“Then we should proceed to Mairae’s quarters,” Auraya said. Stepping backward, she bent down to pick up something in the other room. “Come on, Mischief. Time to go.”
She was carrying a small cage. Inside it her veez hunched, all four legs braced against the floor.
“Cage bad,” he said sullenly.
“Quiet,” she told him.
To Danjin’s surprise, the creature obeyed. As Auraya moved toward the main door, Leiard picked up his bag and looked at Danjin expectantly. Danjin left and the Dreamweaver followed.
Auraya started up the stairs. As they climbed, the cage in the stairwell descended past them. Its sole occupant was a young man in spectacular formal dress. Danjin recognized the man as Haime, one of the many Genrian princes. The prince, seeing Auraya, made a half-bow and the formal gesture of the circle. Auraya smiled and nodded in acknowledgment.
They passed the door to Rian’s rooms. Danjin thought of the rumors and speculation that were rife in the city regarding Rian’s recent journey south. Reports about a dangerous sorcerer attacking villages in Toren had reached Jarime and all had assumed Rian had left to deal with the impostor. When Rian had returned a few days ago, Danjin had expected some sort of triumphant announcement that a threat to the lands had been dealt with, but none came. Did this mean Rian had failed? Or had he travelled south for an entirely different reason?
Auraya reached Mairae’s door and knocked lightly. It opened and the pale-haired White ushered them into her reception room.
“I’m nearly ready,” she said after exchanging quick formal greetings. “Just make yourselves comfortable.”
Her face was a little flushed, Danjin noted. She hurried into the private rooms of her quarters. Auraya smiled, then paused and looked questioningly at Leiard. The Dreamweaver met her eyes levelly and shrugged. Auraya turned away, apparently satisfied with what she had seen in his face, or read from his mind.
Mystery surrounds me constantly, Danjin thought wryly.
A small whine drew his attention back to Mischief. The veez was restless, turning circles in his cage and stopping to stare upward. Belatedly, Danjin looked up to find another veez clinging to the ceiling above them.
Mairae’s veez…What is its name? Stardust.
He could see why. The veez was black with tiny white speckles all over. A female. She leapt from the ceiling to the back of a chair, then scurried down to the floor. Approaching Mischief’s cage, she stood up on her hind legs and made the complex chittering noise that was the creature’s natural vocalization.
The door to the private rooms opened. Mairae walked back into the reception room. A servant followed close behind, carrying a small bag. Seeing Stardust, Mairae called the veez’s name.
“Are you taking Mischief?” Mairae asked Auraya as Stardust bounded over to her.
“I have to, if I’m going to complete his training according to the Somreyans’ instructions.”
Mairae bent to pet the veez at her feet. “I’d love to bring Stardust, but ships make her ill.” She pointed at the door to her private rooms. “Go inside.”
Stardust trotted to the doorway then sat down and gazed longingly at her mistress.
“I’ll be back soon,” Mairae assured the creature.
Stardust let out a long, exaggerated sigh, then folded her paws and rested her chin on them, so that she now blinked imploringly up at her mistress. Mairae rolled her eyes.
“Little manipulator,” she muttered. “We should go quickly, before she starts crying.”
“They do that?” Auraya asked.
“They can’t make tears like humans do, but they certainly know how to mimic a good wailing.” She closed the door. “Are you ready for your first sea journey?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Auraya replied.
Mairae gave them all one of her dazzling smiles. “Then let’s get ourselves to the docks before they think we’ve changed our minds and leave without us.”
Danjin smiled. As if one of the White’s ships would leave without the White. He followed Mairae out of the room. As they waited for the cage to arrive, he considered the task ahead.
Would everything work out as they hoped? There was a good chance it would, he decided. He would have thought otherwise if his impressions of the Dreamweaver had been less favorable. During all the consultations on the alliance, Leiard had been refreshingly frank about the terms that would offend his people, and yet the alternatives he’d suggested had not been unreasonable. So far Danjin had seen nothing to make him suspect the Dreamweaver wanted anything more than to reduce conflict between his people and Circlians.
Yet there was definitely something strange about Leiard. For a start, his behavior toward Auraya changed from moment to moment. Sometimes he was quiet and his manner and speech were respectful; at other times his tone was authoritative and confident. Perhaps he regained his confidence when he forgot who she was, then lost it when he remembered again.
Or was it something else? Danjin was not sure. Maybe it was Leiard’s nervousness with the other White that bothered him. Though Leiard had met and spoken with Mairae several times during discussions about the alliance, he was always warily polite to her. Around Dyara he was reluctant to speak at all, though this was probably because the older woman had made no pretense of her dislike of heathens. During one of the first meetings Dyara had questioned Leiard until Mairae had protested that half of their meeting time was being taken up with “interrogation.” Danjin suspected that Dyara found Leiard’s reticence and vague answers frustrating. Her dissatisfaction only sparked more questions.
Rian had appeared once during a meeting but had treated Leiard with indifference. Juran was the only White that Danjin had not observed Leiard interact with. It would be interesting to watch. He suspected that nothing would distress Leiard more than meeting the man who had killed the founder of his cult.
As the cage rose up toward them Danjin considered whether Leiard’s discomfort was simply contagious. I am uncomfortable around him because he is uncomfortable around the people I respect.
He was certain of one thing: he was going to keep a close eye on Leiard. The White might be difficult to deceive, but he’d never wager that it was impossible.
The outer arms of the Bay of Jarime had slowly drawn closer together during the last hour, revealing tall cliffs on either side. Auraya watched with interest as the crew of the Herald went about their tasks, following orders relayed down a chain of command. The ship pulled out of the bay, then between the two great columns of rock known as the Guardians. The swaying of the deck changed to a deep rolling as they entered the waters of Mirror Strait.
“Ships used to make me ill.”
Auraya glanced at Mairae. They were sitting up on the stern, where wooden benches hugged the railing. Soft cushions had been placed there for them and a canopy shaded them from the bright sun. Leiard and Danjin stood near the prow and a small team of servants were down in the hull preparing a light meal.
“Seasickness?” Auraya asked.
“Yes. It affected me so badly, I’d spend most of a journey barely conscious.” Mairae lifted her hand and splayed her fingers. The sunlight glinted off the white ring on her middle finger. “Sometimes it is the smallest of the gods’ Gifts that I treasure the most.”
Auraya looked at her own ring, then at the door leading to the rooms below deck.
“I hope Leiard and Danjin will be all right.”
“I’m sure the Dreamweaver has his own ways of curing seasickness, and Danjin has probably brought medicines for it. He’s very organized.”
“Yes.” Auraya smiled. “I don’t know what I’d do without him.” She turned to regard Mairae. “You don’t have an adviser?”
“I did, in the beginning. His name was Wesso, but I called him Old Westie because he came from Irian Island and his accent was so strong it was hard, sometimes, to understand him. He was my adviser for nearly ten years.” Her gaze became distant. “I didn’t need him by then, but dismi
ssing him would have hurt him deeply, so I kept him until he died. I do miss him sometimes.”
Seeing the sadness in Mairae’s eyes, Auraya felt a pang of sympathy—and something akin to dread.
“Have you grown used to watching people grow old and die?” she asked in a low voice.
Mairae met Auraya’s eyes, her expression unusually grave. “No, but I have learned how best to allow myself to grieve. I give myself a measure of time to feel bad, then move on. And I don’t let myself anticipate it too much. The way I see it, you can’t worry overly much about the future when the future stretches endlessly before you.”
“I guess not. But sometimes I can’t stop worrying. I suppose that’s something I’ll have to learn, among other things.”
Mairae’s eyebrows rose. “What are you so worried about?”
Auraya hesitated, then shook her head. “Oh, just…small things. Nothing important.”
“You’re still human, Auraya. Just because you have big matters to deal with doesn’t mean the small ones don’t count. Since I’ve taken Dyara’s place as your teacher for this trip, it’s my job to answer all your questions, large or small.”
“I don’t discuss small matters with Dyara.”
Mairae grinned. “I don’t either. All the more reason to talk to me. So?”
“I worry about being lonely,” Auraya admitted.
Mairae nodded. “Everyone fears that, mortal or not. You will find new friends to replace the old.” She smiled. “And lovers, too.”
Like Haime, the Genrian prince? Auraya thought back to the morning, to the young man descending in the Tower cage. She had caught enough of his thoughts to know that he had just left Mairae’s rooms—and what he had been doing for most of the previous night. It had only confirmed that the rumors about Mairae and her lovers were true.
Mairae chuckled. “From the look on your face, I’d guess you’ve heard about mine.”
“Only rumors,” Auraya said evasively.
“It is impossible to keep secrets from other White, even more so from the servants.” She smiled. “It is ridiculous for anyone to expect us to remain celibate for all eternity.” Mairae winked. “The gods haven’t said we must.”
“Have they ever spoken to you?” Auraya asked, seizing the opportunity to change the subject. She suspected that once Mairae started discussing her former lovers, she’d expect Auraya to as well—and she was sure her own experiences would never live up to Mairae’s. “They’ve said nothing to me yet.”
Mairae nodded. “Sometimes.” She paused, her expression becoming distant and rapt. “Yranna likes my taste in men. She’s like a big sister.” She turned to face Auraya. “I’m sure you’ve heard about Anyala, Juran’s great love. Everyone talks about how wonderfully loyal Juran was. Trouble is, he hasn’t had another woman since, and she’s been dead nearly twenty years. That makes it look as if he expects the rest of us to remain celibate, too. You don’t think so, do you?” Mairae looked at Auraya expectantly.
“No. I…I had heard that Juran had a wife once,” Auraya said. She wasn’t having much success steering the conversation away from lovers.
“They were never married,” Mairae corrected. “The gods have been clear about that. No marriage or children. Juran hasn’t even looked at another woman since she died. It’s not healthy. And Dyara…” She rolled her eyes. “Dyara is worse. Such a typical prudish Genrian. She’s had this tragic love affair with Timare for nearly forty years. It’s never been physical. I don’t think she could bear the rest of us seeing her naked in Timare’s thoughts. The way she behaves, so secretive, makes people think that love is something to be ashamed of.”
“Timare?”
“Her favorite priest,” Mairae said. She looked at Auraya closely. “You didn’t know?”
“I only met High Priest Timare once or twice, before I was chosen.”
Mairae’s eyebrows rose. “I see. So Dyara’s keeping you two apart. She probably wants to stop you finding out her little secret.” She drummed her fingers on the bench. “Has she said anything to you about how you should behave when it comes to affairs of the heart—and bedroom?”
Auraya shook her head.
“Interesting. Well, don’t let Dyara impose her stuffy values on you. You’ll only make yourself lonely and bitter.”
“What…what about Rian?” Auraya asked, giving up on shifting the subject and instead deflecting it toward others.
Mairae’s nose wrinkled in distaste. “I don’t think he’s capable,” she muttered. Then she grimaced. “That’s cruel and unfair. Rian is lovely. But he’s just so…so…”
“Fanatical?”
Mairae sighed. “Yes. Nothing could come between Rian and the gods. Not even love. A woman could live with that, but not with being constantly reminded of it.”
Am I like that? Auraya wondered. In the years she had been a priestess she’d thought herself in love a few times, but the feeling of elation and connection had never lasted more than a few months. When she thought of the gods, the feeling of awe and reverence was something completely different. If it was love, it was nothing like the earthly feelings she’d had for those mortal lovers. So how could one leave no room for the other?
“He’s being a bit hard on himself for losing the Pentadrian,” Mairae added.
“Yes,” Auraya agreed eagerly. At last Mairae had turned to other matters. “Do you think the Pentadrian will come back?”
Mairae grimaced. “Maybe. Evil men are rarely deterred for long. If they do harm, and get away with it, they will usually try to do it again.”
“Will Juran send Rian to the southern continent, then?”
“I doubt it. This sorcerer is too close to Rian in strength. I doubt there are others like him in the south, but there are plenty of Pentadrians as Gifted as our high priests and priestesses there. With their help he might be a real danger to Rian. No, if we are to defeat him we’ll have to wait until he comes to us.”
Auraya shivered. “I won’t feel quite safe until I know he’s dead.”
“Don’t let it bother you.” Mairae’s face shifted into a wise expression Auraya had only seen on older people. “There have always been powerful sorcerers, Auraya. Some powerful enough to achieve immortality without the help of the gods. We’ve always defeated them.”
“The Wilds?”
“Yes. Power has a way of corrupting people. We are fortunate that we have the guidance of the gods and the knowledge that our Gifts would be removed if we turned to evil. The sad truth of the world is that most people who have great magical power don’t use it well. Their ambitions are usually selfish, and there is nobody strong enough to hold them to account for their wrong-doings.”
“Except us.”
“Yes. And by encouraging Gifted individuals to become priests we ensure new sorcerers are under our control.”
Auraya nodded. “Is this sorcerer one of the old Wilds?”
Mairae frowned. “A few evaded Juran and Dyara: a woman known as The Hag, a boy associated with the sea and sailors, called The Gull, and a pair known as The Twins. They haven’t been seen in a hundred years. Juran thinks they may have travelled to the other side of the world.”
“None of them sound like this sorcerer.”
“No. He is a new Wild, if he is one at all. The gods did warn us that we would encounter more. A few are born every thousand years. We must deal with them when they appear. For now, you and I have an alliance to negotiate.” She grinned. “And you must make the most of being free from Dyara’s yoke.”
“She’s not that bad.”
“Liar. She was my teacher too, remember. I know what she’s like. That’s part of the reason I insisted I couldn’t do this without you. She tried to convince Juran you were too inexperienced, but he can see this is well within your ability.”
Auraya stared at Mairae and struggled to think of a reply. She was saved by a familiar cry.
“Owaya! Owaya!”
A veez scampered across the deck, near
ly tripping two of the crewmen, and launched itself into Auraya’s lap. Mairae laughed in delight as Mischief began licking Auraya’s face.
“Stop! Enough!” Auraya protested. As the veez calmed down, she frowned at it disapprovingly. “How did you get out?”
The veez gazed up at her adoringly.
“I believe he picked the lock of his cage again,” a male voice replied. Leiard strolled across the deck toward them. Auraya felt her heart leap at the sight of him. He had proved to be more useful in the role of adviser than she had hoped. It was so good to have his company on this journey. His presence gave her confidence.
“Cage bad,” the veez muttered.
“I heard the servants cursing him, and offered to bring him back,” Leiard told her.
“Thank you, Leiard.” She sighed. “I expect he’ll just do it again. He may as well stay with me.”
Leiard nodded. His gaze slid to Mairae, then his eyes dropped to the deck.
“Mairae of the White,” he said.
“Dreamweaver Leiard,” she replied.
He looked at Auraya again. “I will tell the servants he is with you.”
As he walked away, Mairae gave a small sigh. “I like tall men. He has nice eyes. Pity he’s a Dreamweaver.”
Auraya turned to stare at her fellow White in shock, as Mairae laughed. “Oh, Auraya. You are nearly as much a prude as Dyara. I don’t seriously want to bed him, but I don’t think there’s anything wrong with admiring a man’s finer points any more than it’s wrong to admire a flower or a particularly well-bred reyer.”
Auraya shook her head reproachfully. “Nothing wrong at all, except I don’t want to be thinking of the men around me like that.”
“Why not?”
“I have to work with them. I don’t need the distraction of wondering what they’d be like in bed.”
Mairae chuckled. “One day you might, when you realize how many long, boring meetings you’re going to have to sit through in the future.”
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