I turned in a dream, slowly, as against a strong current.
He stood before me, still within the high circle of bone, shaky on his two legs, gloriously alive in a body new-made. I could not speak, only look with all my soul.
"Lanen? What has happened?" he asked, his voice slurring slightly. I reached out to him. He tried to walk towards me, but he was still accustomed to four legs. He stumbled.
I caught him before he fell, held him up, helped him back onto his feet. I moved without thought, lost in wonder at the touch of him, skin against skin. My love alive, healed of his grievous wounds, made whole—made human.
When he stood firm again, I saw he used only one hand to steady himself. I reached for his right hand, to see if it was injured, when he raised his clenched right fist between us. In silence he turned his hand palm up, opening his fingers like the petals of a rose, to reveal a faceted gem that filled his palm, flashing in the torchlight, green as the sea.
His souigem.
I had to speak. And there was only one word I could say, holding his soft hand in mine, filled with wonder. First and last, a word of love.
'' Kordeshkistriakor?''
"Yes, Lanen. I am here." His eyes darted here, there, to me, to himself. "Unless this is a Weh dream. But no, you are real, this is all real. Why can I not speak? So strange a mouth. What has happened? What have I become?" He looked at me with the eyes of Akor beneath long bright hair, emeralds set in a silver sea, opened wide now in wonder, and said, "Lanen?"
I had to say it. The impossible. The truth. ''Akor, you—are human. A man, one, one of my people, one of the Gedrishakrim." And the truth of it washed over me like a sudden waterfall, thrilled down my spine like rain on a sleeper's face, and in that place of death I laughed for joy, loud and clear. "Akor, beloved, we thought you dead, but you live. Bless the Winds and the Lady, you live, you live!"
I turned towards the cave entrance and shouted, my voice soaring high with delight. "Shikrar! Idai! Come and see! He lives, Akor lives!"
He had moved carefully out of his bony coffin-cradle, and it struck me that it was not meet for his Kindred to see him thus naked. I took my cloak off quickly and wrapped it about him.
Shikrar and Idai stood at the cave's entrance, their eyes adjusting from bright morning light to near darkness. I stood between them and the new-made man. At first all they could see were the bones of Akor in the light from the high window. Shikrar spoke kindly to me, his voice sad and gentle.
"Lanen, be at peace. I know it is terrible, but death comes to us all. I fear—''
He fell silent as Akor stepped shakily out from the shadows behind me. His new body was flawless, healthy, clean-limbed, and his long silver hair gleamed richly in the growing daylight. He held up his soulgem that they might see it clearly; then he handed it to me. I put it reverently in my scrip.
It seemed to me that he tried to bespeak Shikrar, for he frowned at him at first. Then he spoke, in a voice growing clearer and more fully human with each word, but which bore yet an echo of the deep music of Kordeshkistriakor.
"I greet you, Hadreshikrar, Iderrisai, dear friends," he said. "You are as welcome as the sunrise, for in all truth I never expected to see either again in this world." And suddenly he laughed. It was the most glorious sound in all the world, a laugh of pure joy from a throat that had never known sorrow.
"Let us go out from this place," he said gaily. "And you, my Lanen, come bear me up lest I fall." He held out his hand and I took it and put his bare arm around my shoulder.
Shikrar and Idai were struck dumb and motionless, and could only watch as I helped Akor walk out through the entry passage, watch as he discovered he did not have to lower his head to pass. His eyes glowed with the knowledge and he grinned at me as we walked, putting his free hand to his mouth to feel what it was doing as delight took him.
I held him up, held him close, walked as in a dream on two legs beside my two-legged love, and prayed to the Lady that I might never wake.
When I stepped out into the morning I was dazzled by the light. My new senses were assailed from all sides, I did not know which way to look. First and strongest, though, was the feeling of air on my skin. Never, even when my new armour was still damp and weak, had I known anything like it. The feel of Lanen's rough cloak on my skin, the ground beneath my feet, the strength of her beneath my arm on her shoulder, even the touch of her hand on mine to steady me—small wonder I could hardly walk. The sun was brighter than I had ever seen it, the very air bore upon it a glorious scent like nothing I had ever dreamed.
I turned to my dear one, now grown to a giant as tall as I and able to help me walk. "What is that smell?" I asked. I delighted in the strange movement of my new mouth, so different, so similar.
She sniffed once and smiled. "Lansip. Can't you tell? Or does it smell different now?"
That was hlansif? Now I understood. "Dear heart, it was nothing like this to me before. This is the very smell of paradise. I know now why your people seek it out."
Her smile broadened. "Wait until you taste it."
Her joy had nothing to do with hlansif and all to do with me. I gazed at her until I could bear the brightness of her face no longer. I turned instead to face my old friends, come now out of my chamber and blinking in the sunlight.
When I looked at them, really looked for the first time, I knew fully how much smaller I was grown. They had not changed, they still had all the stature of our people. I barely came to Shikrar's elbow.
I tried to bespeak Shikrar again, soulfriend for almost a thousand years, but even I could not hear my own truespeech. "Forgive me, Shikrar, Idai. The Language of Truth has deserted me for the moment," I said. They could not answer; they were robbed yet of speech by wonder.
I had to speak, if only to touch reality thus. Holding fast to Lanen—for balancing on two legs was proving most difficult—I faced them and tried to speak in the tongue of the Kantri, but my new mouth would not make the sounds. No truespeech, no Kantriasarikh? Was I to have nothing left of who I was?
I spoke again in the language of the Gedri. ''It is I, Shikrar. Truly," I said. "Do you know me for myself, my friend? Lady Idai, do you know me for Akor?" When they did not reply, I added, "I am glad you have tended to your own wounds, Shikrar. I thank you from my heart for bringing me here after the battle. I would have died there."
"Akhor did die there!" cried a high voice. We all three turned to look to Idai. Her eyes were wide and her Attitude spoke violent Denial. She was backing away from me, flapping her wings as if to take to the skies. "This is not Akhor! It cannot be. Akhor is dead!"
I opened my mouth to object, but in that moment I knew she spoke truth. I waited for the echo of her words to die to silence, then said gently, softly, trying to make my voice sound as normal as I could, ''Idai, Iderrisai, come, come, my friend, be calm, you are right. But for all that I am not to be feared. I am no wandering soul, no creation of the Rakshasa, though my bones—" I shivered. "—Akhor's bones—lie yonder. You are right. That name is a part of me, and all my life before I remember in the way of our Kindred, but I am made new, and I will need a new name."
"Name of the Winds," swore Shikrar softly, as Idai fought to control herself. He gazed full at me, and his Attitude swung bewilderingly between Fear, Denial, Friendship, Wonder and (I was amused to see) Protection of a Youngling. "I hear you and in your words and your voice I hear my soulfriend, but I cannot believe my ears or my eyes. Akhor, Akhorishaan, is it, can it be that you are trapped inside that body?"