He sighed. Weariness and resignation dulled his anger. Once he’d had a good night’s sleep and time to think, that anger might put ideas of following her into his head, she realized. Unless she gave him reason not to. She walked away toward the road, then turned as if something had just occurred to her.
“Did the Pentadrians ask you to destroy the Scroll or the secrets contained in it?”
He shrugged.
“Oh, Ray,” she said, smiling. “You were the only one who was nice to me. I really wish it wasn’t you…I’d hate for you to not get your reward after all this. Did you know Barmonia sent a copy of the Scroll back to Hannaya?”
His eyes widened and she sensed a sudden anxiety from him.
“Good luck,” she said. Turning away, she shifted the heavy pack onto her other shoulder and headed back to her arem.
I had better be right about this diamond, she thought. But I’d wager I’m right about the Scroll. Barmonia’s no fool. He probably did send a copy to the city. More than one copy, most likely.
She hoped so, since it was possible that the Scroll contained more important clues. The Twins would be furious if Ray did succeed in destroying all copies of it and Emerahl’s hunch about the diamond was wrong.
35
As she and Nekaun left the balcony Auraya sought the Siyee priest’s mind. It took some time to find him, and when she did she realized why. Teel was barely conscious and in terrible pain.
Though Nekaun set a rapid pace, she wished he would walk faster. Run, even. Yet at the same time she could not help remembering that Teel was the only Siyee she had ever felt a dislike for. His self-righteous pride and fanaticism, encouraged by Huan, had grated on her nerves during the journey here. But she would never wish this pain and suffering on the young man.
They reached the old part of the Sanctuary and hurried into the corridor that led to the hall. The two Servants that guarded the gate opened it as she and Nekaun appeared. Two more Servants waited inside—a man and a woman. They hovered around a Siyee lying beside the huge throne. From their thoughts she read puzzlement and concern. They did not know what ailed him. As they saw her and Nekaun they stepped back. She drew magic in preparation, set a barrier about herself and dropped into a crouch beside the Siyee.
“What is wrong?” Nekaun asked.
The two Servants spoke at once, then the woman lapsed into silence. Auraya placed a hand on the Siyee’s chest.
“He looked well enough this morning,” the male Servant confessed. “It’s strange. There is a—”
Nekaun raised a hand to silence the man. “Auraya will want to make her own assessment,” he said. Looking at her, he nodded. “Go on.”
She closed her eyes and quietened her mind as Mirar had taught her. It was not easy, but the distress of the body beneath her palm drew her in. She gasped at what she saw.
“He’s dying,” she said.
“Can you do anything?” Nekaun asked.
She began to influence the body’s processes, giving his heart strength, encouraging his lungs to work harder. Wherever she looked, organs were failing. Then she saw the cause. Something coursed through his veins. The source was his stomach.
Teel had been poisoned.
She reached for more magic…and was surprised and horrified when her efforts to heal the Siyee floundered. She reached out, trying to draw power to herself, but nothing came. In a rush, her awareness left the priest and flew outward. She recognized the lack around her.
A void. I’m in a void. A big one, too. I should have detected it before but I was only concerned about Teel. He’ll have to be moved. I wonder if Nekaun knows…
A chill ran through her body. Of course Nekaun knew about the void. How could he not? It was within the Sanctuary, the home of the Voices.
A trap. I fell right into it.
She was suddenly aware of him leaning over her. Moving away, she stood up and turned to face him.
“He has been poisoned,” she said.
Nekaun smiled. It was not the charming smile she had grown used to, but a smirk of satisfaction and menace. Her heart began to race.
He took a step toward her. “Then I don’t think we will be able to release your Siyee friend tomorrow.”
She backed away. Maybe he doesn’t know about the void. Maybe I’m misinterpreting his smile…
“Did you order it?” she asked.
“Yes. How else was I going to get you down here?” He looked over her shoulder. Her stomach sank as she realized the two Servants were standing behind her. From their minds she read his orders.
Surround her. She cannot fight you. As you have noticed, there is no magic here.
They hadn’t known of his plans, but recovered from their surprise quickly. She felt hands grasp her arms and tried to twist away, but both Servants were strong. Both were Servant-warriors, who prided themselves on their physical fitness as well as magical Skill.
“Let me go,” Auraya demanded.
They were amused by her order and had no intention of following it.
Nekaun was smiling broadly, enjoying the moment. As he stepped closer Auraya’s heart lurched. So is this how I’m going to die? she found herself wondering. Will Chaia take my soul? She searched for some sign that the gods were close but found none. Nekaun looked beyond her to the Servants.
“Behind the throne you will find chains.”
Chains? Auraya felt her heart swell with desperate hope. He doesn’t mean to kill me! Unless he means to kill me slowly. What will it be? Starvation? A slow poison? Or something worse?
Her mind shied away from that thought. She stared at Nekaun, wanting to say something to make him change his mind—a threat to frighten him, or an offer he would be tempted by. But her mind refused to think and she could not make herself speak. Her heart was pounding and she reflexively strained against the hands holding her, all the while uselessly reaching for magic. A Servant brought out the chains, which were firmly bolted to gaps in the arms of the chair.
“Put her back to the throne,” Nekaun instructed. “Lock her wrists in the shackles.”
The Servant woman held Auraya’s left arm outstretched, then her right, as the male Servant snapped the manacles around Auraya’s wrists. When they were done Nekaun waved them away. He reached out and grasped Auraya’s hand. She bit back a protest as he pulled off her priest ring.
But it doesn’t work in voids, anyway, she remembered.
He stepped back to regard her.
“That was much too easy,” he said, shaking his head. “Who would have thought a White—a former White—would be so easy to catch?”
She clenched her teeth. Did he want her to beg and plead? Make a bargain in exchange for her freedom?
So much for peace and alliances. So much for vows of safety.
“You swore by your gods that I would not be harmed while I stayed here,” she said in his language, so the Servants would understand. “How can you, their First Voice, break a vow in their names?”
His smile vanished, but his eyes still gleamed.
“I can,” he told her, his voice hard and serious. “But only at the orders of my gods. They told me to do this. Just as they told me to see if you could be persuaded to join us. Just as they told me your Siyee were coming to attack us.” He shrugged. “Just as I will kill you if they ask me to. You had best hope they do not.” Then his smile returned. “At last I can get back to some interesting work.”
Turning on his heel, he strode out of the hall, Turaan and the pair of Servants following.
It was a sad procession that made its way along the road to Chon. At the front the Pentadrians walked, flanked by warriors. Ella, Danjin, Yem, Gillen and Gret came next, riding in the covered platten. The villagers followed at the rear, surrounded by more warriors. A cart and arem had been found on one of the farms for small children, the old and the sick to ride on.
Those in the covered platten had talked little. Gillen had tried to strike up a conversation mere hours after the journey
had begun, but the others had all but ignored him. Hurt, he had lapsed into a sullen, resigned silence.
Danjin looked at Yem. The young warrior was all quiet dignity now he was in the company of a clan leader. Gret seemed determined to sulk over the shame that one of his villages had welcomed Pentadrians, and the evidence was now being paraded through Dunway. Ella was as distant as she had been on the way to the village. Her attention was elsewhere. From time to time her expression changed subtly. She would frown, sigh or smile without obvious reason. He knew she was keeping an eye on the Pentadrians in case they tried to flee or attack the warriors. While the warriors were not lacking in Gifts, none were powerful sorcerers and would need assistance if their prisoners rebelled.
The door covers of the platten had been pinned back. Danjin would have appreciated the view if it wasn’t spoiled by glimpses of the villagers following them, pricking his conscience. Now, to make things worse, he heard a faint patter and realized it was raining. How long would it be before the rain-soaked villagers became sick?
“The Scalar warriors have reached the village ahead of us,” Ella said suddenly. “We will meet them there and stop to rest and gather food.”
All looked at her and nodded. Gret’s brows managed to knit even closer together. He turned away and glowered at the rain outside.
They passed a house, then another several minutes later. The platten slowly descended into a valley, following a road that ran beside a swift-flowing river. Then suddenly they were in the midst of houses, all huddled in a bend in the river. Locals stood on the road or in doorways, watching.
Ella looked at Gret. “Would you greet the Scalar for us?”
Gret’s scowl eased at that. She was giving him the opportunity to appear in control of the group. He nodded once, then climbed out of the platten, jumping to the ground while it was still moving. Danjin heard orders being barked.
The platten rolled to a halt a short while later. Ella climbed out. Following her, Danjin examined his surroundings. The Pentadrians had been herded into what looked like a stock sorting yard. Gret and several Dunwayan sorcerers were standing nearby. The arrested villagers were huddled under the broad veranda of a storage house. A subordinate of Gret’s hurried over to Ella, in the company of a broad-shouldered man with tufts of gray in his hair.
“This is the village leader, Wim,” the warrior said. “He says he has plenty of food and suggested we take some for the journey.”
The man made the sign of the circle. Ella nodded in reply. “We shall do so. Thank you.”
As the pair moved away, Ella walked over to greet the Scalar. The sorcerer warriors looked formidable in their blue clothes and radiating face tattoos. Gret introduced them to the leader, Wek.
After greetings had been exchanged, Ella turned to nod at the Pentadrian group.
“There are a few strongly Gifted ones,” she warned. “So far they have been little trouble.”
Wek nodded. “We have orders to execute them immediately.” He looked at her. “Can you confirm that every man and woman in that group is a Pentadrian?”
“They are,” she said, nodding once. “All but three of the women and one of the men are from Southern Ithania. The four Dunwayans consider themselves fully converted Pentadrians.”
Wek’s nose wrinkled in disgust. “And the villagers?”
“Some are guilty of helping the Pentadrians, some only of neglecting to report their presence. Some may be excused, as they were too young or addled by age to act for themselves.”
Wek nodded. When he did not ask any further questions, Danjin felt his stomach sink. He looked at Ella intently, but she did not meet his gaze. Instead, she turned to Gret. “I must talk to you privately.”
As she moved away, she paused and looked back at Danjin.
“You too, Danjin.” She almost seemed to smile, then her expression grew serious again as they drew out of the hearing of others. “I am to go to Chon as quickly as possible,” she told Gret. “Danjin, you are to go with me, but not the others. I must travel light for the sake of speed.” She paused. “I am to give you both the bad news that we are going to war. The gods called the White to the Altar a short while ago. They have decided we must do what we should have done all along—rid the world of these Pentadrian sorcerers.”
So that’s what she was doing while we were in the platten, Danjin found himself thinking. Linked to Juran or one of the other White, she was actually talking to the gods!
Gret’s eyebrows rose in surprise, and an eager light came into his eyes. Danjin could see how this turn of events worked in the man’s favor. He might have harbored Pentadrians unknowingly, but now he had the chance to redress the stain on his honor. And he wouldn’t have to endure the shame of accompanying the villagers to Chon.
“I will come with you, Ellareen of the White,” he said. “When will we leave?”
She smiled grimly. “As soon as we can find a platten and fresh horses.”
“Then allow me to hunt you down a set.”
He walked away, his back straight and his steps jaunty. Danjin shook his head.
“Warriors,” he muttered.
Ella chuckled. “Yes, they love a chance to show off their skills.”
He looked at her sideways. “A war, then? And this time we are the invaders.”
She nodded. “The gods’ patience at these attempts to subvert Circlians has been stretched too far this time. We have found Pentadrian Servants in all lands except Si. In Somrey they have been appallingly successful at attracting converts. In Toren we’ve discovered a secret group recruiting the poor and the homeless in exchange for teaching them to use magic to rob the rich. In Genria they pose as healers who specialize in fertility. And in Sennon…well, they’ve always been in Sennon, along with every other madman who follows dead gods or invents new ones.” She grimaced in disgust. “There’s a new cult there that worships the Maker, who apparently created the gods themselves. Strange how the gods aren’t aware of this.”
Danjin smiled. “Strange indeed.”
She sighed. “But they aren’t concerned about this Wise Man and his ideas. It is the Pentadrians we must worry about. We cannot kill their gods, but if we kill the Voices we may weaken them enough that they do not threaten us for a time.”
He nodded, but could not help thinking how closely matched the previous battle had been. Until Auraya had killed the enemy leader, the Circlians had been losing.
Ella smiled. “Yes, we have considered that, Danjin. But this time we have an advantage.”
“Auraya?”
She frowned. “No. We can’t rely upon her help, but the gods have assured us she will not hinder us. No, our advantage is not one individual but a nation: this time we have Sennon on our side.”
“So long as the emperor doesn’t change his mind at the last moment.”
“He won’t,” she assured him. “Not this time. We are going to take this battle to the Pentadrians, and he knows that means it will be fought on his land, at the Isthmus.”
Danjin looked at the arrested villagers. “What of these people? How will I-Portak know who is innocent if you are not there to read their minds?”
Ella shrugged. “Their system of justice has operated well enough without my assistance in the past, as I’m sure it will now.”
“Do you really believe that?” he asked.
She looked at him, then sighed. “I have to. What else can I do?”
“Write a list,” he suggested. “Noting which villagers are guilty of which crimes.”
She considered him, then nodded. “I can do that.”
“I don’t suppose I can persuade you to excuse the children and the sick from this march at the same time?”
Ella shook her head. “Who would look after them?”
“Surely someone would.”
“Even if someone did, would you like to be the one to take a child from their parent?”
He could not answer that. I’d want to spend as much time with my child as po
ssible if I thought I did not have much time left, he found himself thinking.
She sighed and suddenly looked tired. “I must admit, it’s a relief to leave at last.”
Danjin felt a pang of sympathy. “Watching other lands deal out such harsh punishment is never an easy task.”
She gave him an odd look. “I meant to go to war. The gods kept changing their minds. They had us prepare for war, then stand down our armies, then rouse them again. I think it was because of Auraya. When she decided to stay in Glymma it spoiled the gods’ plans. Now perhaps she has left, and we are free to make our move.”
Danjin nodded. “So will she be joining us soon?”
“I don’t know.” Ella shrugged and turned to meet Gret, who was driving a platten pulled by two fresh arem.
36
Footsteps were like hammers in Teel’s head. He opened his eyes. Black-robed men were approaching. They crowded around. He felt hands under him, around him, gripping hard. Pain ripped through him. It crushed his thoughts.
Something cool touched his lips. Rousing again, he swallowed as water was poured down his throat. It tasted sour. He remembered a voice from earlier. A familiar voice.
“He has been poisoned.”
He spat out the water, but the hands and black robes crowded him. Cruel fingers pressed into his jaw. The foul water came again and he surrendered to it. The sooner he died, the sooner the pain would end. He would go to Huan. He was her favorite. She would take him in.
For a time he wallowed in blackness. The pain eased. He had no strength and he was very cold, but he felt better. Opening his eyes, he looked up at the high ceiling of the hall, and remembered his fellow Siyee flying carefully in the close quarters.
All gone, he thought. I’m alone here.
:No, Teel, you are not.
The voice in his mind startled him. It was not Huan. It had a maleness about it.
:I am Chaia.
Chaia!
:Yes. Look to your right, Teel.
He obeyed. The oversized throne loomed above him. He could remember being dragged there after the illness—poison—took hold. He also remembered being lifted and carried back.
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