[Lanen Kaelar 03] - Redeeming the Lost (8 page)

The Kin-Summoning is a ritual among our
people, requiring
days of fasting and
preparation and the burning of special herbs
and leaves. As a part of our choice at the dawn of Time, we were
given a way to remember all that has gone before.
The soulgems
of our ancestors allow
us, when necessary, to speak to those who
have died.

Or so it had ever been before;. Though on
those occasions, it has always been the Keeper of Souls who gave way to the
Ancestor being summoned.

Aral, with her Healer’s power about her, drew
forth the soul-gem she had in her keeping. I spared a moment’s thought to
commend that unknown Ancestor to the Winds, and to pledge silently that I would
soon rescue her from this Gedri child who held her all unwitting, when Aral
suddenly stood straighter and looked into my eyes. The Healer’s glow about her
was reduced to a flicker.

“What are you called, my kitling?” she asked,
and her voice was as near to the voice of a Lady of our Kindred as a human
could manage it.

I could think of nothing to say, though my
mind began to race. Kitling, indeed! I was the Eldest of the Kantri alive at
that time.

“Come, come, what are you called? I hight
Loriavaitriakeris, daughter of Kai the Old and my dear mother Tethrik. You may
call me Loriakeris.” Aral smiled. “So you see, there is no need to be rude.
What is your use-name?”

“I hight Shikrar,” I said, entranced. “Lady, I
know of you. My soulfriend Akhor is of your lineage, but—but we thought you
lost these many ages past!”

“Not lost, young Shikrar, no, no, not lost.
Just… spending my time with the Gedri.” Aral’s smile softened. “This is not
the time for this discussion. I believe that with my help, these Healers can do
their work. Do you permit?”

“Yes,” I stammered, and in the instant Aral
was back, with her Healer’s aura deep blue about her, and the soulgem in her
hand glowing brilliant ruby.

“Hells’ teeth, what was that?” she cried.

“Later, Aral,” said Vilkas, his voice stony,
his gaze still locked deep in my injuries. “Are you well?”

“How should I be well? Some dead dragon just
took over my body, how in all the Hells could I be well!” she yelled.

Vilkas wrenched himself away from studying me
and took Aral by the shoulders. “Aral, not now. We need to work. Are you
injured?”

“No,” she said sullenly, shaking off his
grasp. “Just angry.”

‘Then help me. I need you, and we need
that—Loria-whats-her-name. Now.”

“I’ll do what I can, but don’t ask me to work,
I’m far too angry.”

“That’s fine for now,” said Vilkas, turning
back to stare into my wing. “Just you open that door and let me in …”

Aral, mumbling, laid her left hand on his
shoulder. Her right still held Loriakeris’s soulgem—and in the moment, I felt a
wave of power, and blessedly, there was no more pain. “You’ve damaged this
ligament,” muttered Vilkas as he worked, “shouldn’t take long to—there, that’s
it—now the inflammation …”

It was fascinating, the link that was forged.
Not that he could hear truespeech, or that I could hear him precisely, but
there was most certainly a connection. I wondered if other Gedri were aware of
it when they were being healed.

And then, as I was concentrating on the fink
between us, I noticed for the first time a strange undercurrent to my thought.
There was something of truespeech in it, but there did not seem to be many
words. It was more like a distant murmuring. I wondered briefly if Salera was
teaching all her people about true-speech, but that did not seem right—as I
have said, younglings cannot normally keep their early truespeech under such
control. However, a swift sharp pain, like a stiff muscle unlocking, brought my
thought suddenly back to those who were working to assist me.

This Vilkas, I noted, was a most extraordinary
soul. I had never heard of such a man. For all his usual reserve, for all that
he fought the very essence of himself with every breath, he could yet give of
his gifts without stint and without restraint to accomplish this healing. A
gift indeed. It was over in mere minutes, but in those minutes, what a change!
By the time he had finished, Vilkas was sweating and breathing like prey
running from a hunter. He was moving towards my shoulder, but I stretched out
my forearm and stopped him. “Enough for now, Master Vilkas,” I said quietly.

“No, that’s just the easy part, I need to—”

I did not let him move. “It is enough for now.
You will exhaust yourself, and that will serve no one.”

Vilkas opened his mouth to argue, but Aral
interrupted. “Quite right. Thank you, Shikrar,” she responded loudly. Then she
quietly muttered something to Vilkas that I could not hear. It must have been a
powerful argument, for he released his healing power and sat heavily on the
ground.

I was concerned for him, but as I opened my
mouth to speak to him a great noise arose from behind me. Name of the Winds,
does this day hold no peace?

And there, in the back of my mind, a little
louder now but still faint, that distant murmuring, like waves on a shingle
shore.

It was just as well that Varien had gone apart
with Rella, for I had to protect the Gedri with my body from those who sought
to harm her and I could not have protected him as well. I had barely glimpsed
the creature before I had to save its life.

“It reeks of the Rakshasa!”

“Move away, Idai. It is evil!”

Great flutterings of wings, great agitation,
exhaustion, frustration, and very little thought. Shikrar and I had long feared
this moment and spoken of what we should do. I was learning, yet again, that
plans are never complete enough to deal with life. I could smell the
demon-trace around this woman as well as any, but Shikrar and I had made oath
to each other that we would not harm nor allow harm to come to any who came to
us in peace no matter what they reeked of. It would take a great deal to make
me trust this Gedri, but first I must keep her alive.

“This is not yet our home!” I shouted, trying
by sheer volume to break through the anger of my people. “On the Island of
Exile we were alone and accountable only to ourselves. Here we must learn to
bear with the Gedri; we must learn to live among them whatever they may reek
of. They were given Choice by the great Powers!” I summoned calm and let as
much concern as I could find show in my voice. “That gift of Choice is with
them until they die. Would you steal this soul from the Win—from the Lady of
the Gedri, before it has a chance to repent?”

This won at least a moment of silence. The
Kantri are fire-hearted, and the reek of the Rakshasa fans the flame terribly,
but we are not stupid.

A muffled voice came from the region of my
chest. “For goodness’ sake, my soul to the Lady, I am in Her service! It’s not
me they’re reacting to, it’s this thrice-damned Farseer. If you’d just give me
a moment to speak…”

I opened my talons, looked down, and there
found that which would in all likelihood make me trust her, for looking up at
me was the very image of Lanen, if you added enough years and lines and turned
half her hair to grey. “My thanks,” she said, nodding to me. She bore a large
pack on her back and I still held her close. “I suspect I owe you my life. May
I ask your name?”

“I am called Idai. You are the mother of
Lanen,” I said. It was not a question. I bespoke Shikrar and Varien as I gazed
down at her. “My friends, there is someone here whom you must meet. Come
quickly. I feel the need of your counsel.”

The Gedri’s eyes, clear and relieved before,
clouded. “Yes. I am Maran of Beskin.” She stood straighter—for courage, I
thought—and something of desperation came into her gaze. “Have you found her?’

“No,” I said quietly. “Have you?”

“I think so,” she replied, never glancing
away.

I hurried to answer Idai’s summons, still
weary from the curious aftereffects of my healing and leaving Vilkas and Aral
where they stood. I found Idai surrounded by many of our folk, nearly all of
whom stood in the Attitudes of Anger or Frustration. More worrying, I felt also
an undercurrent of Fire, that flame that arises in us in the presence of our
life-enemies the Rakshasa. Varien arrived about the same time I did.

Before I could speak, though, Rinshir cried
out, “The Gedri that Idai defends reeks of the Rakshasa, Eldest!” He too stood
in Anger, but his was moving swiftly towards something stronger. “Are we come
to this, that we should protect the Raksha-touched?”

“We are new-come here, Rinshir. Would you then
destroy this child of the Gedri, in its own land, with no thought of its life
or its laws, without even troubling to ask why it has come among us?” I
resisted my own anger and the temptation to shame Rinshir further. “You are
weary, my friend, weary and hungry and unsure of what lies ahead, as are we
all. Let us not begin our lives here in our ancient home by murdering an
innocent.”

“Hardly innocent, Master,” interrupted the
Gedri from Idai’s shelter. I could have cheerfully swatted it myself. Stupid
creature! Just like Lanen, I thought, no sense of when to hold its peace. Are
all the Gedri so foolish, I wonder?

“Shall we let all the demon-touched pass
unharmed, then, that they may murder us at their ease?” snarled Rinshir. “I do
not like your reasoning, Hadreshikrar.”

“I do not appeal to reason, Rinshir,” I
replied as calmly as I could, “but to mercy, and to patience. Remember,
Raksha-trace can linger where the soul has been attacked as well as when it has
had traffic with the creatures themselves.”

“If you would just bloody well listen to me, I
could explain!” cried the Gedri, its voice muffled by the protective cage of
Idai’s hands. “I am not a demon-caller! Name of the Lady, I’ve spent half my
life fighting the damned things. It’s the Farseer you feel, I swear it on my
life!”

And finally, I heard the voice that uttered
those words, even though I could not see her face, and my resolve sharpened. “I
will have your word, Rinshir, that you will not harm this daughter of the
Gedri, that you will keep silence and let her speak in safety,” I said quietly.
“I will take it upon my own soul to vow that she will not call the Rakshasa
down upon us.”

Varien had reached us then, and came to stand
near Idai. He glanced at the Gedri in her hands and drew in his breath in
surprise.

Rinshir moved away slightly, his Attitude of
Concern warring with that of Anger. “Shikrar, don’t be absurd. Your souls
pledge for a demon-tainted Gedri? What could make you do such a th …” He drew
back, standing in Amazement, but only for a moment. Then his eyes widened in
realisation, and he moved in the instant from Amazement to Fury. “Surely she
bends your will even now, Eldest!” he cried, and faster than thought he drew in
a breath to flame the evil where it stood.

I could do no more than stare at Rinshir,
astounded at such hatred, entirely unprepared. Idai, blessedly, was ready for
him. When he arched his neck and aimed at the creature Idai was protecting, she
knocked his head back with her own, so that his flame scorched only air. I was
most impressed; I had never seen Idai move so swiftly. While he was recovering
from that blow, she knocked his wings aside with her own, loosed the Gedri
woman, and wrapped her right hand around his throat, just under the jaw where
we are most vulnerable.

I kept well out of it. If anything, I’d have
assisted Idai.

“You fool, Rinshir,” she hissed, her talons
poised at the great vein in his throat. “How do you dare to attack that which I
guard?”

“It is demon-stained, Idai!” he yelped in his
own defence. His voice was none too clear.

“Thrice fool and blind,” she snapped, her
teeth worryingly close to his throat. I began to fear a little for Rinshir’s
life, but there, defying Idai was the act of one who cared little for life in
any case. “And did you not see this other Gedri standing here, who would also
have died in your flame?”

Rinshir looked down, but he did not recognise
what he saw.

“Good morrow, Rinshir,” said Varien quietly. “I
had hoped that your travels might have stretched your mind as well as your
wings, but alas, I see no evidence of it.”

Rinshir flinched at that voice, distorted as
it was through
Gedri throat and
tongue. Varien, for all the changes that had beset him, was still our King and
held our fealty.

“I have lived eight hundred winters longer
than you, fool of a dhraisek,” hissed Idai. “Are you then grown so very wise in
so very short a time that you can see that which is hidden from me, while it
lies yet between my talons?” Her eyes glittered and her wings rattled with her
anger. I was glad to see that Rinshir had yet some sense left, for he finally
tried to move away from her. He did not get far, as she did not loosen her grip
on his throat.

“Do not think to challenge me, Rinshir,” she
hissed, keeping her body between Rinshir and Varien. “There is a very old and
very simple reason why we of the Kantrishakrim respect our elders. I am twice
your size, and by all the Winds that ever blew, I will fight you if you do not
heed me.” Without apparent effort she overbalanced him and bore him to the
ground, her talons still around his throat and her face a blink away from him. “And
know this, fool,” she snarled in his ear. “If ever you bring even the least
harm to Lord Akhor, to Varien, by my name I swear I will have it out of your
hide.”