[Lanen Kaelar 03] - Redeeming the Lost (53 page)

I joined Will, who was sitting alone at the
other end. “Good morrow, Willem,” I said cheerfully, once I had devoured a
little bread and meat. “I pray you, forgive my lack of manners, but I seem to
spend my days perpetually ravenous.”

He laughed. “Tis usual for a pregnant woman,
Mistress La-nen,” he said. “I remember my sister with her first. Her husband
told me he was convinced she would bear him three sons at once, for she ate
practically without ceasing for a full two months.”

I grinned in sympathetic horror. “Three at the
one time!”

He smiled again and shook his head. “No, no,
it just seemed that way. In the end there was only the one! To be fair, the lad
was big even at birth, but within three months my sister was back to being
tiny. We still don’t know what she did with all that food.”

We ate and drank and talked, at peace for that
time. Vilkas and Aral arrived, barely able to speak, just after sunset. They
had exactly enough strength to nod to us all before they began to feed their
ravening hunger. “You must understand, Lanen,” said Aral, between mouthfuls. “In
the normal way of things, we would heal a single individual of whatever ailed
them, and then spend the next day or so sleeping and eating to restore our
strength.” She took a long swallow of good wine and sighed with pleasure. “I
have no idea how many we healed yesterday, but, dear Goddess, I could sleep the
full moon round.”

On the heels of her words a young servant lad
came rushing in, crying, “Dragons! The dragons are circling, they’ll kill us
all! Save us!” He threw himself at my feet. “Please, Mistress, we’ve treated
you well, don’t let them take us!”

I grinned and reassured him that not a single
marauding dragon would come for him as we all hurried out into the courtyard.
In the failing light of the westering sun the air was sparkling with dragons.
Where yesterday even their rejoicing held the edge of darkness as they sang
their loved dead onto the Winds, now they wove a sky-dance of sheer delight, to
lift the heart and heal the spirit.

My eyes were drawn instantly to the great
silver form that was the centre of the pattern. I opened my heart to him,
sending no words, letting him know only the joy that I felt at the sight. In
return I heard the great song, too distant for the ears of the body but full
and wondrous in the mind. The high, light voices of the Aiala sang a song of
sheer joy in life; the darker voices of the Dhrenagan sang of their redemption
and of peace made with the Gedri through the healing of the Dragon Mages,
Vilkas and Aral (Goddess, just wait until they hear that); and blended through
all, the strong voices of the Travellers, the Kantri, twining all into a single
glorious music that rang in the heart and echoed down the years. I heard Akor
now and again as he struck the lowest notes, the foundation of the music, as
though the mountains had grown wings and sang with the Kantri one last time.

I let the music wash over my weary heart. The
sheer beauty of the dance was a blessing. The music, reinforcing the pattern of
their flight, spoke of hope for the future of Kantri and Gedri.

Ml will be well.

The sun set. The three Houses of the Kantri
glided gracefully through the twilight, coming to ground beyond the lake, and
we saw light spring up on Shikrar s hill as bonfires were lit.

We all returned to the Great Hall, warm and
welcoming, and as fresh chelan was passed around I told everyone of the song of
the Kantri. Vilkas sat astounded and utterly delighted that they had mentioned
him by name, and Aral grinned. “Amazing,” she said, laughing. “Dragon Mage, eh?
There’s a new one. I predict my mother will faint when I tell her. Pass me
those parsnips, will you, Maran?”

When the two of them finished gorging, they
rose separately, bowed to us, made their apologies, and disappeared back to
their several chambers to sleep once more.

After they left, I wandered down to the other
end of the table and sat beside Maran.

“Welcome, child,” she said, in great good
humour. She looked ten years younger since she had been talking with Rella and
Jamie. “I’ve just been finding out the worst of the tales Jamie has to tell on
you.”

“Oh, no!” I cried, in mock dismay. “Oh, Jamie,
you didn’t!”

He looked up and grinned, and my heart near
stopped. I had never seen him so happy in all my life. “I did, and then some,”
he said smugly.

“You’ll be wanting to leave again soon, then?”
I said jestingly to Maran.

She laughed. “What, and miss the chance of
seeing you lose your temper? I couldn’t.”

I smiled. “Shia save us, what has he been
telling you? I’m a sweet, patient soul, gentle as the day is long. You’d go far
to find anyone more softly spoken and even-tempered than I!”

I don’t think anyone heard those last few
words. Jamie, for one, was laughing too hard.

By the time we had all eaten, most of us were
ready for more sleep. Aral never had helped heal my wounds, and they ached. The
good folk at the castle had helped me clean and bind them the night before, and
I knew no more than time and rest were needed to put them right.

I bade the company good night and wandered,
replete, into the torch-lit courtyard of the castle, with some vague thought of
a quiet walk before bed. To my surprise I found Kedra there. “Good even, my
friend,” I greeted him.

“Good even, Lady,” he replied. “How fare you?”

“I’m well enough, thank you, Kedra,” I said. “We
saw you all dancing on the Winds. It was—extraordinary.”

“And for us,” said Kedra. “The first sky-dance
of the Three Branches of the Kantri was a dance to end the life of the Evil
One. The second we danced for our own dead. Tonight, without a word being
spoken, we all rose up aloft for a dance of life and rejoicing. It is well.”

“It was a wonder,” I said. “Though that word
is a lame horse with much to bear.” I smiled. “However, I cannot believe that
you have come here only to be complimented on your music.” I composed myself
and asked, quite calmly, “Where is Akor?” Why is he not here, Kedra, instead of
you?

Kedra bowed, a short bob of his head followed
by a little ripple of his long neck. “You have the right of it, Lady. Lord
Akhor begged me to await you here, for answer to that very question. He bids me
tell you that he is tending to his people.” Keclra sighed. “We are all weary
and wounded in body and spirit, Lanen Kaelar,” he said. “Lord Akhor moves among
us speaking reassurance, soothing wounded hearts, and letting all see that
there is order yet to cling to. He sends his greetings by me, and begs that you
will forgive him for not spending time with you this day.” Kedra’s voice was
quite dry. “Truth to tell, Lanen, he is greatly weary himself, and I believe
you would do him a kindness not to bespeak fatal until the morrow.” To my surprise,
Keclra dropped his jaw and hissed his amusement. I welcomed the warmth on my
cold ankles. “Indeed, he has by now told the tale of his transformation to each
individual soul, I believe, and thereby has accomplished the most important
task of all. We now have something to think about.”

“What, exactly?” I asked, faintly amused. “Whether
he’s truly a dragon or no? Whether having given up the Kingship he can now
reclaim it?”

Keclra snorted. “Far simpler than that, Lady.
The great question is, who is Eldest?”

“Idai, surely,” I said, confused. “She was
next after—oh!”

Yes, you see it,” he said. “Akhor is not in
the body he was born to, but neither does he inhabit my father’s remains,
although his present form is the size my father’s was. Idai has lived longer,
of course—but we none of us are certain what to make of Lord Akhor anymore.”

I barked a laugh. “Ha! You’re in good company.
Goddess knows I haven’t the faintest idea.”

Kedra hissed. “I think perhaps he does not
know either, Lanen. He appears to be—stunned, by his new shape.” He sighed. “At
the least, let us be thankful that he is obviously Akhor, the Silver King, and
not some dreadful hybrid of himself and my father.”

I shuddered. “Kedra, I—I am so sorry…”

“Do not fear to speak of Shikrar,” said Kedra
kindly. He gazed at me. “He took me aside the night before the batde, Lanen. He
told me of his Weh dreams, and that he believed that his time was come to sleep
upon the Winds.”

“Oh, Kedra!” I said softly. “I am so sorry
that your dear father was taken from us. I knew him so very short a time, but
he was always just and always kind to me, and I will miss him.”

“It is considered a great gift among us, Lanen
Kaelar, to know when your life is about to end,” said Kedra, and his voice and
his heart were calm, if sad. “My father lived a long and worthy life. His
use-name was Hadreshikrar, Teacher-Shikrar, for he taught nearly every one of
the Kantri now alive how to fly.” Kedra paused a moment, and stood in what I
eventually learned was the Attitude of Recollection. “I am told that he was a
wild spirit in his younger days, always in the air, trying new and different
ways to fly, to manoeuvre, to test his own skills in flight, and to try them
against those of his companions who dared try to match him.” His Attitude shifted
a little, to include elements of Pride. “None ever did, not after bis second
kell. He served as Eldest of the Kantri-shakrim for nearly three kells, as
Keeper of Souls for seven, and in his last days he led us in our great return,
flying home across the Great Sea to Kolmar.” Kedra’s voice quavered a little,
then. “He was ridiculously proud of me, you know. I found it embarrassing, but
that is who he was. And he was set fair to be even worse about his grandson.”

Kedra looked into my eyes then. “I know not
what happens to the Gedri soul after death, but we believe that the departing
spirit is met by those who have died before, to welcome the traveller home. My
father Shikrar”—he had to clear his throat, and I felt my own tighten in
response—“my father Shikrar loved my mother Yrais with a love exceeding deep.
She was taken from him so early. I barely remember her, only as a soft loving
voice and a dear presence.” He bowed his head for a moment, and when he looked
up there was a peace in his eyes that I envied. “I mourn him, Lanen. I loved
him dearly and I will miss him as long as I breathe, but I know in my deepest
heart, as surely as I know that the sun will rise on the morrow, that he and my
mother are together again in joy, where no pain or sorrow can touch them. It is
well, Lanen Kaelar.”

“It is well, Kedra,” I responded. My heart
could rest now, though I too would miss Shikrar’s great soul.

I bade K6dra good night and returned to my
chambers, with but a single thought before me that followed me into sleep.

Akor, Akor, my dearling. We have survived the
most dreadful test of our marriage, short of death—but now that the light of
day shines upon our lives, now that the dread of battle and its aftermath are
over—what is to become of us, my husband? Whatever in all the world is to
become of us?

There was much to be done and decided before
we all left Castle Gundar.

The matter of my patrimony was eventually
established on a more solid foundation. Mistress Kiri, who had known my father since
he was a child, began by being terrified of the dragons and deeply suspicious
of me and my claim. After she spent half a day closeted with Maran, discussing
Goddess only knows what, she was forced to admit that I was indeed the only
known child of Marik of Gundar. It seemed that he had told her once, in his
cups, that he had a daughter, but she had never managed to learn any further
details. Maran, seemingly, supplied sufficient details of her own to content
Mistress Kiri, who then became my staunch ally and introduced me to the entire
household as the right and legal heir.

It was very peculiar indeed to realise that
these people, some of whom had been kind and considerate even when they
believed our company to be complete strangers, had known of my existence for
several years, while I had lived in complete ignorance of theirs.

Mistress Kiri, to my astonishment, even went
so far as to convince the steward to give me access to Marik’s fortune. I tried
to object. Mistress Kiri, looking at me rather more shrewdly than I would have
expected, said, “Did your father, in his entire life, ever give you one single
thing?”

“No,” I replied simply, realising that she
might not want to hear the true answer, which would be Well, he gave me to a
demon, or tried to. Does that count?

“Then he can make up for quite a long stretch
of neglect,” she declared, handing me the key to Marik’s treasure room.

I had a long talk with the steward, Kesh, who
was harmless enough if you didn’t expect much in the way of generosity. Marik had
hired him for his grasping nature. I made him swear on his soul and in front of
quite a few witnesses, including Mistress Kiri, to pay everyone in the place a
better wage, thanked him for looking after the lands so well, told him to get
in more cattle as we might expect any number of winged visitors in the near
future, and left him to it.

I suppose I could have tried to live there,
but it never even occurred to me. Spending more time than absolutely necessary
in a place where Marik was honoured? No. I would presume far enough to provide
myself and my friends with food and shelter for a week, and the staff with a
decent living from my father’s ill-got gains, but more than that I could not
do. I did leave the staff with the impression that I might return at any time.
Just for morale.