It was deep night when I emerged, some hours past midnight. I had not realised we had been so long in the Council chamber. A brisk wind blew past, carrying the glorious scent of lansip on the night air, sharp and crisp.
I sat, leaning back against the rocky entrance to the Great Hall. Weariness wrapped round me like my old cloak as I waited for Kédra under the clear cold stars. Pain and terror, exultation, delight and despair may sound the very fabric of adventure from a distance, but even singly they are exhausting. Together I was no match for them, and sleep took me.
XVI
IN THE DEEP NIGHT
Ow! This damned spike hurts, I've scratched my chest with it already. Thirsty for blood the damned thing is. Now take it in the right hand, run the middle finger of the left onto it—damn! Shouldn't have hurt that much. Never mind. It looks rusty as well, I must have Maikel salve the wound once I am on board the ship. Now, what did Berys say—yes, that was it, fill each of the four little wells at the corners with blood. It's damned hard to see the things in the dark. This cloak that hides me from other sight leaches colour from the world. Still, on balance I come out on the profit side of the ledger—I pass unseen, and can see well enough to get where I am going. And anything that gives off light shines like a beacon. Ah, the moon!
Such pain in my eyes. It is overbright but at least I can see what I'm doing.
There! The flash Berys said would signal the beginning, then it goes dark again. Two hours only have I now, in whicb to make my fortune and that of my House forever, but for these two hours I shall leave behind no spoor of either world: no natural human smell, no Raksha-trace to lead the Dragons to me.
I move in a mist of blurred outlines and shadows, drawn by vengeance and desire, glide like a ghost across the Boundary and speed towards their treasure chamber.
As we left the Great Hall, Rishkaan (much subdued) asked if we might survey his own chambers, which were close at hand, before we examined Akhor's. I itched to be gone to the Chamber of Souls myself, but I understood the concern behind his request. When I bespoke Kédra, he agreed to meet us at Akhor's dwelling as soon as he might, but said he was searching along the Boundary for sight or smell of the Gedri Marik and would be some little time, and that we might as well make certain of both our chambers first. He would come as escort to Rishkaan as soon as he could, that I might guard the Chamber of Souls. In passing I bespoke Idai, who flew at best speed from the Birthing Cove. She had just set out, leaving Mirazhe and the youngling in a protected cave. She said little beyond that she came as swiftly as she might.
When we reached Rishkaan's chambers I was hard put to it to mask my dismay, for the disrepair and neglect could not be ignored. I had begun, over the last few decades, to suspect that he was one of those for whom long life was no blessing. It sometimes happens that one among us will grow old in mind before his time, and so it appeared to be with Rishkaan. The only relief is that those so afflicted often pass into the last Weh sleep well before their full years are accomplished. In sorrow I began to hope for such an ending for Rishkaan. In any case, it was swiftly apparent to him that nothing had been disturbed.
My own dwelling and the Chamber of Souls stood nearby and we were there in a moment.
Stopping outside the door I lit a branch and offered in truespeech a prayer of Remembrance to the Winds as I entered, the flaming brand in my mouth. The ancient soulgems of my people, ranged against the back wall in symbolic patterns and set in khaadish, blinked reassuringly back at the fire I held now in my hand, and the soulgems of the Lost lay still in their rough cask, flickering as they had through the ages. I bowed in the old sorrow of their presence, and as always renewed my vow to release them if it lay in my power. It occurred to me to speak to Lanen and Akhor about them, if (as I hoped) the Council changed their minds after hearing her words. Perhaps in this new blending of the peoples there might be new hope for the Lost Ones. I breathed a thought to the Winds to guide the Greater Kindred to wisdom,
bowed to the Ancestors, and we left.
As we returned to Akhor's chambers, close by the Great Hall, we found that many of the Kindred had assembled nearby after ensuring that no intruder had been near their chambers.
The talk was all of the Council, and of the Gedri, and of seeing one of the Silent Ones close to at last. This they had a good chance to do, for Lanen slumped fast asleep against the outer wall of the Council chamber. All spoke softly so as not to disturb her—I wondered what she would dream, for all the speech was in our ancient tongue and beyond her ken even were she wakeful.
Most, I noted with pleasure, remembered to speak of her by name, and as I listened I realised that Akhor was right— she was truly the Wind of Change. For many, the anger that Lanen had stirred up in them had been transmuted all in a moment to shame at her words, at their realisation that perhaps the Kindred had been unfair to the Gedri through the ages. She had touched a deep truth and most of our people were responding, despite the threat of a demonaided thief from among her people, for which she could hardly be held responsible. Few save the eldest spoke now of death or exile; I even heard in passing a suggestion that she be honoured as a teacher. I allowed myself a secret smile as I escorted Rishkaan into Akhor's torchlit chambers. Akhor would have so much joy at least.
No sooner were we inside, however, than Rishkaan spoke his frustration. ''Hadreshikrar, I obey our King, but in truth I do not know why I must be held here. I have seen what I have seen, and spoken truth in Council. Are my Weh dreams worth less than those of Akhor?''
"No, Rishkaan, of course not," I said sadly, "but you have attacked Lanen, the Gedri child, while still she addressed the Council, and that action has yet to be considered. She is not a Raksha to be killed on sight."
"I tell you she is the end of our world! I have seen it!" he cried.
"Calm yourself, old friend," I said gently. "I heard you both in Council. But I do not understand how both could be true. Akhor saw our people's salvation arising from his joining with Lanen, he told us the Winds spoke with him and said as much. How should I believe such communion false?"
"Perhaps he did not tell the whole truth," growled Rishkaan. "You well know that our Kindred are not above stretching the truth if it suits their need."
I bowed. ''True enough. Akhor concealed his twilight meeting with Lanen from me, he has admitted it. But Rishkaan, did his words in Council not strike you as those of one who has done with conceal? And why should he invent so clumsy a lie? If he sought to justify his actions, surely the voice of the Winds would be more use to him ere ever he and Lanen were joined. What good does that good word do him afterwards? No, to me it has the ring of truth. And—forgive me if I am blunt—how could there possibly be a mingling of the blood of Kantri and Gedri? I agree, it is a thought to sicken the mind, but surely it is beyond possibility. It is as if you asked us to beware the offspring of a bull and a butterfly."
"Fool!" cried Rishkaan. "I tell you I have seen it! She had our form, Shikrar, she was one of us! And her children I saw in terrible guise, half-Gedri, half-Kantri, caught between in a black hour, changing from one to the other. The sky was filled with hideous forms, the world was aflame with Raksha-fire, and because of her there was no Akhor to stand between the Lords of Hell and the last defenders of Kolmar." He bowed his head and did not speak for some time. "Ah, Hadreshikrar, I grow old before my time," he said sadly.