The Lesser Kindred (ttolk-2) (9 page)

"I have watched the sequence. Is there a particular mean-ing associated with it?"

One corner of his mouth lifted in a half-smile. "No. Just practice." He walked with me to the pell. "That's enough, my girl," he called out, and Lanen straightened, lowering her sword and allowing her right arm to drop. She shook it for a moment. "Damn. Stiff already," she said, ruefully. "Sweet Shia, but I'm out of practice."

"No, are you? I'd never have dreamt it," he said. "You can have another session later, and you will practice every day until you've got some strength back into those arms. Now, young Varien, step up and show me what you saw Lanen doing. Start slow."

I lifted the sword and swung it. It felt awkward and alien. I attempted to follow the pattern as Lanen had, but I overbalanced on the third stroke and nearly fell.

Jamie stopped me. "Are you sure you're left-handed?" he asked. "You looked damned awkward."

"I know not. I am doing as Lanen did. What is 'left handed'?"

Jamie sighed, taking the sword out of my left hand and put it into my right. 'Try it that way," he said, and it felt better immediately. He stood beside me at the pell, guiding my arm. "Forehand low, backhand high, forehand high, that's right, let the weight of your sword do half of the work for you, now backhand low, yes, now head strike—straight over the top, and every now and then vary that with a side strike to the head." He showed me, moving my arm with his, and soon I could feel the rhythm of the swings on my own. Then he had me crook my left arm up and forward, as Lanen had her right. "That's where your shield will go one of these days," he said. "Might as well get used to having it there. Remember to keep this arm angled to the side, where an op-ponent's sword would land."

"Surely this overhead strike is slow and clumsy," I said, keeping up the pattern. "Does not the foe see the sword coming and have time to get away from it?"

"Aye," said Jamie, "you're right, as a killing stroke it's practically useless. However, believe me when I tell you there's nothing like seeing a sword coming towards your eyes to make you step back and reconsider. Besides, once his shield's up you've a better chance at hitting something vital next stroke, if you're quick and he isn't. Just you keep at it, I'll come stop you in a moment." He took hold of my left arm, which had wandered down to my side, and lifted it again. "Remember, keep your shield arm up." He left me working at the pell.

Jamie wandered carelessly over to me, but his glance was sharp and he spoke urgently. "Now, my girl. If you want to convince me once and for all that your tale is true, use that Farspeech of yours to tell him you're in trouble and he should drop his sword and come help you."

Ah, well.

I answered quietly. "If you want proof I'll ask him to come over here, but I can't lie to him. It doesn't work that way."

"Why not? Just say those very words. Surely that's not so hard."

"Jamie, it's called the Language of Truth for a reason. It's not like writing a message, it's like—like overhearing a conversation. Some of the older dragons can hide a little of what they are thinking, but I've only managed it once and that was with a lot of help. Flat lies are impossible; your thoughts would show the lie even if you don't mean to. At the very least it'll make him angry."

He raised an eyebrow. "Interesting. Very well." He looked around at Varien. "Ask him to try practicing with his left hand again."

I did not bother to answer but bespoke Varien. "Dearling forgive me but Jamie is putting us to the test again Jamie has asked me to request that you try the pattern with the left hand again, I wish to goodness he'd just know the truth when he hears it." I tried to keep silent about what Jamie had actually asked me to do, but I was still fairly new to true-speech and I never was much good as a liar in any case.

Lanen's underbought was obvious, as was the fact that she was trying not to show it. "You'd have thought he'd re-alise by now, he wanted me to lie to you, I told him It couldn't/wouldn't he still doesn't trust you or me for thai matter, I wouldn 't lie to you aloud much less in truespeech."

I instantly switched to my left hand and became instantly awkward again. I went through the full pattern three times to emphasize the point, but I could feel my anger building with each stroke and on the last I let loose my full strength and drove the sword deep into the wood. I left it there and strod< over to Jamie and Lanen.

Jamie impressed me, for by the time I arrived he was already moving and wary. So he should be. If I had still had my old shape I might well have killed him out of hand.

"How darest thou ask Lanen to lie to me?" I cried. Even as I spoke, a detached part of me noted both that I was using a form of speech that was far too old, and that my body was physically shaking with the effort of holding back fron striking him. "The Language of Truth is so named for a rea-son! How should we deceive each other when our very thoughts are made clear? Truespeech is not some idle amusement, it is deep communion with another. You cannot open your thoughts, your very self, to another soul without revealing the truth of your mind and heart. Never think it again, Jameth of Arinoc, nor ask Lanen to do so."

Jamie nodded. "It's true, then," he said. "You really can hear her." He looked at me. "You'd like to hit me, wouldn't you?"

"Desperately," I said, still shaking.

"Go ahead and try," he said. "Even if you manage it, I'll live."

"I dare not," I replied, turning away from him, breathing far too fast and too deep, "lest I have still some of my old strength and I injure you."

"Ah. Come over here," he said, catching my arm and leading me back to the pell, but never turning his back on me. Wise man. "Now. Pull your sword out with your right hand and use your full strength when you're drilling. Take out your anger on it—and don't worry, if you damage the pell I can make another one."

It was a relief to let out my anger in striking something, to feel the steel bite deep into the wood and to pull it out again by main strength. I thought it was dissipating until Jamie cried out, "Now! Kill it!"

His timing was superb. I had just begun a high forehand swing, and I put all my anger and my whole body into the stroke, shouting as I hit.

There was a noise of tearing wood, a loud crack, and a dull thump and clatter as the top third of the pell landed on the cobbled yard.

There was deep silence for a moment.

"Hellsfire, Varien," said Jamie then, very quietly. "Let me thank you now for not taking me up on my offer to let you strike me. Lanen's lost one father this year, that's enough for anyone." He kept staring at the lump of wood on the ground.

I grinned. "You are welcome."

I was calm again, all my anger gone in that last stroke. I had seldom had the satisfaction of using my full strength as one of the Kantri. It was good to know that I could do so in my new form. "In any case," I said to Jamie, "at least you believe in truespeech now."

"Varien, lad, I believe absolutely everything you two have told me," said Jamie, still gazing at the severed lump of wood. I could not entirely recognise the tone of his voice, but it sounded a little like awe. "Absolutely everything."

"Shall I continue my practice?" I asked.

He looked up at that, clapped me on the shoulder and smiled. "No, lad, I think this will do for a first session. Besides," he said as he took me by the arm and led me into the house, "I need to make a new pell."

Lanen

I was still a bit dazed as I watched the pair of them disappearing into the mud room off the kitchen. I leaned down and picked up the sheath of Varien's sword, forgotten for the moment, and like Jamie stared at the result of Varien's anger.

He had cut through a block of wood a hand-span thick with a blunt sword.

Jamie was right, Varien didn't really need too much prac- tice. All he needed to learn about swordplay was how to avoid his opponent's strokes—and how to aim.

Roughly.

On my return from Terash Vor I landed in a clearing some distance from my chambers, in cold darkness. Judging from what Kedra had said, I guessed it must be no more than the first full moon of the new year—there were then several hours of darkness yet to come before dawn brought better hope and clearer thought. I remembered from my early youth having seen what looked like the end of the world in the darkness over Terash Vor. My father had taken me back the next day to show me that daylight would restore my perspective wonderfully. I had seen in the sunlight that day that there was not nearly so much fire as there had seemed. I had little hope on this occasion that daylight would bring any more illumination than the sun itself provided, but I would have to go back and make certain.

For the moment, however, I decided to walk the rest of the way back to my home, for my wings were stiff and sore and my new-healed shoulder ached with the chill of the high air. Winter lingered still, but the calm cold of the ground felt positively warm compared with the moving chill of the high winter wind.

Seeing die red glow of the earth's wounds is very like watching the ground bleed, and it is profoundly disturbing. Seen in darkness it inspires fear even beyond its merits. I kept repeating this to myself as I walked, for the little comfort it brought, for I knew in my bones that when I returned to the firefields this noontide I would find no comfort in that sight.

As I drew near my own chambers I was delighted to see that Kedra was there before me and had lit a fire in the pit to welcome me. Of course he had warded the Chamber of Souls while I kept the Weh sleep, it was his duty, but I was deeply cheered nonetheless to see the light. Warmth engulfed me as I entered my chamber again and I sighed deeply with relief.

"Ah, Kedra, I rejoice to see you, and the blessing of the Winds upon you for lighting a fire. This night has got into my bones." I stood in the flames, revelling as the fire licked around me and the piercing cold of the high air left me. Fire is life to us, and though it warms, no flame born of wood could possibly harm us. I closed my eyes and arched my long neck, putting my nose almost to the base of the fire to let the friendly flames warm my faceplate, sighing delightedly with the warmth. The fire licked gently at the soulgem in the centre of my forehead, sending a shiver of heat through me. I pulled my tail into the circle and folded my wings tight against my sides, letting every surface be caressed by the fire. Kedra hissed his amusement at my self-indulgence as I bathed in the generous warmth.

He had a large bowl of water warmed for me as well, flavoured with itakhri leaves. This brew is not for us the sovereign remedy that hlansif is for the Gedri, but it has a pleasant taste and warms from within, and it is cheering on a winter's night. As soon as I could tear myself away from my fire-bath I drank deeply.

Kedra had waited a long while but he was far too curious for much patience.

"Well, my father?"

I did not answer immediately. The vision of the firefield was before me still, and me words to encompass it did not come easily.

"My father, what did you find?" he asked again. His voice was grown a little solemn, for he knew me well.

My own voice would have turned traitor had I allowed it. Instead I said calmly, "Kedra, my son, you have kept well since the birth of your littling? You do not neglect your exercises in the air for the joy of beholding your son?"

"Mirazhe and I both fly every day," he said, smiling. "A good two hours each, as you taught me long ago."

"And Sher6k enjoyed being held as you flew last night. That is well." I closed my eyes. "He will not be wing-light for many years yet, poor littling, and I fear there may be a great deal of flying to be done long ere that time comes."

I do not know if Kedra was being stubborn, or if it was only that he had not seen what I had. "To what end? Why all this talk of flying, Father? The firefields bear watching surely, but what need has my Sher6k of flight at his age?"

I bespoke him, showing him in the privacy of our minds that which I could not yet put into words.

Kedra swore. "Name of the Winds, Father. Are you certain?" he asked quietly. His voice held little hope—as I say he knew me too well.

"Ask Idai if you will, for she flew with me," I replied have seen—once, when I was barely past my second kell,. I saw the firefields roiling in the starlight. What she and I overflew last night makes that seem as perilous as cloud across the moon."

"I see." Kedra heaved a sigh and was silent for a moment, then looked at me and said wryly, "You know that there will be some who will blame even this on the Lady Lanen and Lord Akhor. So soon after that great upheaval, our very home destroying itself—I do not envy you, Father. How will you convince them otherwise?"

"I shall knock their heads together until I rattle some sense into them," I replied shortly, for K6dra had said aloud what I had been thinking. I had known since Akhor left with his lady that every ill for many years to come would be laid at their feet, but I had never imagined that anything so drastic would happen so soon. Ah, well. Life delights in catching us napping. I yawned.

"My son, would you watch here with me yet a few hours? I feel the need of rest. The earthshake woke me from the Weh, and I am weary yet."

Kedra was instantly solicitous. "Your pardon, my father, in the turbulence I forgot you had been wakened untimely. Feel you the need to return to your Weh chamber?"

"No, I thank you," I replied, settling on my bed of khaadish. "For the most part I am healed. My shoulder is stiff and a little sore, but no more than I can bear. No, I need only rest, and meat when I wake." I had shaken my wings just so and was tucking my tail under my head when Kedra said, "Father, truly, are you well enough to deal with the Council and what may come after?"

I glanced up at K6dra, who was gazing down at me and standing in the Attitude of Concern. I looked away and sighed. "Perhaps you are right, my son, and I am simply growing too old," I said, attempting to sound piteous.