Instantly Shikrar's voice sang in my mind, worried, caring as only a soul's friend cares. "Khordeshkhistriakhor, I ask as your namefast friend, what has happened to you? I spoke in jest, but truly you are not yourself this morning. Your thoughts are guarded against mine as they have not been in my memory. Does the Weh sleep come upon you again so soon? Or have the Gedri indeed cast binding spells upon you?"
"Hadreshikrar, I warn you, much has happened this night," I replied cautiously, aloud. Then in the truespeech I added, "I will gladly open my thoughts to you, but for friendship's sake do nothing, do not even move, unless you find the true touch of the Rakshasa."
"I swear it, old friend."
I let down the barriers of conscious thought and let Shikrar see the events of the night before. In a moment he knew most of what had passed, and in that moment I threw my wings and my forearms about him and held him fast. I had not known him all these years without knowing what his first reaction would be.
"You swore to me!" I cried aloud as he struggled to throw me off, to take to the sky, to seek out this Gedri and destroy her. "Hold to your word!"
In his fury he struck at me as best he could while I held him, raking his claws across my chest plates. If he had had any leverage my blood would have drenched the grass. My wings had hampered him, but now they were vulnerable and I withdrew them; they were far too delicate to risk in a struggle. "You fool!" he cried, thrashing. "Would you damn us all? Shall we be cattle in the Trollingwood, shall we be dragons because you trusted some pawn of the Gedrishakrim?"
"Enough!" I cried. I felt my grip weakening. Shikrar was older and larger than I. I focussed instead on using all the power of truespeech to cry out to him mind to mind, where I could not be ignored. "Hadreshikrar, listen to me! Did you find Raksha-trace?" I shook him even as he battled to escape me, even as I felt my hold slipping. "Tell me, your soul to the Four Winds, did you find any trace of the Rakshasa in me? Any trace at all?"
He stopped struggling then, suddenly, bowing his head in defeat. "No, Akhor. Your soul is as clean as the day you were birthed, you great fool," he replied. Then he spoke aloud, as if truespeech were too painful. "What madness possessed you? For since it is not the Rakshasa, it must be that you have in truth lost your mind."
I released my hold and stepped back, praying to the Winds that my tongue might be touched with the power of persuasion. If I could not explain this to Hadreshikrar, I could not explain it to any of the Kindred.
"Shikrar, do you remember my waking from my last three Weh sleeps?"
He stared at me, waiting.
"Hold your silence now if you will, but then it was you who spoke to me of my dreams. You reminded me then that it was the third time I had spoken of them, and how Weh dreams should be honoured as they are so rare. Do you remember my reply?"
"Is that it, then? Is that the basis for this madness, that you have dreamt a child of the Gedri calling to you? I tell you, Akhor, we have all had that fantasy—though the ferrinshadik has ever been a shadow over your shoulder." He stared straight into my eyes and said, "Do you tell me, Akhor, that she called you by your name?"
"No," I replied quietly. That had been a powerful element in the second Weh dream, that the Gedri had known my true, full name without being told. "She did not call me by name, my friend. But Shikrar, neither did she call me 'dragon.' "
"What did she say? 'Hello you great idiot'?"
"She called me brother, Shikrar. Brother, as in the first dream. And she told me she had longed to know us for all of her short life."
"Did she also tell you that she had heard tales of dragon gold and might she please have some?"
I felt the tire grow in me, rising with my anger, but I fought it down. My own vehemence surprised me. "Have you so little respect for our fellow creatures that you will allow none of them to be greater than the worst?"
"Have you so far lost your reason that you forget what happened to the Lesser Kindred?" he growled. His anger was echoing mine and growing on it, flame fed by accusation. "Will you have us all live as soulless beasts? Shall we haunt the deep glades of the Trollingwood like the Lesser Kindred, slaughtered like cattle, with no soul and no reason? I am the Keeper of Souls, I have tried my life long to speak with the Lost, with the Lesser Kindred, to no avail. They were in the heart of their flower, Akhor!" he cried, as though the Demonlord's destruction were a blow struck moments before. The youngest and best of us, struck down by this twisted child of the Gedri with no more thought than we give cattle." He could barely contain himself. He had begun to crouch, and I could see small tongues of flame in his speech even in the bright light of early morning. With his next breath he would challenge me, and I was in no mood for a fight.
"Shikrar, I charge you by our friendship, restrain your anger. Let us guide one another in the Discipline of Calm, but I charge you to follow that Discipline now as my namefast friend." I spoke quietly, with all the calm power I could muster. It did not move him at all that I could see.
I had hoped to avoid invoking my authority with so old a friend, but I could see no other choice. I bespoke him.
"If that will not reach thee, Hadretikantishikrar, I charge thee to honour my wishes by thy vow of fealty to the King."
The use of his full true name shocked him—as well it might—and it had the desired effect. He stared at me in hurt surprise. I gazed back at him, standing in the formal Attitude of Kingship, wings fully extended, and my soulgem gleamed in the early sun as I stood in my power.
He bowed to me formally, gathered himself and began the Discipline. I did the same. As we took ourselves through its measured paces I spoke.
"I would not have you judge this child of the Gedri without knowledge, Shikrar my friend. I know the fear you speak of, better now than ever before, I assure you. Even if my distrust had not been awakened by my own actions, yours would have shocked me to awareness."
Shikrar finished the Discipline. When he opened his eyes the deep anger was gone; what was left more closely resembled regret.
"What would you, my Lord King?"
I had asked for it, but still it stung. Shikrar had been the friend of my heart for many a long year. I had hoped my reminder would shock him out of his anger, no more. Well, he would thaw in time.
"I would have you accompany me this evening, when I will meet again with the child of the Gedri," I replied. "I would ask you not to harm her unless she breaks one of our laws."
"Do you not break those same laws, Lord King, when you call out to this—this Gedrishakrim?"
"You bespoke me, Shikrar," I replied sternly. I would not let his formality wound me, nor allow myself to defer to our friendship. There was too much surrounding this meeting for that. "You well know that she called to me, not I to her, and that the law refers on their side simply to crossing the Boundary. As for my breaking of our laws—I ask you to let me carry that burden alone for now. We might find between us, you and I, that it is the law that is at fault."
Shikrar did not reply.
"I will meet you at the watch post on the Boundary shortly before the middle night," I told him, then in farewell said what we always said to the Guardian. The words came hard past my tongue.