[Lanen Kaelar 03] - Redeeming the Lost by Elizabeth Kerner Page B

Winds, Akhor! This has truly
been a day of wonders, but I would give a great deal for it to be over. I am
weary as I never thought I could be, weary in heart and wing and soul. I could
sleep for a full moon. Can it possibly be that we only arrived here with the
dawn?” She hissed her amusement. “My word on it, Akhor. I never valued peace
and quiet nearly enough.”
    “Perhaps none of us did,” I replied with a
smile. We moved back to the others and Idai woke Shikrar. She spoke with him in
a low voice, doubtless telling him what she had just told me, as she walked him
slowly over to the little stream, where clear water and half a cow awaited him.
I sat down beside Maran, too weary yet even to walk to the inn. She still
slept—and in every line of her, I saw my beloved Lanen. My throat began to
tighten, and though I knew it to be useless, I could not stop myself sending
out to her in truespeech. “Lanen, beloved, can you hear me? My heart declares
that you yet live, for it beats still, but my life is airless darkness without
you. ‘Where are you, dearling? Kadreshi, beloved, where are you?” A sudden
thought occurred to me—perhaps she could hear but not respond? “Lanen, beloved,
we are searchingfor you! I will not cease, I will not rest until I find you,
and by my soul I swear I will come for you though all the Hells should lie
between us.”
    No answer but silence.
    I bowed my head, sorrow and a deep emptiness
round me, until a short while later a glorious scent, entirely out of place in
an open field, came wafting past me: bread and meat. And was that chelan? I
turned—and there, preceded only by the scent of what he bore, was Will arrived
like the wind of heaven, bearing food and drink. He put down his tray and woke
Maran gently. She sat up, moaned, and reached for the chelan. I was astounded
at the reaction of this body. As one of the Kantri, I would not even consider eating
when sorrow wrapped my soul, but this Gedri body craved fuel and I reached out
for it.
     
    “Aye, you’re as bad as the Healers,” he said,
shaking his head. “They need to eat like horses when they’ve been working. Get
this down you.” He handed us both trenchers of fresh bread, spread with butter,
softened with gravy, and with shoes of roasted beef draped over all. I had
never tasted food more clearly, or needed it more. Though there was something—
    “Will, where is Salera?’ I said, between
mouthfuls.
    “She’s gone with the Kantri,” he said, and
smiled. “They were all so taken with her, and she is fascinated by them. She
said she’d come find me in the morning.” He shook himself. “As for you two,
there’s plenty more away back at the inn, but I’m blessed if I’m going to bring
it to you. Up you get.”
    “Blessed indeed, lad,” said Maran, gulping
down the last of her chelan. “I’ve seen you often enough in the stone, Goddess
knows, along with that tall lad and the fine lass, but what are you called?’
    “Willem of Rowanbeck, Mistress,” he said,
grinning. ‘The tall Healer is Vilkas, the young woman is Aral. You’re Lanen’s
mam?’
    T am that,” she said, grinning back, “and it’s
not making my life any easier, I can tell you. I’m Maran of Beskin. And you!”
she cried, turning to me. I had risen, and now reached down to give her a hand
up. When she stood, we were of a height, and her gaze locked on mine. It was
the first time I’d looked at her closely. Name of the Winds, she appeared so
like my beloved Lanen that my heart ached with it. “I’ve seen you nearly every
day since Lanen found you, but I’ve no idea what your name is.”
    T am called Varien, Lady,” I said.
    “Varien,” she repeated softly. “It’s a good
name. And you can call me Maran, lad,” she said, grinning. “I’m a blacksmith,
not a lady. Goddess, what a voice you have on you.” She stared at me, frowning,
her gaze suddenly gone quite serious and her voice very low. “And you—I must
know. Unless I’m