Perhaps it was cowardly, but I decided to take refuge for a moment in simpler things. "Then you won't mind my asking you about the way you furrow your face and turn your mouth down. It seems to reflect thought, but has it a name?"
She laughed. "Trust you. It's called a frown. The opposite of a smile, more or less. I frown when I'm thinking, or when I'm angry or upset. Usually angry." She laughed again, wryly. "I have a terrible temper."
"Temper?"
"I get angry easily."
"Perhaps we are related after all. The Kantri are creatures of fire, and I fear it occasionally shows in ways other than flame."
"Like when you are amused, for instance," she said. "I'm getting used to your grins, complete with steam, but I'd hate to see a belly laugh."
"A what?"
"When you find something really funny. Just warn me beforehand, will you?"
"Assuredly I shall."
"And before I forget, I've been meaning to ask you something. I am quite happy to call you the Kantri or the Kindred, but is there something wrong with 'Dragon'?"
I was slightly taken aback. "I thought you knew, dearling, since you have never used that word to me."
"No. I was going on instinct. I was right though, wasn't I?"
"Absolutely. It is—I am afraid it is considered an insult among us. It is the word your people use for the Lesser Kindred; to use that word for one of us is as much as to say that we are no more than soulless beasts."
She grinned up at me. "Thank goodness for instinct."
We both fell silent, and I let the night come in on us. It was a relief to speak of such trivia, to take refuge in minor concerns for a moment. However, her question echoed in my mind: What is happening, and why? If another had told me of so strange a thing, I would have said Meditation of the Winds would—of course!
"Lanen, dearling, I have just realised—if I am to have any hope of learning what is afoot, I must set my soul in Meditation of the Winds. To you it will appear that I am doing nothing, but it requires great concentration, and I must have quiet."
"May I watch?" she asked.
"Certainly, but there is little to see. If you will need more wood for the fire, please gather it now before I am well into the Discipline." I was surprised to feel a tinge of hurt from her, though she said nothing. Then I understood. "Ah, Lanen," I said, moving swiftly to where she was collecting branches. She looked up at me. "Dearling, forgive me," I said, bowing, then in the Language of Truth told her, "I could never send you away, dearling, not even so far—I am trying desperately to be practical. You must know that you are distraction enough, my heart, without moving about."
She laughed then, and all was right again. So delicate these emotions at such a time—so similar our peoples, that I knew without words how my words had stung.
He was right, there wasn't much to see. By the time I got back with more firewood he was sitting bolt upright, his wings close-furled and his tail wrapped around his feet (like a cat, I thought, stifling a laugh). His eyes were closed, his forelegs resting on his knees. I sat by the fire and, just for a moment, let the wonder of it all wash over me. I had loved stories of Dragons since I was a child, but what Akor and I had done was not for children. It was real as wind and water, as earth and fire. I had wondered since the night before what was happening, and had no more idea now than when I first asked myself the question.
There was one more thing I could try, at least until Akor was finished.
I am not much given to calling on the Lady, but I have always felt close to Her. I even wear a Ladystar of silver around my neck, though the set rituals that many take part in mean little to me. So, as Akor and I sat in the frosty night before that little fire, I simply opened my heart to Lady Shia, the Goddess, the Mother of Us All, who ruled in the heavens and in the earth. She was the Mother in the ground beneath me, the Old One in the moon that rode overhead, the Laughing Girl in the rains that fell and nourished the land. I called on all three and asked the question that was in my heart.
Perhaps it was my imagination, fired from my "flight" with Akor; perhaps it was being out in the night sitting on the Mother and seeing the Old One high above, with the Girl chuckling in her little stream-fed pool off in the trees. Perhaps the night was simply full of magic, and I had touched part of it.
I felt lines of light go through me: the first a white staff straight up my back from the earth; the second a wide, wavery beam of moonlight down from on high; the third a scattering like drops of rain from the direction of the pool. And caught in this web, this net of light, I heard
Her speak.
Daughter, have no fear. All is well. Let not its strangeness concern you. All will be well. All will be well. Follow your heart and all will be well.
The words of the Discipline were old friends to me. I had always prided myself on clear thought. But then, I had never known emotions like those of the past few days.
In the words of the invocation I called on the Winds to blow clear the cobwebs of emotion, let clear thought remain. I breathed in the sequence I had practiced for a thousand years, felt the whirling passions in me subside.
"I am Khordeshkhistriakhor, Silver King of the Greater Kindred of the Kantri, living on the Dragon Isle in the Great Sea of Kolmar."
That was truth.
"I have spoken with a child of the Gedri, broken the Great Ban set on our two Kindreds."
That was truth.
"I have flown the Flight of the Devoted with Lanen Kaelar, child of the Gedrishakrim, with whom there can be no joining beyond mind, heart and soul."
That was truth.
For all my Discipline, my heart ached at those words. Our people are few, they always have been. I had longed for younglings of my own, I envied that bond in others. Idai had offered herself many times, as mate and mother, but I had refused, for I judged our souls too far apart to meet in the making of younglings.
That was truth.
"I must present Lanen to the Council of the Kindred. We must determine what is to be done. Shall she be allowed to remain here, or must I go with her to some distant shore?"
You will go with her.
"What? Who speaks?"
You will go with her.
"Whither shall we go?"
All will be made clear to you.
"What is happening?"
Your people are dying, Khordeshkhistriakhor. So few younglings, so many elders. You and your dear one may save them, if you will.
My heart leapt "How?"
You will know in good time. It will he hard. There will he great pain. But you will live to know joy again.
"Who speaks? In the name of all my fathers, who speaks?"
There was no answer, only the wind through the trees freshening upon my face.
Only the Wind.
He opened his eyes with a jolt. I knew how he felt.
"Akor? Are you well?"
"I am not certain," he said, coming back down on all fours. "I am—surprised, to say the least. It is a night of new beginnings, Lanen, in all truth. Never in all my long life has that happened." Don't tell me, I thought, your gods spoke to you, too. Please don't tell me that.
"I heard the voice of another in my thoughts. It was not truespeech, I am certain. I do not know who it could have been."
I stood up, threw more wood on the fire. "Akor, this night I have flown with you above the earth, then under the earth. I have with you defied the rest of your Kindred and all of mine, I have pledged my troth to you on wings I never had and now miss, and I am tired of being surprised. The only thing that amazes me any more is that I am still alive and more or less sane." I found that I was growing angry. "As you sat in your Discipline I called out to the Lady, the goddess of my people, for comfort, or perhaps for inspiration. And do you know what, my impossible beloved? She answered me! Not with a vague sense of comfort, but with words."