Jamie, Rella, Maran, and I took advantage of a brief pause in the fighting to catch our breath. Most of the Raksha that had been harrying us had been dashed on the rock of Vilkas's power and destroyed. Others would no doubt replace them soon. Aral was kneeling by Will, her power bright around her. Even as I glanced at them, he sat up, his hand to his head. "Hold still, you idiot, I'm still working," she told him.

He let himself be told. It was as well Aral was looking at his wounds and not his eyes. Even now, I thought, the greater wound is there. He gazed at her the way Varien—Akor—no, I can't bear it...

"You'll keep now," she said briskly, rising, and she returned to us, swiftly cleansing and sealing the worst of our wounds.

I longed for more Raksha to fight. Anything that would not let me stop and think.

Kedra stayed for only a brief moment after—after—"Lady Lanen, I pray you, assist me here."

I hurried over. He reverently lifted his father's soulgem and placed it in my hand. "Keep it safe, Lady. I cannot stay."

"As my own life, Kedra," I replied.

He leapt into the bright morning to join the others in the aerial battle. I put Shikrar's soulgem in my scrip and turned back to find the others watching me. Behind them more demons approached— ' I cried out and pointed. We all prepared, and I drew my dagger across my arm yet again, letting the blood fall onto my blade. I welcomed the pain. Anything that kept me from thinking.

I had never been so happy, or so free, or so completely myself in all my life. There I stood, fighting for my life against the powers of darkness, and I was filled with a joy so vast I could barely contain it. Only the smallest part of me remembered that in my dreams I laughed as I destroyed the world.

Berys was more powerful than I would ever have believed, certainly far stronger than he had ever revealed himself to be. He screamed and cursed and sent dark flame like daggers to pierce me to the bone. Most I deflected, but those that got through and injured me I healed at once.

At first I let him do all the work, restricting myself to defence while I tested the extent of my own powers. Before I welcomed them, a few minutes and an age of the world before, I would have been terrified. Now—ah, now I felt the Lady's power flowing into me through my feet, through the top of my head, through my very skin. I formed it into a shield that soon deflected everything he flung at me.

Berys turned from smug to angry very quickly. "You foolish boy, you cannot hope to equal my power!" he cried. "Bow before your master!"

"I have already made my devotions to the Lady this morning," I replied, turning away the forest of knives he had conjured to throw at me.

"This is some trick!" he screamed. He paused to draw a deep breath, moved his hands into a semblance of a claw, and reached for my heart. I had never seen such a thing, his arm grew impossibly long and his fingertips appeared to touch my skin. I battered against the claw, moving away from it; it followed me, and suddenly I felt something tap my abdomen. I looked down.

If he'd had two hands I might have been done for, but even Berys could not make a claw from a stump.

I laughed and poured the healing light of the Lady into the very substance of his extended arms. He cried out in pain and released the spell before it could travel up his arms. In panic, to buy himself time, he sent a cloud of choking blackness to cover me. I summoned a wind to blow from behind me, returning the cloud to its maker, who had to disperse it as swiftly as he had called it into being.

I seemed to have the defensive part worked out.

Berys glared at me, wild-eyed, desperately summoning yet more strength for some new attack.

"My turn, I think," I said, and grinned. I relaxed and breathed deep, feeling as if I were sustained by a brilliant beam of light shooting through me from the very heart of the world. I drew power from the very air as a lamp draws oil through a wick, ignited it at the raging bonfire in my soul, and sent it forth to batter down the thick defensive walls around Berys's soul. He fought me, beating away my initial foray. I leaned into him, sending my power deeper. He did not laugh anymore, he was focussed absolutely, but he turned aside my attack.

How could this be?

I sent again, concentrating harder, thinking to tear his shields from him.

He remained unharmed.

Stop we cannot win we must not lose control hold back do not attack do not let go

Old voices chattered their old song in my mind, insistent.

Strange. I had thought they were answered.

I concentrated, astounded that there was yet some vestige of that in me—and yes, there, for all my new freedom, I was still holding back. Thick walls yet surrounded my very core, where lay the deep roiling center of the flame.

But that is our secret heart! cried my soul in terror. That is the fire, that is the searing flame that protects and that we protect. It rages ever in control. That is our power. That is our truth. We cannot let that be touched or known, we cannot let down the barriers, once that is loose we may never call it back.

Berys was fighting with all his strength as I threw at him everything I could think of, but he did not seem to be more than— inconvenienced. If I did nothing more he could surely fight me off forever.

No this is terrifying we cannot show who we truly are it will hurt we will be overcome we will be derided it will fail we wiUfail we will do something terrible we will kill again and again and againl

I had never paid any attention to that poor frightened part of my soul. The voice was my voice, yes, but as a small scared child, the one who had so horribly killed the first demon-victim he had treated, the one who had been having nightmares about it ever since and been terrified of the power that could boil blood in living veins.

Who was this who said "we"?

Berys, sensing that my attention was turned from him, gathered himself to attack once more. With a thought I held him motionless. It was hard work, he cursed and fought back, but I could sustain it for a short time while I investigated this last barrier.

I turned my Healer's vision on myself, moving into the realm of the mind where all is metaphor and outside time stands nearly still—and there he stood. A skinny ten-year-old boy who had made a horrific mistake and had been running from himself ever since.

Me. Ten years old, though I looked younger, shaking, white-faced with terror and self-loathing.

I stopped before him and looked down, and found myself moved by deep pity.

"Vil, lad," I told him gently, "it wasn't your fault."

"I killed her!" he shrieked, beating at me. "We killed her, remember!"

I knelt down, that I might not loom over him. "I remember, Vilkas. But it was a terrible accident. Our mentor Sandrish should have realised that we could not control a power we barely understood. He should never have let a child, however powerful, take over so difficult a case."

"He didn't kill her, we did!" shouted the boy.

I held out my hand to him. He hesitated, but took it, and finally looked into my eyes. I think we both took comfort from that.

In the back of my mind, Berys began to work free from my binding. I didn't have long.

"Yes, Vilkas," I admitted heavily, his hand clasped gently in mine, that he might withdraw it at any time. "We killed that poor woman. You are right."

He burst out weeping and grasped my hand in a painful grip. "I'm sorry I'm sorry I didn't mean to it must have hurt her horribly I can still hear her screaming oh please let me not have killed her. .."