I astounded myself by waking to the old words of the traveller’s prayer. Jamie had taught it to me as a child, when I was most desperate to see what lay beyond my small world, and now in the bright morning it danced in my mind like the sun through spring leaves.
That was just as well, for spring still seemed a thousand years distant. I opened my eyes, glanced around the tiny inn room, wondered where in blazes I was and nearly jumped out of bed when I realised there was someone in there with me. I woke poor Varien laughing.
He had the grace not to mind. I apologised for waking him, but he smiled at me and said, “Would you apologise for waking me with laughter? Never, kadreshi. And there is sunlight as well. A day to celebrate!”
It was such a relief to waken with a light heart, for the first time in what felt like years! Varien and I delighted in that sunlit waking and, foolish though it may have been, made cheerfully passionate love. It was uncomfortable at first and made my back ache again, but it felt so good to join with him that I ignored the twinges and took my pleasure along with him. Varien, I was pleased to note, was getting really quite good at this lovemaking lark.
I felt vastly better than I had, though with my body in less pain for the moment, the voices were back to bother me. I know I am harping on about them, but imagine hearing always in your ears what seems to be a whispered conversation some distance away, the words of which you can never quite make out, and the noise of which you cannot escape. I resolutely ignored it that morning, however, for I was determined to make a right day of it. The light was lingering much later now, the days moving away from the winter dark, and I was feeling the good of the healing and the food from the day before, and of sleeping in a real bed again.
We drifted down to breakfast some time later and found only lukewarm porridge on offer, which we declined. I had a good sum of silver with me and I was suddenly determined to take advantage of the time and go exploring with Varien. He had never really seen a city, for we had left Corli in a tearing hurry. I bade Jamie farewell, Varien put his arm about my waist and we stepped out into the morning.
I had only ever seen Kaibar briefly when I passed through it on the riverboat that bore me to Corlí in the autumn. I don’t usually care much about clothing, but I had found a cloak there, a beautiful green woolen cloak that I adored. It had been destroyed on the Dragon Isle and at the time I hadn’t thought twice about it, but now I was determined to find something of the kind to take along with me. I knew I would never find the same shop again, but I was happy enough to wander the streets until some other single lovely thing caught my fancy. I was feeling more than a little shabby and I needed to do something to celebrate my new condition, hazardous though it was. If nothing else, I would put down my wager on the future by purchasing cloth with which to make myself some larger tunics and let out the waists of my leggings!
I know it was foolish to assume that I would need to do so, to believe that I would be able to carry the child—or even that I would live—but I was so thrilled at feeling so much better than I had, that I dared to hope. Indeed, I was fairly drunk on it, as was Varien, and we set out into the city laughing.
That bright morning with Varien is so vivid! I remember it even now as if it were hours ago instead of decades. We wandered down towards the river, past cobblers and fishmongers and butchers, every kind of merchant’s stall you can imagine, all intent, with the best will in the world, on separating every passing soul from as much of their silver as possible.
The smells were nearly overpowering as we came closer to the water. The streets of Kaibar were none too clean—I was glad I was wearing my thick leather riding boots—and the smell of so many people in one place, combined with horses and leather and fish and cooking, was hard on my poor stomach. We had bought hot meat pies from a baker but neither of us could bear to eat them until we came to the river.
There at least the smells were not so vicious, for a brisk wind blew down the Kai and carried them away south and west. We sat on the riverbank and ate our pies but the wind was too fresh to sit in for long. I took Varien down to the harbour, glancing into every tented stall, looking at everything but caught by nothing until we passed a leatherworker’s shop. No tented stall out of doors for this one, but a small room in the front of his home to display his goods. There were leather scrips, baldrics, gloves for use and for show, sheaths for everything from a sword to a tiny ladies’ dagger, archers’ armguards and quivers, all the usual things, but on a small table by the door there were stacks and stacks of his stock-in-trade, belts of good thick leather with silver or iron buckles. Some were tooled, some were dyed the most amazing colours, some were fanciful carved pieces that were obviously only made for the look of them. I love the smell of leather, always have, and I must have looked happily at every belt on that table without finding anything I particularly wanted. The maker noticed me looking, however, and smiled. He was a neat little man, with a quick smile in a blackbearded face and merry eyes. He beckoned me over. “I have only this moment finished this one, Lady,” he said, holding up a tooled belt. The leather itself was nothing wonderful, a thick serviceable belt, but on it he had carved a pattern of leaves and dyed each one a different shade of green. Against the brown of the leather they were perfect. They almost reminded me of the embroidery of my lost cloak. The buckle was of brass, which he made sure to tell me was his very last of a number obtained in trade from the East Kingdom some years ago.
I laughed. “And when I have gone you will bring the other last buckle out, I suppose,” I said. He grinned. “It is not impossible,” he replied. “How then would five silver strike you, for such fine tooling and my very nearly last brass buckle?”
I enjoyed haggling with him over the price, and as usual we ended up somewhere between our two extremes, but in the end of the day I didn’t really care what I paid and I’m afraid he knew it. Still, when he offered to cut it to my size I could laugh and tell him that I was soon going to require a larger size in belts and I’d keep it as long it was. He wished us joy and I walked out with Varien on my arm and the belt around my waist on the tightest hole, most thoroughly pleased with myself.
I also managed to find a clothiers and bought a good weight of material for a tunic in a deep blue that Varien said suited me. We wandered back through the streets towards the inn and found ourselves in a part of the city where a patch of grass and a small stand of trees grew by the edge of a stream. The trees were all bare branches, of course, and with the brown grass I suppose it was bleak enough, but by the waterside sprouted Lady’s-bells, their silvery-white heads nodding among the bright green of their leaves, and here and there pale ground roses were just beginning to open, pink and palest yellow. It cheered me just to sit there in the weak afternoon sun before we went back to the inn.
I know this is not the stuff ballads are made of. I suspect anyone who can be bothered to read so far is wondering why I should write such things, that can interest no one but an old woman remembering her past. The truth is that those days were so full of great and terrible things happening, so full of pain and fear and change and darkness, that sometimes I like to recall the times when Varien and I were just being new-wedded idiots together. There were few enough of them. That day was wonderful, without a single care, and I will never forget it. After so long running from pursuit, we felt safe for the moment, and we resolved without a word being spoken to act that day as if all would be well. The Healer’s work, despite her manner, was well done and I felt vastly better than I had. Varien dared to tell me of his joy at the mere possibility of being a father, and for the moment I barely heard the voices that whispered at me. It was the Lady’s promise of paradise come to real life as a brief glimpse—or so I felt that day, and so I still believe. If there is a life beyond death, if there is a kindly place where we go to be forever with those souls we love best, it would be hard put to it to rival that one bright day with Varien.
Shikrar
Alas! If we had known we might have fought it, but w
e did not know. I was too blind, too full of the sight of the land running like water to understand the reason behind it.
And yet, what could we have done? Fire was rising against us and we knew not where to turn. We could not fight it with tooth or talon, we could not burn hotter than the fires of the earth. Perhaps in the end we had no choice.
I bespoke Kédra as soon as I reached my chambers. It was now deep night.
“My son, are you well?” I asked quietly.
“We come, Father,” he replied immediately. “Sherók is enjoying his treat, a flight in the dark to visit grandfather Shikrar. Brave soul, my son!”
I waited.
“We will be there very shortly, Eldest,” said Mirazhe, her mind voice amazingly clear and calm. I took heart from hearing her. “Sherók and I will await you in Lord Akhor’s old chambers by the Great Hall. It seems fitting somehow,” she said, “for I would guess that we will see Varien Kantriakhor far sooner than we had thought to.”
“There is nothing more likely, dearest daughter,” I replied, and could not resist the ghost of an amused hiss. “He may be ever so slightly surprised.”
“It will be good for him,” said Kédra. “He has hardly spoken with us since he left. If we are a surprise to him, so much the better, it will serve him right.”
“May all the Gedri be as eager to see us, though I fear they will not be.”
“Ah, but we have the Lady Lanen to speak for us,” said Kédra.
“She is one voice among thousands, and herself declared that she was of no particular note among her people,” I said. “Do you think that those who must be persuaded will hear her, courageous as she is?”
“Father, I crave your pardon, but you have forgotten,” replied Kédra, undaunted. “This child of the Gedri, of no particular note, managed to talk the Kantrishakrim, assembled in Council, out of killing her and into accepting her as the mate of our king. Name of the Winds, this is a soul that could rule the world.”
I could not help myself. Faced as I was with change and the end of my life as I had known it, still I laughed at the truth behind my son’s words. “Bless you, Kédra, you dreadful kit!” I said. “Solemnity now would undo me. Where are you now?”
“Mirazhe and Sherdk are safe in Akhor’s chambers, with a fire lit. I come,” he said. He was with me almost as his thought ended.
“Welcome, most welcome, dear my son,” I said as he came into the Chamber of Souls. We embraced, and I held him to my heart, my wings wrapped about him, just as I had when he was but a youngling. “Ah, Kédra, my dear,” I said, and suddenly I could say no more. My throat tightened and I choked on my words. He had been born in that place, my beloved Yrais had died there, the very walls were hallowed with memories and life, and I knew I would never spend another night there. I remained in my generous son’s embrace with bowed head and my heart caught in the depths of my despair, when I felt a terrible thing.
We are creatures of fire. We produce fire when we are pleased, when we are angry, when we are deeply moved, as the Gedri produce the salt water they call tears. Few know it, but we also weep, in the last extremity of soul’s darkness.
I felt a tear hiss its way down my faceplate.
Kédra saw and did nothing, just held me. I knew deep in my soul that he was remembering the night Yrais died, for then it was he who had wept. I had held him then, been his strength when my own heart was shattered and dead, and now that strength held me up.
Has ever father had such a son?
Blessed be the Winds, but such times are short. I touched his soulgem with my own, that intimacy that only parents and children share, and was again myself.
“Thank you,” I said simply.
“I am thirsty, Father. Let us drink before we begin,” he said, embarrassed I think.
It is often difficult even for such a one as Kédra to admit to great strength.
We went the few steps out the door of my chambers and both drank deeply of the stream that ran close by. The simple feel of the water, the taste of it on my tongue that I had not noticed for years, the smell of the slow-approaching spring beneath the earth were suddenly precious beyond words. The thought “you will never do that again” threatened me, but I turned from it. Time enough to grieve later.
Water. Fire. The island alight—no, there could be no mourning until we were safely gone.
With a heart weighted down with sorrow we turned back into my chamber. I had lit a fire in the main chamber both to hallow our actions and to aid us in our task.
We scraped together great handfuls of khaadish from the corner where I slept and began to make several deep bowls, breathing fire to melt and smooth the surface and to ease the shaping of them. When they were complete I sent Kédra out to gather moss while I made flat plates about the size of the bowls, bent them slightly that they might act as coverings, and laid them aside. I used the moss to line the bottom and sides of the bowls.
I could delay no longer. As we stood at the opening of the inner chamber, the wall facing us was covered in khaadish with the soulgems of our Ancestors set deep in the soft metal. I bowed to the gathered Ancestors of our people, reached up to the highest and oldest and with a careful talon dug it out of its setting. As I placed it gently in the vessel I felt my sorrow as a physical pain, but I could bear it. I had to.
“Kédra, of your kindness make a covering for the cask that holds the soulgems of the Lost,” I said.
Poor things, borne here ages ago when first they were torn from their owners, and now forced to return to the place where it had happened.
Alas for us all.
Lanen
It started again that night, of course. I should have known that even so simple a thing as a day of joy has its price.
When we returned to the inn I was tired and I went up to my room to rest. I found my clean, dry clothes folded neatly on the bed and all but danced a jig. I turned my pack inside out, brushed it clean, then turned it back and put my treasures carefully back in, swearing to myself this time to save one change of underwear and one clean shirt against the next time I was truly filthy. When I straightened it hit me, as before, like a dagger had plunged into my belly. I blessed truespeech and yelled for Varien to bring Rella as I crawled to the bed. They were with me in moments. Rella took one look, started swearing and left. She was back soon with a basin of hot water, some cloths, and the assurance that a different Healer had been sent for.
Varien said nothing aloud. He sat beside me, his back to Rella and her ministrations, his eyes gazing gently into mine. Instead of the whispering voices I now heard only his own glorious voice in my mind. There were no words, exactly, but I could feel the strength and love he was sending me surrounding me like a blanket.
“I went looking for a Mage for you, girl, but we’re out of luck,” said Rella quietly. “Of the three who live here, two are out of town and the third is a bone-setter.” She winked at me over Varien’s shoulder. “You wouldn’t care to break a leg, would you? We could find out how good he is.”
I managed to smile back, for the pain had lessened for the moment. “Thanks, Rella, you’re a true friend, but I wouldn’t dream of depriving you. Just come up here where I can reach you and I’ll help you break your own leg, then you can find out.”
A man walked in at that moment, someone I’d never seen before. He was middle-aged, of middle height, and he frowned at me. “And what’s troubling you, young woman?” he asked, his voice and bearing the very portrait of self-importance. He walked towards me, pushing back his sleeves and starting to glow blue.
“A strange man just walked into my room and started asking me questions,” I snarled. Something about him made me want to bite. “Maybe if he said who the devil he was I’d feel better.”
“I am the Healer Kidleth. I was sent for,” he replied, not bothered in the slightest.
“What happened to the woman who came yesterday?” I asked, as a distraction and to alert Rella. I bespoke Varien as fast as I could. “Akor, there’
s something terribly wrong with him. Can you see it? Am I crazy? I don’t want him to touch me!”
Kidleth muttered something and Varien stepped forward and offered his hand. Kidleth took it for an instant, but no more, for Varien dropped it as fast as he could. I could nearly hear him hiss.
“You serve the Rakshasa!” he growled. He was breathing strangely. “Remember you can’t breathe fire anymore,” I told him swiftly. I heard his breathing change as he stepped forward, towering over the man and forcing him to move away from me and back towards the door. “How dare you come here reeking of the filth!”
The man tried to hold his ground for a moment. “I am the prime Healer with the House of Gundar in Kaibar, young man, you will not address me that way!”
“I am Varien of the line of Loriakeris,” growled Varien fervently, “and I will kill you if you do not leave this place immediately.”
I shivered. Varien was become Akor again, and saw the evil in this man’s soul as deserving instant death, as would be the case on the Dragon Isle. His voice was the same kind of cold I had once heard from Jamie, when he was speaking with a man he was about to kill.
“Leave this instant, you idiot. Can’t you see he means it?” snarled Rella. Her hand was on the hilt of her dagger.
The Healer turned and ran without another word. Rella picked up my boots and threw them to me. “I don’t care how much it hurts, girl. Get dressed now. We’re leaving. I’ll go tell Jamie.”
“Why?” I demanded.
“Have you forgotten, or didn’t you hear for the pain?” she asked me as she swiftly gathered my belongings and tied up my pack. “House of Gundar! I told you when we were on the Dragon Isle—Marik’s got demon callers in nearly every branch of his Merchant House, most of them Healers he’s turned bad, and this idiot was one of them. If Marik or Berys seek us, they will know where we are within the hour. We have to go. Get dressed and meet me in the common room as fast as you can.”
The Lesser Kindred Page 25
