Jamie nodded. "It's true, then," he said. "You really can hear her." He looked at me. "You'd like to hit me, wouldn't you?"

"Desperately," I said, still shaking.

"Go ahead and try," he said. "Even if you manage it, I'll live."

"I dare not," I replied, turning away from him, breathing far too fast and too deep, "lest I have still some of my old strength and I injure you."

"Ah. Come over here," he said, catching my arm and leading me back to the pell, but never turning his back on me. Wise man. "Now. Pull your sword out with your right hand and use your full strength when you're drilling. Take out your anger on it—and don't worry, if you damage the pell I can make another one."

It was a relief to let out my anger in striking something, to feel the steel bite deep into the wood and to pull it out again by main strength. I thought it was dissipating until Jamie cried out, "Now! Kill it!"

His timing was superb. I had just begun a high forehand swing, and I put all my anger and my whole body into the stroke, shouting as I hit.

There was a noise of tearing wood, a loud crack, and a dull thump and clatter as the top third of the pell landed on the cobbled yard.

There was deep silence for a moment.

"Hellsfire, Varien," said Jamie then, very quietly. "Let me thank you now for not taking me up on my offer to let you strike me. Lanen's lost one father this year, that's enough for anyone." He kept staring at the lump of wood on the ground.

I grinned. "You are welcome."

I was calm again, all my anger gone in that last stroke. I had seldom had the satisfaction of using my full strength as one of the Kantri. It was good to know that I could do so in my new form. "In any case," I said to Jamie, "at least you believe in truespeech now."

"Varien, lad, I believe absolutely everything you two have told me," said Jamie, still gazing at the severed lump of wood. I could not entirely recognise the tone of his voice, but it sounded a little like awe. "Absolutely everything."

"Shall I continue my practice?" I asked.

He looked up at that, clapped me on the shoulder and smiled. "No, lad, I think this will do for a first session. Besides," he said as he took me by the arm and led me into the house, "I need to make a new pell."

Lanen

I was still a bit dazed as I watched the pair of them disappearing into the mud room off the kitchen. I leaned down and picked up the sheath of Varien's sword, forgotten for the moment, and like Jamie stared at the result of Varien's anger.

He had cut through a block of wood a hand-span thick with a blunt sword.

Jamie was right, Varien didn't really need too much prac- tice. All he needed to learn about swordplay was how to avoid his opponent's strokes—and how to aim.

Roughly.

On my return from Terash Vor I landed in a clearing some distance from my chambers, in cold darkness. Judging from what Kedra had said, I guessed it must be no more than the first full moon of the new year—there were then several hours of darkness yet to come before dawn brought better hope and clearer thought. I remembered from my early youth having seen what looked like the end of the world in the darkness over Terash Vor. My father had taken me back the next day to show me that daylight would restore my perspective wonderfully. I had seen in the sunlight that day that there was not nearly so much fire as there had seemed. I had little hope on this occasion that daylight would bring any more illumination than the sun itself provided, but I would have to go back and make certain.

For the moment, however, I decided to walk the rest of the way back to my home, for my wings were stiff and sore and my new-healed shoulder ached with the chill of the high air. Winter lingered still, but the calm cold of the ground felt positively warm compared with the moving chill of the high winter wind.

Seeing die red glow of the earth's wounds is very like watching the ground bleed, and it is profoundly disturbing. Seen in darkness it inspires fear even beyond its merits. I kept repeating this to myself as I walked, for the little comfort it brought, for I knew in my bones that when I returned to the firefields this noontide I would find no comfort in that sight.

As I drew near my own chambers I was delighted to see that Kedra was there before me and had lit a fire in the pit to welcome me. Of course he had warded the Chamber of Souls while I kept the Weh sleep, it was his duty, but I was deeply cheered nonetheless to see the light. Warmth engulfed me as I entered my chamber again and I sighed deeply with relief.

"Ah, Kedra, I rejoice to see you, and the blessing of the Winds upon you for lighting a fire. This night has got into my bones." I stood in the flames, revelling as the fire licked around me and the piercing cold of the high air left me. Fire is life to us, and though it warms, no flame born of wood could possibly harm us. I closed my eyes and arched my long neck, putting my nose almost to the base of the fire to let the friendly flames warm my faceplate, sighing delightedly with the warmth. The fire licked gently at the soulgem in the centre of my forehead, sending a shiver of heat through me. I pulled my tail into the circle and folded my wings tight against my sides, letting every surface be caressed by the fire. Kedra hissed his amusement at my self-indulgence as I bathed in the generous warmth.

He had a large bowl of water warmed for me as well, flavoured with itakhri leaves. This brew is not for us the sovereign remedy that hlansif is for the Gedri, but it has a pleasant taste and warms from within, and it is cheering on a winter's night. As soon as I could tear myself away from my fire-bath I drank deeply.

Kedra had waited a long while but he was far too curious for much patience.

"Well, my father?"

I did not answer immediately. The vision of the firefield was before me still, and me words to encompass it did not come easily.

"My father, what did you find?" he asked again. His voice was grown a little solemn, for he knew me well.

My own voice would have turned traitor had I allowed it. Instead I said calmly, "Kedra, my son, you have kept well since the birth of your littling? You do not neglect your exercises in the air for the joy of beholding your son?"

"Mirazhe and I both fly every day," he said, smiling. "A good two hours each, as you taught me long ago."

"And Sher6k enjoyed being held as you flew last night. That is well." I closed my eyes. "He will not be wing-light for many years yet, poor littling, and I fear there may be a great deal of flying to be done long ere that time comes."

I do not know if Kedra was being stubborn, or if it was only that he had not seen what I had. "To what end? Why all this talk of flying, Father? The firefields bear watching surely, but what need has my Sher6k of flight at his age?"

I bespoke him, showing him in the privacy of our minds that which I could not yet put into words.

Kedra swore. "Name of the Winds, Father. Are you certain?" he asked quietly. His voice held little hope—as I say he knew me too well.

"Ask Idai if you will, for she flew with me," I replied have seen—once, when I was barely past my second kell,. I saw the firefields roiling in the starlight. What she and I overflew last night makes that seem as perilous as cloud across the moon."

"I see." Kedra heaved a sigh and was silent for a moment, then looked at me and said wryly, "You know that there will be some who will blame even this on the Lady Lanen and Lord Akhor. So soon after that great upheaval, our very home destroying itself—I do not envy you, Father. How will you convince them otherwise?"

"I shall knock their heads together until I rattle some sense into them," I replied shortly, for K6dra had said aloud what I had been thinking. I had known since Akhor left with his lady that every ill for many years to come would be laid at their feet, but I had never imagined that anything so drastic would happen so soon. Ah, well. Life delights in catching us napping. I yawned.