I was becoming grateful for anything that helped us to be together. We had begun to live disparate fives, and it worried me. When we were apart, we bespoke one another and we were knit as close as ever. Our souls have ever been the two halves of one whole. In truespeech we shared heart, mind, and spirit, and all was very well. It was only when we were in one another's presence that we could not ignore the eternal distance between us. Now and ever, Kantri and Gedri, between whom there could be only a meeting of the minds—except in our babes.

I waddled along the rough path, feeling better for the exercise but not able to keep it up very long. We came to an open space where there was a convenient stone to sit on, and I made use of it.

"Are they not yet prepared for the world?" asked Akor lightly, staring fascinated at my awkward body. "Surely you cannot stretch any farther!"

I laughed despite myself. "Alas that we cannot call to them and suggest that now would be a fine time to be born! The Lady knows I am ready for it." I sighed. "Right now, I'd settle for being able to see my feet."

I expected Akor to hiss, but he turned away with a moan.

"Dear heart, what is it?" I asked, adding dryly, "I mean, what is it more than we have borne these three months past?"

"Nothing more, Lanen, but—nothing less," he said. He could not look at me. "The time is nearly come. Our children are ready to be born. And I will never—I cannot—damnation!" He cried out, a wordless shout into the darkling sky. "Lanen, I can bear it no longer!" he groaned. His wings were starting to flutter in his agitation. "Here you are, more beautiful than ever, full of new life we have made between us—and I who have longed for younglings for a thousand years will never be able to hold my own babes." He began to pace up and down, as much as so large a creature could in the space. "It will be many years ere I dare even to touch them, lest a careless talon should rip through tender skin. I could murder them by mistake!"

"Please, Akor," I said, trying to compose myself. "Love, don't break now. I need you more with every passing day."

"I know it, I know it, but Lanen—Lanen, I cannot bear it! I am come to the end of myself." He roared, sending Fire into the night sky, and I realised that he was furious. "Ye traitor Winds!" he cried out. "I have given myself, body and soul and life and all, to my people, as you demanded. I never knew love until I knew her. Why have you given us to each other only to tear us apart?" His voice grew even louder. "I cannot bear it!" He was practically dancing on the spot, so desperate was he to be gone from me. I knew exactly what he was feeling, and I couldn't blame him in the least, and I blamed him with every word he said. He turned to me again, agony in his voice. "Lanen, I cannot bear it!"

"Then go," I said, stonily. "You have wings. You can go wherever in the world you wish." I stood tall, my belly prominent. "I am held down to earth."

I had sworn to myself that I wouldn't bespeak him, I knew it would be the last burden on a weakened back, but my anger rose to meet his. "Your childer, Akor. Ourchilder. Do not turn coward on me now, damn you. I need you."

He screamed then, a soul pushed to the limit of endurance. He rose with a thunderclap into the darkening sky, and his mind voice sang its agony and its contrition as he flew away north, deeper into the great forest.

"Lanen forgive, forgive, I cannot bear it, I cannot bear it any longer. Lanen, my heart, you know that I love you beyond words, to be separate forever from you and from my only younglings, it destroys me, I cannot bear it, forgive, forgive..."

I felt as though I should weep, but there were no tears. Curious. I think I would have been more angry with him if I had not been so relieved He was not the only one who could not stand it any longer. It was not his fault, nor mine. I bowed my head for a moment, my eyes closed. Ah, Lady Mother Skia, I whispered. I heard the bards' tales but I did not understand. The love that is too wild and strong destroys the lovers every time, doesn't tt? I don't think I could have stood his presence a moment longer was agony to see him, agony to have him so close and so infinitely far away. I gazed up where he had gone. Fly well, my heart, I thought, carefully not bespeaking him. Thank you for leaving. Your suffering made mine worse too. If you ever come back, I'M apologise properly.

I walked slowly back to my mother's house. I got in just before the rain came.

The next evening I went into labour.

I flew low, ashamed to be aloft yet as unable to stay with Lanen as to turn back time.

I had never thought of myself as a coward before, but I could not escape the evidence. The bravest thing I did was dare to bespeak my wife as I left. My heart burned within me as though it were truly aflame. I flew to escape my skin, to escape the torture of being so near to happiness yet forever separated from it.

I did not fly far. My strength seemed to drain away from the instant I left Lanen. I just managed to glide to a patch of open ground before I fell from the sky. I was confused and dizzy and my eyes didn't seem to be working very well. I felt rain begin to beat upon me, lightly at first, then harder and harder as the clouds opened. I was soon soaked, and I had the curious feeling that I was shrinking with every raindrop. Perhaps the Winds have heard my plea and have sent this rain to dissolve me, I thought, oddly cheerful. Eyes closed, shaking with fever, I imagined that I grew smaller and smaller. Perhaps Lanen will have room in her womb for me, I thought, but that was a very peculiar thought and I didn't like it. I decided not to think any longer. That was good. And after another little time, just before the end, I realised that I could no longer move my limbs or feel my wings.

It is over then, I thought, tolerably content for it to be so. Farewell, my dearest Lanen. Even as I sleep on the Winds I will love you. Now awaken, Shikrar! I come! I sang with my last thought, and my mind floated away into darkness.

Vilkas and Aral managed to stop my body from continuing with the birth immediately, but at most they could delay it for a fortnight. Still, as Vilkas said, at that stage even three days would be useful.

Idai scoured the land round about, shocked and angry, but Akor was nowhere to be found.

I began labour in earnest ten days later. I was sufficiently terrified to be going on with, but—as Vilkas reminded me forcefully, several times—I had in attendance the two best Healers in all of Kolmar. Will spelled them at my bedside, letting first one then the other get some rest.

They kept the worst of the pain at bay, and they never left me alone, Goddess bless them. After full twelve hours of it, I'm told—the Goddess is kind, I have no memory of how long it took—my son and daughter were born within minutes of each other. She came out first, followed after a very few moments by her brother.

My mother helped Aral clean them while Vilkas looked doop into their tiny bodies, making certain that all was well with thorn. He nodded, smiling, and they laid my children in my arms. I wept with relief. I wasn't the only one.

"They're beautiful, Lanen. They're just beautiful," said Maran, grinning madly. "All their fingers, all their toes, one head each. Well done, my girl." And then she said, more than a little stunned, "Grandchildren. Goddess save us, I have grandchildren." She burst out laughing. "Oh, very well done, Lanen!"

"Are they meant to be this small?" I asked. I was exhausted, thrilled, worried about them, missing Akor desperately, and utterly enchanted by these two tiny people I held.

Everyone laughed. "They've been born a moon and a half early, Lanen," said Aral. "Yes, they are meant to be tiny. They're fine, believe me, they'll grow soon enough. And Vil and I will stay with you for a while yet to be certain that all is well with them." She grinned. "Have you and Akor chosen names for them?"