“For the last hundred years we have watched the world through the minds of mortals, but that is not as satisfying as walking among them,” Tamun agreed, standing up and stretching.
“Come sit down,” Surim said, drawing Emerahl across the room. He led her to a pile of cushions. Tamun settled down next to Emerahl. She drew a small loom close to her and began weaving, her fingers moving with the sure deftness of someone who had been practicing a skill for a long time.
“I always wondered what it was that you two did,” Emerahl told him. “The reports I heard suggested you were prophets. Like The Seer.”
Surim laughed.
“We never claimed to be able to see or predict the future,” Tamun said. “Not as The Seer did. She couldn’t, you know. She just used her mind-reading skills to learn what a person wanted to hear, then gave them ambiguous answers.”
“She wrote the most appalling poetry and called it prophecy,” Surim added, gesturing dismissively. “All this nonsense about lost heirs and magical swords. We all know swords can’t be magical.”
“Unless they’re made of the wood of a welcome tree,” Tamun pointed out. “Or black coral.”
“Which makes them utterly useless as a physical weapon.” Surim looked at Emerahl and smiled. “Ignore us, dear. We have been arguing like this for most of a millennia. Now, tell us about yourself, and the world. The Gull keeps us informed, but he hears only rumors and gossip. You have seen recent events with your own eyes.”
Sitting down, Emerahl chuckled to herself. “No doubt The Gull told you. I have seen a few things. And not of my choosing.”
And she began to relate how a priest had driven her from her lighthouse over a year before.
Auraya paced the bower.
For the last few weeks she had flown about Si to all the villages suffering from Hearteater. In each place she had ordered three bowers to be built, as Mirar had done at the Blue Lake tribe. She had taught Siyee in each village how to prepare cures and how to judge when a patient probably needed magical help in overcoming the disease. Now, whenever she visited a village, she could attend to those who needed her most before flying on to the next village.
But Juran had contacted her this morning to tell her the gods would be delivering their judgment later that day at the Altar. It had forced her to remain in her bower for hours, knowing that sick Siyee needed her help and at the same time giving her nothing to distract herself with. Suddenly she realized she was wringing her hands, as her mother used to do when anxious. She threw her hands apart and sighed in exasperation.
Oh! Enough waiting! I wish the gods would announce their decision and be done with it!
Her stomach fluttered as she paced the room. She remembered Chaia’s words: Know that you have made an enemy of one of the gods. One of the gods. Not two. Of all the gods, she had given Huan and Chaia most reason to dislike her. Was disobeying Huan likely to make her an enemy? Probably. Was spurning Chaia’s love likely to? Possibly.
She had considered the revelation that the gods did not agree about her fate many times. What side had each god taken? Chaia had hinted that Huan was the most angered by her refusal. What did the other gods think?
Auraya?
Her stomach clenched as she recognized Juran’s mental voice.
:Juran? Is it time?
:Yes. Mairae and I are at the Altar.
She nodded, forgetting that he could not see her, and moved to a chair. As she sat down Mischief scrambled out of his basket and climbed down the wall of the bower. He curled up in her lap. Now that the weather was growing chilly he was constantly taking advantage of any warm body that remained still for more than a few moments.
Concentrating on Juran’s mind, she closed her eyes and let what he was seeing reach her. He was in the Altar. The walls had folded up. Mairae was in her seat. Auraya sensed Dyara and Rian link with Juran. When all were ready, Juran began the short ritual.
“Chaia, Huan, Lore, Yranna, Saru. Once again, we thank you for the peace you brought to Ithania, and the Gifts that you have given us. We thank you for your wisdom and guidance.”
“We thank you,” Mairae murmured. Auraya heard Dyara and Rian speak the words mentally and said them herself.
“You have indicated that you are ready to deliver judgment for Auraya’s refusal to execute Mirar. Please appear and be welcome among your humble servants.”
“Guide us.”
From Juran’s viewpoint Auraya saw four patches of air around the room begin to glow. The lights slowly took shape, forming the figures of Huan, Lore, Yranna and Saru. She wondered where Chaia was, then Juran turned his head and she saw that the god was standing at Juran’s right.
:Juran, Dyara, Rian, Mairae and Auraya, Chaia said. We have chosen you to represent us and act on our behalf in the world of mortals. Until now we have been satisfied with your work.
:We have taken care to give you only those tasks you are capable of, Yranna added. She looked at Juran. Once, long ago, we were forced to ask one of you to act against his heart. Recently we had no choice but to ask the same of one of you again.
:Only this time, the task was left unfulfilled, Lore rumbled.
:Twice we ordered for it to be done; twice we were denied, Saru said.
Huan’s gaze met Juran’s and Auraya shivered as she realized the goddess was not looking at Juran, but at her. She felt herself trembling. Fear ate away at her resolve. How could she pit herself against the will of the gods, who she had always adored?
How can I worship beings that can so easily throw away the laws and justice they established?
:We acknowledge that Auraya is new to her responsibilities, Huan said, but her inexperience should be no encumbrance to her ability to carry out her duties. Some of you believe that the task we gave her was unsuited to her character. We expect you all to perform unpleasant tasks when needed.
:Auraya believes our decision unjust, Lore said. We laid judgment upon Mirar a century ago and that judgment has not changed.
Auraya resisted the urge to protest. He has changed, she thought. He is not the same person.
:Time, even a century hiding behind another identity, does not negate the crimes he has committed in the past, Huan said.
They were crimes too minor to justify the punishment of execution, she thought. But she stayed silent. The gods knew her mind. There was no point speaking out.
:Auraya demands justice for the sake of her own conscience, Saru added. You cannot do this every time we ask you to execute a criminal.
:You must trust us at times like these, Yranna said softly. When the need is urgent and the justice in our actions difficult to see.
Huan’s gaze shifted upward and Auraya guessed she was looking at Chaia.
:We have decided that Auraya must return to Jarime, Chaia said. Was it her imagination, or did he sound weary and reluctant? She must not leave Jarime for a period often years, unless Northern Ithania is invaded and she is accompanied by her fellow White.
Chaia paused. Auraya waited for more.
:That is our judgment, Chaia finished.
Surprised, she let herself relax. That’s it? They did not take away my Gift of flight? I suppose ten years is a long time to be stuck in one place...
:Auraya must leave Si tomorrow and return to Jarime, Huan said.
Tomorrow? Auraya went cold.
:What of Hearteater? she found herself asking. Who will heal the Siyee when I am gone?
:They will have to deal with it themselves, Huan said. It kills only one in five. That is regrettable, but survivable.
Aghast, Auraya could not think of anything to say to that.
:Will you accept your punishment? the goddess asked.
Auraya felt ill. So many Siyee would die. All because of her.
:Auraya.
She dragged her attention back to the goddess.
:If I must. Yes, I will return to Jarime.
Huan nodded, a gleam of satisfaction in her eyes. Then, without another word, the
gods vanished.
Etim stood straight and stiff before the king. In one hand he held his spear, in the other he grasped the mallet and chisel the Pentadrians had given him.
“What did they ask for in return?” the king asked.
“Nothing, sire,” Etim replied.
King Ais scowled. He turned to look at the young woman by his side, who had laid a hand on his arm. This must be the Princess Imi, Erim decided. She looked older than he had expected. It wasn’t just the adult clothes, but the maturity in her gaze as she smiled at her father.
“Imenja could probably have sunk that ship herself, father. She asked our warriors to do it to prove a point. We can fight them without great risk to ourselves.”
The king’s brows sank even lower. “Your priestess has forced us into a war. Once the raiders know we destroyed one of their ships, they will come here in force.”
They don’t know! Etim thought. But he couldn’t say that unless invited. Frustrated, he shifted his weight from one foot to the other.
The king noticed the movement. He looked at Etim and narrowed his eyes.
“You disagree?” he asked, his voice dark with warning.
Etim decided it would be better to simply state the facts than offer an opinion.
“We left none alive. None to tell the tale.”
“None but the Pentadrians,” the king finished.
“They won’t,” Imi said. “But I want the raiders to hear about it. I want them to fear us. I want us to cut holes in their ships and the fish to feed on their bodies and the city to be enriched by their loot.” She smiled. “I want us to be respected by traders and feared by thieves. We can be that, with the Pentadrians’ help.”
The king stared at his daughter, but Etim could not tell if it was with amazement or dismay. After a moment the king looked away. He rubbed his chin, then looked up at Etim.
“What do you think of these Pentadrians, warrior?”
Etim considered how best to answer.
“I would prefer to be their friend rather than their enemy,” he replied honestly.
A faint smile touched the king’s face.
Imi chuckled. “That’s what I want people to think of us.”
“And in the meantime, we must trust these Pentadrian landwalkers,” the king replied sourly.
Imi shrugged. “Even they cannot stop us boring holes in the hulls of their ships.”
The king’s eyebrows rose. Etim might have been mistaken, but he thought he saw a spark of interest in the monarch’s eyes. Imi reached out and touched her father’s arm again.
“Did you consider my suggestion?” she asked quietly. “Did you list all the terms you would want in an alliance?”
“They will not agree to them,” he replied.
“Maybe not,” she agreed. “But you won’t know that until you ask them.”
The king looked at her, then drew in a deep breath and let it out. He looked up at Etim.
“Bring me the First Warrior.”
Wondering if he had just witnessed a great decisive moment in Elai history, Etim hurried from the room.
46
“Msstf, Owayafly?”
Auraya looked at the veez, who was inspecting her pack hopefully.
“Yes, Mischief. Auraya and Mischief fly... to Jarime.” She had been about to say “home,” but the words didn’t seem right. Jarime no longer felt like home.
Sighing, she sat down and patted the veez. Sirri had been dismayed to learn that Auraya was leaving. Without my help many, many Siyee are going to die, she thought. But if the gods had removed my ability to fly instead, I would not be able to reach all the distant villages anyway.
She had expected that, with the plague spreading throughout Si, whatever punishment the gods decided upon would not take effect until the disease was under control. By sending her to Jarime now the gods were also punishing the Siyee for her disobedience. That was unfair. Cruel, even. She felt her mood darken. Perhaps Mirar was right about them...
It was ironic that by persuading Mirar to teach her his healing Gift she had brought about events that forced the only two people who could help the Siyee to leave Si.
Mirar’s words repeated in her mind. “Come with me. We will leave Ithania and seek the distant continents.”
What he had proposed was absurd. It meant abandoning the Siyee. She looked down at the ring on her finger and smiled wryly. Even if she had been ordered to give away everything it meant - her position, power, flight, immortality - she would still prefer to stay and help the Siyee.
Looking up, she regarded the array of objects on the table. Gifts had started arriving as soon as the news of her departure began to spread. She couldn’t take everything, her pack wasn’t big enough even without a veez filling half the space. But she wanted to fill her room in the tower with Siyee-made objects so that every time the other White visited her they would be reminded about the fate of the Siyee.
She wasn’t just abandoning the Siyee to Hearteater, but to the Pentadrians. If they tried to land here again, none of the other White could arrive in time to help. And what use would I be, without flight or my powers enhanced by the gods? She grimaced. I supposed I could live on the coast. If I had a ship, we could reach the place the Pentadrians landed fairly quickly. Maybe my reputation would scare them off.
It was almost tempting. Perhaps if Siyee, as soon as they showed signs of sickening, flew to her, she could help them. She could set up a healing place in the Sand tribe village. Maybe a few Siyee would be capable of learning Mirar’s healing Gift.
Then her heart sank. She wasn’t sure if she would still be able to use Mirar’s Gift if she removed the gods’ ring. She wasn’t even sure she could remove the ring without something terrible happening.
Perhaps I should ask Chaia, a dark, quiet voice in the back of her mind said. Shaking her head, she stood up and moved to the table. It’s absurd, she thought. I’m not going to take off the ring or turn from the gods. I have to accept their judgment. I will make the best of it.
In Jarime she could teach Mirar’s Gift to others. There must be healer priests and priestesses capable of it. Perhaps the Siyee who chose to join the Temple could take the skill back. It would be too late to save most Siyee from Heart-eater, but it might go some way toward them forgiving her for abandoning them.
Which she hoped they would. It would break her heart if, ten years from now, she found she was no longer welcome in Si.
Someone was screaming. No - lots of people. Their wails were almost comically melodramatic. Mirar tried to feel concerned, but only became worried that he wasn’t concerned.
:Mirar?
:Ernerahl? Are you making that noise? It’s irritating.
:What noise?
:This noise.
:Oh. That. You’re dreaming.
He paused to think.
:If I am, am I dreaming you?
:No. I’m trying to dream link with you. Get control of yourself, Dreamweaver.
Control. Of course. He exerted his will on the dream, and the screaming became muted. It should have fallen to silence. Then he remembered.
:It’s the blizzard, he told Emerahl. The noise of the wind must be so loud that my mind can’t help registering it even in my dreams.
:How lovely for you.
:Yes. How are you?
:I’ve reached the Red Caves. I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve told my hosts all about you. They’re impressed at how you managed to change your identity for a century.
Mirar felt a twinge of apprehension. She had told them that? What else had she told them?
:Do I mind? he replied. Well, that depends who your hosts are.
:The Twins.
Surprise nearly shook him from the dream state.
:Is that so?
:Yes. Have you ever met them?
:Once, a long time ago. About fifty years before Juran was Chosen they warned me that the Dreamweavers would face bad times in the next century. I didn’t believe them.
<
br /> :They say they see patterns in the world. They constantly skim the minds of mortals, watching the spread of ideas. They say human behavior is fairly easy to predict, most of the time.
:Well, they’ve been skimming minds a long time, he reminded her. I heard rumors of their existence only a few hundred years after I became immortal.
:0h, they’re older than that, she told him. They’ve watched mortals for many, many centuries before they learned to see patterns in their behavior, and became famous for their predictions.
:What do they see happening in the near future? he asked.
:They don’t agree. Surim thinks there is some great change about to happen. Tamun does not think it likely, so soon after the rise of the Circlians and the Pentadrians. And that is interesting, too. They say the two religions formed and grew simultaneously. Surim thinks that there is nothing more to it than powerful beliefs rising to fill the voids left after so many gods died in their war. Tamun believes there is more to it than that - that the religions are linked.
:Do they know if the Pentadrian gods are real?
:They are. Too many Pentadrian worshippers can recall encounters with their gods for them not to be real. Nobody knows where these gods came from, however. They are different to the Circlian gods in that they rarely appear before mortals. They don’t like to meddle too much in the affairs of their followers.
:Except to tell them to invade Northern Ithania?
:The Twins believe that was the decision of the former leader, Kuar.
:Interesting. I like the idea of non-meddling gods, but if the result is mortals making decisions like that...
:Don’t tell me you’ve changed your mind and think we’re better off with gods than without.
:No. Never. But mortals can make astoundingly stupid and cruel decisions, too.
:Even your own followers? she asked.
:Of course not. Dreamweavers are always unfailingly sensible.
:Ha!
:Well, most of them.
:Have you contacted Dreamweaver Elder Arleejl
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