I wasn't afraid anymore, though I couldn't tell you why. I suppose any sane person would have become witless with fear or started to stammer something like I had the night before. Though I say it myself, I did not so waste my time. Inspiration had struck and I knew in that moment it was the only answer.
"May I speak to you in the Language of Truth, that you may trust my words?" I asked.
Il worked. He was shocked out of anger into silence.
I could almost feel Akor's smile.
"That was well done, Lanen. If you will be advised, collect yourself and concentrate on what you will say. That may help keep some of your underthought a little quieter."
I did as he said, wondering what in the Seven Hells underthought might be, and waited for Shikrar's reply to my offer.
He spoke instead to Akor. "What is this? Does she offer in truth, Akhor? How does this happen? The Gedri are deaf and mute to truespeech."
Akor only looked at him; as far as I could tell. At any rate, Shikrar turned back to me, managing despite his vast immobile face to express both disbelief and curiosity. "Very well, child of the Gedri. You may bespeak me. I am called Shikrar."
"And I am Lanen," I said aloud. I thought then, as hard as I could, trying to concentrate on the words as Akor had said. "I tell you in all truth, Shikrar, that I have come here on the wings of my dreams, and for no other reason. I first heard of your people many years ago in a ballad, the Song of the Winged Ones, and I have longed to know you ever since."
He seemed to hear a lot more than I said.
I heard her, of course. Younglings have no discrimination, they cannot choose the target of their thoughts until they have practiced for some time. Even though Lanen seemed to have this ability as a natural gift, and to be developing at an amazing rate, still her thoughts were readily audible to anyone nearby. They were a little more focussed than before—she had managed to whisper her greeting to me without too much difficulty, but I heard her on several levels when she spoke to Shikrar, just as he did.
"I tell you in all truth, Shikrar, I wonder what his real name is Shikrar is too short ugly for Dragon name that I have come here still so new a blessing here at last on the wings of my dreams dear Lady those dreams that kept me alive\vision of waking in a dark chamber, staring at the walls, great sorrow at finding herself there\ and for no other reason. at least not before now there is HIM I first heard of your people what do they call themselves I’d wager it isn't Dragon I know it isn't many years ago in a ballad, \vision of many of the Gedri sitting around a fire, one singing, feeling of surprise and wonder\ the Song of the Winged Ones the song in the silence I heard their wings I know I did dear Lady I may yet live to hear them in truth \great joy at being so near us, at being so near me\ and I have longed to know you ever since\no thoughts under, but a wash of longing tempered only slightly by joy, as if that which longed did not yet recognise the fulfilment of its desire\ on my life I speak truth you must believe me."
The last deep underthought I heard I furiously suppressed. She is drawn to me because I answered her call, nothing more, I told myself.
I concentrated on Hadreshikrar's response.
He had obviously heard her, and heard what I heard in her underthought; but he either took it as I pretended to take it or he could not hear it—could not dare to hear it—any more than I could.
Bless his formal soul, he bowed to her. He always did that, bowed to a youngling who had bespoken him for the first time, no matter how scattered the truespeech had been. It was one of the traits I loved in him, and it lives warm in my memory to this day.
"Forgive me, littling. Lhanen. There is great reason for our people to distrust one another, but in all my life I have never heard of a Gedri who could use truespeech. And you are so new to it, unless your artifice is greater even than I could manage, I must admit that you speak truth."
"My thanks, old friend," I whispered in his mind.
"I do not say that all is resolved, Akhor, but I admit I am much impressed by hearing the Language of Truth from her. For now I see no danger of speech with her, if another is present," he told me.
"Will you be that other?"
"For now. I shall withdraw some way, that you may have some privacy, but I shall hear all that is said. Will that satisfy you?"
"It will."
Shikrar gazed at Lanen. "It is well, then. I greet you, child of the Gedri, in the name of my family and as Keeper of Souls. Welcome, Lhanen, to the home of the Greater Kindred."
She sank on one knee, her empty hands open at her sides, her eyes fixed on him, her face joyful yet solemn. "I thank you, Shikrar, Keeper of Souls. If ever I may be of service to you or your family, you need only call upon me."
Shikrar hissed his amusement. "If ever that day comes, littling, I shall do so indeed. Enjoy your time with young Akhor, and remember that even in the midst of joyous communion there is room for caution." He turned and left quietly, withdrawing as he had said far enough at least for the semblance of privacy.
I smiled down at her. "Thar was well done, Lanen. You have been shown a great honour."
She rose to her feet, brushing the dirt and leaves from her leggings. "I know it, and I thank you." She gazed after Shikrar and said quietly, "He is a good one, Shikrar. He terrified me at first, but he thinks only of the danger to you and your people. I—" She stopped herself. "Akor, forgive me. There is so much I want to know, so much I want to ask, but I am afraid of overstepping the bounds."
"Do not fear it, Lanen. If what you ask is a matter for deepest secrecy, I will not answer. Will that content you?"
"It will indeed." She smiled broadly. "And now, who shall have the honour of the first question?"
"What is the custom in your country?" I asked, bemused.
She laughed. "That fits. You have asked first, and the honour usually goes to the oldest male. At least in Ilsa."
"Why the male? Surely the eldest is the Eldest?"
She looked up at me and I could not tell what she meant to convey. "I agree with you, and so would most of my sisters, but in any event I suspect you are much older than I. How old are you?"
"How do you reckon age?"
She seemed taken aback by the question, then replied, "By the passing of the seasons, of course. Thirteen moons and the three days of Midwinter makes a year. I was born at the Autumn Balance-day, when light and darkness are equal. I have seen twenty four years, and with any luck I shall see sixty. What of you?"
"We reckon the days nearly the same, with a few variations—and our years are the same, certainly, since midwinter's shortest day is a festival here as well. I am older than you by many hundreds of years."
"Hundreds?"
"Our two Kindreds live very different lives." I settled myself on the ground, content, the jerrinshadik silent at last. This way I was closer to her. I laid my head on my forearms so that I was just this side of the Boundary and said quietly, "I have seen a thousand and twelve Midwinters, Lanen, and if I live as long as my father I shall see at least eight hundred more."