Thank the Winds for Mirazhe; I was too slow to read Idai's intent. When the moment had passed I walked slowly over to the pool. ''Idai.''

She stood frozen in amazement, and Mirazhe kept her head between Idai and Lanen, who never moved.

"Idai! Come thou before thy King and answer!" I commanded in the formal speech of kingship. As I had hoped, it shook her out of herself. She came to me, where I stood near the sea, and bowed as fealty demanded.

"Idai, thou art birth sister to Mirazhe, and in the stead of attending her wishes thou hast driven her, mute as she is, to the edge of challenge. What say est thou in defence?"

"I say it is thine own actions have brought me to it, Lord King, and thou shalt answer to the Council!''

"Very well. Then we both shall. But you will swear to leave the Gedri in peace while we are here, or I shall banish you, birth sister or no, from this place.''

"Very well," she said aloud, albeit through clenched teeth. "It shall live for all of me. But there are more pressing concerns."

"Agreed. First let us bring Mirazhe to delivery of her youngling. You say you know this trouble. What is the difficulty?"

She bowed her head, and I began to see that her anger was half grown from frustration and helplessness. "Akhor, the youngling is turned the wrong way. It cannot make its way into the world."

It was the worst news possible. "Is there nothing to be done?"

"On a few occasions in the past, a smaller female could assist in the birth, reach into the birth passage and pull the youngling out." She lowered her voice. "Sometimes the new-born survived, but our hands are not created for such things. These hands, these claws the Winds gave us for defence, to kill our food and our foes, are not gentle. Even in those few cases where the youngling survived, the mother died."

"Always?"

She stood in Sorrow, her head turned away from me. "Always."

I saw Shikrar and Kédra standing in Fear mixed with Concern, both striving for Calm so as not to overly alarm Mirazhe. The lady herself lay back now in the warm birthing pool with her eyes closed. Her body, so lovely with the shape of new life, was straining to no use. Her soulgem was dull. And to my surprise, there at the side of the pool knelt my dearling, her face furrowed with sorrow. She could not understand the speech between me and Idai, we spoke in our own tongue, but somehow she knew that all was very ill.

Idai's Sorrow was washed with Pain now, and my fear and anguish answered hers. "My lord, I can think of no other way. I must try to save the littling lest both die.''

"Wait," I said aloud. My vague thoughts had finally crystallised. How I had envied the Gedrishakrim their hands, those tiny, delicate hands.

The two peoples were meant to live in peace. Together.

''Lanen, will you join us?'' I said in her own tongue. And to her alone, "Come, dearling. I need you."

"Anything I can do, Akor my heart. How can I help this valiant lady?"

I realised in a passing thought that I had answered him in truespeech without trying to focus, and the others must surely have heard. I forgot it in the next breath.

"Lanen, have you any knowledge of giving birth?"

I smiled, even then. What a way to put it! "Not of my own, but I have assisted many times, both with my own Kindred and with horses."

"Our history tells us of Healers among your people who could do great things with only the power of their hands and minds. Have you this skill?"

I hoped this was not his only idea. "No. I was tested when I was a child, there wasn't even a glimmer of the Healer's aura in me."

Akor finally let his voice match his mood. It became grim as Shikrar's had been at the cave. ''Come, my friends," he said in wide-scattered truespeech, and led us all over to the birthing pool where Mirazhe lay in her pain and fear.

''Dear ones all,'' said Akor in the same fashion, ''I will not sit by and watch one of my people in pain without doing all I may to help. Mirazhe, littling, can you look at me?"

She opened her eyes—they were bright blue, beautiful— and gazed up at him as best she could.

"You have saved this lady from an unprovoked attack, for which I owe you a great debt. I propose now that we ask Lanen to assist you. Her hands have no claws like ours, she might he able gently to coax the youngling out."

"Akhor, no!"

"Idai, you will he silent in this. I ask Mirazhe, her mate and his father. What say you, Shikrar? Kédra? Will you allow her to attempt this?"

I think he expected a chorus of dismay when he finally came to it, but obviously the others—bar Idai, who seemed to hate me on sight—were willing to try anything, even this. I, on the other hand, was not ready for this idea.

"Akor, no!"

"What is wrong, littling?"

"I—she's—Akor, I have never..." Then I realised that none of them had ever, either. ''Very well. If the lady will allow it.'' I bowed to the kind eyes that had saved me. ''Lady, what say you?"

"She cannot speak, Lanen," said Akor. "During birth our Kindred become silent, and in any case Mirazhe does not speak your language."

"Does she still have truespeech?"

"A little, though it is difficult."

I looked at the lady and even I could tell she was in pain. ''May I bespeak you ?''

She nodded, and Kédra said for her, "She is called Mirazhe."

I concentrated. ''I am Lanen. Lady Mirazhe, do you permit me to assist you?"

Even truespeech seemed an effort, but she managed it. ''I have not been told all the truth about you Gedri,'' she said and her mindvoice was gentle despite her pain. "If you have the Language of Truth, who knows what might be possible. Yes, try what you can. Ahhh!''

I cringed at her pain in my mind. She was in a bad way indeed. And she was obviously not moving from where she was. I barely stopped to think. I took off boots and cloak, heavy tunic and shirt, and stepped into the water in leggings and my shift—and found it warm, almost hot.

It felt wonderful.

At first.

I do not recall much about the rest of what happened. The sun was setting. It grew darker and darker and I had to rely more on feel. Mirazhe spoke with me when she could in true-speech, and I got her to nod or shake her head to let me know what helped or hurt. It kept her from having to speak, which seemed incredibly hard for her.

The worst moment was when I first tried to put my hand in the birth canal. I thought I would faint from the pain. I drew it out instantly and let the water of the pool wash it. It still burned, though not as badly, but what could I do?

I got Akor to tear my cloak, my beautiful green cloak, in half; and so concerned was I by then for Mirazhe and her child that I hardly cringed at its passing. I wrapped each arm, shoulder to fingertips, in one half of the wool. That was much better; its thick double weave was like so much soft annour. I could manage for a long while. When I had finally got the kitling turned, though, I had to use my unprotected hands to pull. I think I screamed as loud as

Mirazhe when the littling came out.

But I will never forget the moment when I lifted the small, soft head above the level of the water for its first breath. All pain left me as there in the pool I held, for a second, a newborn Dragon in my arms. It was not much larger than a colt fresh from its mother. Its eyes were open and it looked at me, almost as if to speak its thanks. I laughed aloud in delight, then turned it towards its mother. It started to make sounds not unlike a human child just born.

Mirazhe nuzzled it.

My hands were terribly burned, and once free of the spell of that greeting I climbed out of the freshwater pool and hurried to the open sea to quench the fire, shaking off the rags of wool that had been my protection. The shock of very cold water on the rest of my body was a great relief, though I could feel nothing on my arms at first. That coldness was all I had sought.