I opened my ink-pot and drew the candle closer to the paper.
"Devlin, I require your services. You and each of youi men will earn four silver pieces for every fortnight you serve me, as well as expenses for your journey, and a bonus of ter silver each will go to the men who find what I seek, upon delivery. You must divide your forces into two groups. One is to search the country just north of here, in the Sulkith Hills between Verfaren and Elimar. The other will go to the north of Ilsa, west of the River Arlen and south of the Mear Hills. Find for me a tall, plain, grey-eyed woman with light brown hair, of about five-and-twenty winters; one who has been away through the autumn, or one who has recently arrived in a new place and acts in a strange manner or has peculiar companions, notably a man with long silver hair. If she is us-ing her right name, it is Lanen Hadrpnsdatter. Bring her to me unharmed."
It would do for now. When my preparations are further advanced I may seek her more urgently. I could use demons, but the price they demand for such things is far higher than silver, and I must conserve my resources. There is much to do, and most of it men cannot accomplish. Let Devlin and his men do what they can, it is a simple enough task. I shall need all I have to bend the demons to my will when the time comes.
On a slightly different note, I should mention that I have been engaged in a little experiment since Marik returned. My share of the lansip harvest was considerable, and I had round in the archives of the College of Mages a method for extracting the essence of lansip that legend said could restore youth. It had cost a third of a ship's crew, Caderan's life and Marik's mind to get the lansip back to Kohnar from the Dragon Me, and to me it was cheap at that. The wretched plant grows only on that one island: every sapling, every seedling, every half-grown tree that has been taken away in the past and planted in the earth of Kolmar has died.
Lansip is a heal-all, strong to cure all the ills that beset men. A weak infusion of even a single dried leaf in water is said to be a sovereign remedy for everything "from headache to heart's sorrow." The rare Ian fruit, of which an astonishing three dozen were found on Marik's ill-fated journey, can heal all wounds save death alone. I sold the dozen that were my right for enough silver to purchase anything I might need for the rest of my life. Their worth was roughly that of Verfaren, this town that supports the College Of Mages where I reside as the beneficent Archimage. Is it not a supreme jest?
Better than that, though, better than all, is what I have learned about lansip and its properties. Legend, that true servant of those who would learn from the past, records the old belief that essence of lansip can restore lost years. I have long known the tale of the rich merchant who was found dead and forty years younger than he should have been, for though that tale has been much corrupted in the tellng I found the original report here in the great library at Verfaren. I have not repeated his mistake. He took a great draught all at once and died of it. I have been taking infusions regularly but in small quantities.
Legend was right.
I am growing younger by the day.
"Good morning," I murmured happily, turning to face Varien. He stretched and casually put a long arm around my waist. "Good morning to thee, my dearling," he replied, kissing me lightly. The sun was only just up; it was pale and grey behind the shutters and I was glad to be still warm and in bed. Even in that light Varien all but shone. I braced my head on my hand and leaned back a little, just looking at him. Sweet Lady, but he was beautiful.
"Surely, I have not changed so much in the night?" he said, smiling at me. "Or is there something amiss that I should know?"
I reached over to stroke his hair. "Every now and then I still have to convince myself that you're real," I said, smiling back. "Sometimes I wonder."
"I am here and I am real, my heart. Why should you doubt?"
I ran my hand across his chest, revelling in the feel of him, of his skin beneath my fingers. "Until I went to the Dragon Isle I had spent the whole of my life alone, and I expected to spend the rest of it so. And now here you are, my own husband, so much more than I..." My voice faltered for an instant before I spoke my worst fear aloud. "I swear to you, Varien, sometimes I dread that I shall wake one day from this dream and curse the waking forever."
He drew me to him and held me tight, his arms strong around me. The scent of him was making me giddy, like too much strong wine. "I am here," he murmured in my ear. am no dream to fade with waking." He drew back justj enough to kiss me, a blessing, a promise. "You had best be-lieve that and grow accustomed to my presence, for you are mine, proud Lanen Kaelar, and I will not leave you as long as life remains."
"You'd better not, or I'll bloody well come after you and find out why," I growled.
I'm afraid my anger wasn't very convincing.
After Varien had shown me how un-dreamlike he really was, and we were resting again in each other's arms, I said quietly, "You know, Varien, I was wondering—have you ever yet wakened in the morning and wondered what happened to your tail?" I grinned. "Or why you were lying on your back? I'd wager the Kantri don't do that."
He smiled back at me. "Ah, but we do—at least, younglings do so sometimes, while their wings are still quite small, but it quickly becomes uncomfortable." He grinned. "As an adult I have only rolled on my back a few times, when I had a terrible itch and mere was no one around to help scratch it. I did so envy human their long arms! Why do you ask, dear-ling?"
I took a deep breath. "I was wondering if you were regretting the change."
He was silent for a moment, thinking. I have always loved that in him—that he never replied with some easy answer but thought about everything that he said. "I will not he to you, my heart. There are times when I miss my life as it was," he replied honestly. "We are creatures of fire and our leelings are deep and strong, and we are not used to sudden change. But even if I have mourned the loss of my wings and the joys of the air, if I have missed the strength that could protect us both, I have not yet wished to undo this change that the Winds have sent. I know not the purpose of it, beyond loving you and seeking to aid the Lost, but I have so far delighted in being human." He gently swept an errant lock of my wild hair away from my face. "Lanen, kadreshi, the love of the Kantrishakrim is not given lightly. I would have loved you my life long no matter what shape my body held. Why should I regret that we now may join in body as well as In spirit? No, dearling, I do not regret being human." He leaned across to kiss me again and smiled. "What wind blows that shakes you so this bright morning?"
I loved the way his voice echoed in his chest. Deep, clear, resonant.
I drew back a little so I could look at his eyes. "I don't know. Sometimes it just comes over me. I never really planned—I had only just started living when I went to the Dragon Isle. I had no larger idea of what to do with my life beyond wandering through the world, learning new places and new people, finding new ways of seeing the world." I laughed. "It seemed enough—and to be fair, you and your Kindred have taught me a great deal. But for all my life un-, til then I had dreamt only of travelling through Kolmar. And now—"
"Now?"
I sighed. "Now Shikrar has put a duty on us. I know that we are bound to do what we can to help restore the Lost. That duty is an honour, but I fear—" I sat up and looked away. "And Rella told me to go to my mother. I know I will have to do that sooner or later. And now I don't know which is more important, which I should do first—and of course it's not just me anymore, we are both going to have to decide what to do, and in what order. Sometimes I swear this is all beyond me. For pity's sake, Varien, I grew up on this little stead a hundred leagues from anywhere!" My voice rose with my frustration even as I wondered where this flood of self-doubt was coming from. "I'm not some clever, brave warrior in a bard's tale, I'm flesh and blood and more likely to be wrong than right about most things. I know a bit about horses and gardens and enough about crops to keep from starving, but that's about it. I'm not some great and glorious hero in a ballad, I'm—I'm the bastard child of a madman and a mother who left me as a babe!"