before us, despite the madness of Gedri and Kantri joining one to another. We flew in spirit the Flight of the Devoted, a sacred ritual of my people, as real and as binding as the marriage vows we took not four days past. From that moment we were joined to one another.”

  Varien kissed my hand and released it, and stood once more before Jamie, pride and compassion warring in his glance. “That is the truth, Jameth. That is who I was, and who I am. You may believe it or not, as you choose, but all thereafter happened as Lanen has said. Her father Marik drew down demons, which we destroyed; he tried to sacrifice her and I rescued her, he tried to steal the soulgems of my people and Shikrar and I stopped him with Lanen’s assistance; my old self died of the wounds, and beyond hope or understanding, beyond possibility, I woke as you see me now in the very ashes of my own body, with my soulgem clasped tightly in my hand.” He smiled, more gently now, as he saw that Jamie was beginning to be persuaded. “What she did not tell you, however, is the part she had to play in changing my people. Kédra, the son of Shikrar, and his mate, Mirazhe, were expecting the first youngling to be born in five hundred years to my people—it was seen as a wondrous sign—but the birth was going badly, and we all feared that both Mirazhe and her youngling would die. Lanen it was who helped birth the son of Kédra, who saved mother and child, and who by that one action has changed the hearts of my people fore
ver.”

  Varien bowed once more and took his seat by the fire.

  Jamie was long silent. I could see him weighing it all in his mind, and a lifetime’s study let me relax when I saw him accept—something. The spark came back to his eyes and he nodded to Varien. “Every bone in my body says this must be a lie, but I have known many men in my time and I know truth when I hear it. You may be mad, of course, but that you have told me the truth as far as you know it, that I most certainly believe. I suppose that great green gem set in gold that you wore for the wedding—is that your soulgem?”

  “It is,” said Varien. “Shikrar set it in khaadish for me before I faced my people as a man.”

  “Khaadish is what we call gold, yes?”

  “It is. We—in time, the Kantri turn the ground they sleep upon to gold. We do not speak of it. Khaadish is a base metal, useful on occasion and reflective when polished, but of little or no value to us.”

  Jamie snorted. “Ha! That circlet of yours would buy this farm, the village and several more nearby, and that’s just the gold. If you are ever short of cash, the gem alone would—”

  I saw Varien bristle and interrupted. “Jamie, please, it’s not like that. Would you sell your leg for what it would fetch?”

  “It is so much a part of you?” Jamie asked, taken aback.

  “More,” snapped Varien. Jamie watched him but Varien stopped there. “Indeed,” said Jamie finally. “Didn’t mean to offend, lad. And as for you truly being a dragon—well, what’s dark now’s clear later, as they say, and I’ll try not to close my mind to anything.”

  Varien nodded. “That is a rare gift in any kindred. I thank you.”

  One corner of Jamie’s mouth lifted in a half-grin. “You’re welcome. You’ve certainly the manner of a king, wherever you come from.”

  “My people would not say so,” replied Varien, with just a hint of humour in his eyes. “They always claimed that I was too frivolous, too lighthearted, too quick to accept change for the sake of the novelty. And speaking of change—I understand that, among the many skills that I lack, there is one that you have that I would welcome.”

  “What’s that, then?” asked Jamie. He beat me to it by a short breath. Varien hadn’t mentioned anything to me.

  “As we are to be travelling in the wide world I shall have to learn to defend myself. I have never held a blade in my life. Lanen has told me that you are a master of that art. Might I prevail upon you to teach me as much as time allows?”

  “As much as time allows?” asked Jamie. He sounded resigned, though, and I knew this was no surprise to him. Still, he deserved an explanation.

  “Jamie, it’s not just that I need to see the world,” I said, and he raised an eyebrow. “Well,” I said, laughing, “not only that I need to see the world. We’re in trouble. I don’t know if Marik is sane again, or if he ever can be, but if he recovers I don’t suppose he’s going to give up his sacrifice. I think he’ll come after me, sooner or later, himself or some hired muscle.”

  “Nothing more likely,” said Jamie, a gleam coming into his eye. “I thought the tale of your adventures ended too suddenly. There is no way to escape demon callers except by killing them. Trust me, I know.”

  “But Caderan’s dead,” I replied.

  “From what you’ve said he was an underling. I know enough of the breed to know a real demon master wouldn’t risk his precious neck on such a dangerous voyage. Did this Caderan never speak of a master?”

  Suddenly I was on a path by the sea, hiding in a stand of fir trees, listening to Caderan and Marik talking about—“He said something about a Magister of the Sixth Circle. Does that help?”

  “Hell’s teeth, Lanen!” cried Jamie. “They don’t come worse! A master of the sixth circle can summon and bind all but the greatest of demons.” He paced the room swiftly, his agitation plain now. “Lady Shia’s backside, Lanen, how in the name of all that’s holy did you—tell me, did you hear a name? Did they mention a name?”

  “I’ve been trying to remember,” I said. “I’m afraid my mind was on other things. If they did speak a name I don’t recall it.”

  “All the more reason, Master Jameth, for me to learn to handle a sword,” said Varien.

  Jamie winced. “Do you know, I wish I’d never told you that was my name. Call me Jamie, like everyone else. Of course I’ll show you how to use a blade—but we will speak again about this demon master and what is to do about him.”

  He took an appraising look at Varien. “You look like you’ve some strength in those arms, but in a fight a blade grows heavy fast. Have you ever lifted a full-sized sword?” Varien looked perplexed. “Is there more than one kind?”

  Jamie laughed. “A hundred kinds, man! But I have one in mind for you to practice with.” He rose and went to a long low box beneath the stair, drawing from its depths a great lump of a sword that I recognised as Hadron’s. I had seen my stepfather take the blade from its hiding place once every year, when he set out on the road to Illara for the Great Fair at the start of autumn. He carried it with him for protection on the road, and as far as I knew had never drawn it in anger. It was the right length for Varien, but looked far too heavy for his slim frame. I sighed as I realised that Jamie was taking Varien’s measure. Again.

  “Here, see how it fits your hand,” he called, and, lifting the point straight up, threw the sword across to Varien—

  —who plucked it without thinking out of the air with his right hand, then stared astonished at his arm holding the sword. “How in the name of the Winds did I do that?” he asked, looking to me.

  “Very quickly,” I said. I was as surprised as he, and quite pleased. He was fast. “You certainly didn’t have time to think about it.”

  “That’s often the key,” said Jamie. “If all your instincts are that good you might be halfway decent after a few years. How’s the weight of it?”

  Varien, still holding the heavy sword rock-steady at arm’s length, replied, “I do not understand your question. What should it weigh? I do not find it a burden, if that is what you ask.” He casually swung it about him, and that great chunky blade danced in the air like a butterfly at midsummer.

  Jamie would never have let it show, but I had grown up with him and didn’t need truespeech to know he was swearing inside. I knew that look. “Yes, that’s what I was wondering. I think it’ll do fine as a practice blade.” He was watching Varien even more closely now.

  Varien lowered the blade. “I thank you, Master Jameth. Now that you are assured that I can lift this weapon, when shall we begin my training? And what have I to offer you in return?”

  Jamie bowed ever so slightly. “Only your diligence. Catch.” He threw the scabbard to Varien, who again caught it easily. “We begin tomorrow. I’ll need a little time to set up the pell—I’ll come fetch you at midmorning, after the beasts are cared for, and we’ll make a start.”

  “I thank you.” Varien sheathed the sword and laid it carefully by the hearth.

  “Mind if I join you?” I asked, teasing. “Maybe it’ll take better this time—at least I’ll be awake, for a change. You must admit, Jamie, I did the best I could at midnight and after.”

  I got the grin I had hoped for. “Aye, so you did, and worked hard too—but as dearly as I love you, my lass, you’ve just not got the speed. That’s not something that can be taught, I’m afraid. Oh, you’re good enough to save your skin, granted, but whatever you are to do in this life it’ll not be as a swordswoman.”

  I know he didn’t mean it as a slap in the face but that’s what it felt like. I was surprised at how painful those words were. I’d always known I wasn’t very good with a blade, but I had held on to the hope that it was just a matter of practice, that someday I would be a fearsome warrior. I used to love the tales of the Warrior Women of Arlis and I think I had always hoped that my height and my strength would somehow be enough. I knew I had the soul of a warrior and I believed I could kill if I had to. I had so often been forced to restrain my stren
gth when I was furious: surely that kind of rage would be useful if it were directed along a sword’s edge!

  The worst of it was that I knew the truth when I heard it, and it struck deep. Damn. Not a hearth-tender, not a warrior—what was to become of me? What in all the wide world would I ever be fit for?

  My grief must have shown in my face, for Jamie leaned over to kiss my brow. “I’m sorry to be so blunt, and I know you’re not happy to hear it, my girl, but I’m glad it’s so.” He gazed deep into my eyes and a strange passion took his voice.”Lanen, I’ve known women who were as good as I with a sword, and some who were better. They were strong and fast and hard of body and of mind, and they were suited to their lives and well content with them. And many of them died young, and some of them died badly, and I mourned more for each of them than I did for all the men who died beside them. Daft, perhaps, but true.” He gently stroked my cheek in his callused hand and smiled. “I’d rather see you live to a good old age, my girl, and talk with every dragon who ever drew breath. It’s a better life, believe me.” He grinned then, and winked at me as he stood straight.”And for you, certainly a longer one. Nothing worse than trying to be something you’re not. It’s a good way to get yourself killed. Use the gifts you have and you’ll change the world.”

  I yawned then, suddenly tired. “Right. I’ll do that. But do you mind if I start tomorrow morning? It’s been a long day.” I stood and stretched as Jamie and Varien both laughed, and Varien came to me and with one swift movement picked me up in his arms.

  I don’t expect that sounds too strange; the idea of a man sweeping a girl up into his arms is nothing new. However, most girls that happens to aren’t near six feet tall and broad of shoulder. At first I was astounded, and he took advantage of the fact to lean over and kiss me.