And suddenly to my own surprise my sobs began to turn to watery laughter. I had been struck by the foolishness of it all. The pair of us standing there crying bitterly because we were no longer parted! Varien gazed upon me, and like the sun emerging from a cloudbank, the great weight of weary sorrow fell away from us both and we grinned like idiots, even as the tears dried upon our cheeks.

I could not help being distracted; the late morning light picked out all the contours of his body, turned bis eyes to living emerald, and set his long silver hair to gleaming like metal new-forged. That strange spicy scent that reminded me of the Kantri tickled my nose. My husband. Impossible, that so splendid a vision was my own heart's other self.

I wondered if my sight had changed forever, or if this was the last shred of that strange gift from the Lady held over from the night before. Watching him, I saw the moment when he looked deeper into my heart. I had never noticed the difference before. There was so much I had never noticed before. There was around Varien a shimmering silver aura that I certainly had never seen. What it might mean I had no idea. It was full of movement, surely. I wondered for a moment if there might be a tree outside the window, casting moving shadows, but my eyes widened when I realised that the bright movement behind him came not from without. It was—sweet Goddess, I was looking at the moving shadows of the wings he had lost.

I stared and stared, hardly daring to believe what I saw, until she reached out and touched my face. "I didn't know you still had wings, my dearest," she said softly. "Even thus, even as shadows, they are glorious."

"Lanen, what sight is upon you?" I cried, joy rising in me as I had not dared to dream it ever would again. "You see me—your eyes—" I stared hard at her, and it was unmistakable. "By my name, Lanen Kaelar, you have the eyes of the Kantrishakrim!"

Of course she could not let that pass. "Well, I'm not going to give them back," she said, grinning at me. "What in the world do you mean, you daft dragon?"

For answer I leaned close into her and breathed deep. "By the Winds!" I cried, reeling as wonder took me. "Lanen!"

"Still here," she said as one corner of her mouth lifted in half a smile. "What are you on about, love?"

"You are changed in truth!" I laughed. "I thought Vilkas changed your blood and nothing else, but all is connected—you cannot change the blood without changing all else as well—Lanen, my heart, you are become as much a child of the Kantri as I am!"

I could read her truly, more truly than ever before. I could see all the layers of thought and deep emotion, I could see the wonder that began to fill her heart, and glory to the Winds and the Lady, when I glanced down I could see our babes as they grew beneath her heart. They were as yet no more than a shining in the region of her womb, but already I could see two separate gleams. I took her by the arms and danced about the room like a fool, the pair of us stark naked and laughing.

We sealed our joy with loving then, passionate, joyous, urgent with our need to give and to receive. As we lay in each others arms afterward, Lanen said calmly, "We'd best enjoy this while we still can. It's not going to be so easy when I'm out to here with twins." She held her arms an improbable distance from her body and I laughed. "Aye, well, laugh while you can," she said, contented, teasing me. "You've never seen a pregnant Gedri, have you? I'm not kidding. It looks completely silly and I'm told it is awkward in all kinds of ways. And you can't see your feet." I laughed as she continued. "And women near their time all say the same things. T wish the babe would put its mind to the job and get it over with,' and 'I'm never doing this again,' and 'Goddess, but my feet hurt!'"

I was filled with a quiet delight to hear her so calm and so—so normal about her pregnancy. She had gone through seven Hells and nearly died with it; I had feared she might resent the babes, but no, not she, not my Lanen.

By good fortune we were up and dressing by the time Hygel knocked on the door. Why he bothered I don't know for he opened it even as he pounded. "Come quick," he said urgently. "There's a riot about to start and that bloody great dragon is in the middle of it."

I had forgotten. I haven't been here, my father's home in the East Mountains, for twenty-five years. I'd forgotten the smell of the place in spring. When we arrived an hour past it washed over me. There's always the tang of the evergreens, but this time of year there's some shrub that grows low on the foothills that has thousands of little yellow flowers and smells like—like paradise. Better than lansip. I'd forgotten.

I always thought Berys was a little crazy, but now I know it. I saw the result of that madness last night, in Verfaren. Before my eyes, his legions of demons destroyed the most powerful men and women in the world, the Mages of Verfaren, in moments, and there was precious little they could do about it. Oh, some of them knew how to shield against the little demons, but when the big one arrived, that Berys called a Lord of Hell, they could do nothing. I don't pretend that I felt much at their passing, those people have made my life difficult for years, but Berys enjoyed it. Not their deaths, I don't think. Before. When they realised that they were going to die. He is even more depraved than I had thought.

Depraved but powerful. Don't forget that, Marik my lad. And he's only on your side as long as you're of use to him. I wonder more and more how long that is likely to be.

I must say, though, I'm impressed at the way he keeps his head. We walked out of the Great Hall quite calmly, and later, when— when—when the dragon came I saw my death and could not move, but he had opened the portal and threw me into it. The next moment we're here at my ancestral home, this fortified bastion in the mountains by the shores of Lake Gand. Across the width of Kolmar. It's a thousand leagues if it's a step. He calls it "travelling the demonlines" and says they take forever to set up and are only good for one trip. Damn shame. It beats horses hollow.

The pain is back again this morning, worse this time than it has been for many a moon, and with no hope of relief now that La-nen has escaped my grasp. I should have insisted that Berys sacrifice her the moment he captured her, curse him! He was the one who wanted to wait, he never has thought my constant pain worth bothering about. He is less and less amenable to reason these days, and I am half mad that say it

Damn the girl for escaping. Damn Berys for letting her. Damn it all to the Hells and back again. I hate being in pain. These days I can't even count on Berys to relieve it, as temporary as that always is. Of late he often claims that he is weary and needs to rest. Not now, surely, that he has activated the Healers.

Heh. I wonder what kind of havoc that is wreaking across the three Kingdoms this day? Only the three, of course. Gorlak has ever been a support to our plans, so we have not touched any of the Healers from his Kingdom of the East Mountains. I wonder if Berys has had word of how Gorlak is doing in his battles? Last I heard he had taken the North Kingdom and was within a breath of victory in Ilsa. That would suit us well. If there is yet an "us"— though Berys did save me from that monster just now, perhaps he still sees my worth in his schemes. Without me he has no legitimacy in this Kingdom, where my family is very near to the throne. Only Gorlak and his fool of a son, Ulrik, truly stand between me and my rightful place. If you look at the lineage a certain way.

It occurs to me to wonder, more and more, what will happen when all the Kantri are dead? Berys was going to wed what was left of my daughter, for his own devious reasons—I never really cared much why. At least, that was what he told me when he was his natural age. It would give me time to father a son where I would. But now—Hells take it, he looks younger than I am! Mind you, I can't see him interested in a woman, or giving a damn about having a child to establish a dynasty. Giving a damn about anything other than himself, in fact.