Varien kissed my hand and released it, and stood once more before Jamie, pride and compassion warring in his glance. "That is the truth, Jameth. That is who I was, and who I am. You may believe it or not, as you choose, but all thereafter happened as Lanen has said. Her father Marik drew down demons, which we destroyed; he tried to sacrifice her and I rescued her; he tried to steal the soulgems of my people and Shikrar and I stopped him with Lanen's assistance; my old self died of the wounds, and beyond hope or understanding, beyond possibility, I woke as you see me now in the very ashes of my own body, with my soulgem clasped tightly in my hand." He smiled, more gently now, as he saw that Jamie was beginning to be persuaded. "What she did not tell you, however, is the part she had to play in changing my people. Kedra, the son of Shikrar, and his mate, Mirazhe, were expecting the first youngling to be born in five hundred years to my people—it was seen as a wondrous sign—but the birth was going badly, and we all feared that both Mirazhe and her youngling would die. Lanen it was who helped birth the son of Kedra, who saved mother and child, and who by that one action has changed the hearts of my people forever."

Varien bowed once more and took his seat by the fire.

Jamie was long silent. I could see him weighing it all in his mind, and a lifetime's study let me relax when I saw him accept—something. The spark came back to his eyes and he nodded to Varien. "Every bone in my body says this must be a lie, but I have known many men in my time and I know truth when I hear it. You may be mad, of course, but that you have told me the truth as far as you know it, that I most certainly believe. I suppose that great green gem set in gold that you wore for the wedding—is that your soulgem?"

"It is," said Varien. "Shikrar set it in khaadish for me before I faced my people as a man."

"Khaadish is what we call gold, yes?"

"It is. We—in time, the Kantri turn the ground they sleep upon to gold. We do not speak of it. Khaadish is a base metal, useful on occasion and reflective when polished, but of little or no value to us."

Jamie snorted. "Ha! That circlet of yours would buy this farm, the village and several more nearby, and that's just the gold. If you are ever short of cash, the gem alone would—"

I saw Varien bristle and interrupted. "Jamie, please, it's not like that. Would you sell your leg for what it would fetch?"

"It is so much a part of you?" Jamie asked, taken aback.

"More," snapped Varien. Jamie watched him but Varien stopped there. "Indeed," said Jamie finally. "Didn't mean to offend, lad. And as for you truly being a dragon—well, what's dark now's clear later, as they say, and I'll try not to close my mind to anything."

Varien nodded. "That is a rare gift in any kindred. I thank you."

One corner of Jamie's mouth lifted in a half-grin. "You're welcome. You've certainly the manner of a king, wherever you come from."

"My people would not say so," replied Varien, with just a hint of humour in his eyes. "They always claimed that I was too frivolous, too lighthearted, too quick to accept change for the sake of the novelty. And speaking of change—I understand that, among the many skills that I lack, there is one mat you have that I would welcome."

"What's that, then?" asked Jamie. He beat me to it by a short breath. Varien hadn't mentioned anything to me.

"As we are to be travelling in the wide world I shall have to learn to defend myself. I have never held a blade in my life. Lanen has told me that you are a master of that art. Might I prevail upon you to teach me as much as time allows?"

"As much as time allows?" asked Jamie. He sounded resigned, though, and I knew this was no surprise to him. Still, he deserved an explanation.

"Jamie, it's not just that I need to see the world," I said, and he raised an eyebrow. "Well," I said, laughing, "not only that I need to see the world. We're in trouble. I don't know if Marik is sane again, or if he ever can be, but if he recovers I don't suppose he's going to give up his sacrifice. I think he'll come after me, sooner or later, himself or some hired muscle."

"Nothing more likely," said Jamie, a gleam coming into his eye. "I thought the tale of your adventures ended too suddenly. There is no way to escape demon callers except by killing them. Trust me, I know."

"But Caderan's dead," I replied.

"From what you've said he was an underling. I know enough of the breed to know a real demon master wouldn't risk his precious neck on such a dangerous voyage. Did this Caderan never speak of a master?"

Suddenly I was on a path by the sea, hiding in a stand of fir trees, listening to Caderan and Marik talking about—"He said something about a Magister of the Sixth Circle. Does that help?"

"Hell's teeth, Lanen!" cried Jamie. "They don't come worse! A master of the sixth circle can summon and bind all but the greatest of demons." He paced the room swiftly, his agitation plain now. "Lady Shia's backside, Lanen, how in the name of all that's holy did you—tell me, did you hear a name? Did they mention a name?"

"I've been trying to remember," I said. "I'm afraid my mind was on other things. If they did speak a name I don't recall it."

"All the more reason, Master Jameth, for me to learn to handle a sword," said Varien.

Jamie winced. "Do you know, I wish I'd never told you that was my name. Call me Jamie, like everyone else. Of course I'll show you how to use a blade—but we will speak again about this demon master and what is to do about him."

He took an appraising look at Varien. "You look like you've some strength in those arms, but in a fight a blade grows heavy fast. Have you ever lifted a full-sized sword?"

Varien looked perplexed. "Is there more than one kind?"

Jamie laughed. "A hundred kinds, man! But I have one in mind for you to practice with." He rose and went to a long low box beneath the stair, drawing from its depths a great lump of a sword that I recognised as Hadron's. I had seen my stepfather take the blade from its hiding place once every year, when he set out on the road to Illara for the Great Fair at the start of autumn. He carried it with him for protection on the road, and as far as I knew had never drawn it in anger. It was the right length for Varien, but looked far too heavy for his slim frame. I sighed as I realised that Jamie was taking Varien's measure. Again.

"Here, see how it fits your hand," he called, and, lifting the point straight up, threw the sword across to Varien—

—who plucked it without thinking out of the air with his right hand, then stared astonished at his arm holding the sword. "How in the name of the Winds did I do that?" he asked, looking to me.

"Very quickly," I said. I was as surprised as he, and quite pleased. He was fast. "You certainly didn't have time to think about it."

"That's often the key," said Jamie. "If all your instincts are that good you might be halfway decent after a few years. How's the weight of it?"

Varien, still holding the heavy sword rock-steady at arm's length, replied, "I do not understand your question. What should it weigh? I do not find it a burden, if that is what you ask." He casually swung it about him, and that great chunky blade danced in the air like a butterfly at midsummer.

Jamie would never have let it show, but I had grown up with him and didn't need truespeech to know he was swearing inside. I knew that look. "Yes, that's what I was wondering. I think it'll do fine as a practice blade." He was watching Varien even more closely now.

Varien lowered the blade. "I thank you, Master Jameth. Now that you are assured that I can lift this weapon, when shall we begin my training? And what have I to offer you in return?"

Jamie bowed ever so slightly. "Only your diligence. Catch." He threw the scabbard to Varien, who again caught it easily. "We begin tomorrow. I'll need a little time to set up the pell—I'll come fetch you at midmorning, after the beasts are cared for, and we'll make a start."