Alas! If we had known we might have fought it, but we 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 Kedra 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. "Sherok 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. "Sherok 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 Kantri-akhorfar 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 Kedra. "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 Kedra.
"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 Kedra, 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, Kedra, you dreadful kit!" I said. "Solemnity now would undo me. Where are you now?"
"Mirazhe and Sherok 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, Kedra, 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.
Kedra 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 Kedra 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 Kedra 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.
"Kedra, 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.
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 true-speech 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."