"I will that. Sleep well, Willem."

I rose, staggering, and stumbled to the room Gair had pointed out to me. I fell on the bed and I swear I was asleep before my head touched the pillow.

We lay huddled together on a hilly green rock in the ocean. There were a few trees and there was fresh water, but there was little else. Barely room for us all to he down, but that did not matter—the whole island was a mass of upraised wings, as those who were less tired kept the rain off those who slept. Beneath the shelter of friendly wings were heads resting on furled wings resting on nearby backs resting against other backs.

Idai and I lay curled around one another. It was very intimate, or it would have been if we were in a dry cave. As it was, we were simply huddled together against the cold, with Idai's wings over our heads to keep off the lashing rain, talking.

"Shikrar, my friend, I do not believe that we can bear Nikis so far again," said Idai wearily. "And by all accounts, the second leg of the journey is the harder."

I tried to move my aching forelegs. Even thinking about it hurt. "I fear you may be right," I replied. "I have not been this stiff and sore for many a long kell. Even with the assistance of you and Kretissh I nearly dropped her twice. But what choice have we?"

Idai looked at me. "We could leave her here, Shikrar," she said. "For a short time only, while we find somewhere to live in Kolmar, while we make our peace with the Gedri." She snorted. "While the wretch gets over the Weh sleep."

"It is hardly her fault, Idai," I began, but she was laughing.

"I know, Shikrar, but you do realise that she will be remembered among us forever as being the only soul to sleep through our return to Kolmar! Nikis the Weary, perhaps, or the Unlucky." With a groan Idai fluttered her aching wings, shaking off the water. "Though in my present mood I would be inclined to call her Nikis the Lazy."

I snorted at that. "The thought had crossed my mind as well. Especially last night, when so many of us could rest on the High Air and you and I had to keep working!"

"It might be a good idea for more of us than Nikis alone to wait here, Shikrar," she said quietly. "I have been thinking. Perhaps one or two should go first, to meet with the lords of the Gedri and speak with them." She hissed her amusement. "We are, after all, going to be something of a surprise."

Idai has always been able to make me laugh. "Ah, Iderri-sai, I thank you," I said. "It was well said, and I agree with you. It seems quite reasonable to send one ahead first. I will go."

"Either you or I, or possibly Kretissh," she replied. "Do not forget, Eldest, you are our lord while Akhor—while Varien is away."

"That was never decided, Idai," I said gendy. I knew she still felt pain speaking of Akhor, whom she had always loved. "Our King is chosen by acclamation, after all. Varien offered to give up the kingship, but still he is our King until the Kantri in lawful Council decide otherwise."

She snorted. "It was decided by everyone except you. And you are the Keeper of Souls, and—"

"Kedra is perfectly capable of performing the Kin-Summoning," I said, "and when I go to sleep on the Winds, you will be Eldest in your turn. What is a leader for, if not to lead?" I stretched my forelegs again, wincing at the cramp. "Besides, I cannot think of another way to avoid carrying Nikis for three more days."

"Ah, Shikrar, now I believe you!" she laughed. Trizhe, lying nearest us, raised a mild complaint about the noise.

Idai lowered her voice. "Besides, Teacher-Shikrar, I spoke easily just now of making our peace with the Gedri, but that may not be a swift or a simple thing. There are those among us"—she glanced at me sideways—"who despise the Gedri and will always do so, no matter what you may say or do."

I acknowledged her point, for until the year just past I was among those who felt that way. However, like the others I had merely been repeating the words and thoughts of my elders. When I finally met one of the Gedri—the Lady Lanen, now so dear to me—I was forced to reconsider the foolish opinions I had held for so very, very long. I was proud of myself for being able to admit to my own ignorance and to change, though with all that Lanen had done for me and mine I would have been the world's worst fool not to have done so. Still, Idai was undoubtedly right.

"What then should we do?" I asked mildly. "We cannot force the Gedri from their lands. Would those who refuse to share the land with them consent to take to the high mountains, or the deep forests? Surely in all that great land there are places where me Gedri do not live?"

"Surely," echoed Idai. "It is a very large place, and we are few." She sighed. "We are very few, Shikrar. Think you we will have any kind of a future in mat place?" She dropped her voice to the merest whisper. "Or any kind of future at all?"

I turned to her, surprised. "You are unusually bleak-hearted, my friend. Of course there will be a life for us. The Kantri and the Gedri have lived in peace for many long years. We forget, we children of a latter day, that it is the exile and the separation that are unusual. We are going home, Idai," I said quietly. "Kolmar is home to us, heart and soul and bone and blood, and the Gedri are our cousins. What other race can speak and reason, aside from our life-enemies the Rakshasa? Do not fear this change, Idai. All will be well. I know it."

She sighed and let her head drop heavily onto my flank. "Your words to the Winds, Hadreshikrar, may they prove true. And I am soaked through. Shift over and lift up those stiff old wings, O wise one, it's your turn to keep the rain off."

Lanen slept now, a deep sleep granted by the Healers to help her recover her strength. Rella and I had cleaned her and changed her garment, and I held her in my arms while Rella helped the innkeeper bring in a new mattress and clean sheets and bedding. I laid Lanen gently down and Rella drew the quilts softly over her.

"I'm off to keep watch, Varien," said Rella when I tried to thank her. "Jamie and I will keep wakeful. You get some sleep."

"Lady Rella—"

She smiled. "I know, son, but save it for morning. You're shattered."

I put my hands about her waist, lifted her up and kissed her soundly. "Dear youngling," I said as I put her down. She was sputtering a bit, but it was good for her. "In the span of my life you were born yesterday, and Lanen this morning. I thank you for your kindness—daughter."

She laughed at that. "Wretched bloody dragon! Right enough, I do forget sometimes."

"Watch well. I will take the duty tomorrow night."

"Done. Goodnight then, grandfather!"

I closed the door behind her. I still wore my circlet, still felt like my old self, and as long as I was not using true-speech it brought me no pain. I began to wonder if it might not be wise to have it remade to be smaller and lighter, that I might wear it always. Shikrar had fashioned it in a stolen hour when first I was made human, that my people might know me. It was deeply kind of him, and I thought of him every time I wore it, but our talons are made for fighting and rending, not for such fine work as this. It could be half the size and still hold my soulgem securely.

As I sat there, my gaze on Lanen, my thoughts wide-scattered in my weariness, a great stillness arose in my soul. I welcomed it and let it sink deep, let it soothe the ragged edges of pain, let my wandering thoughts return and fall like leaves gently down inside it.

I rose and opened the shutters at the window to let in the night, breathing deeply of the cool air and taking pleasure in the starlight and the sharp scent of pine. In the darkness and the silence I was more alone than I had ever yet been as a Gedri. Lanen, in her healing sleep so close by, merely made the loneliness stronger. In sleep our loved ones are utterly beyond us, separate, locked in their own thoughts and untouchable. The Kantri call sleep invorishaan, the little death, and so it is; a kind of preparation for us all, to make true death easier when it comes.