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

by Trudi Canavan

  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.

  A movement attracted his gaze and for a moment he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. A woman stood before the throne. Chained.

  Auraya!

  :Yes. She has been betrayed.

  Teel groaned.

  :I’m never going to get out of here, am I?

  :It is unlikely. I cannot free you. There is nobody here who will obey my orders.

  Why doesn’t Auraya use magic to break the chains?

  :She is in a place of no magic.

  Auraya’s gaze was focused on some distant place. She looked dazed. Teel felt an unexpected sympathy for her. She was so used to being powerful and invulnerable. This must be hard to accept. And humiliating.

  :I cannot reach her, Chaia repeated. So you must. Will you speak to her for me?

  :Of course.

  :Tell her this….

  Teel listened carefully, then drew a breath and called out to her. It came out weaker than he’d intended, but her gaze sharpened and her eyes snapped to his.

  “Teel!” She frowned in concern. “How are you feeling? The Servants gave you something. I hoped it was an antidote to the poison.”

  Suddenly he knew who he had heard speak of poison.

  “Oh. I thought they were…” he paused, suddenly breathless “…giving me more poison.” Talking was hard. It seemed to drain more energy from him.

  She smiled faintly. “No, but it was a logical conclusion to make. I would have.”

  He would have shrugged if he could bother moving. “Doesn’t matter. Chaia…gave me…a message for you.”

  “Chaia?” Her eyes widened and he saw hope in them.

  “Yes. He said…he will try to keep…talking to you…through me.” It was such an effort to talk. “If the enemy…takes me away…he’ll find…someone else. You’ll know…him from…a word…‘shadow.’”

  He stopped, his head spinning. Closing his eyes, he felt himself drifting away.

  “Teel!”

  Dragging his eyes open, he smiled at her.

  “Stay awake, Teel,” she said. “Talk to me.”

  He opened his mouth to speak, but it was too much effort. There was a rushing sound in his ears. The room brightened and grew hazy at the same time. It was a cold light. He could not feel his hands. Or his feet. Breathing was such an effort.

  Too much. He gave it up and the light rushed in to burn his thoughts away.

  Reivan sighed as she climbed into bed. The summer heat was relentless. She found it hard to remember what the other seasons were like, but easy to imagine this one had no end.

  It had been more than a month since Nekaun had visited her. Lately she had begun telling herself that he wouldn’t again. He’d seen all he’d wanted to see of her. His curiosity had been satisfied. He had moved on to more interesting challenges.

  Like Auraya.

  But Nekaun was no longer trying to charm Auraya. Imenja had told Reivan, with obvious satisfaction, that Nekaun had imprisoned Auraya.

  How that was possible was still not clear to Reivan. Or why Nekaun hadn’t killed Auraya. When she had asked, Imenja had simply talked about something else.

  The news had brought smiles to many Servants’ faces, and the relief of all was heard in the voices of those gossiping in the Baths and corridors. Reivan had been surprised at her own pleasure at the news. I should be worried about the advantage we are losing by not gaining Auraya’s alliance, but all I can think of is that Nekaun won’t be spending all his time with her now!

  A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts. She sighed. The news must have spread beyond the Sanctuary by now. Many of the people she dealt with on Imenja’s behalf would want confirmation.

  Reaching the door, she opened it and froze in disbelief.

  “Good evening, Reivan.”

  I’m dreaming, she thought. I probably dreamed I got out of bed and in a moment I’ll wake up.

  But she didn’t. Nekaun really was standing there. She didn’t know what to do. Or say.

  Nekaun smiled. “Aren’t you going to let me in?”

  Speechless, she stepped back. As he walked past her she caught his scent and felt a deep longing. Nekaun turned to regard her. “It is too long since we talked, Reivan.”

  She nodded and closed the door. Moving to the table she poured water into two glasses and handed one to him.

  Just as she used to.

  He drank, set aside the empty glass, then moved closer and took hers from her hand.

  Just as he used to.

  “You’ve heard the news?” he asked. “Auraya is trapped, helpless, beneath the Sanctuary.”

  Auraya. She frowned as the word woke her from her daze. “Yes.”

  He sighed. “I don’t know why the gods put me through all that. Were they testing me or her? I don’t know. Right now I don’t care.”

  “So you weren’t enjoying her company, then?” she found herself asking.

  He grimaced. “Tedious beyond description.” His eyes narrowed. “Were you jealous of her?”

  She looked away, knowing it was pointless denying it.

  He laughed softly and drew her into his arms. “Oh, Reivan. How silly of you. Who could be attracted to such a sour, suspicious woman? I’d rather woo an arem.”

  His smell, his warmth, overwhelmed her. He’s back! she thought.

  How long for? a dark voice asked.

  Be quiet, she told it.

  “I’ve missed you,” he said.

  Her heart flipped over. “I’ve missed you, too.”

  He drew closer. She knew what came next and felt her heart racing as he leaned down to kiss her.

  Then he froze, his eyes widening in surprise. A fierce, intense look came into his eyes. Reivan pulled out of his rigid arms, a little frightened by his expression. His eyebrows lowered into a scowl, then he let out a sharp breath and his eyes met hers. They blazed with anger.

  “I’m sorry, Reivan. I will not be able to stay.” His jaw clenched. “The gods have just ordered me to ready our army. The Circlians are planning to invade us.”

  She stared at him, shock almost overcoming her disappointment as he touched her gently on the cheek, then marched from the room.

  Second Voice Imenja had kept Mirar occupied all day, taking him to see artisans on the outskirts of the city. They had eaten fish caught fresh from the river and talked about healing and magic. All day he had been aware that only one more Siyee remained to be freed. He expected Imenja to offer up Auraya’s death at any moment, but she had said nothing.

  Returning late to the Sanctuary, he had sensed a buzz of excitement and satisfaction in the air. As soon as he had reached his rooms he lay down and entered a dream trance, intending to skim the minds around him and find out what had stirred the Servants up. But before he could send his mind out, another called to him.

  :Mirar!

  :Surim? Tamun?

  :Yes, Surim said. I have news. Bad news.

  :Oh?

  :The Voices have imprisoned Auraya under the Sanctuary, Tamun said.

  Mirar jolted awake. He stared at the ceiling, then closed his eyes and forced his heartbeat and breathing to slow. It took a maddeningly long time to settle into a dream trance again.

  :Surim?

  :Mirar. You woke up?

  :Yes.

  :Sorry. I should have broken the news more gently, Tamun said.

  :Don’t apologize. Just tell me how and why.

  :It appears there is a void under the Sanctuary. It must have been a secret, known only to the Voices.

  :A void. She will be completely vulnerable.

  :As vulnerable as any mortal.

  :Why didn’t she sense it? Surely she wouldn’t have entered it if she had.

  :I don’t know. A distraction, probably.

  :Why did they imprison her? Why not kill her? Mirar paused. They ha
ven’t realized that she and I were once lovers, have they?

  :Not as far as any mortals there know, Surim assured him.

  :You will know if they try to use her against you, Tamun pointed out.

  :More likely they’ll take you down there and offer to let you kill her in exchange for something, Surim warned.

  :And what will they do when I refuse?

  :I wouldn’t, if I were you. I’d pretend to think about it.

  :You can’t be sure you are the only reason they’ve done this, too, Tamun said. The Circlians have summoned their armies. They’re coming to invade Southern Ithania. Keeping Auraya out of the way is a wise decision.

  :Wiser to kill her, Mirar disagreed grimly. If the Pentadrians know war is coming, they’ll try to recruit me and my Dreamweavers again.

  :What will you do?

  Mirar did not answer. Would the Pentadrians make him choose between breaking the laws of his people and sacrificing Auraya?

  They’ll try, he thought.

  :I’ll rescue Auraya, he told The Twins.

  :That would be extremely foolish, Tamun said. You would earn the enmity of the Pentadrians. All Dreamweavers will suffer.

  :Only if they know I did it.

  Pulling out of the dream-link, Mirar stared at the ceiling. Then he sent his mind out to skim those around him.

  Sure enough, the news of Auraya’s imprisonment had spread through the Sanctuary. He searched and found the minds of two Servant-warriors guarding an underground hall. Through their eyes he saw a lonely figure, arms chained to an oversized chair. His heart shrank, as if as appalled by the scene as his mind was.

  In a void she had no access to magic. She was more vulnerable than the least Gifted beggar woman. Worse, even, for she wasn’t used to physical hardship or humiliation.

  He drew back, sank into the dream trance and sought her mind.

  :Auraya?

  She didn’t reply. After several attempts he returned to the minds of the guards. The chained figure moved and he realized she was awake.

  I couldn’t sleep if I were in her position, he thought. Frustrated, all he could do was watch her through another’s eyes. I will free her, he told himself. I will find a way. And when I do, the Voices won’t even know I had anything to do with it.

  Clever plans were easier hatched with two minds than one. Drawing away from the sight of Auraya and into the dream trance again, he sought the mind of an old friend.

  PART THREE

  37

  Despite a week spent resting at the edge of the Si forest with plenty of food and water provided by the local tribe, Tyziss still had to fight a deep, unshakable weariness in order to fly. He craved rest, but his longing to reach the Open and his family was more powerful. Though news that he had escaped the Pentadrians must have reached them, he knew they would not stop worrying about him until he was home.

  Sreil flew a short distance ahead. Their leader hadn’t rested more than one night in one place since being freed from the Sanctuary. He had refused to rest any longer, determined that he wouldn’t be the one to delay the return of the warriors to the Open.

  He must be exhausted, Tyziss thought. Only half of the freed Siyee had made it back to the Si border. The water and food the Pentadrians had provided them with had not been enough for the journey, but then the Siyee couldn’t have carried more anyway.

  Tyziss had decided to return home by a different route, following the coast of Sennon. He dropped into villages to ask for water and food, figuring that there was no longer any reason to fear that Sennonion Pentadrians would report the presence of Siyee in their land.

  Only the warriors who had come to the same conclusion had survived the journey. It was a longer route, however. It had taken Tyziss four weeks to reach Si. Sreil had arrived a week later.

  When the first Siyee made it to the edge of Si the local tribe had flown out into the desert with water for following escapees, but most of the Siyee who had died had probably perished of thirst within a few days of reaching Sennon. Some would have fainted and fallen from the sky, others were perhaps too weak to become airborne again after landing for the night, or might have lost their sense of direction. A few days before Tyziss had reached Si he had followed a trail of faint footprints in the desperate hope they’d been made by a landwalker who might help him. Instead he’d found a Siyee lying in the sand. He’d landed only to find the man was dead. It had taken so much energy to run himself into the air again he had nearly blacked out. Only a short distance later he’d seen a well in the distance.

  Poor Tilyl. He didn’t know how close he was.

  He pushed that thought aside and tried to think of home, but his mind moved to darker places. Thirst had not been the only killer of Siyee. When Sreil had ordered them to leave for the Open the day after he arrived, someone had asked about the priest.

  “Teel is dead, and Auraya has been imprisoned,” Sreil told them heavily. “She spoke to me in a dream and told me of it.”

  At least she managed to free all but one of us, Tyziss told himself. He could not imagine how the Pentadrians could keep her constrained. She was a powerful sorceress. But so were the Pentadrian leaders. And there were five of them.

  The Siyee crested a ridge and a great scar of stone on a mountain slope appeared ahead. The Open. Tyziss felt a rush of emotion so powerful it left him weak and dizzy. His arm muscles began to tremble. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to remain rigid and in control.

  I’m not going to fail now, so close to home.

  It seemed to take forever for them to reach that distant stretch of exposed rock. Siyee flew up to meet them, whistling greetings. Tyziss started to shake again as he saw his wife. He saw tears in her eyes. His own were quickly dried by the wind.

  At last they were circling down to land. When Tyziss’s feet met the ground he sighed with relief. Yissi embraced him tightly. He was home at last.

  “The girls?” he asked.

  Yissi smiled. “Well enough. I’ve left them with my sister.” A crease appeared between her brows. “Oh, Ty. Will you be leaving straightaway? You’re so thin. You look worn out.”

  “Leaving?” he asked.

  He heard Sreil’s voice growing louder.

  “When did they go?” the young man demanded.

  “At the last black moon,” an old man, who Tyziss recognized as Speaker Ryliss, replied.

  Sreil glanced at the returned Siyee. “We must join them.”

  “No,” Ryliss said firmly. “You and your warriors are exhausted. You haven’t the strength to catch up with them.”

  “A night’s rest will do,” Sreil replied.

  “No, Sreil. I forbid it. Too many have gone, leaving us vulnerable. We need some fighters to remain in case we are attacked.” The Speaker glanced at them and shook his head sadly. “Though we were hoping more of you would return than this.”

  “There are too few of us to turn back an invading army,” Sreil said. “But we can help the Circlians fight the Pentadrians. There is no point in us staying—”

  “Are you so keen to drag these men across the desert again?” the old man asked.

  Sreil stared at him, then shook his head.

  “They aren’t fighting in green Hania, Sreil,” Ryliss explained. “They are taking this battle to the Pentadrians. Crossing Sennon to the southern continent. You would not reach them in time. More likely you would never reach them at all. Stay here, where you are needed.”

  Sreil’s shoulders dropped. He nodded and the Siyee around him sighed in relief. Tyziss turned to Yissi.

  “The Circlians are invading Southern Ithania?”

  She nodded.

  He straightened and shook his head. “Another war so soon after the last?” He frowned as a suspicion dawned on him. “Where are my parents?”

  “Gone,” she said, sighing. “They weren’t the only ones too old or too young to be going to war, and yet our army was half the size of the last.” Her hand slipped around his waist. “If I hadn’
t been so sure you were coming back I would have joined them myself.”

  He looked at her closely and felt a pang of affection at her serious expression.

  “You? A warrior?” he asked in mock disbelief.

  She poked him in the ribs. “A fine husband you are. I tell you I never lost hope and would have sought revenge for your death, and all you can do is laugh at me?”

  He nodded. “Yes. Let me laugh. I haven’t had much reason to lately. Now, where are those girls of ours?”

  She smiled and led him away.

  The light of Emerahl’s magic-fed spark revealed an empty room. She ducked through the small doorway and moved inside, relieved to see that nothing had been disturbed. Her accommodation was a dome made of woven reeds secured to the sandy riverbank. Everything here by the river was made of reeds, from boats to furniture to houses, including these little domes for hire.

  The walls gave an illusion of privacy, but there were plenty of gaps in the weave through which someone could look. So far she hadn’t caught anyone spying on her. The locals considered such an act a crime, but that would be no deterrent if anyone suspected she carried a fortune in treasure.

  She opened the reed basket that held the freshly steamed fish and reed shoots she had bought. As she ate she eyed the patch of matting under which she had buried the bag of treasure.

  It was proving to be more of a nuisance than a benefit. In the last two weeks she hadn’t encountered a town large or wealthy enough to sell any of it in. Even the smallest piece was obviously worth a lot. Anyone she tried to sell it to would assume she had stolen it. Even if they didn’t care about that, they might guess she had more and try to rob her. While she was confident she could stop them, she did not want to draw attention to herself.

  According to The Twins, Raynora had been caught sneaking into Barmonia’s tent a few days after Emerahl relieved him of the treasure. He had convinced Barmonia that Emerahl had tricked and robbed him. Barmonia had sent out a warning to Thinkers in Glymma, telling them to look out for a woman of Emerahl’s description, who carried stolen artifacts.

  That made selling the jewellery dangerous in Glymma. The Twins were searching for someone she might be able to sell it to in the city. She could take some of the uglier pieces of jewellery apart and sell gems and chains of gold separately, but she didn’t like the idea of pawning any of it to some lowlife who didn’t know its true value. They were more than just pieces of gold and gems; they were from another age, when there had been more gods than countries in Ithania.