There was silence in the Great Hall, but my heart rejoiced at his words. "Bless you Shikrar, the Winds bless you, you have saved us. I have never heard you speak so. I thank you from my soul in the name of the Winds of our Kindred and the Lady of the Gedrishakrim.''
"Thank me when all is over, Akhorishaan. There is much yet to do.''
This time the Messenger appeared from Berys. Just as well; Maikel would not be able to heal my arm again for some time yet.
"Yes, Magister? What would you?"
"How go your preparations for the dedication?" he asked.
"Well enough. Caderan seems in no difficulty," I replied.
"I would speak with him. Is he nearby?"
"Near enough." I sent for Caderan to attend me. "The girl is fully healed."
"How?" Berys sounded faintly surprised. "From what you told me of her injuries I thought it would be days at least."
"So did I. The idiot old woman I have attending the girl fed her the whole Ian fruit instead of half. It means I have had none, but I know now that legend, if anything, is less than the truth. Even with all the effort of my Healer, he was not certain that she would live through the night." I rubbed my head absently, cursing when my fingers found the lump at the back. "The bitch is well enough to have knocked me out with a chair when she tried to escape. Caderan has her in a sorcerous sleep; she will not be allowed to wake again until the ritual is prepared."
"Good." The demon Messenger had a slimy smile on its grotesque face, and I got the impression that Berys was laughing at me.
"Magister?" said Caderan's voice from the door. "What do you want of me?"
"I would go over the ritual with you," he said. "Marik, do you leave us. This is not for you to hear."
I left cheerfully. The minutiae of demon summoning has always bored me. It is best left in the hands of those who find interest in such details. I went out to supervise the salvage of what was left of the storage shed. Luckily very few bags of leaves were actually destroyed, as I have them conveyed to the ship on a regular basis, but it was a nuisance and had distracted my guards long enough to allow the woman Rella to disturb me.
I had her brought to me for a fitting rebuke for that disturbance and for giving the girl the whole of the lan fruit, though I moderated it as she was the one who had discovered the fire in time to save most of the contents of the shed. Still, she looked unbalanced with one eye swollen and black. The second, which I gave her, was a great improvement.
The day passed in a confused welter of dream-tossed sleep and worse waking. In dreams I wandered lost, trying to run in stretched-out time from the darkness that followed behind me, calling aloud to Akor for help, seeking him in the forest and not finding him. As I ran I cried out that I wanted true speech with him, only true speech.
But worse, far worse, was the nightmare that alternated with this one. In it I would seem to wake, but that waking found me in my old bed in Hadronsstead, alone as ever and a world away from what must have been no more than a vivid dream of the True Dragons. I screamed, unable to make a sound, and longed for death, so much kinder than that false waking.
Then I would wake in truth, fuddled in mind from the nightmares of loss, only to find before my open eyes a demon of the lesser kind, one of the Rikti. In futile panic I fought my bonds, struggled, but the padded chains that bound me were strong and solid. The demon would cry out in a high-pitched shriek, and Caderan would come. I do not remember how many times it happened, but I seem to recall that he was surprised the last few. Each time he spoke a few words and poured some liquid onto coals, and I would sleep again. And each time as I fell back into the darkness, my last thought was that I should have used truespeech and called out to Akor.
Once as I dreamed, it seemed that Akor's mindvoice called to me, asking if I were well, if I were yet awake. I tried to reply, to call out for help, but the dream that gripped me left my mind so befuddled I could barely remember my own name, much less recall how to use the Language of Truth.
I only stayed awake long enough each time to begin to be terrified before the Rikti cried out again, Caderan performed his rite and blackness claimed me once more.
XIV
RAKSHASA
At times through the day I listened for her, but there was no response. At first I was not overly worried. Could I not hear her lightest whisper? I knew she would call out if she needed me, and I had no idea how long she might sleep after all the healing was done.
The Council was going badly, but Shikrar and I had done what we might—now it was up to them. My people had much to discuss, and they were not accustomed to acting swiftly in such matters. I had no choice but to leave my fate and Lanen's to the Council.
As I awaited their summons, for further debate or to hear their decision, I set myself in Meditation of the Winds. I heard no voices this time, for which I was deeply thankful. I let my soul fly on the Winds, let calmness and order take my thoughts that I might see my way clear.
Do not mistake me, I had no intention of simply accepting the word of the Council if they demanded her life—but I had little time in which to think of a more reasonable alternative. It was harder than I had imagined, since every answer seemed to include exile from our people, indeed from both peoples, for both Lanen and me. Still, perhaps time would heal these wounds.
My heart grew heavy then, for it was the first time I truly gave thought to how short my dearling's span of years would be. I could easily live fifty years alone, in contemplation. Many of the Kindred spent that much time in seclusion simply by preference.
In fifty years, at best, Lanen would be in her old age. It was more likely that she would be dead. Coward that I was, I could not sit alone with that thought. I left my chambers and went to the Boundary to speak with Kédra.
He, of course, was full of a joy no other doings could displace. I played willing audience to his need as he spoke of his pride in Mirazhe and his newfound delight in their youngling. It that had been all the tenor of his speech I might have tired of it sooner, but he could not say enough in praise of Lanen, and he in his turn listened when I spoke of her as I had not dared do with any other, even Shikrar.
As time went on, however, and the sun sank into the west, I found I was calling out to her more often and becoming more and more disturbed at the lack of answer. Surely she should have awakened by now? The wind had turned with sunset and blew from the south, and in the darkening twilight suddenly I caught a whiff of Gedri nearby. Kédra had smelt it as well, and we both knew it was not Lanen.
In moments a figure appeared in the twilight at the edge of the trees, looking all ways, then speeding to the place of Summoning. It was a female, smaller and darker than my dear one, but swift and sure in her movements despite an odd twist to her body. There was no trace of the Rakshasa in her, though her eyes looked strange.
She could not have been more than a tree's length away when she called out in a loud whisper.
"Akor? Akor? Guardian, are you there? Lanen told me to seek you here."
I waited. She spoke very quickly, and fear surrounded her.
"Akor, I need to talk to you. Akor?" Then, as if to herself she muttered, "Damn, what were the other two—Shikrer, something like that, Kaydra—the Hells—Akor?" she called again, louder. "Akor, damn it, Lanen told me to come here. She's in trouble!"
My heart fell like a stone. I moved swiftly to her and leaned down all in an instant so that my face was barely a length away from hers. "What kind of trouble?"
She let out a yelp and leapt back. I had not desired to frighten her, but it occurred to me once it was done that I might more swiftly learn her tidings if she had some fear of me to spur her on.