Finally Varien stood. "Very well. It is time. Let us go before the Council that they might see what I have become," he said. "I am yet unsure on these two legs, Lanen. You must be my strength."
"I thought we had already agreed on that," I said, smiling. "But first give me a moment to make you more presentable." Two quick knife slashes for armholes and my belt around all and Varien stood clad in a makeshift tunic rather than wrapped in a cloak. "Now, my dear one," I said as I put his arm about my shoulder and mine around his waist, "let us beard the Council once more." I turned to him, to that wondrous face mere inches from mine, and grinned. "I can't think of a thing to say to them, dear heart, but perhaps they won't need many words."
"Before you go, I too have a gift for you ... Varien," said Shikrar shyly. He handed Varien a rough circlet of khaadish, with a gap at one end. "I made it while you slept. I thought— your soulgem—perhaps if you are seen thus, it might lessen the shock."
Varien's eyes went wide.
I drew the green gem from my scrip and handed it to Shikrar. He scraped from the floor a quantity of gold and breathed fire onto it until it glowed, then made of it a flattened strip, melding the edges to make a circle the size of the soulgem. Taking the gem in his great claws, he placed it gently within the circle and bent the edge above and below, finally joining the set stone to the circlet with Fire. I longed to help him, lend nimble fingers to those huge unwieldy talons—but even if there had been some way for me to work near-molten gold, I would not have dared. Such a gift can only be the work of one pair of hands, however ill-suited to their task. He quenched it in the stream that ran in one corner of the chamber.
The setting was rough, but it held. Shikrar bowed and gave it to Varien, who pushed himself gently away from me to stand on his own. He received it reverently in both hands. He lifted it to put it on, but with some inborn hieratical sense, stopped short.
He faced Shikrar. "From you, my soul's friend, Hadreshikrar, I accept this gift and bless you for the honour." He bowed stiffly (so as not to fall over, I suspected), then turned to me. "To you, Lanen my heart, I give it freely."
I did not even pause. I took the rough crown from his hands, held it aloft, and said quietly, ''In the name of the Winds and the Lady," and placed it on his head.
His soulgem lay again on his forehead, framed by silver hair, beautiful and heart-piercingly familiar.
There were no more words. We all walked together into the golden sunlight of the dying day and down to the Council chamber.
I have never since done so hard a thing as to walk through the aisle my people made for me to the dais of the Council chamber. Idai had told them the tale and Shikrar came behind to add his word, but what would you? Full of wonder, they stared in disbelief, in silence, for what words had ever been made for such a thing?
I climbed awkwardly onto the platform and stood with La-nen's help. What had been a slight ledge was now become an obstacle, taxing my fragile coordination and balance. I stood shakily before my people and a sea of souls looked back. I could see they all bore the sorrow of Rishkaan's ending, yet still from old habit they reached out to their King, to me, even as I stood in my small, helpless Gedri shape, as to a sheltering cave in deepest winter. Most stood in Wonder; some held to Disbelief, though that could not last. And over all there was the faintest hint, like the green haze of earliest spring, of something very near to hope.
I did not know what to say. I feared I had lost the truespeech altogether with my Dragon-form, but now my soulgem lay in its proper place. I had to gather my thoughts like the veriest youngling to be heard—this body of mine was not accustomed to such effort—but to my soul's deep delight, I found that I still had the Language of Truth.
''My people, I greet thee with the love of thy King,'' I said. It was the broadest kind of truespeech that all could hear, but it was undeniably the Language of Truth, and my mindvoice though weakened was unchanged. I understood, though, why Lanen so reluctantly bespoke anyone if she could avoid it. It immediately caused an ache behind my eyes that threatened to grow worse. Still, I knew that only thus would they believe.
"I am the soul you have known as Akhor, the Silver King. My people, I stand before you changed beyond all possibility; and I cannot tell you how or why this has happened, for I do not know. My love and care for you have changed no whit, but I am shaped now by the Winds into the semblance of a man, and must so live. I return to you the kingship you gave me so long ago, and desire you to choose another to serve.
"I am no longer Akhor the King; I am become Varien the man. My fate is in your hands, whatever may befall; but I ask you for old love to spare my dear one, Lanen Maransdatter.''
I leaned against her, my strength spent, the pain of true-speech too great.
It was enough. There was no more to be said.
I held him and waited. There was nothing else to do.
The silence seemed to last forever. The tension in the air bore down upon me like a heavy cloud and time slowed to a crawl. I felt an hour pass between each breath, and in that time there sped through my mind any number of wretched ends to this mad act of the gods, each worse than the last; but I began to wonder when the silence stretched on still unbroken, and I yet breathed.
And finally I began to think that perhaps they had all had enough of death and destruction and had no desire to do us injury. I could not be certain, but among the various Attitudes they stood in, I did not seem to see Condemnation. It seemed rather the opposite.
Hope?
And in the moment I knew, as though the Lady had told me herself, that the taking of the soulgems of the Lost and Rishkaan's dying had wrung their hearts as it had wrung ours, and that in the Lost they saw their own future if naught else was changed. Their saving, so dearly won and now so dearly paid for, was become the saving of the Kindred; our hope was become their hope, standing before them now on two legs in a rough black tunic and ill-fitting crown.
And all their longing was like to my longing, to hold communion with the eternal Other and make a place for it in the heart.
And the silence was broken at last by a single voice like the music of heaven, high and gloriously triumphant, and it cried out, "Long live King Varien! Long live the King!"
And hundreds of throats joined to it their music, voices raised in wonder and glory. "Long live King Varien! Long live the King!"
And the King knelt, humbled, before them.
And in the center of that music I found a remembered silence, and in the silence heard music still, wild and deep with wonder beyond all knowing, and bright with rejoicing beyond all hope.
I never dreamt such a thing could happen. I knew even as they called my name that I could not be King in truth, but the blessing of their acclamation overwhelmed me. When once again there was silence I stood, with Lanen's aid, and bowed to them in the manner of the Gedri. I tried once again to speak in the Kantriasarikh, for the return of truespeech had made me hope, but my tongue and jaw made mockery of it. I concentrated, ignoring the pain that truespeech brought.
''Dear my Kindred, I will carry this memory to my death, and ever in my heart I shall hold it dear. We have all grown, my people, and the Word of the Winds is the seal to the learning, but I will not leave you without a King. It grieves me, but I cannot even speak to you in the Kantriasarikh. If you would be guided by me, for old love, I here offer unto you Hadreshikrar to serve in my place.''