I closed my eyes and bowed to Lanen as I saw the pain in her eyes, the echo of my own sorrow and Idai's despite her youth. Perhaps, I thought, our races are not so very different.
"Hadreshikrar, on your soul, I beg you, tell me the truth. Is he dying?''
I looked long on the sleeping, painracked body of the friend of my heart. I could hardly bear to hear Idai; she still called to Akhor, but quietly now, as though she could not stop herself. Her voice was a mourning lover's.
Without turning back to Lanen I answered her honestly. ''I do not know, lady. I have never seen this before."
Idai eventually fell silent. She turned from Akhor with bowed head and left the cave without glancing at either of us. After a time I nodded to Lanen that she, too, should take the chance for air untainted by Akhor's pain. I saw that she had begun to flinch every time Akhor groaned, saw her muscles twitch in sympathy with his, and fresh before my eyes rose a clear vision of my own watch on my beloved Yrais as she had neared death.
Without speaking her eyes commanded me to call out to her if there was any change; without words I swore I would. She tore her glance away from Akhor, put on her cloak against the cold, and went out wrapping her arms around herself to keep out a cold far sharper and a thousand times more bitter.
I found I was thirsty again after the heat of the cave. I walked over to the pool at the edge of the forest, my way lit by the bright moonlight. It was only so helpful. I could see no further than my own pain, I sought only a moment's relief from cool water.
Idai was there before me, on the far side of the pool, drinking in the manner of beasts. Her long tongue flickered in and out of her mouth, hissing,in the cool water. I knelt and drank double handfuls; I was parched after that long time in such heat. The cool water felt good on the new skin of my poor hands.
When I looked up she was staring at me through the tree-shadowed darkness. I could not tell anything about her thoughts, she was just staring, her eyes gleaming in the filtered moonlight.
"You are so vulnerable when you drink, like all beasts," she said. The tone of her truespeech was flat; like me, she had gone beyond caring. ''Lanen, do you know what is happening to Akhor?"
''No, Lady Idai. I would give my life, I swear, would it help him, but I don't know what is wrong or what I could do.'' My own mindvoice shocked me, it was low and as flat as Idai's. "Why? Do you know?"
''I am not certain,'' she said, ''but I have an idea.
''For love of the Lady, tell me! Is there aught we may do to save him? I beg you, tell me your thoughts, even an idea is more than I have now.''
"How well do you love him?" she asked me.
"As I love my life, Idai, I swear it on my soul," I said. "In that cave lies my dearest dream of love and all my life to come, suffering torments. If I can help him I will, nor ever count the cost.''
"Then renounce him," she said coldly.
"What!"
"Renounce him. Go into the clearing and call upon the gods, ours and Iyours, and swear on your soul to the Winds that you do not love him. Perhaps then he may live.''
I did not move. I was beyond surprise, I had no more capacity for it, but I did not understand.
"How should that help? It would be a lie. I do love him, as much as you do.''
"How could you so?" she hissed at me, and her coldness was turned in an instant to raging fire. "I have known him all his life long, full a thousand winters! He is blood of my blood, soul given wings and fire. How dare you say your love is like to mine! A few paltry days you have known him, hardly a breath of time between you! How dare you!"
I knelt on one knee to her on the cold ground, partly out of respect, partly out of weariness. "Lady, I honour you. I see that the very depth of your love is pain to you now—but still I dare to say I love him as you do.'' She looked as if she were going to spring at me. To be honest, I didn't much care. "Lady Idai, a life is a life. I have spent mine longing for your people and dreaming hopeless dreams in the dark to keep myself alive. Akor is those dreams made flesh, the summit of all my life—but more, infinitely more, he is himself. And I love him with all my power. If you want to kill me for it, then do so and welcome.''
My words shocked her. I could see her force herself to relax. "I do not wish your death, only to prevent Akhor's,'' she said.
"Do you truly think it possible?" I asked.
''It may be.''
I waited.
"I believe I know what is happening, Lhanen of the Gedri,'' she said, her mindvoice gentle now. She stared into my eyes, as though seeking truth there, and said, "This love that you and Akhor share, it is wrong, and not only because you are so different. I believe that in the sight of the Winds it is too great a sorrow for both Kindreds to bear for so many years as Akhor will live. I fear the balance is being restored by the great leveler of all life.''
Death.
"And if I renounce him?"
"Perhaps the balance will be restored, and Akhor's life spared.''
It was the only ray of hope I had and I clung to it. I did not, could not stop to think. The vision ever before my eyes was of Akor in agony, in torment even beyond his wounds, and if this would save him I would do it.
If I can help him I will, nor ever count the cost.
I ran into the clearing, found Shikrar waiting there. Above us the moon, just beginning to wane from the full, was riding above the trees and shone down into the glade bright and clear. I planted my feet and raised my arms to the heavens, I did not know what I was doing, but the words came to me as naturally as if I had known them all my life.
"I call upon the Lady of my people, Lady Shia, Goddess thrice holy. Mother of Kolmar beneath our feet, Ancient Lady of the Moon, Laughing Girl of All the Waters, I call upon thee to witness my words." I drew a deep breath, sought the memory, found it. ''And to stand beside thee, Blessed Lady, I call upon the Winds of the Greater Kindred of the Kantrishakrim.
"First is the Wind of Change
Second is Shaping
Third is the Unknown
And last is the Word."
The moon stood directly above, the earth under my feet listened as it held me, the waters of the pool gurgled their attention. And a wind, a light cold breeze, blew into the glade and played about me, seeming to come from all four directions in turn. My cloak was like a live thing, swirling and lifting on the hands of the Winds.
"Hear me!" I cried aloud, and there was silence. I opened my mouth to speak—
—and I could not draw breath. The lie stuck in my throat; all my soul bowed down before the gods and acknowledged what truly was. ...
Perhaps the balance will be restored, and Akhor's life spared.
"I do not love him!" I cried with all my strength. My voice seemed to come from my gut, not my throat. I was surprised by the power of it. "Let the balance be restored. I do not love him!"
That was twice. Three times I must say it, three for the Lady was the charm to make it true. I ignored my heart that screamed its denial, I ignored the winds that grew stronger and seemed to come now from all directions at once. I drew a final breath, for after this was done all that I cared for would be lost—