I glanced over at the bed as I led Rella and the big fair-haired stranger, Will, out of the room. Berys's Enemy over there was completely absorbed in his work, and to my relief he was surrounded by what looked like a small blue sun. Maybe he really was that good.

Lanen slept.

That night was the first time I ever saw Vilkas working at—well, I thought at the time it was his full capacity. Certainly he was drawing on power that I had only suspected he had. I don't know if it was the relief of having finally told someone about his dreams, or that he was too tired to hold back, or if it was just that he was so glad to have a simple problem of healing to work with rather than having to hold off demons, but he threw himself heart and soul into helping Lanen.

It wasn't swift or simple to aid her. The obvious problem was that her body was rejecting the babes. I said out loud, "She's healthy otherwise."

"Yes, but—Aral, take a look at her blood," said Vil, in the faraway voice he gets when he's concentrating. "Not the stuff in her veins, just look at the blood around the problem."

I did as he asked, then I looked again. "What in all the Hells is that?" I said aghast. "That dark stuff, it's like there's a battle going on within her blood—sweet Shia, Vil, what is she carrying?"

"They are too young to see easily, but they look normal," he said. "And she has no taint of the Raksha about her, none at all." He looked up. "I've got her stable and asleep, but I'm working flat out just to keep her there." He turned to the silver-haired man, who now stood silent, watching every move with his great green eyes. "You—what is your name?"

"I am called Varien," he answered, far more politely than Vilkas deserved and with immense dignity. "And you are called?"

"I am Vilkas, and my colleague here is Aral of Berun," said the young man. "You are the father, are you?"

"Yes. Lanen is my wife and bears our child."

"Children," snapped Vilkas from the bedside. I was too astounded to reply.

He finally looked up at me. "Come here a moment, Varien, if you will. The difficulty your lady is having is not one I have seen before, and I must examine you to understand it and heal her. Do you permit?"

"Yes," I said. "But you should know, the last time a Healer tried to assist me he could not."

"I can believe that," said the young man as he sent the blue strength of his power to surround me. "I can't see a thing—a moment, I pray you." The glow about him brightened, and suddenly he gasped and straightened, staring into my eyes. Lanen had often said that my eyes were yet the eyes of Akhor of old. Perhaps it was that which made him step back.

"By our Lady," he swore. "Woman never bore you, nor man never fathered you. Of what kind are you? And what is that which should sit there but does not?" he asked, touching my forehead.

"That is my secret," I said quietly.

"Don't be a fool!" said Vilkas, angry in the instant despite his wonder. "Your wife is dying because there is a violent battle raging in her body over the children she bears. Your children. If I am to keep her alive I must know what it is that she fights." His eyes were hard.

"I see," I said. "Very well. I suppose the time of concealment is past, at least with you. Know, Healer Vilkas, that this knowledge is life and death to more than Lanen." I glared at him. "Know also that death will be thine at my hand if this knowledge goes beyond this room."

In full view of both of the Healers I drew forth my circlet and put it on. They both gasped at the sight of the golden thing, for gold is very rare among the Gedri. Blessed be the Winds, the moment the soulgem touched my forehead I felt my old self sweep through me, and since I was not using truespeech my head did not ache. I did, however, feel all my years come back and settle quietly on my shoulders, and I grew impatient with this unfledged youngling.

"Behold, Mage Vilkas," I said. "This is what I lack, this is what I bore through all my years that now is no longer a part of me." Before I could stop him he reached out and touched my soulgem. I heard his flesh sizzle, heard him cry out, and in a breath I was Akhor again, at what Lanen calls my stuffy best.

"You young idiot! What did you hope to learn from that? How could you forget that another's soulgem is sacred and never to be touched this side of death? Now stand you bold before me and show respect for your elders. If you want to know something, ask, but keep your claws to yourself unless you want to feel mine."

A thousand and thirteen winters are not so easily shed, alas.

He healed himself with a thought, swiftly and efficiently, and stood foursquare before me as I had so severely demanded. Already I regretted my words. His jaw hung open just slightly. I could not help smiling to myself. Add the head held just so and the wings thus, and he would have been standing in pure Amazement. "Hells take it, I never meant to say that," I sighed.

Vilkas took a great gulp of air, as though he had only just remembered to breathe, and managed to gasp out, "Claws?"

I sighed. "Yes, Vilkas. Claws. And fangs the length of your arm, the proud four, though the rest were smaller. And horns, and wings, and scales, and breath of fire."

"Sweet Goddess, how can it be? But you are, aren't you?" He drew the blazing blue about him and stared at me with all his might. "Dear Lady Shia," he whispered, "you're a dragon." He staggered backwards a step before he caught himself. "But how?"

"The story is long in the telling and now is not the time," I replied. "I am no longer one of the Greater Kindred of the Kantrishakrim," I said, a little sadly. "But so I was, Mage Vilkas. And so in my heart I shall always be. Before I became human I was one of the Kantri: the True Dragons, Lanen used to call us. My name was Akhor and I was the Lord of my people."

Vilkas was mastering himself and even thought to bow. "I—I thank you, Lord. It—that makes sense, it would explain—please, I must see your blood, and I cannot see past your skin. Can you spare a few drops?"

I drew the belt knife I carried and pierced my fingertip. "How much do you require?" I asked.

The Healer made a glowing blue cup of his hands. "Just a few drops will do. Into my palms—yes, that's fine, thank you."

He raised his hands before his eyes, and what he saw mere returned him to himself and to the healing before him. "Look Aral, it's the same," he said excitedly. "This is it, the dark fluid, it's his blood. Her body's fighting it."

I bowed my head. This was what I had feared from the beginning. "If my blood is yet the blood of the Kantri, it is no wonder that her body cannot bear it," I said as sorrow took me. "Of your kindness, save her life. The younglings cannot live, half Gedri and half Kantri. Poor creatures." I closed my eyes. "May the Winds bear them up and guard their souls," I muttered, beginning the dedication of the dying. "May the souls of the Ancestors—"

To my astonishment, Vilkas slapped my face. "Stop that," he commanded. "I need your help. No one is going to die if I can help it. Speak to her. Call her."

I was so surprised I did as he asked.

I heard Varien's voice calling me, but he must have been several fields away, I could barely hear him. I stood up in the stirrups and shouted back but he didn't seem to answer. I couldn't see him either.

I looked around me. I had been having the strangest dream, all about being sick and riding a lot of strange horses forever in a far country. I was delighted to have wakened to find myself strong and whole. Still, that far country had been lovely, what I had seen of it. I was tired of Hadronsstead, I wanted a change. I nudged Shadow into a gentle trot and went looking for Varien.