Voice of the Gods

by Trudi Canavan

  The silence that followed the list lasted longer than before. This time Surim was too caught up in the implications to be bothered by it.

  The gods don’t take souls! The lie they had maintained for thousands upon thousands of years was so enormous Surim felt giddy. They need mortals to affect the world, he thought. So they need mortals to believe they need gods.

  :Your Dreamweavers will be reassured by that, Mirar, Emerahl said.

  :Reassured? I don’t know. They know they give up any chance of their soul continuing after death when they become a Dreamweaver. But how will they feel knowing it is no special sacrifice?

  :I think most of your people don’t believe in souls anyway, Tamun said.

  :What of the other two secrets? The Gull asked.

  :We knew that gods couldn’t exist in voids, and suspected they couldn’t be in two places at once, Surim said. What of the last side of the pendant, Emerahl?

  :I thought you’d never ask, she said smugly. The fourth, if you recall, is death. Listen to this: “All gods are equally powerful. None can affect the other but in position.” There is a gap, then: “Six surround one results in immobilization. Six surround one and take magic results in capture or death.”

  :Six surround one? Surim repeated.

  :One above, one below, one on all four sides, Mirar said. The victim within. If the six draw away all magic the god within can’t exist.

  :The voids! The Gull exclaimed. I’d wager that is how the voids were created.

  :Of course, Emerahl said. Hmm. I wonder how that will make me feel the next time I’m in one, knowing that a god died there.

  :Depends on the god, Mirar murmured. If I knew where a few particular gods died, I’d be tempted to go there and have a little celebration.

  Something wasn’t right. Surim repeated the secrets to himself a few times before he saw it. So if six gods had to surround another to kill him/her…

  :There are only five gods, he pointed out. Where is the sixth?

  :Sorli was the sixth. She killed herself, Emerahl reminded him. Remember the story on the Scroll. She felt guilty about what they had done and killed herself.

  :How? Mirar asked. Ah, of course. The voids. She must have entered one.

  :Thrown herself into oblivion, The Gull agreed. She must have felt very guilty indeed.

  :Would you? Emerahl asked. Would any of you?

  :Once again, it depends on the god, Mirar said. I wouldn’t feel a shred of guilt if I could get rid of the lot we have now.

  :But you’re a Dreamweaver. You don’t kill, Surim pointed out.

  :I don’t kill humans. I think I can make an exception for the gods, even if they were once human.

  :Why do you ask, Emerahl? Tamun asked.

  :I have been wondering, Emerahl said, her mental voice tense with excitement, if immortals can create voids.

  Surim felt a chill run over his skin.

  :We could give it a try, Tamun said.

  :Perhaps between us, Mirar added.

  :If there were six of us, The Gull finished. We are only five.

  :Auraya might—Mirar began.

  :She won’t, Emerahl pointed out. She still thinks she serves them.

  :She might have changed her mind about that recently, he countered.

  :We can’t take that risk, Tamun said firmly. If she knows we can do it she might warn the gods. Unlike gods, we can’t fly away to the other side of the world in an instant if it doesn’t work.

  :She should be told the rest—all we have learned, apart from how the gods were killed, Emerahl said. She needs to know the true nature of the gods she serves.

  The others murmured agreement.

  :So what do we do without her? Mirar asked. Wait until another immortal comes into his or her powers? That could take a thousand years.

  :If we have to, Tamun replied. Or until the gods have hurt and offended Auraya so much that we are sure she hates them as much as we do.

  :Whichever comes first, The Gull agreed. Though if Auraya’s current situation ends badly, we may have no choice but the former.

  :Not if I can help it, Mirar said.

  :Now, Mirar, Tamun began. Don’t take any foolish risks. We will have a long wait before us if we have to wait for two immortals to come into their p—

  :I have to go, Mirar said abruptly.

  As Mirar’s presence vanished from their link, Surim sighed.

  :I do wish you’d stop encouraging him like that, sister.

  42

  The ache in her shoulders had become a sharp pain, while her hands had lost feeling some time ago. Auraya opened her eyes and forced her legs to straighten. Her knees popped and her thigh muscles began to tremble.

  This isn’t good, she thought. I’m getting weaker. I must exercise. She flexed her muscles, moving her weight from leg to leg. As feeling came back to her hands it seemed as if a thousand needles were piercing her skin. What I wouldn’t do for a chair….

  Suddenly the pain increased tenfold as something touched her arm. She gasped and looked up, then gasped again in surprise as two round eyes stared into hers.

  “Mischief!”

  The veez was on the seat of the throne, leaning over to regard her. He dropped down and she winced as he landed on her sore shoulders.

  “What are you doing here?” she whispered. “I told you to stay with the nice servant.”

  “Owaya,” he said, his whiskers tickling her ear. “Bad man. Chase.”

  He was radiating fear and agitation. Concentrating on his thoughts, she picked up flashes of memory. A man he recognized. One who had been with her a lot. Shouting. Dodging magic. Fleeing.

  “Nekaun,” Auraya hissed. “He tried to kill you.” She sent the veez a feeling of sympathy and pride. Clever Mischief.

  He nudged her ear. “Scratch.”

  “I can’t,” she told him, demonstrating by pulling against the chains. “Auraya caged.”

  “Free Owaya,” he said decisively. Running up her arm, he sniffed the cuffs. She felt a thrill of hope and looked toward the Servant guards. They appeared to be absorbed in conversation. Mischief’s whiskers quivered, then his ears suddenly lay flat. She sensed his confusion, and she suddenly understood.

  “No magic,” she explained. “No magic here. You use magic to undo locks.”

  The veez did not understand. He leapt up onto the throne seat and crouched at the edge. His fur stood on end and she sensed he was deeply unhappy.

  She could say nothing to reassure him, so she said nothing at all. Sighing, she closed her eyes and sent her mind out into the world.

  By habit she brushed the minds of the two Servants guarding her. They were in the midst of discussing the two times Sheyr had possessed mortals and entered the hall. It hadn’t occurred to them that the god might not have been the one he appeared to be. They didn’t know that one of the men had gone mad, and that the other now woke several times each night screaming. She knew this from skimming their minds.

  Moving beyond, she picked up the thoughts of other Servants. Their minds were full of their daily tasks, petty grievances, gossip, friends and family, and war. She skimmed through these looking for anything unusual. Nekaun’s name caught her attention several times. A few women, Servant and domestic, contemplated with unease his visit to their bedchamber. Auraya shied away from these recollections, then stumbled upon the domestic who had been caring for Mischief. She was heartened to see that the woman was upset, both by Nekaun’s attempt to kill the veez and that the creature hadn’t come back.

  Leaving the Sanctuary, Auraya flitted through the mind of Glymma’s citizens. Their thoughts were on the usual concerns: work, family, love, hunger, food, ambition, pain and pleasure. War was on everyone’s mind.

  The previous day she had managed to reach beyond the city limits to some of the riverside villages. Today she stretched her senses out in a different direction. There were fewer minds, which was unsurprising since all appeared to be surrounded by desert sands. Most were focused on
using magic and physical skill to control some kind of vehicle. Looking closer, she slowly came to understand these were boats driven by the wind that slid over the desert sand.

  Looks like fun, she thought.

  :Auraya!

  At the call her mind shifted automatically into a dream trance.

  :Mirar?

  :How are you?

  :Tired. Sore. Nekaun tried to kill Mischief. He’s here now.

  :The bastard. It’s a shame these people are ruled by such a man. The rest of them seem a lot nicer.

  :Even Shar, the one who had his vorn kill innocent people in Toren?

  :Well…I haven’t spoken to him much so far. Anyway, I have to tell you something. The other immortals said you should know.

  :The other Wilds?

  :Yes. Emerahl, and a few others who managed to avoid being killed by the White.

  :Emerahl?

  :The woman who taught you to hide your mind.

  :Oh! Jade.

  :Yes. Jade. Emerahl. The Hag. He paused. They’re very concerned about you and have been helping me try to find a way to free you.

  :They have? Even though I’m a White?

  :You’re not a White any more, Auraya.

  :Oh. That’s right. But still. Me, an ally of gods and all that.

  :Are you sure you’re okay?

  :Yes. Just tired. What did these Wilds want to tell me?

  :I can only tell you what the others feel you can be trusted to know, he said.

  She forced herself to concentrate.

  :So there’s more that they don’t trust me to know?

  :Yes.

  :And you agree?

  :Let’s just say I know which secrets you can be burdened with, and which you can’t.

  She considered his words and found herself liking him for them. He wants to tell me something, but he doesn’t want to put me in a difficult position.

  :So what are these secrets you can trust me with?

  :There’s a story to it. I can’t name all involved, but since you’ve met Emerahl I can safely describe her part in it.

  He explained briefly about the rumors of a Scroll containing secrets about the gods, and that Emerahl had found it.

  :This is the task she had to delay in order to teach me?

  :Yes. Now, this Scroll was made by Sorli’s last priest…He went on to relate the story on the Scroll. There were six gods at the end of the war, he told her. Sorli killed herself after having the secrets of the gods preserved for others to find.

  :And you found the secrets?

  :Emerahl did, and she deciphered them. This is what the others agreed I could tell you: all of the gods were born mortal, became immortals like us, then transformed themselves into gods.

  :They were Wilds first?

  :Yes. And they were once ordinary mortals, with powerful Gifts. There’s more. You’re not going to like it. I don’t think anyone’s going to like it. The gods certainly aren’t going to like anyone knowing. I could ch—

  :Get on with it, Mirar.

  :The gods can only exist in one place at any time and no god can exist where there is no magic.

  :I knew that.

  :But I’d wager you didn’t know this: the gods don’t take people’s souls. It’s a lie they’ve been using for millennia to give mortals a reason to obey them.

  Auraya felt her curiosity turn to disbelief.

  :That can’t be true. I don’t believe it.

  :You don’t want to believe it. These are the words of Sorli herself. The sixth god, who helped the Circle kill all the other gods. How did she put it? “No god collects and preserves souls of mortal dead.”

  :She was lying. She was probably mad. After all, she killed herself. She may not have even existed at all, and this is all some trick someone set up centuries ago in revenge against the gods.

  :You don’t believe it because you don’t want to. And I can hardly blame you. I—

  :No, you’re believing it because you want to. It suits your view of the world very well, Mirar. Doesn’t that sound suspicious to you? If I wanted to trick you, this would be how I’d do it. Feed you what you want to hear so you don’t question what comes with it. She paused as an unpleasant possibility occurred to her. What did come with it?

  :I can’t tell you that.

  :Then…just be careful. If it is a trick, that other part may be the trap.

  He paused a long time before answering.

  :I will keep that in mind. There is something else I think I can tell you.

  :Oh?

  :Voids were created when a god was killed.

  She felt a thrill of mingled alarm and excitement.

  :Did this Scroll tell you how the gods killed each other?

  He paused.

  :Is there a god you’d like to kill? he asked.

  :Maybe.

  :Who? Ah! The Pentadrian ones, of course. What have they ever done to you?

  :Had me chained up in a void.

  :A reasonable, if personal, grudge, he conceded.

  :And they encouraged their people to invade Northern Ithania, she added.

  :Yes, that wasn’t very polite.

  :I suppose you’re going to tell me the Circlian gods are guilty of worse?

  :I could. But I won’t. So you don’t have any personal grudges against them?

  :Just a small one. It seems fair that if Huan wants me dead then I can wish the same of her.

  :Sound rea—…Wait. Huan wants you dead?

  :Why are you surprised? You warned me the gods would try to kill me.

  :But they didn’t.

  :Chaia keeps coming to my rescue. Well, as much as he can when there are “rules” and such to make it difficult for him. He says he can’t set me free.

  :Does he? I had assumed none of the Circlian gods could venture into the Sanctuary without attracting the attention of the Pentadrian gods.

  :So did I. She briefly told him that Chaia had impersonated Sheyr twice, though she did not mention why. He says Sheyr won’t alert the Pentadrians to it because it means admitting it can happen.

  :And then nobody will know whether they can believe it is him or not when he appears. How frustrating for him. The others…Ah. I must go, Auraya.

  :Whatever you do, don’t endanger yourself or the Dreamweavers on my account.

  But his mind had slipped from her perception and she heard no answer.

  Sighing, she let herself drift for a while, but her mind returned to Mirar.

  He’s so much more confident than Leiard, she thought. Though Leiard was like that when he was in the forest. He was only fearful in Jarime and around the White. Except…he wasn’t fearful when we were lovers. He was more like…

  The recognition was like a jolt of energy. When Leiard was being her lover he had been more like Mirar. Mirar had been with her all the time she had been with Leiard, even if in a diminished, half-forgotten form.

  Perhaps it was only her weakened, vulnerable state that was heightening her feelings, but she was overwhelmed by a longing to be with him. And it was followed by an equally powerful terror.

  I must be careful, she told herself desperately. I think I could fall in love with anyone who got me out of this place, and I would never know if it was real.

  For the last few days the Dunwayan army had marched between the Hollow Mountains on the right and the sea on the left. The road had been all gentle curves, the weather had been mild and the smell of the sea gave the air a clean, fresh tang. The forest of Dunway gave way to rocky land covered in tussocky grasses and wind-twisted bushes and trees.

  The thinner vegetation allowed frequent glimpses of white sand and blue water. Danjin felt a wistful disappointment every time he saw another seemingly idyllic stretch of beach. He could hardly stop to enjoy the beauty of the area; he was part of an army, and that army was hurrying to meet another.

  Traders taking goods to Dunway occasionally used this road, but for most of the year the weather favored ship transportation. I-Portak scann
ed the horizon from time to time, no doubt looking for his own people’s warships. After several hundred years of peace in Northern Ithania, only the Dunwayans kept a fleet of warships and trained their warriors in the art of sea warfare. According to spies, the Pentadrians had their own small fleet and some skill in using it. During the previous war, Danjin had asked Lanren Songmaker, the White’s war adviser, why the Pentadrians hadn’t sailed into Jarime instead of invading through the mountains. The man had explained that sailing the long way around the west side of the continent would be slow due to unfavorable winds, and the east side was guarded by the Dunwayan warships. The Dunwayans would have relished the chance to practice their skills on an enemy.

  Nothing prevented the Dunwayans sailing south, however. Not when Sennon was supporting the Circlians. The Dunwayan warships were to meet the rest of the army in Karienne, the Sennon capital, then defend ships supplying the army as they travelled south to the Isthmus of Grya.

  But we have to get to Karienne first, Danjin thought. Across the Sennon desert. Relying on Sennon help to supply us with enough water to keep an army from dying of thirst.

  The land was growing steadily drier. Thinking back, Danjin realized it had been at least a day since he’d seen a tree bigger than a man. The tussocks of grass were smaller and thinner. The soil was so dry and dusty it may as well have been sand. Looking past Ella and I-Portak, Danjin noted the water carriers striding up and down the column of warriors, filling cups from large skins whenever a fighter called for a drink. Their services would be in high demand over the next few weeks.

  I-Portak straightened in his seat. Looking at Ella, Danjin saw her expression become intent. They were both gazing over his head. He felt the platten tilt and realized it had just topped a ridge and was descending steeply.

  “The desert begins,” I-Portak murmured.

  Danjin turned around, as did the other advisers. A pale, flat land lay before them, its surface disturbed by the ripples of dunes. At the base of the ridge the road continued on to the horizon, as straight as a Dunwayan spear. At the horizon wisps of sand or dust curled into the sky. A windstorm, perhaps. Danjin had heard about desert storms so ferocious the sand in them flayed the skin from travellers, or buried them alive.