Vervel shrugged. “He retired to his tent.”
“The trip wore him out?” Shar asked, smiling. “Or was it Genza? He spent a long time with her.”
Genza regarded the Fifth Voice with one eyebrow raised in disdain. “On a litter. In full view of the army.”
“Lucky for him.”
“Can an immortal get tired?” Vervel asked thoughtfully. Nobody answered.
“Maybe he’s snuck back to the Sanctuary,” Genza said. She turned to face Nekaun as he left the king and moved over to join them. “Is Auraya securely locked up?”
The First Voice smiled nastily. “She is. Don’t worry. Mirar is being watched. And her guards have orders to kill her if anyone tries to interfere.” Imenja looked at him sharply. He returned her gaze, his smile widening. “I’m tempted to tell them to anyway, then bring her body back here to present to the White. That might make them pause.”
The other Voices exchanged glances, but said nothing.
“But you won’t,” Imenja said quietly. “Because she is the reason he is helping us.”
Nekaun shrugged. “Mirar won’t risk spoiling the pleasant relationship our people have with his.”
“And neither should we.”
The First Voice made a disparaging noise. “We don’t need the Dreamweavers.”
The room was quiet. All were listening and watching the two Voices intently. Reivan realized her heart was pounding. Imenja had never challenged him publicly before.
Imenja pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Perhaps we should consult our people before we make such a broad-reaching decision for them. I wouldn’t want us to cause an unnecessary division among them, or deny them access to the Dreamweavers’ superior healing skills. Perhaps we could put it to a vote.”
She looked at the other Voices. They nodded and turned to regard Nekaun expectantly.
His eyebrows lowered and Reivan thought for a moment he would scowl. But he suddenly smiled and spread his hands. “Of course we shall. After the war. For now, let’s concentrate on the matter at hand. Come and meet the Elai king, Ais.”
As the Voices followed him, Reivan remained where she was. She watched Nekaun. Something nagged at her.
Then she saw it. After the war there would be no point in consulting the people about Dreamweavers. Nekaun would already have killed Auraya, or Mirar would have attempted to rescue her and forced Nekaun to carry out his threat.
The Second Voice looked across the room, met her eyes and nodded. It was clear her mistress had read Reivan’s mind, or come to the same conclusion independently. Nekaun knew about Imenja’s promise to Mirar that Auraya would be given to him after the war. Was Nekaun teasing the other Voices with his talk of killing Auraya? Or would Nekaun kill Auraya in defiance of his fellow Voices’ one attempt to interfere in his rule?
Reivan shivered. These days she couldn’t say which was more likely.
Endless days of riding in a platten hadn’t done anything to improve Danjin’s fitness. Sweat ran down his face and soaked his tunic. The rings on his fingers dug into his hands as he gripped the oars. His shoulders ached and he longed to just lie down and pass out.
“Take your time,” Ella had said, patting him on the shoulder. “Take all night if you need to. Just make sure you’re well away by dawn.”
Then she had propelled him and the boat out as far as she could. He had estimated from the twinkle of lights on either side that she had driven him halfway across the Gulf. Once the boat had drifted to a halt he had taken up the oars and begun rowing.
Every hundred or so strokes he paused to catch his breath. Finally reaching the hundredth stroke again - he had lost track of how many hundreds long ago - he turned to look behind. To his relief he had managed to continue in the right direction. The lights of the Pentadrian camp were all to his left. Darkness spread to the right. Behind him he could just make out a thin, pale line: the beach.
And as he watched a tiny blue light appeared and died.
The signal at last! Turning away, he started rowing again, spurred by a dubious excitement. Part of him took some satisfaction that he had been chosen for a task more suited to a younger, more adventurous man.
“Why me?” he had asked Ella.
“You know Auraya well enough to resist if she contacts you through the ring and tries to lure you away. You’re also smart enough to avoid heroics.”
“Like trying to rescue her?”
She had smiled. “Yes. Even with your mind hidden, you’d never get into the Sanctuary or overcome her guards.”
Of course he had considered the possibility. Given the chance to free Auraya, he would have. Not just out of concern and loyalty to her, but for the sake of the Circlians. They needed her strength to tip the balance back in their favor.
But the White hadn’t sent Danjin to free Auraya. They had sent him to meet the other cause of the imbalance of power.
The underneath of the boat scraped against sand. Danjin pulled in the oars and braced himself to stand, then nearly fell into the bottom of the boat as something began to pull it toward the shore. He grabbed the sides and twisted around, expecting to see someone hauling on the prow.
But there was nothing. He was heading toward a man-shaped shadow. The boat stopped a few strides away. Standing up, Danjin stepped over the side. Water chilled his feet and ankles. He looked down and frowned, but not at the soaking of his trousers and boots.
I had better leave on good terms. I’m not sure I could drag this boat back out into deeper water.
He looked up at the figure, took a deep breath and splashed toward it. That he had been betrayed and this was a Servant was the worst possibility, but not the only source of trepidation. Even if this was the right man, and although Danjin had worked with him before, there was much to fear and resent about him.
Stopping a few paces away, Danjin stared at the shadowed face.
“Welcome to Southern Ithania, Danjin Spear,” Mirar said dryly.
A chill ran over Danjin’s skin. The voice was all too familiar, but the tone was something he had never heard before. Leiard had always been dignified and reticent. When he had said anything, it was in a quiet, almost apologetic way.
Though spoken quietly, these words boomed with confidence. But not arrogance, he realized. There was great age and experience in them. This was the voice of Mirar the immortal.
Or maybe I’m hearing what I expect to hear, he thought wryly.
“Thank you, Mirar,” Danjin replied. “Though I have to wonder if you have permission to welcome me on the Pentadrians’ behalf.”
“What they don’t know won’t bother them,” Mirar replied.
Was there a hint of contempt there? Danjin wondered.
“But the sooner I return the less chance my absence will be noticed and wondered about,” Mirar added after a pause. “What have you come to tell me?”
Danjin straightened. “The White have sent me to make you an offer. I am linked to them so if you have any question or request—”
“They want me out of the battle,” Mirar interrupted. “I can’t agree to that.”
Danjin swallowed. “Not even in exchange for the freedom of your people?”
Mirar was silent for a moment. “So are they making an offer or threatening me?”
“Not a threat,” Danjin said hastily. “They will promise to allow your people to practice all their Gifts, including mind links, if you desist from helping the Pentadrians.”
“And in return for abandoning the Pentadrians my people here will suffer. Which side is more likely to win this war if I take the White’s offer, Danjin Spear?”
“It would be impossible to guess.”
“And which side if I remain with the Pentadrians?”
Danjin sighed. “Yours.”
:Ask him if Auraya would forgive him for the deaths of her friends and people. Ella’s voice was a whisper in Danjin’s mind. He resisted the urge to touch her ring.
“How will Auraya regard you if you help br
ing about the deaths of her friends, family and her people?” he asked, keeping his voice gentle.
“Oh, she’ll be in raptures of delight,” Mirar replied, his voice heavy with sarcasm. “But at least there’s a small chance that she won’t be dead. If the White win, she will die.”
“Is that why you’re doing this?” Danjin found himself whispering. Why am I whispering? Do I think the White won’t hear me?
Mirar didn’t reply. His silence might suggest he was unwilling to admit to something. That he still feels something for Auraya? Danjin considered Mirar’s responses. He hadn’t given away anything. Perhaps he doesn’t want to admit that his reasons are less than noble. That he’s doing this out of revenge.
“Is there anything the White can offer you?” Danjin asked.
He was surprised to hear Mirar sigh. “No. But be assured that I will not compromise my people’s stand on violence. It is a pity your people have not remained as consistent. Only a few years ago they were outraged at the Pentadrians’ willingness to invade another land. Now they seek to invade in turn. Tell the White that if my assistance disadvantages the Circlians, perhaps they should abandon their plans of invasion. It would be better for all.”
Danjin felt a flare of anger. How dare this heathen sorcerer think he could change the course of a war as if he were a god. But then an idea came to calm his indignation.
“So if the White agreed to abandon the invasion, would you also withdraw your assistance to the Pentadrians?”
Mirar paused. “I would consider it.” He turned abruptly to look behind him. “A patrol is coming. You should go.”
A stab of fear went through Danjin. “How far?”
“You have enough time to leave if you go now. I will push your boat out as far as I can.”
Danjin nodded in gratitude, then realized he was probably as hard to see in this darkness as Mirar.
“Thank you,” he said.
Turning away, he hurried to the boat and climbed aboard. Hearing splashes, he turned to see that Mirar had followed him.
“I will do what I can for Auraya,” Mirar said quietly. “But be warned. If she returns you will find she is not the same woman you knew. The gods have betrayed her and used her like a piece in a game of petty revenge between themselves. One does not live through that and remain free of bitterness.”
Danjin shivered. This time there was definitely the sound of great age and experience in the man’s voice. He gripped the sides of the boat as it jerked free of the sand and slid rapidly toward the water. Once it floated freely, it turned about. Danjin found himself facing the shore, just able to make out the figure standing there. Then the boat abruptly shot forward. It gathered speed, moving ever faster, until spray began to shoot up on either side. Danjin gripped the sides of the boat tighter, his heart racing. He began to worry that it would smash into something, but was too terrified to look around.
Relief washed over him when the boat finally began to slow. The lights from the Pentadrian shore were reassuringly distant. He turned and drew in a quick breath. The lights of Diamyane were unexpectedly close.
Mirar sent me much further than Ella did. He frowned. Does this mean he is stronger?
He sat there pondering this for a few minutes. Surely that wasn’t possible. Ella had replaced Auraya, so they must be about equal in strength. The gods wouldn’t have sent Auraya to kill Mirar if she was weaker than him.
A splash close to the boat brought his attention back to his surroundings. He peered over the edge, not expecting to see anything. Instead he found a pair of eyes staring back at him.
Paralyzed by surprise, he stared back. Then two dark hands shot out of the water toward his throat.
He jerked back and shoved them away at the same time, getting an impression of cold and slippery skin. The hands grabbed hold of the side of the boat. They were extraordinarily large and there was webbing between the fingers. He heard a slap and turned to see another hand appear over the other side of the boat, holding a strange weapon.
:Ella!
:I see them! Give me a moment to find you!
Heads appeared. Black, bald heads with strange filmy eyes. Terror rushed through Danjin. Grabbing an oar, he swung it at one. It ducked. He reversed the swing and jabbed the paddle of the oar at the other. It connected with a satisfying crack.
The man dropped into the water, then the first disappeared. Danjin wondered if he had caused a fatal injury. If he had wounded the man, his companion might have to take him away. If he hadn’t, or had killed the man, he’d have either one or two men coming back for revenge.
To his dismay, two heads appeared in the water nearby. One’s nose was bleeding profusely, dribbling into a mouth caught in a snarl of hate. The blood was a livid red against the man’s white teeth.
But a moment ago it was too dark for me to see this well...
The two men looked up and toward the shore, and their expressions changed to fear. They vanished underwater. Turning, Danjin saw a spark of light rushing toward him. He waved his arms, then tumbled into the bottom of the boat as it jerked into motion. Sighing with relief, he decided to stay there.
The journey to the shore was mercifully short. When he felt the boat slow he began to pull himself back onto the seat. Ella stood on the beach ahead, a white glowing figure of goodness. As the boat slid up onto the sand she strode forward, her dress and circ dipping into the water. He felt a sudden rush of affection for her.
“Are you all right, Danjin?”
He stepped out and looked himself over. “Fine. A bit bruised in places, but otherwise happy to be alive.” He glanced behind. “What were those creatures?”
“Elai,” she replied, frowning. “Several of our supply ships and a Dunwayan warship have been sunk tonight. That wasn’t a weapon you saw. It was a tool for drilling holes.”
Danjin nodded. Of course. Now that she had pointed it out, he recognized the tool as one used for ship repairs. In the hands of the creature it had taken on an exotic menace.
“We’ll have to work out a way to fight them, or we’ll never survive a protracted battle here,” Ella added.
“Well, I’m glad he didn’t get a chance to drill any holes in me,” he said.
She smiled. “And I am, too. I wish I hadn’t needed to send you over there, but the only other way we could have talked to Mirar was through Arleej, and there may have been something he’d agree to so long as his people didn’t know of it.”
“Did anything good come of it?” he asked.
She looked at him, then shrugged. “Maybe. We will have to discuss it. You should get some sleep in these last few hours before the army arrives.”
“I don’t think I will.”
“No, but you will try,” she said firmly. “I’ll need you alert and at your best tomorrow.”
Putting a hand on his shoulder, she steered him toward the town.
48
As Auraya grew aware of her aching body again she nearly groaned aloud.
At least when I’m asleep I’m oblivious. I don’t feel pain or frustration or boredom or worry or... What is that?
Something snuffled at her ear. She opened her eyes and turned her head. Round eyes and a pointed nose filled her vision. A narrow pink tongue licked her nose.
“Owaya,” Mischief said quietly.
“You’re back.” She nearly sobbed with relief.
“Msstf hunt. Msstf find.”
He moved something from his hand to his mouth and scurried up her arm.
Shifting position, she went rigid with the pain that shot down her arms. Breathing steadily, she waited for circulation to return.
The weight of the veez and the prodding of his feet didn’t help at all. As feeling returned his every movement sent shocks of agony along her arm.
“Ow! That hurts!”
He ignored her. Bending forward, she tried to see what he was doing.
And a wave of giddy, dizzy hope took her breath away.
Mischief was holding a
key in his mouth. He was trying to insert it into the lock of the cuff around her wrist. Auraya gaped at him, but as she saw that he was trying to put the wrong end in the keyhole her wits returned in a rush. She glanced at the Servant guards. They were both leaning against the wall beside the gate, their heads lowered. Reaching out with her mind she saw that they were sulking about being left behind.
The strongest Dedicated Servant in Glymma and I end up a prison guard, one thought. I must have done something wrong. What did I do wrong?
Turning back to Mischief, Auraya touched his mind and sent the idea of turning the key around. He paused, then flipped it over, using both paws and his mouth.
It seemed to take forever for him to insert it in the keyhole. Once there she sensed he was unsure what to do next. Then he remembered how he normally undid locks with magic. There was usually something inside that turned. He tried to twist the key, but his paws weren’t used to the action. Hearing a noise, Auraya glanced at the guards again. Her stomach lurched as she saw one was peeing at her.
“You’d better hurry,” she told Mischief. “Or they’ll be eating veez stew tonight.”
As the guard reached toward the gate she felt a surge of desperation. Mischief must have sensed it, as he suddenly ran down her arm and licked her face.
“No, no, no!” she muttered.
He scurried back to the lock, to her relief. He paused to sniff at it. She heard the gate open and the voice of the second guard raised in query. Turning away she watched Mischief anxiously as he stared at the key. In the corner of her eye she saw the guards step into the hall.
Mischief took the key in his mouth and twisted.
The lock snapped open and Mischief leapt up onto the throne. Gritting her teeth against the pain of moving a wrist long held in one position, she slid her hand out of the cuff and twisted it around to take hold of the key.
The sound of footsteps grew louder, then more rapid as she pulled out the key and forced her arm around so she could insert it in the cuff around her other wrist. She twisted it. The lock opened.
She glimpsed a flash of light from the guard and threw herself to one side. Magic scorched the base of the throne. She darted behind the enormous chair, panting with exertion, her heart racing.
Voice of the Gods aotft-3 Page 50