Voice of the Gods aotft-3

by Trudi Canavan

  :No. Once you are gone, I can claim I was bound by the Dreamweaver vow to never harm another - even my enemy.

  :A vow which makes you less valuable as an ally.

  :But hopefully reassures them that I am no threat to them. I’m sure the Voices and I can come to an understanding.

  :I’m glad we sorted this out. When will you arrive?

  :Tomorrow, or the next day. It depends on the wind.

  :The wind?

  :I’ll explain when I get there.

  :Just make sure you do it in an angry, accusing tone.

  She felt a wave of amusement.

  :I will explain in a dream-link, he told her. We should link each night, to make sure we both know what the other has said or done - and what the Voices have said or done. I wonder which of us will get the best offer to join them. We should keep score.

  :This isn’t a game, Mirar.

  :No, of course not. But we could have a little fun at their expense, so long as it doesn’t do any harm.

  The idea was tempting, but...

  :I’d rather not take the risk. Not with Siyee lives at stake.

  :No, you’re right. Well, I best get some sleep. It could be a long ride tomorrow.

  She bade him good night, then, as she sank toward sleep, could not help noticing how much better she felt. As if a burden had been eased. It was more than just relief that Mirar agreed with her on how they would act.

  I won’t be alone here any more, she thought sleepily. I’ll have a... an ally? No, perhaps just a friend.

  30

  Conversation around the balcony dwindled to silence as footsteps echoed in the corridor beyond. A Servant appeared in one of the archways and made the sign of the star.

  “First Voice Nekaun sends his apologies. He will not be able to attend the meeting,” the man said.

  The Voices and Companions exchanged glances.

  “Thank you, Servant Ranrin,” Imenja replied.

  The man inclined his head, then hurried away. Reivan felt a sinking disappointment. She hadn’t seen Nekaun in weeks. Not since Auraya had arrived. She guessed he was catching up on the normal business of a First Voice after finishing with his guest for the evening. He was too busy to visit her. She could accept that... though the longer it had been the stronger the pangs of jealousy she felt.

  But... tonight she had been looking forward to just seeing him. To hearing his voice. To the way he smiled at her as if she was his special secret...

  When the Servant’s footsteps had faded beyond hearing, the three Voices shifted in their seats so they faced each other. Vervel grimaced as if he had just tasted something unpleasant.

  “Shall we proceed?” he asked.

  Imenja looked at Shar. “I can’t see why we shouldn’t.”

  The blond Voice nodded. “Me neither. Where shall we begin?”

  “With our own lands, as always,” Imenja decided.

  Reivan listened as they discussed matters in Glymma, then moved on to a few domestic issues within Avven, Mur and then Dekkar.

  “There is merit in the new High Chieftain’s idea,” Imenja said. Vervel’s eyebrows rose.

  “Oh?”

  “In other cities it is possible for lowly citizens to work their way to higher standing in society. From beggar to domestic, for example. But the physical limitation placed on the poor living below Kave makes ascending to a better position near impossible.”

  “And how will the High Chieftain’s idea solve this?” Shar asked.

  “It creates a middle level which might act like a step on a ladder. A ladder leading to self-improvement.”

  “A fanciful idea,” Vervel said. “I doubt it is practical.”

  “But worth a try.” Imenja’s shoulders lifted. “In a small area at first, perhaps.”

  Vervel shrugged. “Perhaps.”

  The two Voices stared at each other, then Imenja smiled.

  “Contact Genza and ask what she thinks. She has seen Kave only recently.”

  Vervel gave a quiet snort and looked away. “Why waste her time?”

  Imenja frowned. “Because we should at least try to serve the gods,” she said firmly.

  An awkward but mercifully short silence followed. Reivan looked down at her glass of water. This was the closest the Voices had come to acknowledging the changes that Nekaun had brought. She knew what Vervel had wanted to ask. Why waste Genza’s time asking her opinion, when Nekaun might override all the other Voices when it came to the final decision?

  She drew in a deep breath, but resisted the urge to sigh. The way Nekaun treated the other Voices was unnecessary, surely. She could see that, but at the same time another part of her believed he must have a good reason, even if she could not see it at the time. The gods had chosen him. He was intelligent and clever.

  How was it possible for her to see his flaws, but not believe what she was seeing? Or not feel alarmed?

  “Genza says we should support the idea.” Vervel’s gaze was distant. Imenja nodded.

  “Now we should look beyond our lands,” Imenja said. “Has Sennon shown any inclination to reject the White and join us again?”

  Shar shook his head. “No. The emperor refuses to see our messengers and returns our gifts.”

  Imenja grimaced. “I don’t expect that to change.” The other Voices nodded in agreement. She sighed. “Our people in Jarime have been executed.”

  A shock went through Reivan. She did not know what had gone wrong with the mission the Servants had undertaken in Jarime, but she felt a pang of sympathy for those who had died.

  “Has the new White been seen in Dunway recently?” Imenja asked.

  “Not since she disappeared,” Vervel replied.

  “Have our people there been warned?”

  Vervel looked away. “No. He thought they would panic and draw attention to themselves.” Reivan guessed “he” was Nekaun.

  Imenja’s eyes narrowed for a moment. “I see. Well, I have received strange news from Genria and Toren. The two lands abruptly gathered together their armies, had them camp outside their main cities, then with no explanation dismissed them again.”

  “The two monarchs do not get along, and the nations were often at war in the past,” Shar pointed out.

  “But since the battle they have been the best of friends.” Imenja shook her head. “There were no reports of conflict between the two countries. In fact, both armies expected to join the other for some purpose, though none knew the reason.”

  “Perhaps they were competing to see whose army was most efficient,” Shar’s Companion, Bavalla, suggested.

  Imenja smiled and spread her hands. “Who knows? I find the Torens and Genrians the most inexplicable of northern peoples, sometimes.”

  Vervel cleared his throat. “I have some news of a less welcome kind. Our people have been ordered to leave Somrey.”

  Imenja frowned. “Why?”

  “A decision of the Council of Elders. It’s rumored that the Dreamweaver and Circlian Elder votes were in agreement for the first time in history.”

  “Of all northern lands but Sennon, Somrey has been the most accepting of different religions and cults,” Imenja said. “Our people studied their laws. There was none that could be used to remove us once we were accepted there.”

  “The council created a new law so that they could achieve their aim,” Vervel said.

  Imenja’s eyebrows rose. “Oh. Our people should examine this law, to see if there are any ways around it.”

  “I’ve already given them the task.”

  “Good. Now for Genza.” The three Voices stared into space for a moment, then smiled and looked at each other again. “All is well,” Imenja said for the benefit of the Companions. “Is there any other strange and unfortunate news from the north? Or perhaps good news?”

  The others shook their heads.

  “Very well. I would rather discuss the next two subjects with Nekaun present, but I would also prefer to tackle them now without him than not tackle
them at all. Firstly, the Priestess Auraya’s presence here. Secondly, the Dreamweaver Mirar’s coming visit. Nekaun’s intention with Auraya appears to be to recruit her,” Imenja continued. “We should do nothing to jeopardize that aim.”

  “Are you sure that is his aim?” Shar asked.

  Imenja looked at him. “Has he said or hinted otherwise?”

  Shar shook his head. “But we have to consider other possibilities. He might simply be delaying Auraya’s departure in order to keep her from assisting the White, or so that she will be here when Mirar arrives.”

  “Perhaps Genria and Toren dismissed their armies because Auraya staying here upset some greater plan,” Vervel suggested.

  “Such as invading Southern Ithania?” Imenja asked.

  “None of the other Northern Ithanian lands are preparing for war, as far as we know.”

  “As far as we know,” Shar echoed, smiling. “It is hard to tell, since they decided to start regular war training and recruitment, but haven’t yet managed to settle into a routine.”

  “If Nekaun wants to prevent her assisting the White, why doesn’t he simply kill her?” she asked.

  “He may not be sure an invasion is planned,” Vervel replied slowly. “If one isn’t, and he kills Auraya, that might be the insult that starts a war.”

  “But surely he won’t let her leave,” Shar said. “He’ll kill her when the last Siyee flies.” He turned to Imenja, eyebrows raised in question.

  Imenja said nothing. Reivan looked at the Second Voice and saw a distracted frown on her mistress’s face.

  “What is it?” she murmured.

  Imenja looked up at her, then at the other Voices and Companions.

  “I have a suspicion. I’ve kept it to myself because there was no point in airing it after Kuar’s death. It is hard to argue against what appeared to be obvious, and if I had, some might have thought I was trying to shift the blame to Kuar. That would have been petty.” She paused and her gaze slid away to some distant memory. “During the battle with the Circlians we were drawing magic to the limit of our Skills. It is tempting at that point to take risks, and I foolishly relied on Servants to protect my back. A Siyee struck me with one of their poisoned darts.”

  All nodded. Reivan remembered the moment vividly.

  “I had to use magic to drive the poison out,” Imenja continued. “It cost me some strength. And at that moment Auraya struck Kuar.”

  And killed him, Reivan thought. Her chest tightened at the memory. She had seen the body. All his bones had been shattered by the blow.

  Imenja shook her head. “My power was diminished by the smallest amount. Not enough to cause Kuar to falter.”

  “So... you suspect the White were stronger?” Vervel asked, frowning.

  “I believe so,” Imenja said. “But more importantly, it was Auraya who struck Kuar down. There was no lessening of strength in the others’ attack. She must have been the one with extra strength in reserve.”

  The others exchanged glances.

  “Does that mean she is more powerful than a First Voice?” Shar asked.

  “It’s possible.”

  “So maybe Nekaun can’t kill Auraya.”

  “Not without help.”

  “And he doesn’t realize this.”

  Imenja shrugged. “I have tried to tell him.”

  Vervel sighed and rolled his eyes.

  “So how does Mirar affect all this?”

  Imenja smiled crookedly. “It depends on how much Auraya wants him dead. I doubt she’d join us in exchange, but she might stay here longer if that meant he was killed.”

  “You don’t think Nekaun will try to recruit Mirar?” Shar asked.

  “I think Mirar knows his future in Southern Ithania depends on coming to an understanding with us, but I doubt he would make an effective ally in war, since Dreamweavers do not kill. He will not balance the advantage the Circlians have over us with Auraya on their side.”

  “Unless we kill Auraya,” Shar said.

  Imenja smiled grimly. “That is true.”

  “Should we keep Auraya and Mirar apart?” Vervel asked.

  Imenja considered. “Not unless Nekaun decides we must. I would like to observe them when they first meet.”

  Vervel chuckled. “I think we all would. It should be very interesting.”

  “Then we shall have to see what we can arrange.” Imenja straightened in her chair. “Are there any other questions? Matters to discuss?”

  As one of the Voices began talking about a feud between merchants in the city, Reivan let her mind drift away.

  I wonder if Auraya knows Nekaun has no intention of letting her leave? I wonder if she knows she is stronger than Nekaun, and is gambling on him trying to kill her without the other Voices’ help. Her heart started to race as a terrible possibility occurred to her.

  She’ll kill him! He won’t listen to Imenja, so he has no idea of the danger he’s in. I have to warn him!

  It was a long time before her heart stopped pounding and she could hear the discussion again. Then she only wanted the Voices to finish, even though she knew she could not rush to Nekaun and deliver her warning. Not while Auraya was with him, able to read Reivan’s mind.

  This is going to be a very long day.

  It had taken several hours for Emerahl to move the rubble and dirt to the sides of the crevice. She could have worked faster, but she did not want to risk that the vibration of shifting large amounts of rubble might dislodge the slab of wall wedged so precariously above her. Though the barrier she kept above herself at all times should be strong enough to protect her, she did not relish the thought of being buried alive.

  She was also wary of breaking anything she uncovered. Using magic, she first blew dirt and dust aside, then she lifted away the rubble and boulders she had uncovered until she had to stop and blow away more dirt.

  A channel now stretched from where the handholds met the rubble to the far wall. Temples tended to be symmetrical in design so if anything lay buried here it was probably in line with the handholds and the passage above it.

  The writing on the bones was never far from her thoughts. If only a mortal might take the Scroll, then something must prevent an immortal. Whatever that was, it must be powerful. And dangerous.

  Pausing to rest earlier, she had lifted her light higher to examine the slab of wall above her and discovered something else. She could see beyond it in one corner. What remained of the roof was covered in cracks. Unlike the cracks in the passage that ran in the same direction as the crevice, these cracks formed radiating patterns. At the center of one was a small crater.

  Emerahl was sure they were impacts from some magical attack. There were none on the walls, however. Whoever had made them had attacked the roof specifically, perhaps in order to cause the collapse which had filled the crevice’s floor.

  As she blew aside more dirt a smooth stone surface appeared. She shifted away more rubble and uncovered what might be a domed roof.

  “You’ve found it!” Yathyir exclaimed.

  “Looks like it,” Emerahl agreed.

  “I’ll tell the others.”

  She opened her mouth to tell him to wait, but decided against it. It wouldn’t hurt for the Thinkers to watch her finish uncovering this and know the care she had taken. Not that Barmonia would ever acknowledge it.

  As she continued lifting away rubble, more of the dome appeared. Soon footsteps echoed in the hall. She turned to watch as the five Thinkers climbed down the wall.

  Barmonia picked his way over to her, looked down at the dome and scowled.

  “Yathyir was probably a bit premature,” she said, shrugging.

  He looked at her, eyebrows arching, then turned on his heel.

  “Continue,” he ordered.

  She rolled her eyes. Turning back to the hole she had made, she resumed shifting dirt and rubble. The dome was large, so she concentrated on removing the debris on one side. An edge appeared. She cleared more and uncovered a wall. F
inally the top of an arch appeared. Remnants of a wooden door still hung from a hinge and rubble had tumbled into the structure.

  “Halt!” Barmonia barked.

  She stopped. He climbed down to the opening and thrust his torch inside. Interior walls were illuminated. He climbed back out again.

  “Continue.”

  Suppressing a sigh, she cleared the opening. When the entrance was uncovered, Barmonia barked at her to stop again. He moved past her and looked inside, then turned back.

  “We’ll do the rest by hand.”

  The other Thinkers followed him in. Ray paused beside her. He glanced up at the steep slope of rubble on either side.

  “Your hard work is appreciated, Emmea,” he murmured.

  She smiled. By you or your secret benefactor?

  He looked up. “It’s unnerving. This crevice and the cracks in the passage run the same direction as the escarpment. I can’t help thinking the city is slowly falling down into the lowlands.”

  Emerahl looked at him in surprise, realizing he was probably right. If he’s right, this is a silly place to hide a treasure. But to be fair, the priest of Sorli probably didn’t know this was going to happen.

  Ray moved inside the building. Following him, Emerahl paused in the entrance as she saw that the Thinkers were clearing rubble away from a large stone box with their bare hands. Barmonia was grinning broadly and she could sense intense anticipation and excitement. She took a step inside...

  ... then stopped. A familiar feeling had come over her. Her skin prickled, but it took a few seconds for her to recognize why.

  This room is a void!

  A void. Here of all places. Was this part of the reason no immortal might take the scroll? With no magic, she could not protect or heal herself. But neither could a mortal.

  Yathyir had paused to look at her. She forced herself to step over the fissure, all the while watchful for some trap that might spring from the walls, ceiling or floor. The thought of the slab of wall hanging above was suddenly much more discomforting.

  Emerahl looked down at the box. It was the shape of a coffin. Barmonia leaned over and blew the dust from the surface, revealing glyphs.