As I ate, Kédra would tell me no more than that Akor was now deep in the Weh sleep, and that he himself was about to leave. There was much to be done now, not least of which was the restoration of the soulgems of the Lost to their rightful place in the Chamber of Souls, and he alone would Shikrar trust with such a task.
"Should not Shikrar be going into the Weh sleep himself? That wound looked terrible," I said as softly as I could.
"It will happen soon enough, but for now he has chosen to remain. Neither he nor Idai seems affected by the Weh as yet."
"Oh, Kédra," I said, longing to reach out to him, wishing for an instant that he were human enough to hug. "I wish you could stay longer, though I would not interfere with your duty."
He bowed. "I would if it were possible. My heart is heavy with this sorrow, lady, and I ache for your own."
I bowed and held out my hands to him, futile and senseless gesture though it was. "Kédra, dear friend, I do not know the words to thank you deeply enough for all you have done. I—without you—''
"I have but begun to return that which you have given me. Farewell, Lady Lanen. Go with the love of me and mine," he said, and slowly, gently, leaned down and brushed the end of his snout against my hands.
I could not speak. I held my hands palms together, hallowed by his touch, and watched as he climbed into the darkening sky.
When he was gone I went to the pool for water, to drink and to wash. Idai and Shikrar, standing at the water's edge, fell silent as I drank.
"Very well," I said, when I had drunk my fill. I looked up at the two of them and sighed.
"Now, what exactly is it that you aren't telling me?"
Shikrar sighed and bowed to me. "Truly, there is no good reason for our silence, save that we would not burden you beyond your strength. Lady, I fear—it is most likely that—'' and I, who thought myself beyond astonishment, was amazed to hear Shikrar's voice break on his words. I did not know then that Shikrar had lost bis beloved soon after Kédra was bom, that he knew well the pain that he spoke of.
Idai finished it for him. "May I bespeak you, Lanen?" Her mindvoice was harsh but at least for the moment not angry. "I know we have spoken already in truespeech, but I would begin again. I am called Idai. I have not much of your language."
"Do and welcome. Please, Lady Idai, what is it that so grieves Shikrar that he cannot speak?" I felt my throat tighten and was glad that we used the Language of Truth, for I was suddenly aware of an endless river of tears waiting to break forth. "Please, I beg you, lady. I would know the truth."
"It is Akor. He has told you of the Weh sleep?"
''A little. He said that when you are wounded it comes upon you.'' Just tell me, Idai, quickly, I thought to myself, forgetting that she would hear.
''Very well, Lanen. Akor may live or he may not. If he does not, death will claim him soon. If he survives"—and for an instant I heard her mindvoice break as mine had—"child, his wounds will take long and long to heal. Some half century, at the least. I do not know how many years you have nor how long you may expect to live, but I know that at the best you will be in your age when he awakes.''
So—my heart was numb—so either my beloved would die soon, or he would live, but not awaken whole and strong until I was in my seventies, most of my life already spent. Some half century at the least. If I even lived that long.
''Forgive us, lady, that we pierce so brutally to the heart of the matter, but you needed to know, and we have little time," said Shikrar sadly. "The Weh has taken Akor, it will take us all if we do not leave swiftly." He paused to lick at the edges of his own wound, which had begun to bleed again around the patch of gold after his exertions in bringing me meat. "It may be that I shall be taken by the Weh in any case, but not here."
I was surprised at my own calmness. Too much reality will do that. There is a strange state beyond mourning in which life is as it is, and we do what we must.
"Can you stay long enough for me to say farewell?" I asked, my voice calm.
"Certes, lady," replied Shikrar, bowing formally. I was briefly surprised at his words, but reminded myself that he was Eldest of a people that lived twice a thousand years. The surprise should rather be that, speaking my language at all, he should most often use words known to me instead of those used by my distant ancestors.
Beyond hurt, beyond thought, beyond mourning, I went into oAkor's Weh chamber to bid him farewell. Evening was closing in rapidly, so I took with me a brand from the fire for light. I would see him clearly before I left, that when I returned somehow in fifty years I would remember.
Akor slept still, but as I approached I was shocked at the heat. He was hotter than a baker's oven, I could barely come nigh him. He did not lie still, but twisted and turned in his sleep—for he slept still—and as I watched he went rigid. It was terrifying, and all so strange. I went as close to him as I dared, for the heat, and spoke to him gently. I did not use his true name for fear he might rouse to pain, but spoke the soothing words one uses to a child. Eventually he relaxed. I was greatly relieved, but not for long. It soon happened again, and then again.
I had never seen Weh sleep, but Akor had said nothing of this. I had assumed it was like a human sleep. I might have been wrong, but he had seen me sleeping the other night. If sleep itself was so different for our separate Kindreds he would have mentioned it, I was certain.
No. This was wrong. For healing it was wrong.
Then he began to moan. It was a terrible sound, deep and rich even in pain but cracked as mud in the sun. For all my love I could not stay. I ran outside, calling I know not what.
Shikrar waited in the firelight and I fled to his side. "Shikrar!" I cried. "Oh, Shikrar, something is wrong. He's so hot, he was sleeping but now he cries out, it can't be right, I've never seen Weh sleep but this can't be right."
Shikrar was moving at a flat run by the time I finished speaking, with Idai on his heels. I followed after and found that even a Dragon of Shikrar's size could manage that small opening at need.
Inside the cave the brand I had brought in (and dropped) gave off light enough to see; but I could not feel its warmth, a tiny drop in the ocean of heat that ran in waves from Akor. He fairly glowed with it.
Idai called to him, aloud and in truespeech. But there was no answer, no response at all. She would not give up, calling again and again in the hope of some reaction. As we all watched, Akor's body was gripped by another spasm. He went rigid for what seemed like forever.
Finally, slowly, he relaxed.
Shikrar stood beside me, watching, looking very old indeed. I would know now without being told that he was the Eldest of them. His eyes in that cave were ancient and completely unreadable.
He turned to me and spoke gently. "What has happened here, Lanen? Did you call upon him in truespeech to rouse, or use his true name?"
"No," I said, managing to keep my voice more or less level. "I didn't use truespeech at all, and aloud I only spoke the words humans use to comfort their children in illness." I drew breath with difficulty; my chest was tight and I was so caught in deep sorrow I hardly cared about breathing. "Shikrar, this is wrong, isn't it? Akor never told me what the Weh sleep was like, but this must be wrong." I felt new tears run down to join the ashes of the old on my saltcrusted cheeks. He bowed his head down to my level and spoke softly. "Yes, child. It is wrong. In the healing of the Weh sleep we grow cold. He should be chill to the touch by now, and still as a stone."