[Lanen Kaelar 01] - Song in the Silence (31 page)

I shook myself. The news was welcome,
but I had to ask.

“Akor, what is this place? And
why is it—why is there so much—where did it—why do you—oh!” I gave up. I
was so astounded I could not make sense of my words or my thoughts.

“Lanen? Come, bring your wood
close here where the fire is laid.”

Akhor

I was disconcerted and a little sad.
I had hoped for a different reaction from the first Gedri ever to see the
chambers of the Kantri. She seemed shocked. I had hoped that the firelight
reflecting from the
khaadish
would make her feel welcome.

She could not take her eyes away from
it.

I was growing impatient with her. To
be distracted by such a thing, when even a youngling knew—

Akhor, Akhor,
I
chided myself.
She is not a youngling. Perhaps she has never seen khaadish
before.

“Lanen, is your fear still upon
you? It is nothing to be concerned with, it is only
khaadish
, it is a
metal like any other. More beautiful, perhaps, and certainly softer.” I
gouged a trench with my foreclaw as she watched.

She finally heard the disapproval in
my voice. “Akor, my friend, forgive me. I did not mean to greet you so in
your home.” She bowed, her eyes on me now, as I had come to know her. My
impatience melted like spring snow. “But you did not warn me. I defy any
human to step in here and retain the power of speech! Akor, this is more gold
than I have ever heard of. Where does it come from?”

“Gold?” I replied,
surprised. It was her turn to amaze me. “
Khaadish
is gold? Oh,
Lanen, you make me wise beyond all bearing!”

“What have I said? Akor?”

Lanen

He had turned his head away from me
in the most human gesture I had seen him make. I didn’t need to ask its
meaning.

“My friend, forgive me, I never
meant to hurt you. What have I said?”

He answered me with his face still
turned away. “In the days when our peoples lived together, there was much
concern among the Gedri for ‘gold.’ It is said they killed one another for
it.” His voice grew even heavier. “In those days, one of the Gedri
held hostage a youngling, and would have killed it for the sake of ‘gold.’ I
never knew what it was when I heard the tale, and none could tell me. I could
not imagine what precious, life-giving thing it could be, which they so desired
and the Kantri possessed. At one time I wondered if that was their word for our
soulgems. I understand now why one of the laws between our peoples in those
days was that we must meet in the open, never in the chambers of the Kantri.
Ah, Lanen, your knowledge wounds me. For so base a thing!”

I kept my voice as calm as I could. I
had never imagined so sensitive a soul behind all that armour, I had hurt him,
for all his strength and my weakness.

“Come, Akhor. Speak: with me
yet, of your kindness. Why do you call this ‘kadish’ base? In my lands it is of
great value. I have never seen such wealth in my life. A tiny portion of this
is the worth of my father’s farm and every soul on it. Why do you call it
base?”

“Because it is!” Akor spoke
now with more vehemence than I had yet heard from him. “Why do you give it
worth? Creatures have worth, their deeds, their words, their thoughts or the
work of their hands have worth, but metal? It is senseless.” He turned
back to me, his eyes blazing, his soulgem shining so bright it scattered a
faint emerald light. “Child of the Gedri, I shall tell you a truth that no
one of your race has ever known. This metal, this
khaadish
, is part of
my being, it is part of my race, but we know it is of no value save for its
beauty.
It is natural to us, Lanen. Where we sleep we change the ground to
this stuff. ”

I was silent, trying to understand.
Akhor kept looking at me, waiting for a reply.

“You change the ground?” I
said at last: “But why?”

“There is no why, it simply
happens. Where the Kantri sleep, the ground will change to
khaadish
.
That is the way of things.” Some of the intensity had left him, thank the
Lady. He even managed a small hiss of laughter when he added, “We find it
most comfortable to lie upon, which is just as well. Some believe that the
earth would suffer too greatly from our heat without
khaadish
to protect
it, others believe that there is something in our armour that works with the
ground to produce it. No matter. It happens.” He shifted until he sat on
his haunches in what looked like a formal position and asked me, “Why do
your people put so great a value on this worthless metal that they will kill
for it?”

I wished I had a sensible answer to
give him, but there was only the truth. “I have no idea,” I told him
honestly. “It is beautiful, certainly—you yourself have used it to give
beauty to this cave—but beyond that I cannot see its value. My faHadron raised
horses, and they were of worth to other men. We bartered for goods or accepted
silver for them—and on rare occasions, gold—and with those metals could buy
food for our horses and goods for ourselves, because others were willing to
exchange them. But with all his faults, Hadron never coveted gold. He only
cared about his horses.”

Still Akor was silent. I could almost
hear him trying to come to terms with this new knowledge that brought sorrow. After
a little, I added, “I have not killed for this, Akor, nor set its worth
above other things. I am sorry that it has been a source of ill will between
our peoples—has anything not?—but I beg you, do not see in me the act of
another.”

He changed his position then and came
down to me, all contrition. “Forgive me, littling. You are quite right. It
is hard to remember, sometimes, how swiftly your lives hurry past. It has been
many lifetimes for your race—almost as if you blamed me for the decision of the
Firstborn. I beg your pardon, Lanen. You must keep reminding me.”

The firelight had begun to dim.
Dragonfire, it seems, burned hotter than normal tire, for that great log was
nearly burned out. It had served its purpose, though, for my chill was gone. I
felt warm and welcome. “Does not your fire need more wood, littling?”
he asked.

That was when I did one of the
bravest and (had I known it) wisest things of my life.

“No,” I said. “Let it
die out. Then I can’t be dazzled by the look of this place, nor by the look of
you.” I grinned up at him. “The best talks I ever had were at night
when the lights were all out. I don’t have a blanket, but my cloak will serve,
and if you will let me sit near you I’m not likely to get cold.” I looked
around. “I still don’t like caves, but then again I don’t think you’ll let
anything get me.”

I was rewarded by a blast of steam. I
was surprised, but the warmth was wonderful even though I had thought I was
warm enough. I discovered that it was the Akorian version of a guffaw. “Bravely
spoken, Lanen, well said! Let no creature small or great enter here, where Akor
the Silver King guards Lanen of the Gedrishakrim!”

And just like that the air was
cleared of old anger, of the foolishness of others, of anything that was not of
the two of us. Laughter is more powerful than many arguments.

As the tire died we arranged
ourselves. I was astounded to hear myself ordering him in jest to shift his
tail, move his wing this way or that to accommodate me. I think he was a little
surprised, too, but he was also amused, and it seemed that among them it was
also true that friendship has such licence. We found ourselves curled up
together in the corner on the floor of gold (which by the bye was
not
comfortable for me at all), under the opening that led to the sky. I sat
leaning against his warm side wrapped in my cloak. His head rested on his
forelegs, his wings folded back so they were out of my way. We watched the
dying tire flicker on the wall, enjoying simply being together as we believed
no two of our races had ever been.

“It is quite beautiful here,
Akor,” I said, quietly. “I meant to tell you that. And the firelight
on the go—on the kadish is warm and comforting.”

“I am glad, littling.” He
looked at me with unfathomable eyes. “And I am glad also that the fear you
carried has left you. Will you speak with me of this?” ”

“Not now, please—soon, in a
moment, but this is so lovely I don’t want to spoil it.”

“Very well. Then what shall we
speak of, here in this loveliness, across the long aeons of separation?”

I grinned. “To begin with, what
in the world made you practice landing like that?”

He laughed, as I had hoped he would.
Nice and warm. “It was foolishness, as I suspect you know,” he
replied. “I had dreamt—I was recovering after my last Weh sleep and the
ferrinshadik
was heavy upon me, and I had to do something about it or burst, so I imagined
that I had somehow a friend among the Gedri who wished to fly.”

He had to tell me what
ferrinshadik
was; it was a familiar feeling, and I was pleased to learn that someone had
made a word for it. As for his upright landing, he sounded proud of himself
even as he made light of it. “Awkward it is still, but it worked.” I
heard the grin in his voice. “I am glad you did not see me practicing. You
would never have consented to leave the ground.”

The fire was dying.

“Probably not.” I shook my
head. “I still can’t believe I was flying. It was wonderful.”

“Would that you had wings, my
Lanen. I think flying would delight you.”

And I sighed with longing for wings,
and scales, and the Winds to bear me up.

Akhor

She took in a deep breath and blew it
all out at once. Very peculiar. I had to know. “What does that
signify?”

She was silent a moment. “It’s
called a sigh,” she said, with a kind of melancholy in her voice.
“I’m not sure I can tell you just what it means, though I thought I heard
one from you not so long ago. I was sitting here longing to have wings and fly,
to be a—one of your Kindred, and knowing how impossible it is. It made me a
little sad, in a way I can’t do anything about. Nothing too awful.”

The fire was glowing embers, bright
red still and warm, but even in such a minor thing I heard the true sadness in
her heart. “Forgive me, dearling, I must ask you again. You know there can
be no more secrets between us. I pray you, speak to me of your sadness, and of
the fear that darkened our meeting this night.”

“You’re right, it’s time.”
She told me the story of Maran and Marik as Jamie had told it to her, then all
that had happened since she had landed, and finished with Marik’s attempted
seduction and her battle for freedom. “They were almost on us before we
left, weren’t they?” she asked, her voice full of weary dread.

“If they did not see us leave I
would be surprised.”

“When I go back they will take
me. I’m still not sure what Marik wants, but I suspect I’ll either be killed or
given up whole and alive to the Rakshasa.” She lifted her hands to cover
her face. “Oh my friend, forgive me. I never meant to draw you into this
struggle. It is none of yours, and now we have both broken the laws of your
people.”

“Your life was in danger, was it
not?”

“Yes,” she replied,
certainty in her voice. “I give you my word, Akhor, if Marik’s men had
caught me I would have been killed, or worse. When I go back I still will
be.”

“Then it is simple enough. You
will not go back.”

Lanen

I looked at him, my eyes wide, my
mouth a startled O. “But—but—won’t your people—Shikrar, won’t he—”

He lifted his head off his forelegs
and looked me in the eye. “Dearling, I have given you my word. There is
nothing will harm you while I live and may prevent.”

I covered my mouth with my hand.
“Dear Lady,” I murmured. “Akhor, you must know that I was going
to go down on my knees and beg you and Shikrar to let me stay here on this
island. I had it all planned, I would stay on the Gedri side of the Boundary in
one of those cabins—oh, but I never meant you to break the laws of your
people!”

I jumped a little as his near wing
came close and wrapped softly around me. It was a gentle touch. “Dear one,
I had already decided that that particular law is based on old prejudice and
ancient grievance. Were it my province I would revoke the Great Ban and
establish the Peace once more. But that can only be done in Council.”

“Council?”

“Yes. I know not how your people
are governed, but we have a Council that meets every five years. Any of our
people who wish to may attend. And sometimes, as now, they are called for
special occasions. I have summoned one for tomorrow.” His voice sounded, I
swear, like Jamie at his most cynical. “It should be interesting.”

“Ha!” I snorted.
“Interesting! They’ll have us both for breakfast.”

“It will at least be a novel
experience.”

And I threw back my head and laughed.
Don’t ask me why. Somehow the threat of Marik dwindled in the face of a whole
Council of Dragons approaching with evil intent and a shaker of salt. When I
told Akor why I was laughing, the steam clouded up the cave for some time.