"We asked you here because we thought you deserved an explanation, after all your assistance," said Varien, his voice gentle. I marvelled at his patience. "Do not worry, Lanen, I know what we agreed, but I think only truth will satisfy the Lady Rella." He knelt down to her and said gently, "It is true, I am he who was Akhor. Do not ask me how this transformation came about, for I do not know, but accept that it has. I shall be coming with you."
Rella nodded, her eyes wide. He turned to me again. "I think you have hit on the way, Lanen. If you are all willing, my friends?" he asked the Kantri, and all three accepted.
There was not much more to be done, though I did insist on one thing. Kédra obliged by scraping a large quantity of khaadish from the walls of Akor's chamber. I laid it close by for morning, when I meant to wrap it in my tunic until we were private on the ship. I'd be cold in just my shirt, but it would not be for long. At my request, Varien allowed a quantity the size of my fist to be taken for Rella. By that time she was so overcome that she simply thanked him and put it in her scrip.
It was well into the night, and though Rella seemed fine (despite her shock), Varien and I were still exhausted. Shikrar agreed to wake us at dawn. We stoked the fire and lay close to each other. The last thing I saw was Rella wrapped in her cloak, sitting by the fire and talking in a low voice with Kédra and Shikrar. As if the Peace had been restored, I thought, and slept.
I woke to Shikrar's soft voice in my mind. "Lady, the sky lightens. It is time.''
Varien was stirring. I went to Rella and touched her shoulder. She was instantly awake.
"Time to go," I said. She grunted and rose to her feet.
I had been dreading this moment. I had warned Varien that he must not wear the circlet with his soulgem openly on the ship. Men have killed for far less. What that really meant, of course, was that he must say farewell here, before we left.
He bespoke them, of course, the green soulgem of Akor bright against his pale hair and skin. I was deeply thankful that I could not hear what was said, for my own heart was full enough, and I had only known these people for a few days. How should I bear hearing my beloved's farewells after a thousand years? Varien's cheeks were wet when at last he took off his circlet and wrapped it in my tunic with the rest of the khaadish.
"Seawater?" I whispered to him, drying his face with my sleeve.
"Tears," he replied, and smiled.
As for my own farewells, I found that after a few stumbling words all I could do was to open my heart to them in the Language of Truth. Wordless, my thoughts flew to them all with love and deep gratitude. From them in return came clear images: from Kédra, a vision of Mirazhe and Sherok playing on the beach at the Birthing Cove, and behind all gratitude mixed with love deep and strong. Idai sent an image of Akor in his youth, and the barely heard thought "Even then he never turned to me. It is the Word of the Winds that you belong to each other,'' From Shikrar, images I could barely understand, they were so complex and many-layered—but they spoke of a friend closer than a brother, of years beyond counting spent in one another's company, of wonder and thanksgiving and hope for the future. And the last image I had from Shikrar was of the soulgems of the Lost, combined with his regard. I caught his eye and he whispered in truespeech, ''Do not forget the Lost, lady, for it is in my heart that your destiny and theirs are intertwined. Seek ever their restoration.''
"I will,'' I replied softly.
There was no more time. We all went out into the breaking dawn.
At least this time I could see where we were going. I will never forget being borne through the air by a Dragon. It is astounding beyond words, but twice is enough.
Kédra carried me across first. The ship lay still in its place in the harbour, but the decks this morning were black with scurrying forms as they prepared to weigh anchor and be off.
Until they saw us.
I couldn't hear anything, of course, but it took only moments for there to be a clear space on the deck for Kédra to land. He dropped me a little space, then landed and bowed. "Fare you well, Lady Rella, and know that you have the regard of the Kantri," he said loudly. "Should you need our assistance, you have only to call upon us." It was what we had agreed, but he leaned down to me and added a quiet "Though I have no doubt you'll manage well enough. Be well, lady. It has been an honour to know you."
I bowed and bade him farewell. The whole ship rocked when he took off.
Idai bore me gently and in silence. She flew low and back-winged, as Akor had done, though not so smoothly. "I can see this will take some practice,'' she said as she landed, amused. "Shall I then practice? Will you return one day to the Dragon Isle, Lanen Maransdatter? Will you and Varien come here again, where you are most welcome?"
''If it lies in my power, Lady Idai, I shall,'' I replied.
"Fare you well then, Lanen, and know that you have the regard of all the Kantri. You have only to call upon us," she said aloud. She bowed to me one last time, crouched on the deck, and leapt into the sky. The ship pitched violently from her leaving.
"Shikrar, my friend, you are wounded. You have done enough. Let another bear me thence," I said as he prepared to take me in his hands.
"If you think, Varien Kantriakor rash-Gedri, that I am going to let anyone else deliver you to the Gedrishakrim, you are deeply mistaken." He gathered me in and took off. "After all my years of suffering with you through the ferrinshadik, should I let another have the honour? My wound will keep. In any case, the others are all aloft already.''
''What?'' I tried to look up, but of course there was only the bulk of Shikrar to see.
And then I heard them.
It happens occasionally on the first warm spring day after a long winter, or when autumn breaks summer's heat, or when there is a reason for rejoicing, that many of my people will take to the skies and sing the Hymn to the Winds. I have done so myself many a time. The pleasure we have in riding the Wind is made manifest in song, both aloud and in the Language of Truth. It is a celebration, and a reverence, and an expression of joy.
And, in this case, of farewell.
Never in all my dreams of Dragons had I imagined such a thing. The sky was full of wings and voices, singing to the morning, and their music echoed in my mind as I heard the language of the Kantri in truespeech. It was lovely almost beyond bearing. Voice rang with voice in harmonies that lifted the heart and gave it wings, with new voices ever swelling the chorus and tuning to a new melody, words and serried ranks of souls touching memories older than life. Dragonsong on the dawn wind—if I close my eyes, I stand there yet and marvel.
Most of the others on the ship cowered in the stern, crying out occasionally in fear, but a few I noticed were looking up in awe, and I remember thinking that perhaps we were not all lost.
When Shikrar approached, it was swiftly obvious that he would not fit on the deck. Rella and I rushed forward as he came as low and as close as he dared and let Varien fall from a little height, more or less onto us. "Farewell, Varien," he cried, circling the ship. ''We are ever at your service. Call and we shall come." And in truespeech he added as he joined the others high above, "Be well my brother, my dear ones. Remember the Lost.''