[Age of the Five 02] - Last of the Wilds
Page 39
He sighed. She had started to see the potential in the Gift within moments of learning it. It would not be long before she returned with questions.
Imenja’s ship was bigger than the raiders.’ It was a different shape, too. Reivan had explained to Imi that this ship had been built with a narrow hull so it would travel fast. Most ships were used to carry things to trade with, so they had wider hulls in which to store goods. This ship only had to carry them, a crew, and their supplies.
The entire ship was made of a black wood from a place in the southernmost part of the southern continent. The star shape that Imenja and Reivan wore had been painted in white on the hull. The sails were also black with a white star. Imi could imagine how formidable this large, narrow vessel would look to traders and raiders. She almost wished they would encounter the raiders that had captured her. Maybe Imenja would punish them with her magic.
Where there had been a large hole in the deck of the raider ship to allow access to stolen goods stored in the hull below, Imenja’s ship had a shallow depression which created a sort of low sitting area, covered by a kind of tent. There Imi, Imenja and Reivan slept or sheltered whenever it rained. The rest of the time they sat on deck and tried to keep out of the way of the crew. Imi had been inside the hull a few times. There was a bucket down there for bailing out water, but the ship was so well made it didn’t leak much. The time she’d spent in the raiders’ ship felt like a distant memory or a story she’d been told, though she occasionally had nightmares about it.
The hull was full of stores. It was half as full as it had been when they had set out a few months before. The food they ate was far better than what she’d been given as a prisoner, but not as good as what she’d enjoyed in the Sanctuary. Tonight the meat they had eaten had been too salty and there had been only dried fruit and nuts to go with it. She found herself daydreaming of dried sea grass rolled around fresh crawler meat and smiled at herself for craving what she had once considered boring food.
A crewman was clearing away the plates and utensils now. Imi looked up to see Imenja unrolling a large map. She had seen it before many times, but it always intrigued her. It was the way the world looked to a Siyee, yet it was useful to landwalkers.
The captain unrolled his own maps, which were covered in lines that made no sense to Imi, and weighed them down with various objects. Lamps within the tent swung back and forth to the swaying of the ship, throwing moving shadows over everything. The captain pointed to a place on his map, then to one on Imenja’s, and spoke.
Reivan glanced at Imi, then translated. “He says we’re about here, far enough from shore that we can no longer see it from the mast.”
“Could a boat be rowed to shore from here?” Imi asked the captain, with Reivan translating quietly.
“Yes, but it would take many hours. Worse if there are currents against us.”
“What is the risk of being seen?”
“Always high during the day.”
“And at night?” Reivan asked.
“The moon is near full,” he reminded them. “We won’t be able to see if there are any reefs closer to shore, either.”
“You don’t have to take me all the way in,” Imi told him as soon as Reivan had finished translating. “I can swim some of the way.”
They turned to regard her, each wearing a frown.
“Are you strong enough for that?” Reivan asked.
The captain said something in a warning voice.
“He says there might be sea predators. Spinerakes, which I think you call flarkes.”
Imi felt a rush of fear, but she straightened her back. “The only really dangerous sea creatures are flarkes and they like smaller prey. They’ll only attack people that are hurt, or if there’s no other food. If the Siyee see you they’ll try to kill you. That’s more of a risk for you than this is for me.”
As Reivan translated Imi’s words, the captain smiled crookedly. He looked at Imi with what she thought might be admiration.
“We have to hope there are Siyee on shore to find,” Reivan said.
“I only have to swim along it to find them. Getting back to you will be harder. How will I find you if the ship and the boat can’t be seen from shore?”
Imenja and Reivan exchanged a glance.
“We must agree on a time and place,” Reivan said. “We take Imi toward shore in the morning and pick her up at night.”
“How will I find you in the dark?” Imi asked, shivering as she considered what it would be like swimming in darkness. “I’d rather swim during the daylight.”
Imenja smiled. “Then we’ll take you at dawn and pick you up in the late afternoon instead,” she said. “If you don’t find Siyee that day, we’ll sail farther west the day after and try again.”
Imi nodded. “That will work.”
Reivan translated this for the captain, who nodded. He turned to a crewman waiting nearby and spoke. The man disappeared, then returned carrying a flask and some small, thick glasses. Imi struggled to stop herself grimacing. The drink served at the end of formal meals was too strong and sour for her, but she always made herself sip it for fear of causing offense. It did make her pleasantly sleepy, however, which was better than tossing and turning in the “tank” bed they had made for her in the hull. The tank kept her wet, but it wasn’t easy to relax in water that constantly moved with the ship.
Tonight she probably would lie awake, despite the drink, thinking of the adventure ahead. Would there be any Siyee on shore? Would they help her?
And what will we do if they don’t know where Borra is?
As Juran opened the door to his rooms, Dyara felt instantly on edge. Though he looked calm, there were lines on his face that only appeared when he was in great distress. He stepped aside and gestured for her to enter, saying nothing. Rian and Mairae were already there. Both looked bemused.
Sitting down, she waited as Juran paced the room slowly, clearly gathering his thoughts. She knew him better than the other White, but that was to be expected. They had worked together for seventy-six years. Every sign of his agitation worried her more, and it took all her self-control not to demand he hurry up and tell them what was bothering him.
“For the last few months Huan and I have been watching a…a certain individual,” he began. “We have been waiting for a sign that our suspicions about him are right, or not. Tonight we found that they were.”
“Who is this person?” Dyara asked.
Juran stopped pacing and looked at her. He took a deep breath and his expression hardened. “The man we have been watching is Mirar.”
Dyara stared at Juran in disbelief. The room was silent for several heartbeats.
“He’s dead,” Rian stated.
Juran shook his head slowly. “He isn’t. I do not know how it can be true, but it is.”
“You’re certain of this?” Dyara asked.
“We are now.”
“But you found his body.”
“We found a body that had been crushed. It was the right height, the hair coloring was correct, but nobody could have recognized his face. He wasn’t seen leaving the collapsed house, and plenty were watching.”
“But there was no way to prove the body belonged to Mirar,” Dyara finished.
“No.”
Mairae leaned forward in her seat. “How did you discover Mirar was alive?”
Juran sighed and moved to a chair. “I should explain how this all came about. Auraya discovered Mirar in Si a few months ago, though she didn’t know it was him of course. He was treating the Siyee and—”
“Does she know who he is?” Dyara interrupted, alarmed. “Is she safe?”
Juran smiled. “She does not know, but she is safe enough. Chaia is watching over her.”
“She thinks Mirar is an ordinary Dreamweaver,” Rian guessed.
“Yes.”
Dyara nodded to herself. Of course. Then a possibility occurred to her and she looked up at Juran, but his attention was on Rian.
“Wait,” Dyara interrupted. “Both Auraya and Huan can’t read his mind?”
Juran grimaced. “No. It is shielded.”
“No wonder you were suspicious of him,” Mairae said.
“Yet you encouraged her to learn from him?” Dyara added.
Juran met her eyes and nodded. “We had to know if my suspicions were correct. Today Mirar agreed to teach her. Huan and I linked with Auraya through the lesson…though she was not aware of it.”
Mairae drew in a quick breath. “Why didn’t you tell her what you were doing?”
“To learn the healing Gift she needed to link with Mirar. If she had suspected who he was, or knew that Huan and I were watching, Mirar might have learned of it.”
“If he could learn that from her, what else might he have learned?” Rian asked quietly.
“Nothing,” Juran assured him. “We were ready to break the link, but it wasn’t necessary. She kept her own mind well guarded. What Huan and I saw of his, however…” He shook his head. “While Auraya’s attention was on what she was learning, Huan and I saw glimpses of Mirar’s thoughts. At one point, while Auraya was distracted, he even considered what she would do if she learned he was really Mirar.”
Dyara’s mind was spinning with questions. How has Mirar survived? Will Juran have to kill him all over again? Or will the gods have mercy on him and send me or Rian to do it? Or Auraya, since she is in Si.
Then she remembered the possibility that had occurred to her earlier. “Why would Mirar be teaching something like that to one of us? Why would he help or trust Auraya?”
Juran looked at her, the lines of sorrow deepening. “He knows her well and we know him. He is…he is Leiard.”
The room fell into a stunned silence. Dyara nodded with a bitter satisfaction. She had guessed right.
“Leiard!” Mairae exclaimed. “How is that possible? We’ve all met him. We’ve all read his mind. How did we not discover his real identity?”
Juran spread his hands. “I don’t know. If he can hide his mind from the gods, who knows what other Gifts he has? Perhaps he has gained the ability to hide his identity behind a false one.”
“But you know what he looks like,” Rian said. “Why didn’t you recognize him?”
“He did not look as he did when I knew him.” Juran sighed. “It has been a hundred years and my memory has faded.” He moved to a table and picked up a sheet of parchment. “After Mirar’s death nearly all of the statues or paintings of him were destroyed. I sent priests all around Northern Ithania to find what they could. This is a sketch of a carving found in the ruins of an old Dreamweaver house a few years ago.”
He handed the sketch to Dyara. As she saw the face she drew in a quick breath. The face was smoother and fuller than Leiard’s, and was beardless, but it was still recognizable. She handed the sketch to Rian, who scowled as he, too, identified the face.
Dyara leaned back in her chair and thought back to when Leiard had arrived in the city, and before. He had known Auraya as a child. He had sought her out once she became a White. She had made him Dreamweaver Adviser. As the implications of Mirar being in such a position of influence over Circlians occurred to her she groaned.
“How far back does it go?” she asked aloud. “Did he know she would become a White? Was it a coincidence or did he arrange for her to come here, his unwitting tool?”
Juran turned to stare at Dyara. “Surely not.”
“We must consider the possibility,” she said.
“I doubt he arranged it that way,” Rian said, “but when he heard what she had become he wouldn’t have been able to resist the chance to meddle. He followed her here to gain her confidence and her trust.”
“And her bed!” Dyara hissed. Anger filled her and she looked at Juran. “Truly he is the rogue you once knew. He used his influence over her to encourage acceptance of his people among Circlians.” She felt a bitter thrill of triumph. “But he went too far. Taking her to bed was a mistake. After it was discovered he went to Si, knowing she would return there. Now he’s seducing her all over again, using his magical knowledge as a lure.” She looked at Juran. He shook his head in denial, but whether it was at Mirar’s scheme or just the horror of the situation she couldn’t guess.
He began to pace again. “What you say may be true, Dyara, but it may not be, either. When I confronted Leiard about his affair with Auraya I searched his mind and saw nothing to indicate he was Mirar, or any great plans of working against us. What I saw was a man in love with Auraya. A hopeless, fearful love, but a real one. He couldn’t have invented that.”
“And she loves him,” Mairae murmured. “Or she did.”
“What she loved was a lie,” Rian pointed out.
“Then it is fortunate she doesn’t love him any more,” Dyara said. “Because she will have to kill him.”
The room fell silent again. Mairae’s eyes were wide with horror. She looked at Juran. “Surely not.”
“She is in Si,” Juran said wearily. “It would take months for any of us to reach him.”
“You can’t ask her to do that,” Mairae insisted. “Even if she knows he is not the man she once loved, it is too cruel to make her kill him.”
“When she learns who he is and how he has used her she will understand he cannot be allowed to live!” Rian said vehemently.
Dyara winced. She was inclined to agree with Mairae. “What do the gods want us to do?”
Juran smiled thinly. “They are deliberating.”
“If they ask, I am willing to do the deed in her stead,” Dyara said. “I agree with Mairae that it is a hard thing to ask of Auraya. There are other ways to do this. We may be able to use Auraya to lure him out of Si, for instance.”
Juran nodded. “I will suggest that. Thank you.”
The four of them fell silent then, all absorbed in this new revelation and its possible consequences. After a while Dyara stirred and looked around.
“We can only wait for the gods’ decision. Let’s return to our rooms and consult again tomorrow.”
As she stood up, Mairae and Rian followed suit. They filed out of the room silently. At the doorway Dyara looked back. Juran smiled grimly. She felt a pang of sympathy for him as she stepped outside. He would get no sleep tonight. Truly his ghosts had come back to haunt him.
He has never forgiven himself for killing Mirar, she thought. Now he knows he’s been feeling guilty for a hundred years for something he never did.
36
It had been many centuries since Emerahl had sailed up the Gulf of Sorrow. Sennon, with its deserts and drab towns, didn’t appeal to her. In her long life she had never left the continent of Northern Ithania except to visit the island nation of Somrey, which nowdays was considered part of Northern Ithania anyway.
If she had been sailing along the middle of the gulf, and the air had been less hazy, she might have been able to see both Northern and Southern Ithania at once, but the need to stop for supplies from time to time kept her close to the Sennon coast. She could have tried to buy food in Avven but she didn’t know what sort of reception she would receive on the southern continent, and knowing nothing of the local language would make trade difficult. Sennon, on the other hand, had barely changed from what she remembered. Even the language hadn’t altered that much in the few hundred years since she had last visited.
The horizon in every direction was hazy with dust, blown up by the wind that drove her boat east. Ahead was the Isthmus of Grya, a strip of land that divided the Gulf of Sorrow from the Gulf of Fire. A city, Diamyane, lay at the point where the Isthmus joined Sennon. There her sea journey would end.
She chewed her lip and patted the tiller. The little boat had taken her
a long way in the last few months. It had weathered more than a few storms as well as the unusual strain of being lent speed by the occasional push of magic. She was going to miss it. The only way to get a boat past the Isthmus was to pay someone to haul it across, and she doubted she had enough money for that. Once she sold her boat, she could join a trader caravan travelling east, or, if she could afford it, buy passage on a ship.
Pushing aside regret, she reminded herself that she had made this decision months ago and there was no point changing her mind. She could have sailed right around Southern Ithania, but that would have added months to the journey. She might also have sailed around the top of Northern Ithania, but that would have taken her past Jarime and she would prefer not to travel past a country the White ruled.
Mirar had warned her in a dream link that the Siyee were watching their coastline closely after the Pentadrians had landed and been sent away again months before. He had also warned her that Auraya was in Si. Passing by one White was better than passing by four, Emerahl had reasoned. She had taken plenty of supplies so she could avoid landing in Si. No flying white-clad sorceress had come to visit her, and the winds had been in her favor most of the way. Until now she hadn’t had reason to regret her choice.
Unnaturally regular shapes began to appear in the dusty haze ahead. As they emerged they revealed themselves to be buildings. Emerahl directed her vessel toward them. She did not hurry, prolonging the moment she had to give up the boat. All too soon she was drifting up to a mooring and tossing rope to the dock boys, who pulled her boat in close and bound it to the bollards with practiced speed. She climbed up onto dry land, dropped coins into their hands and asked where the boat haulers were.
They had set up a shop by the docks. As she walked in she sensed the hauler’s mood change to gleeful greed. Over several cups of a hot, bitter local beverage she convinced them that a woman could barter as well as a man, but while her senses told her she had forced them down to a reasonable price, it was still too high.