"Hmph. All very interesting, Marik, but why do you wake me again so early in the morning to tell me this?" "There is better news yet, Magister. It happened that there was plenty of chance to draw blood from her, though Caderan and I were near certain before.

''Caderan has performed the rite, Berys. This Lanen is my daughter, my blood and bone, that I promised for the Farseer ere she was born. She is the price of my pain, as you said. And very soon now, once she is fully healed, that price will be paid."

The demon messenger seemed almost to purr. "Excellent, Marik, excellent. Since she is not tractable, let her be dedicated to the Lords of the Hells as soon as may be. That should ease your pain and make her bend to your will; once she is mine I will take stronger precautions. When you return, my share of the profit from this voyage will be rich indeed. Well done, Master Merchant."

I released the creature, hardly noticing now the stench of its leaving, when of a sudden there was a knock at the door.

"Master Marik?"

It was the old woman called Rella, who had taken up with Lanen. "What do you want, mother?" I asked. It never hurts to be polite.

"In fact, master, I was wondering if you'd like some help. I know Lanen's terrible sick, and I've done some nursing in my time. There's some things easier for women to do."

She had a point, but I am a Merchant. I know perfectly well that nothing is free. "And what do you desire in recompense?"

"Well, that depends, don't it? How long am I like to be needed?"

"No more than half a day."

"Well, I've been bringing in ten bags a day, you ask your purser. Half a day, that's five bags lost." When I laughed, she snorted with disgust. "Very well, make it three. The girl has been kind to me."

"Done. Let you begin your service now for your three bags' credit, I haven't slept in as many days. Keep watch over her," I said. "If she wakes in pain, or needs anything, the guards outside will serve you." I stumbled out the door, going to my own cabin. Until that moment I had not realised how weary I was.

The pain was not so bad that night—lansip tea helped— and I limped the few yards across the dark ground serene in the knowledge that on the morrow I would be free of it forever.

When Lanen's people took her up, I left Shikrar as Guardian and her in his care. I had called a Council and even for heart's anguish could delay it no longer. But before I went, I had to know where he stood.

I faced Shikrar squarely. "Well, my friend? I go now before our people. I have broken the treaty with the Gedri, though my reasons for doing so were good. I have broken the ban, most certainly. And yet good has come of it" He stood silent. "Hadreshikrar, my old friend, how do you judge what I have done?"

He looked me steadily in the eye and replied, "Akhorishaan, your Lhanen has gifted me with life where I saw only the death of all I loved. I know not why, yet, but I know well she is more dear to you than life itself, or you would not have done what you have done. How may I serve you and your dear one?"

I bowed. "Bless you, old friend. For now, I beg you, remain here as Guardian. Watch well, and listen for Lanen's mind-voice should she be too weak to call out."

"Gladly. And do not fear to call on me at Council. I shall be listening."

I had no words. I could only bow my thanks again and go from him.

I feared, oh how I feared leaving Lanen in the hands of Marik. She had told me of the pact that had been made with the Rakshasa, and of her danger should she be his daughter. But there was no help for it. I listened for her every moment, even as I walked among my people.

The meeting place of the Greater Kindred is a vast natural cavern in the southern hills not far from the Gedri camp. We had changed it somewhat, added our shaping to the place, but in large part it was as we had found it when first we came to this island home.

That night I saw it as new. A fire burned in the center of the hall, below that place where centuries ago an escape for the smoke had been created in the roof of the cavern. The walls gleamed with years of carvings, some engraved on a background of khaadish, some rough-hewn out of the native rock. It held the smell and feel of my people for five thousand years.

On that night it was warm and alive with the Kindred. I looked around the room carefully to see who was not there, and realised that the only souls who were missing were Idai, Kédra and Mirazhe at the Birthing Cove and three of the eldest of us, who were too feeble to fly so far (they would listen through the ears and minds of their clan members, as Shikrar at the Boundary listened through me). All my people had responded to my summons, and to the tale that had spread fast as the wind about the Gedri who had called out like a youngling.

To my sorrow I noted that the hall held us all easily. I had in my earliest youth heard the Eldest of that day speak of a time when the hall was crowded. My mother later told me that he spoke in his age, that he was remembering tales his father told of other Councils in our former home. Since the Lesser Kindred were cut down in their pain and we came to this place, the hall has never been full.

I did not need that reminder of our last encounter with the Gedri.

I had meant to give much thought to what I must say and not say at this meeting, but since I had begun to live at the speed of the Gedrishakrim I had discovered that time can on occasion move so quickly there is not enough of it for much thought.

I had reached the raised dais at the far end of the hall. There was room there, and place appointed, for the five eldest among us and for the King. Shikrar and Idai would have been there; the other three had not come, and none so far had chosen to claim the right as eldest present.

The five-yearly Council was a place for grievances to be aired, a place to seek wisdom, to speak of those things that affected the Kindred as a whole. In unusual circumstances, any one of us might call the Council for a specific reason.

There had not been a special Council in my time. That was appropriate, surely, for my reason was unique.

There was no help for it now. I must speak and be judged as I stood.

I learned then the sickening sensation that accompanies an act beyond the laws of a society. There must come a time when society will demand an explanation or some form of retribution (especially if the society is founded on Order, as is the society of the Kindred). I found a deep fear then, one I had never suspected lurked within me—the terror of the exile. The fear that I stood for the last time with my own people Literally made me reel; I had to stand on all fours lest I fall. Now that it came to the point, how could I live without them, without the friendly voices in my mind and the companionship of my own kind?

And why should I? whispered some coward part of my being.

Surrounded by the souls I knew and had lived with for centuries, my link with Lanen seemed a pale, weak thing, destined to be broken. When I told them what had happened, I need only leave out my Flight with Lanen. They would accept the rest, she would be honoured here for assisting Shikrar's clan, and I could stay. All I need do would be to renounce our bond, treat her as a favoured youngling, no more. After all. what more could we ever be to one another?

I thought with guilt of her plight, left alone in the hands of Marik, and the fate that might hang over her. I touched her mind lightly, and to my surprise there was a faint answer; she must be only just conscious. She knew a Healer was with her, but the pain and the sickness in her washed over me.

"How is it with you, littling?" I asked, in part to take her mind from her pain, in part to ease my guilt. I could not call her by name. It seems I meant to deny her in public soon: I found a need to deny her to myself first, to see how it felt.