"Lanen? I was dreaming—I thought—did you say... ?"

"I surely did," said Lanen, rising to her feet and giving her mother a hand up.

Maran stood and gazed at her. "Lanen..."

"And I'll say it again later, but only after I've eaten something," said Lanen. She managed to find a grin. "Come on, Mother dear. I don't know about you, but I'm starving."

Maran returned the grin. "I could eat a bear, claws and all," she said as we all started down for the lake.

"I'd fight you for it," I chimed in. "Wait, shouldn't we tell Will—"

"They'll meet us by the shore," replied Lanen, sounding just a touch smug. Truespeech is a wonderful thing."

Thank you—and that reminds me, I must help you heal up after I've had some food, Lanen. You've had a hard time of it."

"I'll not object, Mistress Aral," she replied. As we walked, she suddenly started looking around, as if seeking something or someone. "Aral, I thank you for all your kindness, but why do you labour alone? Where is Mage Vilkcas?"

I didn't know whether to curse or weep. "Mage bloody Vilkas was last seen heading for Castle Gundar," I replied. "I hope he thought to ask them to send us a few blankets and a bite to eat."

Then something occurred to me. I stopped dead, blinked, and looked at Lanen. "Wait. You are Marik's daughter, are you not?"

She stopped and turned to me. "Yes, alas. I am."

I grinned. "Then it's your castle. It was his, he was your father, he's dead, it's yours. Right?"

Lanen's eyes grew wide in the bright moonlight. "Now that is an interesting idea," she said.

We stumped on down the hill.

After all was done, after we had sung our dead onto the Winds and the sun was sinking rapidly into the west, I glided down to the shore and drank sparingly of the water of the lake. It was fouled but it was not poisoned, and I was desperate. Then, as Eldest, I began the terrible accounting.

The Lesser Kindred—no, the Aialakantri now, I must remember—were the only ones unhurt. Of the Restored, the precious Lost now come to themselves again after all the long centuries, eighty-eight remained alive out of two hundred, most with dreadful injuries. Twenty of those dead were those who had chosen the Swift Death upon their Restoration, but to my mind they were but the first casualties of this battle.

Of the Kantri, so lately arrived on these green shores one hundred and eighty-seven strong, just one hundred and twenty-six yet lived, including those who guarded the lansip trees with Mi-razhe and ShertSk in the east and Kretissh and Nikis on the Halfway Island. Here on the battlefield, one hundred and ten lay exhausted and in pain.

A hundred and seventy-three of us had fallen in battle, including one whom I could least bear to lose.

For that moment, I envied the dead. They slept on the Winds—O Shikrar, my friend, may the Winds bear you up—and we were left to go on, to live, to start again in this new world full of those who would not understand us. My heart was weary and my soul wrung beyond bearing. I came again to land and sprawled by the side of the lake, wounded and exhausted and weary nigh unto death at heart. There were no others by me, and I had only my thoughts for cold company.

Ah, Shikrar, you always did say we didn't fly enough to keep our strength at its fullest, I thought, sending my foolish true-speech to follow wherever he might have led. Now that all was over and there was time for thought, Shikrar and Akhor filled my mind. I lacked only a cent and a half of Shikrar's age, I had known him since we were younglings together, and now all those centuries rose up before me rich with memory. He and Akhor had been the dearest creatures in all the world to me. I cannot say the depth of all that was in my heart when I saw Akhor rise up from where Shikrar had fallen, but I fear that old foolishness sent up fresh shoots in the very instant. He cannot be husband to Lanen thus, he is himself again, perhaps now, perhaps this time ...

As I say, foolishness. I was too weary then to discipline my heart, and it was soon forgotten in the battle that followed, but when that incredible music began to echo in the mountains, singing of love and the wonder of our three Kindreds reunited, I could not help but notice the tiny flame of hope deep, deep within, that even I hardly dared to recognise.

When, a little later, Akhor and all of the Gedri came down from the hill, I was the first soul they came to. For Akhor's sake I rose to my feet. I could not meet this wonder lying down.

"Akhor," I said, bowing. It was most strange, to look up to him. Akhor was younger than I, and so should have been smaller. Does he wear Shikrar's body? I wondered, horribly, but no—there was no mistaking that gleaming silver hide that scattered the moonlight.

"Lady, I rejoice to see you among the living," he replied. His voice was deeper, but it was his voice. My heart leapt even as I sternly beat it down. "Idai, my friend," he continued, "forgive that I intrude upon your grief. Know that mine is no less deep, but Shikrar would surely want us to help the living ere we mourn the dead."

"You speak truly, Akhor," I replied sadly. "Though I know not what may be done. There is a terrible toll among us, Lord," I said. "Many of our people are in pain, some in dreadful case, and all are wounded. What of the Healers?" I asked, raising my voice and looking to the young Gedri Aral. "Are you willing to assist?"

"Ill do what I can, Lady Idai, and welcome," said Aral, her voice so soft I could barely hear it. "It's Vilkas you want, though, and he's—I don't think he'll work with me anymore."

"For goodness' sake, why not?" asked Lanen. Then, gazing more closely at Aral's face, she asked, "Aral, why have you been crying?"

"It's a long story, Lanen," said Will the Golden, who had appeared with Akhor. He lay his hand on Aral's shoulder. "She's right, though. He's in no mood to be helpful, especially if it means working with Aral."

For all that I was pleased at last to see him in better case with Aral, the anger in his voice was plain.

"What's got into Vilkas?" asked Lanen, her own anger rising palpably. "Goddess, the man practically saved the world, what could possibly be bothering him? I'd have thought he'd be damned proud of himself."

"He nearly destroyed the Rakshasa, Lanen," said Aral wearily.

"Shame he stopped too soon," Lanen responded fervently.

Aral shook her head. "It's—it's not that simple, Lanen. I—he's angry at me, with good reason."

"I see," Lanen said. "And people who need his help can go hang, can they, while he goes off in a huff?"

"Lanen, it's not that simple," said Aral quickly, but Lanen was already hurrying down the hill after Vilkas. Akhor went with her. Maran started after them as well, but Jamie caught her sleeve and held her back.

"Wait," he said. Even to my eyes, his smile was peculiar. "Give her a chance. She's quite a lass, our girl Lanen," he told Maran. "Let s see what she can do." He looked around. "And in the meantime, I recommend we start a fire or six. It's going to get cold when the sun goes down, and I would happily maim for a cup of chelan."

Vilkas

I had no idea where I was going, as long as it was away from Aral. I found myself striding at speed along the north edge of the lakeshore, the calm water on my right, swearing at her under my breath.

I knew how she felt, of course I knew, I'm not blind deaf and dumb, but it wasn't my fault. How could she throw that in my face? I had trusted her with my deepest feelings as I have never trusted another soul. She knew I felt guilty, even if I never said so. To use our friendship as a—as a halter, as a weapon—damn the girl. I would never speak to her again.

Vilkas.