[Age of the Five 03] - Voice of the Gods

by Trudi Canavan

  “Yes.” She frowned. “Would you have us make a profit on a cure?”

  “If people are harmed by a lack of oil, then yes. The profits can go toward the House or the sick.”

  “You have no idea what a relief it is to hear you say that.” She closed the box and returned it to the bag, then handed the bag to him.

  He smiled. “Are you testing me, Tintel?”

  She chuckled. “I might be. Intention and meaning can change over many years. Some Dreamweavers believe you forbade the selling of cures.”

  “It’s not adv—”

  “Dreamweaver Mirar?”

  The voice was full of confidence and power. He turned to face the owner, who was climbing the last few stairs up to the platform.

  “Fourth Voice Genza,” he replied. He gestured to Tintel. “This is Dreamweaver Tintel, who runs the Kave Dreamweaver House.”

  Genza nodded at Tintel. “I must apologize for taking your founder and guide from you. I know at this time of year his knowledge and powers would be of great benefit to the city.”

  Tintel shrugged. “We have been dealing with the fever every year for centuries. I’m sure we will cope well enough without him.”

  Genza’s eyes brightened with amusement. “Indeed, you have. Kave owes you a great debt.” She turned her attention to Mirar. “We are almost ready to leave.”

  He nodded and turned to Tintel. “Thank you for putting up with me. I hope the summer heat ends early in Kave.”

  Tintel nodded. “I hope all goes well in Glymma. I expect you’ll continue to explore Southern Ithania afterward. I look forward to seeing you in Kave again, though perhaps in a better season.”

  “I would like to see it in full flood,” he told her.

  “Perhaps next time.” She made the old Dreamweaver gesture—a touch to the heart, mouth and forehead. “Goodbye.”

  Surprised, he returned the gesture, then turned to Genza and she, taking that to indicate he was ready, led him toward the stairs.

  As he followed her down to the plank road, then along it toward the barge, he thought of the news The Twins had delivered in a dream-link last night.

  :Auraya is in Glymma, they’d told him. As they’d described the Siyee mission and its failure Mirar had been stunned that the White would do something so foolish. He was not surprised that the attack had failed, though it was worrying that the Pentadrians had been forewarned. Was there a spy in the Siyee ranks? There couldn’t be one among the White’s most trusted, or they would have read the deceit from the spy’s mind.

  He hadn’t been surprised to learn that Auraya had accepted Nekaun’s offer, agreeing to stay in Glymma in exchange for the release of the Siyee. I wonder how the White regard her striking a deal with the enemy. Or rather, allowing herself to be blackmailed into staying there in exchange for the Siyee’s freedom.

  There were twenty-eight Siyee prisoners remaining. One would have been released today. From Tintel’s description of the river journey to the escarpment, more than three quarters of the Siyee would be free before he’d travelled a third of the way to Glymma. At this time of year, the river moved so sluggishly that barges must be poled or rowed up and down.

  So Tamun and Surim have nothing to worry about. The Twins had been concerned that Nekaun planned to use Auraya against Mirar, or vice versa.

  :Everyone thinks you and Auraya are deadly enemies. Some believe that Nekaun will offer to kill you in exchange for Auraya’s support. Or that he’ll offer to kill Auraya in order to gain your support.

  :Auraya won’t ally herself with the White’s enemy, Mirar had replied, though he wasn’t completely sure that was true. She had sacrificed a great deal to save the Siyee before.

  :Good thing they don’t know how you two really regarded each other, eh? Surim had said. They’d just have to decide which to imprison and which to blackmail.

  :Blackmail wouldn’t work on her, Mirar reminded them.

  :Ah, but it would definitely work on you.

  Surim was right, but Mirar had reassured himself with two facts: he was never going to get to Glymma in time, and it took a lot of magic to imprison someone as powerful as Auraya. It would occupy one or more of the Voices night and day, in shifts. It would make them less able to defend themselves should the White attack.

  He and Genza had reached the barge. She ushered him on board and showed him the cabin that had been prepared for him. It was tiny, but clean.

  Ropes were untied from pylons and crew used poles to push the craft out into the river. Shallow-hulled, the barge rocked ponderously in the water. Genza moved to the prow then turned and said something to the crew, who withdrew their poles.

  Then Mirar took an involuntary step backward as the barge began to plow through the river, churning up waves on either side. He felt his stomach sink at the same time as his heart lightened.

  Looks like there is a good chance I will make it to Glymma in time to see Auraya.

  26

  Auraya had walked down corridors tiled in intricate patterns, entered rooms carpeted in rich colors and strolled through courtyards cooled by elegant fountains and exotic plants. She had been served meals of artfully prepared food from pottery and glassware of the highest quality with utensils fashioned of gold. She had heard strange and beautiful music and admired sculptures and artwork, the most amusing being a map of all Ithania made of tiny glass tiles in which the Elai were depicted as golden-haired maidens with fish tails and the Siyee as humans with feathered wings sprouting from their backs.

  Nekaun was doing his best to impress her.

  Though she couldn’t be sure it was his true purpose, he was making it no secret that he intended to win her over. The possibility that he might believe she would turn from the Circlian gods and ally herself with the Pentadrians had been so ridiculous that she had discounted it at first. But she soon realized he had to consider the possibility that she might have left the White, perhaps even turned from her gods, due to a conflict. She might change sides if she wanted revenge, a return of power, or simply found the ideology of Pentadrians suited her better.

  He would give up if she appeared incorruptible. Yet the sooner he felt he had won her over, the sooner he would stop trying. There were twenty-seven Siyee still imprisoned in the caves beneath the Sanctuary so she had to keep this game going for twenty-eight more days.

  I have to seem impressed, but not too interested. Resistant, but not unpersuadable, she told herself. I should pretend to have the occasional moment of weakness in order to keep him hoping he can win me over.

  Nekaun was leading her down a wide corridor that apparently connected the Lower Sanctuary with the Upper Sanctuary.

  “Is it true that the White live in rooms as plain and small as those their priests occupy?” he asked, his ever-present Companion, Turaan, repeating the words in Hanian.

  “Plain, yes,” she replied. “Small, no.”

  It took constant concentration to ensure she didn’t reveal her mind-reading ability. The sooner she learned some of the local language the better. Someone had advised her of that. She heard a familiar voice in her memory.

  “You never know when a bit of the local tongue might work to your advantage. Perhaps even save your life.”

  Danjin had said that. She felt a pang of sadness. It had been so long since she’d seen him. She missed his sturdy presence.

  “You lived in the White Tower, didn’t you?” Nekaun asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Do all priests in the Temple live in the Tower?”

  She looked at him skeptically. “I only agreed to stay here, not to give you information about your enemy.”

  His smile widened. “Forgive me. I did not intend to take advantage of you. I am merely interested. Here,” he gestured to a narrow opening in a wall. “Here is a place very precious to us. The Star Room.”

  From Turaan came a sudden nervous excitement, and she read from him that this was the Pentadrians’ primary worshipping place. An altar of some kind. As Nekau
n stepped through the gap Auraya hesitated. How dangerous could the altar of the enemy gods be? Could they do anything to her there that they couldn’t outside of it?

  Nekaun promised on those gods that I would remain unharmed, she reminded herself. And I agreed to stay and be shown around. If either of us is going to break our word, I won’t be the first.

  Taking a deep breath, she stepped through the gap into a large room. Black walls, floor and ceiling surrounded her. The walls were at strange angles. She realized there were five of them; the room was a pentagon. Nekaun was standing at the center, between lines of silver set into the floor. A chill ran down her spine as she realized they formed a giant star.

  She looked up at Nekaun.

  “Am I to be introduced to your gods now?” she asked, pleased to hear that her voice was calm.

  His smile, usually so charming, was wry.

  “No. The gods choose when they appear, not I. They don’t often speak to us, and rarely instruct us. We appreciate the freedom to govern ourselves and they trust us to do it well.”

  “If they never appear, then some of your people must come to the conclusion they do not exist.”

  He chuckled. “I didn’t say they never appear. You do not believe they are real, do you?”

  “I know at least one is,” she told him, “as I saw him during the war.”

  He blinked in surprise. “You saw one of our gods?”

  “Sheyr, I believe.”

  “He only appeared the once.” He narrowed his eyes. “You were there?”

  “Yes. When your people emerged from the mines. That is how we knew to return from the pass and meet you.”

  He shook his head. “What were you doing there?”

  Moping over Leiard, she thought wryly. Can’t tell him that… “Exploring,” she told him. “I was about to leave, but Chaia stopped me.” She smiled. “Sometimes it is better when a god is willing to visit and instruct his followers.”

  His eyebrows rose, giving him a thoughtful expression.

  “Do you believe my gods are real?” she asked.

  His shoulders lifted. “I have not seen them, but I believe it is likely.”

  “Are your gods survivors of the War of the Gods?”

  “I don’t know,” he replied frankly. “They have never said they aren’t.”

  She shook her head. “Either your gods are new, or my gods were not aware your gods had evaded them.”

  He pursed his lips and considered her. “Are you ever disturbed by the knowledge that your gods claim to have murdered so many other gods, and are proud of it?”

  She frowned. “No. The old gods were cruel and used mortals badly.”

  “And your gods did not?”

  Abruptly, Auraya thought of Emerahl’s story of Chaia’s seduction of women, and of the tales of deformities during the years of transformation by Huan that the Siyee told to each new generation.

  “You hesitate,” he pointed out quietly.

  I believe I’ve just given him one of those moments of weakness I was planning, she mused. Except it wasn’t planned and I wasn’t pretending.

  “They may not be without fault,” she conceded. “But beings as old as they, are likely to have made bad decisions from time to time. From what I have been taught, the dead gods were guilty of far worse. What matters more than past errors is that the Circle has brought peace, order and prosperity to Northern Ithania since they united. In the last hundred years seven countries have become allies, and no wars had been fought—until your people invaded.”

  His expression was unreadable now. Stepping out of the star shape, he walked over to face her, then gestured to the opening. “Shall we move on? I would like to show you the Lower Sanctuary, where we meet and deal with the public. If you are committed to peace, order and prosperity I think you will find it interesting.”

  She smiled and graciously let him usher her from the room.

  The sky was streaked with clouds of bright orange deepening into pink, but a wall of darkness hid the source of the fading light. The escarpment looming over the dry land shortened the days by blocking out the sun in the afternoon.

  I wouldn’t like to live here, Emerahl thought. There’s something ominous about that cliff. I feel like it is going to tumble onto us at any moment.

  The speed at which the Thinkers had managed to bring together a caravan of platten to take them all to Sorlina was impressive. Two days after her reading of the bones, Emerahl paid her board and transferred her belongings to one of several covered platten heading out of the city. Barmonia told her that he was leading the expedition, as he had travelled to the ruined city so many times that he had lost count. She might have taken the jovial way he spoke to her now as an indication that he was warming to her, if she hadn’t been able to sense his disdain whenever she was around.

  Let him play at being friendly, she thought. The journey will be less pleasant otherwise. I can’t exactly tell him I know he and his colleagues are planning to dump me on a ship once they’ve found the Scroll.

  A faint vibration ran through the ground, strong enough to set the tent ropes swinging. Emerahl looked up at the men sitting around the camp. Most had paused and wore alert, wary expressions, but these quickly disappeared as the vibration faded away.

  “Tremor,” Yathyir murmured to himself before helping himself to another bowl of the overly spicy grain dish the servants had cooked up for them.

  Ray looked up at Emerahl and smiled. “Happens all the time,” he told her. “The great Thinker Marmel believed that the escarpment is a sheet of the world sliding over another sheet—the one we’re sitting on. Sometimes the earth shakes so hard you can’t stand up. Sometimes it brings down houses.”

  Emerahl looked up at the escarpment and frowned.

  “I’m surprised that Hannaya still stands.”

  “Oh, bits of it collapse from time to time, but it is strong enough to withstand most tremors. Carved out of solid rock by sorcerers, they say.”

  “How far does the escarpment go?”

  “All the way to the southwest coast. In some places it is higher, some lower. We’re going to one of the few gaps, where it has split.” He held his hands out, palms down, and mimicked the sliding top sheet of land breaking apart and the two sides moving away from each other. “The land between is a long, steep slope. It was one of the few inland crossings from Avven to Mur for thousands of years, so the people who controlled and tolled the transfer of goods from one land to another became wealthy. Then the War of the Gods happened and within a year power shifted from followers of dead gods to followers of the Five.”

  “A year? How do you know that?”

  “If you look at stories from the time you can piece together a certain order. Of course, some claimed their gods were alive when they weren’t. Others claimed gods of their enemies were dead when they were still alive. But most were killed over a short space of time.”

  Emerahl shook her head in wonder. She had never known how or when the deaths had occurred. The consequences had come slowly. “It must have taken mortals some time to grasp what had happened.”

  “Some never did. It is hard to prove the death of invisible beings. There are no corpses. No witnesses. Just silence.”

  “Yet their loss affected the world dramatically.”

  “Yes. Priests lost their powers. Gods no longer advised or controlled their followers. Some people took advantage of their enemy’s weakness and uncertainty. But not for long. The Five united to bring order to chaos.”

  “So the Pentadrian gods existed before the war?”

  “I believe so. Sheyr was the God of Prosperity, Hrun the Goddess of Love, Alor the God of Warriors, Ranah the Goddess of Fire and Sraal the God of Wealth. They are still worshipped as such in some places.”

  Emerahl considered the list of names and titles. The Circlian gods had once claimed their own titles. Chaia had been the God of Kings and Huan the Goddess of Fertility.

  Fertility and Love. Not such a bi
g difference. Both sides have their war god, too. I guess they are matters people are most likely to pray about. Give me a lover, protect my lover, give me children, make me wealthy, don’t let me die…

  As for the rest of the gods, the Pentadrians appeared to have the advantage, Emerahl mused. A God of Wealth had to be more useful than Saru, the former God of Gambling—or even a God of Kings. But the southern continent could do with a Goddess of Women, if the dislike for her gender was as strong in the general population as it was with these Thinkers.

  Barmonia stood up and yawned loudly.

  “We start early tomorrow,” he warned. “So don’t stay up too late.”

  As he stalked off toward the tents the other men got to their feet like obedient but reluctant children. Emerahl found Ray smiling at her.

  “Would you let me have the honor of escorting you to your tent?” he asked.

  She laughed quietly. “It is I who would be honored,” she replied with equal mock formality.

  Kereon glanced back at them and rolled his eyes, but said nothing. Yathyir stared, his suspicions about Ray’s motives painfully clear from the avid gleam in his eyes and the adolescent jealousy she sensed.

  From Raynora she discerned expectation. She wasn’t surprised. Men were opportunistic and often assumed women living anything other than the life of a dutiful wife must be doing so in order to have their pick of lovers.

  Not that Emerahl wasn’t.

  The tent was not far away, but getting to it required stepping over several ropes. Ray hovered close, ready to help if she tripped, and she sensed disappointment from him when she arrived without mishap. She turned to face him.

  “You’re very beautiful,” he said softly.

  She nearly laughed out loud. He was gazing at her as if in awe, but she could sense he was mainly feeling desire.

  Still, he was charming and good-looking. There might be advantages in taking him to bed. He was also the first man who had shown an interest since Mirar…

  …and that hadn’t come to anything.

  She felt a pang of guilt at that thought. It was unfair. Leiard had been controlling him.