She stood in Shame and Sorrow, and all the years of goodwill between us rose up clear before me. ''I would give it to you now, if you will receive it," I said, reaching out slowly to touch her. "Or would that be injury added to insult?"
She did not speak. I lowered my voice. "Iderrikanterrisai, I am—I was—Khordeshkhistriakhor. I can think of no truer way to speak long friendship's love."
"Khordeshkhistriakhor, you honour me," she said at last, adding with the ghost of a hiss, "though a little late for my taste. But I cannot deny. You are Akhor."
The truth, though, was that I was not. When the true name is spoken, especially by one who has never said it before, there is a reaction in the hearer. I felt nothing.
"Lanen," I called. She strode quickly up to where we stood. "Call me by name."
She looked startled. "Do not fear," I said, "both Shikrar and Idai know now. But I must hear you speak it."
"Very well. Kordeshkistriakor," she said, and without thinking added in truespeech, ''dear one.''
I jumped. "I heard you!" I whirled to face Shikrar, very nearly falling over in the process. (I think Lanen was getting used to catching me.) "Shikrar, bespeak me I pray you!"
"Akhorishaan, what is it? Can you hear me?"
"Yes!" I cried, and felt for the first time the tears of joy I had seen Lanen shed. "Ahhh! My soul to the Winds, Shikrar, I hear you! I had feared it gone forever!"
Shikrar's mindvoice was full of quiet delight. "As did I, old friend. Perhaps in time you will be able to speak again. After all, Akhorishaan, you have not had much practice being human. '' I laughed again. ''But why did you have Lanen speak your name just now?" he continued aloud. "True, we here all know it, but surely there is still danger for you if—"
"No, my friend," I replied solemnly. "That was why I asked her to make the trial. It is no longer my name. I must find another."
There was a pause, then Shikrar said, too casually, "Perhaps Deshkantriakor?''
I stared at him. It took me a moment to react, then I started to laugh. He was hissing loudly, and behind him Idai, who obviously thought we were being far too irreverent, finally let go and sent a cloud of steam into the clearing as the laughter burst from her also.
Lanen turned to me. "What in the—?"
"Forgive me, dearling, but it seems my old friend Shikrar has recovered, and his jests, as always, are terrible. He says I should be named Deshkantriakor, the Strange King of the Kantri."
She glanced at Idai and Shikrar as they recovered their bearing. "Very funny," she said dryly. "I wouldn't recommend it, myself."
"Perhaps you are right," I said, with no little reluctance. "It was worth it for heart's ease, in any case." I had been turning over elements of the Old Speech in my mind, though, even as we laughed, and I knew what my name must be.
"My name is chosen, Hadreshikrar, Iderrisai, Lanen Maransdatter, I pray you attend."
In the silence that followed, in the clear morning, I stood before those I loved best and spoke the words of the Naming.
''I reveal my name unto you, dear love and oldest friends, that you alone may know the truth of me, may with my consent call me by name and speak as friends of my soul. My usename shall be Varien, the Changed One, and so I shall commonly be called. But my true name is Varien Kantriakor rash-Gedri, Kadreshi naLanen: He who is Changed from the Lord of the Kantri to a Man, Beloved of Lanen. It is the truth of who and what I have become. If it seems overlong, I beg your indulgence, for my heart tells me I shall require the safety of such a name. I charge you, my dear ones, guard it well among you."
They all three repeated my name aloud. I had chosen well, for the words rang in my heart with the truth of the naming, tied now to my soul. For years afterwards, though, when anyone asked my name I could hear the laughter of Dragons.
In the silence after the Naming (which was not so different from the human ceremony), I was ashamed to notice so minor a thing as the weather, but it could not be ignored much longer.
So far we had been fortunate. Winter had backed down for the moment, leaving behind a clear, cloudless morning; but the air was still cold, and I saw goosefiesh on Akor—on Varien's skin where my cloak did not cover it.
Varien. The Changed One.
''We must go back inside, or find another place where there is warmth," I told Shikrar and Idai. "I think we should return to Akor's cave near the Council chamber. From there Rella might be able to help us, or I could go to the ship myself and get clothing for him." I wondered as I spoke whether the ship would have left already. Suddenly it was important. "We will also need food, both of us," I added, for I was hungry again. "Will you two do us the honour of bearing us thence?"
Without hesitation they agreed. I cut off a great slab of the meat Shikrar had brought for me the night before, knowing I— we—would want it when we arrived at Akor's chambers. As there was nothing else to be done where we were, Shikrar and Idai picked us up gently in their great hands and we left the ground.
I thought it would be the last time I ever flew. I watched the ground pass beneath me in the sunlight, a wondrous and varied green carpet of forests and fields, and tried to enjoy the mere sensation of flying in daylight when I could enjoy it, but my body's demands were too strong.
Held close to Idai's warmth, her strong hands safe about me, knowing at least for the moment that all was safe, I closed my exhausted eyes and slept.
Idai woke me as we came near Akor's chambers to tell me that the Council was meeting again as we returned. I could not spare a thought for such matters. My body was importunate in its demands. Warmth, food and sleep were all I could think of. Indeed, my memory of that journey is in great part lost, for on the heels of grief, joy and wonder I had no strength left.
I know Shikrar brought wood and started a roaring fire in Akor's chambers for Varien and me.
I cut the meat I had brought with me into smaller pieces and roasted it on a stick over the fire.
It seemed to take forever but it tasted like very heaven when it was finally done. It was Varien's first meal; I wondered what he made of it all, but I was too weary to ask and he was no better. As soon as we were finished we lay down as near the flames as we dared and slept, facing each other across the fire.
I remember nothing after that until Shikrar woke us hours later.
XIX
THE WORD OF THE WINDS
When Shikrar woke us it was late afternoon. Idai had kept watch over us and kept the fire warm and bright, while he and Kédra had taken Rishkaan's soulgem and the soulgems of the Lost to the Chamber of Souls and reverently restored them to their rightful place. He apologised now for disturbing us, but we had been summoned by the Council, and there was news from Rella that he had forgotten to tell us. (I only learned later from Akor how extraordinary it was for one of the Kantri to forget anything, no matter how slight.)
I dragged myself upright and found that I could not turn away from Akor—no, no, he was Varien now—still unable to believe it, still not knowing why we had been granted such a grace. It was long and long before I could look at him without a measure of awe.
I put the rest of the meat on a spit and began to cook it as Idai left to attend the Council and tell them our tale in her words. We ate as quickly as we might. Our drink was spring water, but I had to smile—we drank it from rough, heavy vessels of gold that Idai had fashioned for us, remembering how I had needed to kneel to drink from the pool. Kings would envy such vessels.
Shikrar told us that Rella had spoken with Kédra that very morning. It seems the Master wanted to start as swiftly as possible on the journey back. Kédra had asked her to request a delay of but one more day, and she had promised to try. I found myself wishing that she had truespeech, and began to discover some of the frustration the Kantri must always have felt around my people.