Rella, on the other hand, had moved into the room to have a closer look. After a minute she lifted one corner of her mouth. "At least she's a more manageable size than the other ones." She stepped forward and bowed to Salera. "I bring you greetings from your cousins Shikrar and Kedra of the Kantrishakrim," she said, grinning. "They think about you all the time, you know."
"They do indeed," said a new voice. I looked up to see the silver-haired man in the doorway. Couldn't recall his name. He was fully dressed, as if he had been watching with Rella and Jamie, and he wore—
It was a night for surprises and no mistake. He was wearing a heavy band around his head that was made all of gold. I'd never seen so much in one place before. And I've not yet mentioned the emerald set in the middle of it, the size of Aral's fist! I tried to think if mere were any princes of any of me Kingdoms who matched his description.
His lady, as tall as he was, stood behind him looking like a different person than the poor pale creature I'd seen earlier. Vilkas had certainly done her the world of good.
Neither of them could take their eyes off Salera. Mind you, I could understand that. They both approached her with wonder in their eyes, but the man was entranced, bewitched. He walked right up to her—and by my hope of heaven I swear she was as enthralled as he was.
She ignored me, Aral, everyone, to come up close to him. She looked him all over and took her deep breath, then another, then another. He stood before her and closed his eyes. I began to wonder if he was right in the head.
"Little sister, little cousin, I welcome thee, I greet thee in the name of the Kantrishakrim. Wilt thou not bespeak me, little one, dear one, so dearly met at last? "
I was overwhelmed. The Tale of the Demonlord I knew was history, but it happened nearly five times my life span in the past. That is very nearly legend—but here was legend stood before me, made in the true image of my own people but a tiny fraction of the size.
The sight of her pierced my heart. Sherok, whom Lanen helped bring into the world, was the first of the Kantri to be born in five kells, five hundred years. My people were dying, and here was one who looked for all the world like a youngling. I kept waiting for her to speak, I could not stop myself, as long as I wore my circlet I tried to bespeak her, but to no avail. If she had appeared even in some small measure different from the Kantri—but she was not. No matter how long separated our two peoples had been, she was our image made small, undeniably of our blood and our Kindred. Her eyes gleamed brightly, I could tell she was intelligent—but she did not, could not answer me.
Then my eye was drawn to a detail. There was a raised lump in the centre of her forehead, almost exactly like the structure in a Kantri youngling that protects the soulgem before it is fully formed. However, in the Kantri it is a scale that loosens over time. On this beautiful creature it was still part of her faceplate.
I spoke aloud. "Do you permit, littling?" I asked, reaching towards her face. She took my scent and approved—those gestures at least were the same. I reached out to touch the raised surface on her faceplate, longing to encounter a thought, wondering if a touch would make the difference.
It did not. I felt nothing beyond the smooth warmth of her armour. "Alas, little sister," I said, my hand lingering on her cheek ridge, "if you speak, I cannot hear you."
Will
"What do you mean, if she speaks? Of course she does!" I said. "Didn't you hear her?"
"Goodman, I did not. I am Varien rash-Gedri. What are you called?"
"Willem of Rowanbeck," I said. "Salera is—well, I raised her. We're friends," I said, then I started laughing because Salera was making that very obvious. The room was cold and she must have remembered that I felt the cold that much more, for she settled down by wrapping herself around me and resting her head on my shoulder. I leaned against her, forgetting all the troubles that beset Vilkas and Aral and me, forgetting everything except that my Salera had found me again.
Then Varien smiled, a smile like sunrise, deep and powerful and brave through sorrow. "There is a word, Master Willem, for such a depth of friendship. Soulfriends." He gazed at the two of us as though his life depended on us. "Soulfriends," he repeated softly.
Then his lady came up beside him and wrapped her arm about his waist. "Yes, love. And they haven't seen each other in years, and most of the rest of us are asleep on our feet." She put her palm on his cheek, turned his face towards hers and kissed him. "You can adore her again tomorrow," she said, grinning. "Right now I'm claiming a wife's rights. Goodnight, everyone!"
Vilkas was already gone, claimed by exhaustion. When the new-wedded pair—for what else could they be?—had left, everyone went back to wherever they had been, calling quiet but cheerful goodnights.
I hardly paid them any heed. That tall lass had been right—"adore" was the right word. I sat and talked to Salera until the sky began to lighten, and I found I had to touch her somehow—just my hand on a wing, or admiring her size and strength. She was half again the size she'd been when last I saw her. I couldn't help it, I kept telling her how beautiful she was. I don't know that she understood, but she dropped her jaw and hissed at me—that's a kind of dragon laugh, I remembered when she did it—and kept wandering around me, always touching. She was as bad as I was, after so long apart we almost needed to be reminded that the other was real.
"Ah, my girl," I said finally, when the sky outside the window began to brighten in earnest. "I'll need a little sleep at least. Are you weary then, however far you've travelled?" She just gazed at me. "Ah, you look fresh as spring itself, lass," I said, grinning. "Will you mind if I get some sleep?" I laughed at myself. "Truth to tell, I hate to close my eyes in case you're gone when I wake."
I don't know if anything I said meant anything to her, but when she saw me lie down she more or less wrapped herself about the bed, with me on it, and rested her head on my chest, gazing at me. I kept my eyes open as long as I could.
Soulfriends. I liked the sound of that.
It was a blessing and a wonder to wake to life and health and sunlight. I lay for a moment just revelling in the feeling of not being in pain any longer. The voices had receded to the merest whisper for the moment, though they had not gone away. I was almost beginning to be used to them, though I still wondered what they were.
Then I really woke up.
"Varien! Varien, we've found them!"
A bleary voice issued from the other side of the back I was looking at. "Found whom, my dearling?" The back uncurled, turned over and became a groggy semblance of a man. I had to smile—what a difference from the first day of our wedded lives! He looked more than a little dishevelled now, rather than being a vision of perfection. His face was acquiring lines of character, his skin was no longer nearly so soft for our travels had kept us out in all weathers, and his travails of late had put dark circles under those glorious green eyes. I put my arms about him and kissed him. He had been stunning before, a perfection to astonish, awe-inspiring. Now that he was touched by fife he was irresistible, for the awe was still there but now so were the wrinkles.
I had certainly found the way to waken him, for he kissed me back with a will and—well, we were but lately wed, and I had been so ill...
"And a good morrow to you, Lanen Maransdatter," he said sometime later, when we were recovering our breath. "I am as ever your willing pupil. Fool that I am, my thoughts began to chasten you for waking me when first I heard your voice. Blessed be the Winds that I learn swiftly! However," he said, sitting up. "I am left in suspense. Whom have we found?"