Elizabeth Kerner: Redeeming the Lost

One other thing did take me by surprise. When the twins were a few years old, Varien spoke long with one of the bards and bought the man's second-best harp from him. In the years between, he has worked hard to learn the old tales and has created any number of new ones. My Varien is well on his way to becoming an extraordinary bard, but then he has an unfair advantage to begin with. After all, the Kantri are the best singers in the world.

Trezhan and Irian ta-Varien grew and flourished as children will, though of course they were the most glorious children who have ever lived. Varien says that Shikrar always said that about Kedra, from the moment of his birth.

I think I understand Shikrar a little better now.

This is the true tale of the Redeeming of the Lost and the Second

Death of the Demonlord.

There is more to tell, but then there always is.

True stories never really end.

First and foremost, I must acknowledge the usual huge debt of gratitude to my wondrous editor, Claire Eddy of Tor Books. She has put up with writing delays due to my iffy health, and my getting slighdy married, with a kind understanding that I probably don't deserve, and her sharp insight has, as ever, improved this book vastly.

My sincere thanks again to Deborah Turner Harris, dear as a sister, whose clearheaded advice and experience have gotten me out of any number of writing dilemmas—without your help, kiddo, this book would have been a darn sight more boring, and you may not realise it but your support and friendship have kept me going when I was ready to throw either the computer or myself out the window. You'll never know how much you've helped, Debby. Bless you.

Margaret Lynn Harshbarger for plotting sessions above and beyond the call of duty, for kicking me when I needed it, for hauling me back into the path of myth when I was getting lost in mechanics, and for her eye-opening insights into—well, too much to mention here. Much of life, actuairy.

Sandy Fleming, friend of many years' standing, for chatting to me when I just had to talk to someone, for reading a few snippets in the interests of a reality check, and for being my Webmaster out of the kindness of his heart.

Dr. Frank Prior, for stopping me from killing off the Kantri through ignorance, and for generally keeping me straight on matters of basic physiology—although to protect his professional reputation he has refused to let me quote specifics about which I have consulted him. Understandably. However, any medical idiocies perpetrated herein are my own doing, and have occurred despite Franks kind assistance rather than because of it.

Catherine and John Mac-Donald, for their generous willingness to be interrupted and keep me right on matters of midwifery and pregnancy, and to Kirsty Nicol, dear friend, for information about being on the sharp end, as it were, of pregnancy. Again, any missteps are my own entirely.

Christopher, as ever, for putting up with frantic calls at all hours, for staunch friendship, for his delight in the language, and for being the voice of reason for me when I couldn't think in a straight line.

And finally, ever and always, my deepest thanks go to my best-beloved, Steven Beard, dear friend for many years and now my treasured husband, who has carried an infinite number of cups of tea up the stairs over the last three years and never once threw one over me, richly though I may have deserved it. The man brings me toasted apple and cinnamon bread to keep me going, for goodness' sake. What more could a girl want?

I couldn't have done it without you, my dears. I hereby owe you a beer. Each.

—Elizabeth

Aialakantri—OS for the Awakened Kantri, who were the Lesser

Kindred. Ceat—OS, a thousand years.

Chelan—name of a plant and the brew made from it. It is drunk as a stimulant. We would say it tastes rather like mate with a hint of cinnamon.

Dhrenagankantri—OS for the Restored Kantri, who for five thousand years were the Lost.

Ferrinshadik—the longing felt by (esp.) the Greater Kindred to join in fellowship with the Gedri, though it is described more generally as the desire to speak with other races.

Gedrishakrim—humans. Usually shortened to Gedri. OS, "the silent people."

Kadreshi na—"beloved of" is the nearest translation in English. An endearment between lovers.

Kairtach—a curse that is also an intensifier. I refuse to translate. The Kantri would not be pleased if I did, and it would not reflect well on them.

Kantriasarikh—the OS word for the language of the Kantrishakrim.

Kantrishakrim—the Greater Kindred of Dragons (originally all dragons). OS "the wise people." Usually shortened to Kantri.

Kell—OS, a hundred years.

Khaadish—OS word for gold.

Language of Truth—the telepathy natural to the Kantri. It also has elements of empathic awareness. The Gedri call it Far-speech.

Lansip—name of a tree and the brews made from it. It grows only where dragons dwell, all attempts at transplanting to solely human regions have failed. Made into tea it is a tonic and general remedy for minor ailments, from headache to heart's sorrow; taken in quantity, it is an elixir of youth. Lan fruit, the precious and rare fruit of the lansip tree, is a sovereign remedy, and when eaten fresh will heal nearly anything short of death.

Lesikrithic—a cripple among the Kantri, one who has lost a limb or sustained a wound that cannot be healed by Weh sleep and yet lives.

Old Speech—(OS) the name in the common tongue for the language created by the Kantri and used by all the peoples before the Choice. Since that time it has developed into distinctly separate languages.

Rakshadakh—demon droppings (that is the polite translation). It is the ultimate insult as far as the Kantri are concerned, and generally refers to a demon master or one who is tainted by the Rakshasa.

Rakshasa—(obs. form Rakshi) demons. Singular, Raksha (greater demon) or Rikti (lesser demon). OS: "people of chaos." This is plural because, at the time of the Choice, the Rakshasa were already differentiated into two distinct peoples.

End