Lanen aimed a kick at her backside but the woman had scurried off.
"My girl, she's not worth kicking downstairs, just think of trying to get the bloodstains out of the wood," I said, desperately trying to defuse Lanen's fury.
"Bloodstains on wood! On my knife, more like. Rella, she was horrible—Goddess, what a hideous, unfeeling cow! How could such as she ever—I mean—oh Hells," and Lanen deflated all at once. "Oh, Goddess help me," she said weakly. "Hells, Rella, she's a bitch but do you think she could be right?"
I sat Lanen down and held her by the shoulders. "My girl, I think she's right that you're pregnant, don't you?"
She just looked at me, desolate, then she burst into a strange mixture of laughter and tears. "Yes, now you mention it, I think I am. But I feel so ill with it."
"Well, I think she may be right about that too. Remember two things, though—first, she was not able to rid you of the pregnancy, which tends to mean that there is good healthy life in the child." Lanen nodded and looked a little brighter at that. "And second—well, I'd wager there is a qualified Mage somewhere in this town who will be able to do rather more than that idiot could." I snorted. "I've seen them before, barely qualified and they think they know everything. I wouldn't trust that—that unspeakable, inhuman piece of refuse to cure a wart!"
"You don't think she was right about me dying, though, do you?" asked Lanen solemnly. I knew I could not lie to her, she'd know it in a moment. Thankfully I didn't have to.
I gazed into her eyes. "We all die, my girl, but I would wager my next seven years' pay that you are not destined to die in childbirth. If nothing else, there are plenty of Mages in Ver-faren and that's where we're headed. We'll get you there in one piece, never fear." I leaned over and kissed her cheek. Sweet Shia, that girl could touch my heart. "Now get yourself dressed and come down to dinner—I expect you're starving."
"I'll be down in a moment," said Lanen quietly.
I nodded and left her to her thoughts.
I flew over the firefields one last time, only seven days before the Council was to take place, and I waited until dark that I might see the true extent of the unrest.
I was still far too many leagues away when I saw the glow. It lit the low cloud from beneath, turning it bright red and giving the whole north end of the island a hellish look, as though legions of demons were breaking through a hole in the world. I had seen the effect before but never from so far away. My heart turned to stone in my breast as I flew, for as I drew nearer the light grew brighter, filling my eyes with fire. I had never in all my life seen anything like it. Surely those three active mountains could not throw so much light abroad, unless.,.
I topped the high crest of the Grandfather, which had hid some of the worst from my sight, and the full horror lay before me. I nearly fell from the sky as the heat tossed me back like a feather on the breeze. I barely recovered my balance in time. Taking heed, I turned away from the cliffs and spiralled much higher, having to work hard in the cold air. I kept away from the worst of the turbulence, though the air was still choppy, and the steam through which I flew was full of the stink of the yellow earth that appeared sometimes when stone melted.
Once I was over the firefields, much higher than I would normally fly at night, I used the strong thermal updrafts to soar higher still and to behold the full extent of the fire.
Every mountain for miles ahead of me, and to left and right, had its own part in the inferno. Nearly every peak in that great range of mountains was throwing rock and flames into the air or, worse yet, sitting brooding in a series of lakes of molten stone.
Worst of all, most frightening, was the way the land had changed near the Grandfather and the other heights of the southern cliffs. I was used to the great round pit on top of the high mountain that stood sentinel above the Grandfather, extending north from the harder rock of the southern cliffs. At some time, long before the Kantri had arrived, that mountain had run with fire, and when it cooled the deep round pit had formed.
When I looked for it now, it was gone, the pit was filled; and the black and fire-yellow and red surface boiled like water, throwing flame aloft here and there, almost like a living tiling. From time to time a gout of flowing red stone would escape away towards the north and run swiftly down the mountain, but on the southern edge—I gasped—the Winds preserve us, there was very little darkness now between the fire and the Grandfather mountain. I could not believe that the slender barrier of stone would hold much longer against that great weight of fire and molten rock.
The peaks on the far northern edge of the firefield held their own silent menace in the great bulges that distorted them, and everywhere I flew that high scream, of rock or fire or the very earth itself, assaulted my ears and rattled my thoughts.
It is difficult to surprise one as old as I, for the years building each upon each tend to even out all things—but the devastation before me shocked me to the bone, and I saw no slightest sign that there was an end in sight. On the contrary, it was vastly, hideously worse than it had been mere days ago. The heat was immense, and the smell of burning rock was acrid in my nostrils and grew only stronger as I fought to hold a steady way through the violent updrafts. At least they helped me put more air between myself and the raging earth. There was also a great deal of steam, which made it harder to see, and the red light was sometimes more hindrance than help.
From what I could make out through the smoke and the stink and trying to see through that dreadful light, Terash Vor, at the centre of the widening ring of fire, was now much larger than it had been, and there was a darkness around and about it. No fire sprang from its top or its sides, but it showed an ominous bulge on its southern flank.
I realised that the terrible high screech was combining now with a rumble deep in the earth, and I banked in panic when I realised that the rumble was directly below me. Even as I flew off, fire spewed beneath me where moments ago there had been only a dark bulge on a mountainside, and I had to swerve again violently to avoid the fire-rock, spurting from the mountainside like blood from a death wound. Despite the height at which I flew I had been singed, tail-tip and wing-tip, albeit not badly. It must have been a quarter as high again as the mountain that had birthed it.
I gave up then, scorched, exhausted, my wings grown as weary as my heart. I turned away south towards the chambers of my people. I had still over an hour to fly, and my new-healed shoulder was aching.
I must tell my people what I had seen. I could not wait an other sevenday.,
This was the death of our home.
Wearily, wearily, sorrow bowing down my heart, I bespoke the Kantrishakrim.
"My people, my Kindred, hear me. It is Hadreshikrar who calls. We have no more time. Come to me at the Summer Plain at dawn."
A confusing babble greeted me, including many voices protesting that I had arranged the Council for half a fortnight hence. I heard their protests for only a moment. "There can be no argument," I said coldly. "Behold what I have seen."
I concentrated on the manifestation of the hells that I had just flown through, on sending the image of that devastation to all of my people.
It was met with absolute silence. I was not surprised. We are not a stupid race and we all knew death when it threatened. "My people, we must leave. I hope that we will have this night to prepare ourselves, but we must all be ready to take off instantly if need be. If there is aught of value you cannot bear to leave behind, bring it, remembering that the journey will take some days and there will be little chance to rest save on the Winds. If you know of any who keep the Weh, call to them and pray the Winds they hear you. If there are any who are not wing-light, tell me that we may find a way to bear them with us.