He drew himself up, the very image of the Attitude of Pride if he had had wings. I envied the Gedri their mobile faces, but found it interesting that they used Attitudes much like ours to convey emotions. "Lanen was dying," he said simply. "Her babes are half Kantri, half Gedri. Her body could not support them, so I changed her blood to match theirs. She is altogether changed now, for you cannot change only the blood. The rest has to match."

I dropped my jaw in astonishment and heard Shikrar draw in his breath sharply. "Do you tell me that Lanen is also half Kantri now?" I breathed. "Surely that is not possible!"

"It is done," said Vilkas. "Whether I should have done it or no, I have." One corner of his mouth turned up. "At least now they'll match."

"Name of the Winds, Varien, you never told me that!" exclaimed Shikrar. His eyes were wide.

"I—to be honest, my friend, I cannot say it has been uppermost in my thoughts," replied Varien. "So much has happened since, I—"

He broke off, for Shikrar had moved his wings into the Attitude of Surprise, with a touch of Accusation, and the movement had caused him pain. I glanced more keenly at Shikrar, for I had finally realised what it was that had so altered him in so short a time, aside from the taking of Lanen. "If these Healers are so great as all that, Shikrar, why have they not healed you?" I replied.

Vilkas—it is hard to explain—he seemed to sharpen, as if something had broken through the mist he kept about himself. "We did not know he was ill or injured. Have I your permission, I .ord Shikrar, to see if I may learn what is amiss with you?"

"It is nothing," said Shikrar swiftly, "I am well enough, I..."

"His right wing is damaged, in the first joint, and the wound he received in his left shoulder last autumn has not had the time to heal as it should," I said, annoyed. "Don't be a fool, Shikrar. Perhaps they can help."

"In all the long ages when our people dwelt together, even the strongest Gedri Healers could do very little for the Kantri," replied Shikrar indignantly. I judged that was better than dwelling on pain.

"Ah, but we have done better since," said Aral, her smile broadening. "When Salera's people were—becoming themselves, we healed every one of them. Mind you, there wasn't much to do, but it did work." She gazed up fearlessly into Shikrar's eyes. "May we have your permission to help? Or would you rather be brave and in pain a bit longer?"

Shikrar threw his head back and a flicker of flame shot skyward. All of the Gedri but Varien stepped back, shocked. Well, perhaps they had never seen a real laugh before.

"Come, then, heal me an ye may," he said, his eyes dancing. "Name of the Winds, these Gedri have no fear!"

"Say no sense, rather, and you'll be closer," said Aral, who had moved some distance away from Shikrar. "What was that all about?"

Varien smiled, banishing just for an instant the deep well of sorrow behind his eyes. "It was a laugh, Aral, no more. Lanen"— ah, and it was back—"I surprised Lanen so, the first time. It is nothing to fear."

"Oh, I don't know, I think I'm safe enough in fearing that," said Vilkas dryly. "You may not burn readily, Varien, but I do." Turning to Shikrar, he continued. "If you would be so kind as not to be amused while we treat you, Master Shikrar, I would be greatly obliged."

His eyes gleamed, but Shikrar answered, "You have my word, Master Vilkas."

"Do you want any help, Vil?" asked Aral.

"Yes, come on, we both need to learn this," replied Vilkas, already distracted.

It was fascinating to watch him. He who had been all shifting mist, hidden even from himself as he strove to hide his inner self from others, became all in a moment a soul sharp and gleaming, edged and poised for use like a sword. It was extraordinary to behold. "It's all new to me too, the more eyes here the better."

"I will leave you to their tender mercies, my friend," said Varien, and the ghost of a smile flitted across his face. "I expect to find you vastly improved when I return." He bowed and wandered off to speak with Rella and they were soon deep in talk.

Vilkas and Aral began what looked like a swift set of ritual passes through the air. A gentle blue light surrounded them both, until they joined hands. The gentleness was still there, but the light was much stronger.

Aral and I sent our power towards Shikrar. It would be the largest of them we'd begin on, I thought. Why start by halves? I had no idea what we might find. Human anatomy we had learned. Dragon anatomy was a complete mystery.

Until now.

I was pleased to learn that injury was injury no matter what the vessel. Dragon blood and bone were not the same as in humans, but for all that they were still blood and bone. The wing joint was badly inflamed, and the shoulder was still badly damaged for all that I could see it had been worse. With Aral's help, I had a long look at Shikrar's healthy shoulder, and then we got permission from Idai to examine her, to be certain of what healthy tissue looked like.

"Remember, Vil," said Aral, as with the Healer's deep sight we gazed into the tissues of unwounded Idai, "all of these creatures are completely exhausted. You can see it in Shikrar, but at least he's had a few days' rest. This lady and all the rest of them have just pushed themselves to the very limit to survive—look at the buildup of the waste products in the muscles. At least"—and her voice faltered slightly—"it looks like something that shouldn't be there. Drat." She sighed. "I'm not sure we could find a normal example anywhere just at the moment."

"Mmmm, that's the problem, of course. I'm with you, that particulate in the muscle looks like fatigue poison of some kind. It's clear enough, in any case."

"Yes. The wing muscles are the worst, of course. I'd guess the leg muscles are probably the nearest to their normal state—not the ones that have been holding the legs close to the body, the other ones, between the two farthest joints."

I started to move, without thinking, and a wing appeared before me. The muscles at the edge are not so badly affected, I thought stupidly, before I looked up, blinking away my Healer's sight. Idai's face was before me, and I glimpsed the covering of amazingly tough hide and the blood vessels beneath, stretched over the heavy bone of the mask, before my normal sight returned.

"Are you always so heedless of those whom you heal?" she said, and I was briefly surprised by the fact that I could hear the annoyance in a dragon's voice as clearly as I would in anyone.

'Tour pardon, Lady," I said, nodding to her. "I—when we are so deep in the Healer's sight, it is difficult to remember that there is a person—and with you, there is so much to learn—"

Aral appeared by my side and interrupted. "Lady Idai, please

Forgive my colleague. He concentrates harder than any three people I know. I've seen him get so immersed in what he's doing he forgets to eat for days on end. And yes, he gets a bit heedless of his patients, but that's what he needs me for." She jabbed her elbow, surprisingly subtly, into my ribs. "May we have your permission to examine your—er—back legs?"

Idai obligingly extended a leg, glancing keenly at Aral. "I see. I have known others so lose themselves in their work. Somehow it does not surprise me that males of both our Kindreds have this in common," she said. Aral grinned up at her before getting back to work.

It was clear in a moment when we saw the healthy muscle— we had to look deep, but there is something unmistakable about bodies that are working as they should. The deep tissue of the unused muscles still had that silver glow of health about it, though the bloodstream was carrying the fatigue poisons throughout the body.

"Well, Vil, I can see what needs done," said Aral shortly. "You?"