I reveled for a moment in his rejoicing. It gave me new strength, and a measure of hope. Surely he would not take my request in the wrong spirit.

"Shikrar, I rejoice with you. In our decline, how bright shines such a birth. Yet I fear I have a request to make of you, even at this time. Believe me, were there anyone else I could call upon—but I have little choice. The Council debates now my fate and hers. There are no Elders there save Rishkaan, and he is shocked to his bones by everything I have said and done. He cannot separate my actions from Lanen's." I could not keep even my mind's voice steady; it wavered like the rawest youngling's. "Please, my friend, I beg you, let Kédra do as Idai asks that he may relieve you at the Boundary, and let you come to the Council. Rishkaan is the Eldest present, though he is so much younger than you, and that gives his words more weight than they deserve. He has already called for Lanen's death—you know he can never forgive the Demonlord for destroying his ancestor Aidrishaan, and the making of Treshak into the first of the Lesser Kindred. To him the Gedri are makers of death and agony, Shikrar, nothing more, never capable of more, and he wills to return that evil to my dearling. Shikrar, soulfriend, I cannot bear it. I would never ask this at so sacred a time, but I have spoken already and they can hear no more from me; perhaps they will be able to hear you.''

There was a long silence. When he spoke again his tone was somber and more kind than I had heard it since this all began. "Ah, Akhorishaan. I know now it is true, she is your mate no matter what anyone says. I know that voice. I heard it last when my dear one, my love Yrais, was dying, and it came from my soul. I will summon Kédra, Khordeshkhistriakhor. I will be there by morning.''

''Hadretikantishikrar, I thank you with all my heart.''

Then he was gone. I reached out to Lanen again, but she was still asleep.

There was nothing else I could do. I closed my eyes in meditation, took myself through the Discipline of Calm and waited.

Towards morning I slept for a brief while, and in that time I dreamed. At first it seemed a dream of our Flight, for I saw Lanen in her Kantri-form, but it soon became something other. She had become more real, more fully herself in that form; I watched as we lived our lives together as one Kindred, brought younglings forth, raised them, taught them all our joint history and all we knew of the Two Peoples. It was full of joy, that dream, until the end. We both became Elders, well respected by the Kindred, and died so, but it was not our deaths that disturbed me. As I rose slowly to consciousness I saw the soulgems of the Lost flickering through our ashes, almost in accusation. We had made no difference to them, our lives though rich and well lived had made no difference.

I woke some hours after dawn feeling disturbed, and obscurely angry at the Winds for such a vision of personal happiness that left me so deeply unfulfilled.

I discovered on waking that Shikrar had been better than his word. Kédra had already arrived and taken up his station at the Boundary, and Shikrar stood outside my chamber, requesting entry. I welcomed him, trying to dispel the cloud of the dream that hung over me. "I thank you from my heart, my soul's friend. You honour me."

Shikrar's eyes smiled. "Yes, I do, and so does my son. I am glad you recognise it. Now, how may I help you and your dear one?''

My heart was warmed, enlarged by him. Of all my Kindred, only Shikrar had yet referred to Lanen with anything but a curse; his words were balm on a raw wound. ''Bless you for that, my friend. As for helping us, I beg you, go into the Great Hall and find how the Winds blow in the Council. I must know what they say now about me—about us."

"Bespeak me in a few moments, you shall hear with my ears." He turned to go.

"Shikrar, I—"

"Be at peace, Akhor," he said gently, turning his head towards me, answering my thought. "Our friendship is old and tried. You and Kédra alone in this world know my true name, and for you as for my son I would do whatever lay in my power. Now your Lanen has given me the free gift of my son's dear one and their child when death seemed inescapable. How shall I not do my utmost?"

I bowed to him. I had no words. He smiled back at me and left.

As Rella and I were making our plan of escape, I rose and tried to dress. I had forgotten that much of my clothing, of course, was still at the Birthing Cove—I had arrived in leggings and my shift, both of which were now a pile of rags against the wall. I sighed, only once, for my ruined cloak. Rella had to send one of the guards to fetch the contents of my sea chest from our tent (he refused to bring the chest itself).

It may seem a small thing now, but I remember clearly my intense relief—almost delight—at discovering not only a spare shirt, clean leggings and an old patched tunic, but the extra pair of boots I had bought in Corli (with my boot knife tucked away inside, little use though it might be) and my old black cloak. I felt a thousand times better when I was dressed.

The lan fruit had worked wonders. There was no pain when I tried using my hands, and when I dared unwrap the bandages a little, from the shoulder end, I found pale skin underneath, delicate but whole. And it was not even the pale pink of a normal healing burn—it looked like ordinary skin. I did not dare hope that I would avoid the scars of such a burn, but perhaps they would not be so bad as I feared. And still no pain. I understood then why lan fruit was so valuable. The Healer's efforts had drawn me back from the edge of death, but without the lan fruit, I would still have needed weeks to heal fully. With it, I was nearly healed within hours.

It almost passed belief.

I left the bandages on for the moment, to give the illusion that I was still injured enough to need them.

The guard, unfortunately, was true to his word. The first fingers of sunlight were just reaching into the clearing when he returned with his master. Despite my efforts I shivered when I saw Marik. Dear Lady, that this vile creature might be my father—it was all I could do not to retch.

I watched him from my sickbed, for after the effort of dressing I had found I needed to lie down again. I was desperately weary, despite the lan fruit and the healing. Healers use their own power, but the body of the one being healed must supply the materials and bear the changes enforced on it by another's will. I felt I could sleep for a week.

"Go," Marik told the guard. When he saw that Rella lingered, he snapped, "You, too."

She sneered behind his back. "You're welcome. I'll expect those three bags' credit."

"Go!" She closed the door behind her.

Marik turned to me and bowed, his lovely voice warm and his eyes unreadable. "Lady Lanen." He seated himself in the chair by the bed.

"Marik."

"How are you feeling?"

"My hands don't hurt anymore," I said, truthfully.

"I am delighted to hear it, lady. I do not wish to shock you, but have you any idea how close to death you were last night?''

"No. I remember I couldn't stop shaking." I hoped he wouldn't notice that I still hadn't.

"Maikel drained himself saving you, lady. He will be no good for anything for two full days, and without the Ian fruit you might have died anyway. That is his calling, of course, and he is well paid for it—but we feared you would not see the morning. Aside from the fever, your hands"—he let that glorious voice falter—"your hands and your arms had but shreds of skin left on them." He moved closer to me, concern writ large on his face. "What happened, Lanen?'' he asked in husky tones. "What did those creatures do to you?"

"It was—my choice," I said at last. "There was a way I could help them. They didn't know it would burn me." I think I managed to sound pitiful enough, and wished that more of my weakness were an act.