Kédra managed to get Akor to his floor of gold, where he lay in a pool of sunlight from the opening above. Akor lay on his back with his wounds uppermost, and—I couldn't believe my eyes—Kédra was scraping gold from the walls, breathing flame onto it until it glowed, shaping it like clay with his great claws into what could only be a bandage.
"Kédra?" I asked quietly.
"It will keep what blood he has left within his body and speed the healing," he said, not even glancing at me. "It is our way, Lanen. Let me finish."
I backed away, both hands covering my mouth lest I distract Kédra again, and watched, tears unheeded washing my hands.
When he had finished, when the redstained, silver wreck of Akor's body was decently covered with gleaming golden bindings, Kédra bowed his great head, sorrow at last coming into its own. "Lanen," he said quietly, "he will not hear me. I must know if there is aught he desires. When we are wounded our bodies have different needs and only the wounded know what they are. Bespeak him, I pray you, that he may be healed. You are his beloved, he will rouse for you."
I clenched my teeth and made myself stop weeping. I knew instinctively that I must be calm for him lest my distress take his mind from his own needs. Deep breath, Lanen. Now.
"Akor, dearling?"
He did not answer.
''Akor, beloved, it is Lanen who calls, Lanen Kaelar. Dear-ling, speak with me, I beg you, for one moment only before the Weh sleep takes you. Akor?"
Nothing. Forgive me, dear one, I thought to myself, but Kédra is here and I cannot make him leave. This must be done. Then I said aloud and in truespeech, in the best tones of command I could muster, "Kordeshkistriakor! Wake to me. It is Lanen Kaelar who calls."
Like one rising from deep waters he raised his head. "Hwat would you, ssweeting? I must ssleeep...."
"Akor, it is Kédra," said he in truespeech, loud enough for me to hear. "You are wounded, what have you need of?"
"Ssleeep onlly, Khedthra," replied Akor as loudly. "You haff sstopped the woundss with khaadishhh?"
''Yes, lord,'' replied Keira. ''Need you meat or water, heat, iron—"
"Ssleeep onlly, younglinng," he replied. "But where iss Hlanen who called me?"
''I am here, dear heart,'' I answered, clinging to calmness with all my strength. "How may I help you, my love?"
''Let me but feel your hand, little one,'' he said, more clearly than he had spoken yet. I stepped up and laid my hand on the soft skin under his jaw and saw him relax. "Ahh, hyu arre perilouss, Hlanen Kaelar. Around you the world changess sso quickly I cannot learnn onne thinng beforre the nexst iss upon me. But you do make life interressting!" He smiled. "Ssleep on the Windss, Hlanen Kaelar. I will look fforr hyu hwen I wake...." His mindvoice floated into nothingness and he slept.
I gazed at him. He had gone beyond his pain, forgotten the Council, Marik, anything that might ever have been a danger to either of us; but he remembered that he loved me. And he remembered my name.
"Sleep on the Winds, beloved," I said quietly, lightly touching the dulled soulgem in his forehead, and unbidden from my mouth came softly the words of parting. "Go you safe, and keep you safe, and come safe home to me."
Then I began to cry in earnest.
XVIII
THE WINDS AND THE LADY
When Kédra and I left the chamber, Akor was already deep in the Weh sleep. Kédra was pleased that his breathing was regular; it was a good sign, he said, and promised well for the healing. He had brought a large quantity of khaadish outside with him, and applied it to the gouge in Shikrar's shoulder. The process appeared to pain Shikrar, but after it was done he seemed better able to bear the wound.
Shikrar and Idai had thoughtfully lit a fire for me in the clearing, for the day though bright was sharp with winter's approach. I thanked them and stood as near the flames as I could, wondering why I was so weary. Dear Goddess, was the Weh sleep affecting me? No, it couldn't, surely. Then why was I so weak? I was even starting to tremble—
And the voice that lives always at the back of my mind spoke up, its tone lightly mocking. Well, my girl, aside from nearly dying two days ago, having no more than an hour's sleep last night, fighting for your life with the Council and watching as the one you love best is butchered before your eyes, you haven't eaten since that stew in Marik's cabin a day and a half ago. Remember?
I swayed as I stood and said, "Please, is there anything to eat here? Goddess, I don't even know what you eat. I'm starving."
Shikrar brought his head down to my level and spoke quietly. "We eat meat and fish, littling. Can you eat of the beasts your people brought with you?"
"Everything but bones, hide and hair," I answered. "But I don't think I could catch one now, or butcher it either."
Shikrar hissed softly. "Sit you down and rest, lady. You have the soul of my people, and I can almost forget that you have not the body. How often do your people require food?''
"At least once a day—two or three times is best," I said, sinking down beside the fire, and despite my hunger and fatigue had the satisfaction of seeing a Dragon stand in what was obviously Astonishment.
"Rest now," Shikrar repeated, recovering. "Kédra will keep watch over Akor, Idai shall watch over you, and I will bring food." He bowed, that graceful sinuous Dragon bow, and took off at once. I managed to watch Kédra going into the Weh chamber, and muttered a kind of thanks to Idai (despite her obvious annoyance at being made my guardian) before sleep took me.
I had hoped to find rest in sleep, but it was not to be. From the instant my eyes closed I was assailed by dreams. The first was lovely, to begin with. I am almost sure that Shikrar's words caused it, but I saw myself as a Dragon, with a hide of gleaming gold and a soulgem of adamant. I felt even more truly the wings I had been gifted with in spirit during the Flight of the Devoted. I flexed them, I learned to fly, and in great joy lived out my days as one of the Greater Kindred. Akor and I lived a long and wondrous life together, we had four younglings and flourished with them—but for such a sweet dream it had a most dreary ending. It showed our deaths as a gentle passing in sleep and the burning of the body from within, as Akor had described it to me. But here, through the soft ashes where our two soulgems lay gleaming, I
saw that which I had seen only for a few moments on the battlefield: the endless flicker of the soulgems of the Lost, unredeemed, unrestored, as though Akor and I had never lived.
I woke then, crying out, but Idai was there and her real (and grudging) presence consoled me.
I slipped again into sleep. I walked again in the same dream, but this time it was the other side of the coin—Akor appeared to me again as the tall, silver-haired, green-eyed man of my imagination. Our lives were hard, full of wandering and adventure, danger and darkness set against our joy in each other and in our children—but when this dream ended and we were laid to rest I saw a great number of the Kindred flying above our graves, more than could possibly be born in so short a time as I would live, and I knew that somehow the Lost had been restored. I came slowly awake, knowing in the depths of my soul that I was being given a choice—but I forgot about it as soon as I was fully conscious, for Kédra was standing above me speaking my name softly, and there was a glorious smell on the breeze of roasting meat nearby. It was late afternoon. Idai and Shikrar were speaking together in low voices by the pool.