Priestess of the White

18

The world was a great blanket of green tinted with the colors of autumn and rumpled where mountains burst through the fabric. Rivers glistened like silver thread. Tiny buildings, like scattered mosaic tiles, clumped here and there, connected by brown roads. When Auraya looked closely, a multitude of little movements revealed minute animals - and people.

Auraya would have liked to fly closer to the ground, but Zeeriz preferred to keep well away from landwalkers, despite her presence. It was exhausting for him to remain in the air all day. Flying was not as effortless as Siyee made it appear, and Zeeriz was stiff and sore by the time dusk brought them to the ground. Auraya could not imagine how taxing Tireel’s journey was: he had flown on ahead to warn the Siyee of her coming.

After several hours even the world below couldn’t keep her entertained. There wasn’t much to occupy her mind but the coming negotiating with the Siyee, and eventually she tired of worrying and planning for that. Instead she had learned to mimic her companion’s movements - to act as if wind, momentum and the pull of the earth had the same effect on her as they did on Siyee. By doing so she could better appreciate the limitations of their physical form.

She had also drawn much from the ambassador’s mind about his people. His thoughts ranged from his responsibilities, fear of landwalkers, hopes for the future and memories of childhood. Most interesting was the suppressed resentment he felt when he saw her mimicking his flight. He wondered why the gods had given a landwalker access to the air with none of the restrictions and penalties the Siyee endured.

That the Siyee had overcome the limitations and consequences of their creation was a source of pride. All Siyee were taught that their ancestors had willingly accepted pain, deformity and early death in order that the goddess Huan might create their race. They continued to pay the price even now, but the numbers of crippled babies had been decreasing over the centuries. Their population had been growing slowly. Only the Toren settlers threatened that.

Something must be done about those settlers, Auraya thought. It would not be a simple task. Huan had decreed that the mountains to the east of Toren belonged to the Siyee. Land-hungry Toren settlers interpreted “mountains” as being any land too steep to cultivate and had slowly taken over the fertile valleys and slopes. She doubted the King of Toren knew of the activities of his people, and fully expected that if he did, he had no intention of doing anything about it.

But he will, if the White insist that he must.

She smiled grimly. The Siyee needed this alliance with the White. They wanted it, but feared they had little to offer in return. They believed they were neither strong nor skilled enough to be of use in war and had no resources to trade. It was her task to find something they could offer in return for the White’s protection - or simply convince them that whatever small help they could offer in war, trade or politics would be enough.

She looked at Zeeriz again. He glanced at her and smiled.

Little was known about their people. Auraya had learned much from Tireel and Zeeriz, but she would gain a greater understanding of the Siyee by meeting leaders and observing their everyday activities. That the White made the effort to visit a country always pleased its inhabitants. The two ambassadors were delighted that she was taking the time to see their homeland, and she hoped this sentiment would be shared by the rest of their people. If all went well, she would gain their respect and confidence on behalf of the White in the next few months.

Looking toward the dark line of mountains in the distance, Auraya felt a thrill of excitement. In truth, she was as pleased to be visiting Si as the ambassadors were to be escorting her there. She was going somewhere few landwalkers had been, to learn about a unique race of people.

I couldn’t be happier.

At once she felt a familiar disquiet. It was not doubt in herself or fear of failure. No, it’s the thought of the mess I’ve left behind.

“You have an interesting way of saying goodbye,” Leiard had said. A memory of sheets bunched up at the end of her bed flashed through her mind, then one of naked limbs tangled together. Then tantalizing earlier memories arose.

Who would have thought? she mused, unable to help smiling. Me and Leiard. A White and a Dreamweaver.

At that thought she felt her smile fade and her mood begin to sink toward a darker place. She resisted halfheartedly. I have to face this. I have to do it now. Once I reach Si I’ll be too busy to spend time agonizing over the consequences. Sighing, she asked herself the question she’d been avoiding.

How will the other White react when they find out?

Dyara came to mind first. The woman all but growled with disapproval whenever Leiard was around. Dyara would not easily accept him as Auraya’s lover. Mairae, on the other hand, might not mind it at all, though she’d probably prefer it if Auraya hadn’t chosen to bed a Dreamweaver. Rian wouldn’t like it. He had never suggested that the other White ought to choose celibacy as he had, but he was sure to dislike the idea of one of them bedding a heathen.

And Juran? Auraya frowned. She couldn’t guess what his reaction might be. He had accepted Leiard as her adviser. Would he tolerate him as her lover? Or would he say this was pushing the White’s acceptance of Dreamweavers too far?

No, he’ll tell me that the people won’t accept it. That it will undermine everything I’ve said or done to encourage tolerance of Dreamweavers. People will believe my opinion was based on love - or lust - rather than good sense, and they will remember that Mirar was a seducer of women. They will think I’ve been duped and make their feelings known by attacking Dreamweavers.

It was too soon to expect them to accept this. Perhaps time was the key. She chewed on her lip for a moment. If she kept her affair secret it might give the White and the people time to grow used to the idea. It was not as if she was bedding every attractive, unmarried highborn male in Northern Ithania. If Mairae could get away with that, then surely Auraya could get away with sleeping with one Dreamweaver.

She sighed again. I wish that were true. What chance do I have of keeping this a secret? Everyone knows about Mairae’s affairs, and if Dyara can’t keep her tragically chaste relationship with Timare secret from the rest of the White, how can I keep mine?

Fortunately she was going to spend the next few months far from Jarime. A lot could happen in that time. She could come to her senses. Leiard might come to his.

What if he already has? What if he has no intention of seeing me again? What if he has sated his curiosity and is not interested in anything more? Her heart twisted. No! He loves me! I saw it in his mind.

And I love him. She felt a warm glow of happiness spread through her body. Pleasant memories returned, but were soured when she recalled an image of his Dreamweaver vest and her circ lying together on the floor. That had been a sobering sight. It seemed, somehow, blasphemous.

The gods must know, she thought.

She shook her head. We can’t do this. I should turn him away. But she knew she wouldn't. Until the gods make their feelings known, I won’t try to guess what they think of us.

She looked over her shoulder. Jarime had disappeared over the horizon hours before. How can I leave such a mess behind me? She couldn’t turn around and fly back, though.

She made herself think of the Siyee, and how disappointed and offended they would be. How much she wanted to see their land for herself.

A few months, she told herself. By the time I return I will have decided what we should do.

And hopefully I’ll have gathered the courage to do it.

Rain pattered against the canopy overhead. Feeling something land on his head, Danjin looked up. A patch of water had somehow made its way through the dense, oiled cloth. He dodged another drip, sliding along the seat of the platten, then reached into his pocket for a cloth to wipe his scalp.

Instead, his fingers encountered a piece of parchment. Danjin withdrew it and sighed as he saw it was his father’s message.

“When I said it would be pleasant to have some time to myself again the gods must have been listening,” he muttered. He looked up at the canopy. “Great Chaia, what did I do to deserve this?”

“Neglect your family?” Silava suggested.

Danjin looked at the woman sitting opposite him. The light of the lantern softened the lines on her face. They were mostly the lines gained from smiles and laughter. Mostly. There had been less pleasant times. Just as many as experienced by those who married for love, he had noted in recent years. They had both been unfaithful, both learned that honesty was the hardest but only path to forgiveness. While they had never been passionately in love with each other, they had, eventually, become the best of friends.

“Which family?” Danjin asked. “Mine or ours?”

She smiled. “You should ask that of an unbiased judge, Danjin. Just be sure that our family will always want to see more of you. Especially once your grandchildren are born.”

Grandchildren. The thought of becoming a grandparent was both delightful and dismaying. It meant he was getting old. It also made his daughters happy. They were flourishing in their new homes. He was relieved to have chosen good husbands for them, though he had mostly taken Silava’s advice on the matter. Pity one couldn’t choose one’s parents.

“If it is my father’s family you mean, then you are being punished, too,” he pointed out.

“That is true. But he ignores me at these dinners. It’s you he will target.”

Danjin scowled at the reminder. Silava leaned forward and patted him lightly on the knee.

“I left a bottle of tintra on the reading-room table for you.”

He smiled with appreciation. “Thank you.”

The platten slowed. Danjin peered out of the canopy and felt a familiar sinking sensation in his stomach as they pulled up outside his father’s mansion. Then he remembered the ring on his finger. He took some strength from the knowledge that the Gods’ Chosen did not think him the failure his father believed his youngest son to be.

He climbed out of the platten, then turned to help his wife disembark. The rain was falling heavily, wetting their tawls quickly. They both breathed a sigh of relief as they reached the door of the mansion.

A tall, thin man with a lofty expression ushered them inside. Danjin regarded Forin, the head servant, suspiciously. The man had an apologetic way of announcing Danjin’s arrival as if it were an interruption rather than a requested visit.

“Welcome, Danjin Spear, Silava.” Forin inclined his head to both of them.

“Adviser Danjin Spear,” Danjin corrected. He untied his tawl and held it out to the servant.

Forin’s eyes gleamed. His mouth opened, then his eyes dropped to Danjin’s tawl and he hesitated. Danjin realized the man was staring at the white ring shining on his finger.

“Of course. Forgive me.” He took Danjin’s tawl and Silava’s, then hurried into another room.

Silava glanced at Danjin as they entered the communal room. She did not smile, but he recognized that familiar glint of triumph in her eyes. The one he normally received when he lost an argument.

Two of Danjin’s brothers waited in the room, standing beside braziers. Seeing them, Danjin felt satisfaction from the small victory melt away. His siblings’ greetings were formal and awkward. Their wives spared thin smiles for Silava, then returned to their conversation, ignoring her. The rain fell through the roof opening into a pool below. Benches covered in cushions and luxurious blankets were arranged with perfect symmetry around the walls of the room. The floor was polished veinstone and the walls were painted with murals depicting ships and trade goods.

A servant appeared with warmed Somreyan ahm. As he sipped, Danjin considered his family. No doubt Theran, the favored brother they had all been invited here to see, was staying in the mansion and was with his father already.

All of Fa-Spear’s sons had joined in the family’s trading enterprises, with varying success. Theran, the second son, was a natural trader. Two of the younger brothers had died in a shipwreck twenty years before. Ma-Spear, who had never fully recovered from birthing Danjin, had sickened and died soon after. A year ago the oldest brother’s heart had stopped, so now there were only four sons left: Theran, Nirem, Gohren and himself.

The seven sons were supposed to expand the Spear trading empire. Danjin had tried, but he hadn’t lasted any longer than his first voyage at sixteen. Within two days of arriving in Genria he had befriended a distant nephew of the king and found himself surrounded by political maneuverings far more thrilling and meaningful to him than the long journeys and constant tallying and calculations of trade. Distracted, he had not been present to inspect the grain loaded onto the ship, and by the time he returned to Jarime half of it was spoiled by pests.

His father had been furious.

“Danjin?”

At his wife’s murmur, Danjin, looked up. Two men were walking down the corridor to the communal room. Form moved to the center of the room.

“Fa-Spear and Theran Spear,” he announced.

The old man’s face was a mass of wrinkles and he walked with the aid of a staff. His eyes were sharp and cold and flicked from face to face. To his right walked Theran. The older brother smiled at Nirem and Gohren, but his expression became more forced as he met Danjin’s eyes. Instead of dismissing his youngest brother, as he usually did, Theran raised his eyebrows.

“Danjin. I was not expecting you to come. Father says your duties at the Temple keep you from attending most family gatherings.”

“Not tonight,” Danjin replied. And how could I miss the opportunity to be scornfully ignored or made the butt of your jokes?

The old man moved to a long bench and sat down. The rest of the family paused, waiting to be invited to sit. Fa-Spear waved a hand.

“Sit. Sit,” he said, as if their formality embarrassed him. Yet Danjin knew any deviation from this ritual of manners always infuriated his father. They sat at places long established by family tradition: Theran on Fa-Spear’s right, Nirem and his wife on his left, Gohren next to Theran, and Danjin furthest from his father beside Nirem’s wife.

As a succession of delicacies were brought by female servants the conversation turned to trade. Danjin forced himself to listen, and remained prudently silent. He had long ago learned to avoid joining these discussions. Any observation or question he made on the subject of trade was examined as proof of his ignorance of such matters.

No matter how silent he remained, his father always made a point of discussing Danjin’s work. As Theran finished a long description of a successful deal, Fa-Spear looked up at his youngest son.

“I do not see our adviser to the White gaining as much profit from serving the Temple.” Fa-Dyer gestured at the walls. “If you are so important to the Circlians, why is it that a mere merchant lives in better conditions than you? You must ask for an increase in your allowance when you next see your employer. When will that be?”

“Auraya has left for Si, Father,” Danjin replied. “To negotiate an alliance.”

His father’s eyebrows rose. “You did not accompany her?”

“The mountains of Si are not easily crossed by landwalkers.”

“Landwalkers?”

“It is what the Siyee call ordinary humans.”

His father sniffed. “How uncouth. Perhaps it is fortunate she left you behind. Who knows what unsavory habits these people have?” He popped a morsel of food into his mouth then wiped his hands on a cloth a servant girl held out for him.

“If the Si do ally themselves with Hania, you may see more of them here. They will install an ambassador and others will visit in order to seek education, join the priesthood, or trade.”

His father’s gaze sharpened. He chewed, swallowed, then took a sip of water.

“What do they have to trade?”

Danjin smiled. “That is one of the questions Auraya intends to answer.”

Fa-Spear’s eyes narrowed. “There is opportunity here, son. You may not have a decent income, but if you take advantage of opportunities like this that issue may not matter.”

Danjin felt a flash of indignation. “I cannot use my position to gain trade advantages.”

His father snorted. “Don’t be such a righteous fool. You won’t be adviser forever.”

“Not if I abuse my privileges.” Nor if I follow in your footsteps, Danjin added to himself, thinking of the enemies his father had made over the years. Powerful enemies who had barred him from trading in certain places.

:Why don’t you remind him of that?

Danjin started at the voice in his mind.

:Auraya?

:Yes, it’s me. Sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude. The Siyee are asleep, and I’m... well... bored.

He started to smile, and quickly schooled his expression.

“... fame and glory have passed,” his father was saying, “you will soon be forgotten.”

Danjin opened his mouth to reply.

:Your father’s right about one thing. We should pay you more.

He choked.

:How long have you been listening?

There was a pause.

:I peeked a while back.

:Peeked?

:To see if you were busy.

“Are you listening?” Fa-Spear demanded.

Danjin looked up, and quickly considered whether he should explain who he had been communicating with.

:Go on, Auraya urged.

:I mean no disrespect, Danjin told her, but you don’t know my family. Some pots aren’t worth stirring.

“I was considering your advice, Father,” Danjin replied.

Fa-Spear’s eyes narrowed, then he turned to Nirem. “Have you seen Captain Raerig lately?”

Nirem nodded, and started recollecting a drunken gathering in a remote town. Relieved that attention had finally shifted from himself, Danjin let his thoughts stray, until he was brought back by the mention of the southern cult.

“He said they’re good customers, these Pentadrians,” Nirem said. “Half of their priests are warriors. He buys Dunwayan weapons and sells them on the southern continent. Can’t sell enough of them. Do you think we should... ?”

To Danjin’s surprise, his father frowned. “Maybe. I’ve heard they’re gathering an army down there. Your great-grandfather always said war was good for trade, but it depended on who was planning to fight who.”

“Who are they planning to fight?” Danjin asked.

His father smiled thinly. “I’d have thought you’d know, Adviser to the White.”

“Perhaps I do,” Danjin said lightly. “Perhaps I don’t. Who do you believe they’re going to fight.”

His father shrugged and looked away. “For now I’d rather keep what I know to myself. If there’s an advantage to be gained from this, I wouldn’t want a stray word in the wrong place to ruin it.”

Danjin felt a stab of anger. It was not the veiled insult suggesting he’d leak information that riled him, but that his father knew he had information Danjin needed. Information that the White needed.

Then his anger evaporated. If his father hadn’t wanted Danjin to know about the Pentadrians gathering an army, for fear it would ruin some trade deal, he wouldn’t have mentioned it at all. Perhaps this was all the warning his father could bring himself to give his youngest son.

:Are you listening, Auraya?

No reply came. Danjin turned the ring around his finger and considered what he ought to do. Find out more, he decided. Make my own enquiries. Next time Auraya spoke to him through the ring he would have something substantial to tell her.

19

A feeling of suffocation woke Leiard. He sat up, gasping for breath, and stared at his surroundings. The room was dark and he sensed dawn was not far away. He could not remember the dream that had woken him.

Rising, he washed, changed and slipped out of his room. Creating a tiny spark of light, he crossed the communal room and made his way up to the rooftop garden. He stepped outside into the chill air and approached the garden seats where he held Jayim’s lessons.

Sitting down, he considered his dream. All that remained was a feeling of fear. He closed his eyes and concentrated on a mental exercise designed to retrieve lost dreams, but nothing stirred. Only the fear lingered.

The dreams he did remember were of Auraya. Some were pleasant, filled with joy and passion. He hadn’t had such arousing dreams since... so long ago he could not remember. Unfortunately, some of the dreams were full of unpleasant consequences, of accusation and retribution and terrible, terrible punishment.

You should have left. You should have reminded yourself of what she is, a voice said in his mind.

I did.

You should have reminded yourself harder.

This other voice in his mind - the thoughts that Arleej believed were a manifestation of Mirar’s link memories - spoke to Leiard often now. It was logical that, if he was going to be arguing with himself over Auraya, this illusionary Mirar would side against him having anything to do with the White. Mirar had been killed by one of them.

He had wondered, briefly, if Mirar had influenced him somehow that night in Auraya’s room. Leiard was wary of blaming this secondary identity for any of his own actions, however. There had been no voice encouraging him to seduce Auraya. Mirar had been silent until early the next morning, not speaking until Leiard left the Tower.

Auraya had kissed him goodbye, then asked him to keep their tryst a secret. A reasonable request, considering what he was. What she was. Had anyone seen him leave? He had seen no sign of servants, but had been prepared to behave as if nothing other than a late-night consultation had occurred.

The lie sounded implausible, however. Servants liked to imagine more exciting matters than political discussion went on behind doors late at night, especially if that consultation lasted all night. If they did suspect he’d bedded Auraya, the other White would have read it from their minds. If any of the Gods’ Chosen wanted to confirm it they had only to summon Leiard and read his mind.

No summons had arrived. He was hoping this meant his visit had not been noticed or speculated upon. When he thought of the consequences to his people if such a scandal became known, he shivered with dread. Yet whenever he wasn’t worrying he found himself planning ways to visit her secretly when she returned.

If she wants me to. She might regard me as a night’s entertainment. A lover she’ll cast off when she realizes how inconvenient he will be to keep around. If only I could find out what she wants.

There was a way, but it was dangerous. He could dream link with her.

Don’t be an idiot. If she reports you they’ll have you stoned.

She won’t tell anyone.

“Leiard?”

He jumped and looked up, surprised to find Jayim standing in front of him. The garden was now lit by the faint light of dawn. He had been so lost in thought, he hadn’t noticed.

The boy yawned as he took the seat opposite Leiard. He had wrapped himself in a blanket. Winter is coming, Leiard thought. I should teach him ways to keep himself warm.

“Will we practice mind-linking again?” Jayim asked.

Leiard considered the boy. They hadn’t linked since the day Jayim had observed Leiard’s attraction to Auraya. He had been so disturbed by that, he had put off further lessons in the skill.

Now the thought of linking with his student filled him with fear. If he did, Jayim was bound to learn of Leiard’s night with Auraya. He would see, too, Leiard’s hopes to continue the affair. If Jayim knew that, there would be two people in Jarime from whom the White could read Leiard’s secret.

“No,” Leiard replied. “The air is chill this morning. I will explain the ways the body is affected by cold, and teach you how to counter it.”

High Priest Ikaro paused outside King Berro’s audience chamber. He took a deep breath and stepped into the room. Attendants, advisers and representatives of the greater trades stood about the throne. The seat was empty, however. The king was standing before an enormous urn.

It was decorated in the new style, Ikaro noted. A black coating covered the urn, then designs and figures had been scratched out of it, revealing the white clay beneath. The king glanced at Ikaro, then beckoned.

“Do you like it, High Priest Ikaro? It is of myself naming Cimro as my heir.”

“I do indeed,” Ikaro replied, moving to the king’s side. “There is grace and skill in these lines, and the detail is exquisite. You do me a great honor, your majesty.”

The king frowned. “By showing this to you? I intend to place it here. You will see it each time you enter this chamber.”

“Yet I will not have an opportunity to stand and admire it, your majesty. My attention will always be on more important matters.”

The king smiled. “That is true.” He stepped away from the urn and strolled toward the throne. “I did not know you were an appreciator of art.”

“I am merely an appreciator of beauty.”

Berro chuckled. “Then it is a great irony that you have turned my city upside down looking for an ugly old hag.” The king settled onto his throne. His expression became serious and his fingers drummed on the throne’s arm. “How much longer do you intend us to continue with this search?”

Ikaro frowned. He could not read the king’s mind - he was only able to read minds when Huan was present - but he did not need to. The king was not hiding his impatience. The usual reassurances would not placate Berro this time. He was not sure what would, except...

“I will ask the gods.”

The king’s eyes widened. The men and women exchanged glances, some skeptical.

“Now?”

“Unless this is an inconvenient time,” Ikaro added. “I could use the palace Temple.”

“No, no,” Berro said. “Speak to them, if that is what you feel is right.”

Ikaro nodded, then closed his eyes.

“Join me in prayer,” he murmured, putting both hands together to form a circle. As he spoke a familiar chant of praise he was grateful to hear many voices quietly echoing him. He drew courage from them. At the end of the chant he paused, then drew a deep breath.

“Chaia, Huan, Lore, Yranna, Saru. I ask that one of you speak to me so that I may receive instruction.”

He waited, heart racing. His skin prickled as an energy filled the air.

:High Priest Ikaro.

Gasps echoed through the chamber. Ikaro opened his eyes and glanced around. There was no sign of the owner of the voice, but he could see from the expressions of everyone in the room that they had heard it.

“Huan?” he asked.

:It is I.

He bowed his head.

“I have done as you bade, but I have not found the sorceress. Should I continue searching? Is there any other way I might locate her?”

:Let her think you have given up. Call off the searchers. Stop checking people at the port and main gate. Instead, have these exits watched by a priest in disguise. If she believes the search has ended, she may take the opportunity to leave the city. I will be watching for her.

Ikaro nodded. “If she can be found this way, I will find her,” he replied with determination.

The goddess’s presence faded. Ikaro looked up at the king, who wore a thoughtful expression.

“Is it only recently that the gods have spoken to you in this way?”

“Yes,” Ikaro admitted.

The king frowned. “No doubt the goddess knows I am grateful that the restrictions on my city will be lifted, but I will include my thanks in my prayers to be sure. Much as I do not want a dangerous sorceress roaming free in my city, I am concerned that my people will suffer if trade is restricted. Will you need any assistance following her instructions?”

Ikaro shook his head, then hesitated. “Though perhaps you should inform the guards that beggars around the gates are to be left alone.”

“Beggars, eh?” Berro smiled crookedly. “Original disguise, that one.”

Ikaro chuckled. “And if it would not be inconvenient, a few guard’s uniforms might come in handy as well.”

Berro nodded. “I’ll see that you get them.”

For all of the last day and most of the morning, Auraya and Zeeriz had flown over impressively rugged mountains. She had lived most of her childhood in the shadows of the range that divided Dunway from Hania, but those mountains were mere hills compared to these high, jagged peaks.

Looking down at the steep slopes and broken ground, and the tangled limbs of trees and sharp spires of rock she could see how difficult it would be to travel into Si by foot. The “ground” was vertical more often than horizontal, and every bit of soil had been claimed by plants, from sharp grasses to enormous trees.

Wide, rubble-filled rivers cut through the forest. High eroded banks scattered with enormous dead trees hinted at an impassable spring flow. These rivers surged toward glittering blue lakes, then spilled out to form two huge, sea-bound rivers.

They had flown directly southeast from Jarime, then turned south to fly between a gap in the mountains. That night they had camped in a cave furnished with a fireplace and simple beds, stocked with dried food. In the morning she woke to the smell of fried eggs, and was surprised to find that Zeeriz had flown out to raid a few nests at dawn. Obviously the Siyee were not squeamish about eating other winged creatures.

They had flown southeast all morning. Now, as the sun rose to its zenith, her attention was drawn to a long, exposed stretch of rock on the, side of a mountain.

“That is the Open,” Zeeriz explained. “Our main gathering and living place.”

She nodded to show her understanding.

:Juran?

:Auraya.

:I am nearing my destination.

:I will alert the others. They’re eager to see it.

Auraya sensed a little of his excitement and smiled. Even Juran, normally so serious, was thrilled by the prospect of seeing the home of the Siyee.

Not long after, a shadow passed over her. Looking up, she saw three Siyee flying above. They stared at her, fascinated. She flew closer to Zeeriz.

“Should I stop and greet them?”

“No,” he replied. “If you stop to greet every Siyee who comes to gawk at you, we won’t reach the Open until nightfall.” He looked up at the newcomers and grinned. “You’re going to attract quite a crowd.”

As they continued on, she occasionally glanced up to smile at the Siyee above. Soon more joined them, and then more, until she felt as if she was being followed by a great, flapping cloud. Drawing closer to the Open, she began to make out Siyee standing on the rocky ground - and they began to notice her. Some leapt into the air to investigate. Others simply remained on the steep slope, watching.

At the back of her mind, Auraya was conscious of her continuing link with Juran. One by one the other White joined that link, and she allowed them to view what she was seeing. The steep rock face that was the Open was like a giant scar on the side of the mountain. Longer than it was wide, it was surrounded by forest. The trees of that forest were enormous, and would no doubt be even more impressive viewed from the ground.

The rock face was uneven, broken into three levels. In the middle section a group of Siyee adults were standing in a line. These, she guessed, were the tribal leaders: the Speakers.

From below a pounding began, drawing her attention to several drums arranged on either side of the Open. Suddenly Siyee began darting in front of her. Seeing that they were wearing identical clothing and were all adolescents, she understood this aerobatic display was a show put on to impress her.

They dived and swooped back and forth, their movements synchronized. The patterns they formed were intricate, yet they managed to keep pace with her as she and Zeeriz descended toward the waiting Speakers.

The drums stopped and the fliers streaked away. Zeeriz swooped down to the ground. As he landed lightly before the Speakers, Auraya dropped down beside him. A woman stepped forward holding a wooden cup in one hand and what looked like a small cake in the other.

“I am Speaker Sirri,” the Siyee said.

“I am Auraya of the White.”

The Siyee offered Auraya the cup and the cake. The cup was full of clear, clean water. Zeeriz had told her of this ritual of welcome. Auraya ate the cake, which was sweet and dense, then drank the water. She handed the cup back to the Speaker. No thanks were to be offered, Zeeriz had told her. All Siyee of all tribes welcomed visitors with food and water, since no Siyee could carry much of their own. Even enemies must give and receive refreshment, but the silence prevented words of thanks sticking in anyone’s throat.

Sirri stepped back and spread her arms wide, exposing the membranes of her wings. This, Auraya read from the woman’s mind, was a welcome reserved only for those the Siyee trusted. The Siyee trusted the gods, so in turn they trusted the Gods’ Chosen.

“Welcome to Si, Auraya of the White.”

Auraya smiled and copied the gesture. “I am delighted to receive such a warm welcome from you and your people.”

Sirri’s expression softened. “It is an honor to receive one of the Gods’ Chosen.”

Auraya made the sign of the circle. “And it is an honor to be welcomed by the gods’ most wondrous and beautiful creation.”

Sirri’s eyes widened and her face flushed. Auraya noted the other Speakers exchanging glances. Had she said something wrong? She was not sensing offense from them. She read a mixture of thoughts, and slowly came to understand that, as a people, they wondered about their place in the world. Did their existence have a purpose? Or had their creation simply been a passing folly, an entertainment for the goddess who had made them? Her words had suggested that, perhaps, part of their purpose was simply to be an expression of beauty and wonder.

She would have to be careful here. These people could read meanings into her comments than she didn’t intend. She must be sure to explain that she knew no more than they when it came to the gods’ deeper purposes. After all, they hadn’t even spoken to her since the Choosing Ceremony.

“We have called a Gathering in order to discuss your proposed alliance,” Speaker Sirri told her. “Messengers have been sent to all tribes asking for their Speakers or representatives to come. It will take two or three days for everyone to arrive. In the meantime, we have arranged a small welcoming feast to take place tonight in the Speakers’ Bower, beginning at sunset.”

Auraya nodded. “I look forward to it.”

“There are many hours left before sunset. Would you like to rest, or see more of the Open?”

“I would love to see more of your home.”

Sirri smiled and gestured gracefully toward the trees on one side. “I would be honored to show you.”

20

As the water in the bowl stilled, Emerahl examined her reflection, tilting her head so she could see her scalp. Her natural, youthful hair color was just beginning to show, though only on close examination. It was a less vivid shade of red than the dye she had applied a few days ago, but she would be able to hide the change by using a weaker dye solution as it grew longer.

She straightened and considered herself. A young woman with dazzling green eyes, lightly speckled pale skin and hair the color of a sunset looked back at her. Her long tunic was a faded green that might once have matched her eyes, but the neckline was provocative - and would be more so once she put on some weight.

The small smile the girl in the mirror was wearing disappeared and was replaced by a frown.

Yes, I definitely need to regain my curves, she thought. I’m a scrawny wretch.

Unfortunately, she had used up almost all her small income from her first customers by renting a room for a few nights. The price of accommodation had increased quite a bit in the last hundred or so years. As had other things. She hadn’t realized until it was too late why the fishermen hadn’t haggled too fiercely. She had assumed desire for her had made them malleable, when the truth was they had got themselves a bargain.

Clothes had been her first priority, however. Her price for lying with the fishermen had included a dirty old tawl she had spied in the cabin. It had covered her until she could buy herself the tunic and find a room. That night, after cleaning herself up, she had ventured out to replenish her purse.

Customers did not warm to her that evening and she made barely enough money to pay for food and another night’s rent. On the third night the man she brought back to her room stared at her white hair and treated her roughly. When he left, he all but reeked of vengeful satisfaction. She wondered if the woman he wanted to hurt knew how much he hated her.

She had skipped a meal so she could buy hair dye. The next night she had no trouble picking up customers. There weren’t many red-haired women working the streets of Porin. She was a novelty.

Emerahl ran a comb through her hair one more time, then turned toward the door. She silently cursed the priest who had chased her from her home, then straightened her back and left.

She did not have to travel far. Her accommodation was situated in an alley off Main Street, the main thoroughfare of the low-end of town. Anything could be bought or arranged here: whores, black-market goods, poison, a new identity, someone else’s possessions, someone else’s life. Competition was fierce among the whores and her presence had been quickly noted and challenged. As Emerahl took her place at the alley corner, she looked for now-familiar hostile faces. The dark-skinned twins standing just past the other corner of the alley had tried to intimidate her into leaving, but a small demonstration of her Gifts had convinced them to leave her alone. The sharp-nosed girl across the road had attempted to befriend her, but Emerahl had turned her away. She was not going to be here long enough to need friends, and did not intend to share her customers or income with another.

A chill rain began to fall. Emerahl drew magic and shaped it into a barrier over her head. She noted how the dark twins huddled close under a window awning. One cupped her hands and red light began to spill from between her fingers. The other twin wrapped her hands around her sister’s.

Across the street, the sharp-nosed girl quickly became soaked, turning her from a young woman into a bedraggled child. To Emerahl’s amusement, the girl’s clinging wet clothes attracted a customer. She nodded to herself as the pair disappeared. Though she did not want the girl’s friendship, she had enough fellow-feeling for these street whores that seeing them courting illness bothered her.

The rain became heavier. Pedestrians grew fewer, and most barely spared the street girls a glance. Emerahl watched as a pair of young men swaggered down the opposite side of the road. One looked up at her, then nudged his companion with an elbow. The other began to look in her direction, but as he was about to see her something blocked their view.

Emerahl frowned at the covered platten that had pulled up in front of her. Then she saw the man looking at her from behind an opening in the cover. Middle-aged, she noted, but well dressed. She smiled. “Greetings,” she said. “Are you looking for something?”

His eyes narrowed and a wry smile curled his lips. “Indeed I am.”

She then sauntered up to the opening.

“Something I can help you with?” she murmured.

“Perhaps,” he said. “I was looking for a little company. Some stimulating conversation.”

“I can offer you stimulating and conversation,” she replied.

He laughed, then his eyes strayed to the magical shield above her.

“A useful Gift.”

“I have many useful Gifts,” she said slyly. “Some are useful to me, some may be useful to you.”

His eyes narrowed, though whether at the warning or invitation she wasn’t sure. “What is your name?”

“Emmea.”

The opening in the platten cover widened. “Get in, Emmea.”

“That will cost you at least—”

“Get in, and we’ll negotiate out of the rain.”

She hesitated, then shrugged and climbed inside. If the price was too low, or he proved to be troublesome, she could easily use her Gifts to break free. All she would risk was a walk in the rain and, as she settled onto the soft cushions piled upon the seat beside him and noted the gold rings that graced her customer’s fingers, she knew that was a risk worth taking.

The man called out and the platten jerked into motion. It travelled slowly. Emerahl eyed her customer. He stared back at her.

“Thirty ren,” he said. She felt her heart skip. Generous. Perhaps he could be pushed further. She feigned disdain.

“Fifty.”

He pursed his lips. She began undoing the ties on the front of her tunic. His eyes followed every movement of her fingers.

“Thirty-five,” he offered.

She snorted softly. “Forty-five.”

He smiled as she spread open the cloth of her tunic, revealing the length of her body. She lay back on the cushions and saw the desire in his eyes intensify as she ran her hands down her body, from her small breasts to the fine triangle of red hairs at her groin.

He breathed deeply, then met her eyes.

“Heybrin will not protect you from disease.”

So he had noticed the smell of the herb. She smiled thinly. “I know, but men don’t believe me when I tell them my Gifts can.”

The corner of his lip twitched. “I do. How does forty sound?”

“Forty it is, then,” she agreed, sliding across the seat and reaching for the fastening of his finely tailored pants.

He leaned forward and ran the tip of his tongue down her neck to her nipples, and his fingers slid down into her pubic hair, caressing. She smiled and pretended to be aroused by this, hoping he wasn’t thinking she would forgo the fee if he gave a little pleasure in return.

She turned her attention to his body, and soon he was more interested in his own pleasure. Once he was inside her, she let the instincts of her body keep time with his movements and focused her mind on his. Emotion, mostly lust, came to her like drifts of smoke. She was getting better at sensing it.

His movements became more urgent, then he sighed into a climax. Like most men, he drew away after only a moment’s pause. She sighed and relaxed against the cushions. This is definitely better than a hard brick wall against my back.

When she looked up at him, he was regarding her curiously.

“Why is a beautiful young woman like yourself working the streets, Emmea?”

She managed to stop herself looking at him as if he was an idiot.

“Money.”

“Yes, of course. But what of your parents?”

“They threw me out.”

His eyebrows rose. “What did you do?”

“You mean ‘Who?’ - ‘Who did I do?’ ” she said lightly. “Or who didn’t I do? I guess I was meant for this work.”

“Do you enjoy it?”

She regarded him coolly. Why all the questions? “Most of the time,” she lied.

He smiled. “How did you learn about heybrin?”

She considered the motion of the platten. It was still moving slowly. They couldn’t have gone far, but the more he talked the further they travelled from Main Street. Was he trying to intimidate her into forgoing her fee for the sake of escaping him? Well, it wasn’t going to work.

“I... my grandmother knew a lot about herbs and magic. She taught me. Mother said she shouldn’t have taught me how to stop babies until I was married, but...” Emerahl smiled wryly. “My grandi knew me better.”

“My grandmother used to say people will always have vices, so you may as well profit from them.” He frowned. “My father is the opposite. Very moral. He’d hate to see me now. He took our money out of her ‘immoral ventures’ and put it all into the eastern mountains. We’ve made a lot of money out of rare woods and mining.”

Suddenly she understood what was going on. He was the kind of customer who liked to talk. Well, he had mentioned wanting stimulating conversation. She may as well play along. If she humored him she might learn something - and if she proved a good listener he might become a regular customer.

“Sounds like he made the right decision, then,” she said.

He grimaced. “Perhaps. Perhaps not. The searches at the gates have slowed traffic and we’ve lost custom because of it. I don’t know why they bother. If a priest with mind-reading Gifts can’t find this sorceress, who can? Now there are rumors the White are going to ally with the Siyee, who want the land we own.”

“The White?”

“Yes. The Siyee sent ambassadors to the White Tower. Apparently one of the White has left to visit Si. The newest one. I guess it’s too much to hope that she’ll mess it up out of inexperience.”

Emerahl shook her head. “Who are the White?”

He turned to stare at her. “You don’t know? How can you not know?”

Something in his tone told her that she had revealed herself ignorant in a matter that every modern man and woman knew well. She shrugged. “My home is remote. We didn’t even have a priest.”

His eyebrows rose. “Well, then. No wonder you ran away.”

Ran away? She hadn’t said that, but perhaps he had sensed in her manner that she was lying and guessed at the reason. Running away was a likely story for a young woman on the streets.

“The White are the highest of the Circlian priests and priestesses,” he explained. “The Gods’ Chosen. Juran is the first, then Dyara, Mairae, Rian, and now Auraya.”

“Ah, the Gods’ Chosen.” Emerahl hoped she had managed to hide her shock. How could Juran still be alive? The answer was obvious. Because the gods want him to be. She nodded to herself. Most likely these other White were long-lived, too. What was this White Tower? She suddenly remembered the tower dream that still occasionally bothered her. Was this the tower?

“You look... Did that make sense?”

She looked at the man sitting beside her and nodded. “Yes, it jogged my memory. Grandi taught me something like that, but I’d forgotten most of it.” She looked at him. “Can you tell me more?”

He smiled, then shook his head sadly. “I must return to my home. First I will take you back to yours.” He called instructions to the driver and the platten began to rock more rapidly. After a few minutes it slowed to a halt.

Reaching into his tunic, he drew out a wallet and silently counted out small copper coins.

“Fifty ren,” he said, handing them to her.

She hesitated. “But...”

“I know. We agreed on forty. You’re worth more than that, Emmea.”

She smiled, then impulsively leaned forward and kissed him on the lips. A brightness flared in his eyes and she felt his hand brush against her waist as she climbed out of the platten.

He’ll be back, she thought with certainty. I knew I wouldn’t be here long.

She noted that the twins had disappeared. Turning around, she waved at her night’s investment as the platten drew away. Then, with fifty ren tucked into her purse, she hurried down the alley to her room.

Tryss woke several times during the night. Each time he opened his eyes he saw only darkness. Finally, he blinked sleep away to see the palest light filtering though the walls of his parents’ bower.

He rose and dressed quietly, strapping his tools to his waist. As an afterthought, he grabbed a piece of bread on the way out and by the time he had reached the Open all that was left was the burned crust, which he tossed aside.

He stretched and warmed up carefully. If he was to test his new harness today, he did not want pulled muscles hampering his movements. As he ran through the exercises, he looked to the northern edge of the Open, but the White priestess’s bower was hidden within the shadows of the trees.

The landwalker’s presence had stirred the Siyee into a state of excitement and suspense. Everyone talked about her and the alliance offer all the time. Tryss was half sick of the subject, particularly because those people most excited by this visit by the Gods’ Chosen were those who had scoffed loudest when they heard of his harness. The people who did not believe the Siyee had anything to offer the White in return for their protection.

That’s because they’re the least intelligent of us, Drilli had said when he voiced this observation.

He smiled at the memory, then leapt into the air. Cold wind rushed over his face and chilled the membrane of his wings. Winter was drawing ever closer. Snow already dusted the highest peaks. Many of the forest trees had lost their leaves, revealing herds of the animals he intended to hunt.

My family won’t go hungry this year, he told himself.

It took him an hour to get to the cave where he now stored his new harness. He came to it by a roundabout route which would hopefully confuse anyone who might try to follow. His cousins were still gloating over their act of spite, but neither had harassed him since. His father had said something about the pair being busy with a task Speaker Sirri had set them.

Landing before the cave, Tryss hurried inside. Every time he entered and found all as it had been when he left it, he felt a surge of relief.

Not this time. A figure stood beside the harness. He froze in alarm, then felt a mix of relief and anxiety as he saw that it was Speaker Sirri.

The leader of his tribe smiled at him.

“Is it finished?”

Tryss glanced at the harness. “Almost.”

The smile faded. “So you haven’t tested it yet.”

“No.”

She looked at him thoughtfully, then beckoned.

“Sit with me, Tryss. I want to talk to you.”

As she dropped into a squat, Tryss moved to the other side of the harness and folded himself down. He watched her closely. She looked into the distance, then turned back to regard him.

“Do you think you could have this finished and working by tomorrow night?”

Tomorrow night was the night of the Gathering. The White priestess would address them. Tryss felt his pulse quicken.

“Maybe.”

“I need a definite ‘yes’ or ’no.’ ”

He took a deep breath. “Yes.”

She nodded. “Are you willing to risk demonstrating it at a Gathering this important?”

His heart was racing now. “Yes.”

She nodded again. “Then I will arrange for it to be part of the meeting. It should be timed well, if you are to impress everyone.”

“I’d be happy just to convince a few people,” he muttered.

She laughed. “Ah, but we have to convince everyone.”

“Some will never believe in it.”

She tilted her head to one side. “Do you realize that part of the reason they will not open their minds is because they fear you are right?”

He frowned. “Why? If I’m right, they can hunt. And fight.”

“And go to war. If we go to war, many of us will never return, even if the fight is won. We are not as numerous as landwalkers and do not produce as many healthy children. A victory for the White may be the final defeat for the Siyee.”

Tryss felt himself turn cold as her words sank in. If his invention enabled Siyee to go to war, and that led to the end of the Siyee, then he would be responsible for his people’s demise.

“But if we can hunt and grow crops we will be stronger,” he said slowly, thinking aloud. “We will have more healthy children. If we can defend ourselves from invaders, more of us will live to have children. When we go to war we must attack from far enough away that the enemy’s arrows can’t reach us. None of us have to die.”

Sirri chuckled. “If only that were true. We have two paths before us. Both have a price. It may be that the price is the same.” She rose. “Come to my bower late tonight and we will discuss the timing and form of your demonstration.”

“I will.” He stood up. “Thank you, Speaker Sirri.”

“If this works, all of the Siyee will thank you, Tryss.” She paused, then winked. “Not to put any pressure on you, of course.”

Then she strode out of the cave and leapt into the sky, leaving Tryss with the nagging feeling she had just done him a favor he might come to regret.

21

As the black-clothed, brown-skinned landwalker climbed carefully down the rock face, Yzzi smothered a laugh. The woman moved slowly and awkwardly, choosing her foot- and hand-holds carefully. Yet there was a surety in the way the woman climbed that suggested she was well practiced at this. It reminded Yzzi of a boy in her tribe who had been born without a membrane between his arms and body. He could not fly, but he could walk further and leap higher than any normal Siyee. At first his efforts had been comical and pitiful, but she and the other children came to respect him for his determination to be as mobile as possible.

The woman had reached the bottom of the slope and paused at a thin stream to drink. She would have to be familiar with climbing, Yzzi decided, since she must have crossed plenty of terrain like this to get so far into Siyee lands.

Yzzi shifted her weight from one leg to another, keeping her balance easily on the branch. The woman rose, then looked up... directly into Yzzi’s eyes. A chill ran down Yzzi’s spine, but she did not move. It was possible the woman hadn’t seen her. She might be hidden by the foliage.

“Hello,” the stranger called.

Yzzi’s heart stopped. She’s seen me! What do I do?

“Don’t be afraid,” the woman said. “I will not hurt you.”

It took a moment before Yzzi made sense of the words. The woman spoke the Siyee language haltingly and the pitch of her whistles was a little, off. Yzzi considered the stranger. Should she talk to the woman? Her father had told her that landwalkers could not be trusted, but he had changed his mind when the White priestess visited their tribe this morning.

“Will you come down and talk to me?”

Yzzi shifted her weight again, then came to a decision. She would talk, but she would do so from where she was.

“I’m Yzzi. Who are you?”

The woman’s smile widened. “I’m Genza.”

“Why are you in Si?”

“To see what’s here. Why don’t you come down? I can barely see you.”

Once again, Yzzi hesitated. The landwalker was so large. She cast about, looking for a place she might perch that was closer to the woman, but from which she could fly away easily. A ledge on the steep slope the woman had just climbed down looked good enough. Diving from the branch, she swooped down and landed neatly on her new perch.

She turned to regard the landwalker. The woman was still smiling.

“You’re so pretty,” she murmured.

Yzzi felt a flush of pleasure.

“You’re strange,” she blurted. “But in a good way.”

The woman laughed.

“Would you pass on a message from me to your leader?”

Yzzi straightened. Passing on messages was important, and children weren’t often given important messages to deliver. “All right.”

The woman took a few steps closer and looked deep into Yzzi’s eyes.

“I want you to tell them that I am sorry about the harm the birds did. It was not meant to happen. They were trying to protect me and I did not realize what was happening until it was too late. I came here to see if we could be friends. Will you remember all of that, Yzzi?”

Yzzi nodded.

“Then repeat it back to me now, so I can see how well you’ll—”

A distant whistle snatched Yzzi’s attention away. She looked up and exclaimed as a large group of Siyee flew overhead. At the center was a white-clad figure conspicuous among the rest for its size and winglessness.

The White priestess, Yzzi thought. She turned back to see Genza crouching beneath the fronds of a large felfea tree. The woman’s expression was terrible - wavering between anger and fear.

“How long has she been here?” she snarled.

“A few days,” Yzzi replied. “She’s nice. You should come and meet her. She’ll want to be your friend, too.”

Genza straightened and her expression softened as she looked at Yzzi. She muttered a few strange words Yzzi didn’t understand, then sighed. “Can you tell your tribe leader one more thing, Yzzi?”

Yzzi nodded.

“Tell your leader that if the Siyee ally themselves with the heretic Circlians, they will gain an enemy more powerful. Now I know she is here, I will not stay.”

“You don’t want to meet the Speakers?”

“Not while she is here.”

“But you came so far! It can’t have been easy.”

Genza grimaced. “No.” She sighed, then looked at Yzzi hopefully. “You wouldn’t happen to know of an easy way back to the coast?”

Yzzi grinned. “I haven’t been that far, but I’ll help you as much as I can.”

Genza smiled with warm gratitude. “Thank you, Yzzi. I hope one day we’ll meet again and I can return the favor.”

As Danjin entered Auraya’s rooms, he heard a shrill cry of joy.

“Daaaa-nin!”

He immediately ducked and looked up. The ceiling was bare. He cast about, searching for the owner of the voice. A gray blur streaked across the room and leapt up into his arms.

“Hello, Mischief,” he replied.

The veez gazed up at Danjin, blinking adoringly. Mischief had taken quite a liking to Danjin now that the adviser, Auraya’s servants and the occasional visit from Mairae and Stardust were the only company he had. Auraya’s pet also found it amusing to drop onto Danjin’s head from the ceiling, a trick that was only slightly less unnerving than the view from the windows.

Danjin scratched the veez’s head and spoke to it for a while, but soon his thoughts returned to the discoveries he had made over the last few days. He had visited friends and acquaintances all over the city, in high and low places. What he’d heard had confirmed his worst fears. The Pentadrians of the southern continent were raising an army.

Military training was a part of their cult and he had hoped his brother and father had come to the wrong conclusions about the trade in weapons. However, both the retired sailor Danjin had befriended during his early years of travelling and the Dunwayan ambassador had told him of active recruitment of soldiers and smiths within Mur, Avven and Dekkar, the lands of the southern continent.

Mischief squirmed out of Danjin’s arms, clearly dissatisfied with the amount of attention he was getting. He jumped up onto a chair and watched as Danjin began pacing, the veez’s small, pointy head moving back and forth.

Was Northern Ithania the Pentadrians’ target? Of course it is. Other landmasses lay to the northeast and west, but they were so far away as to be almost regarded as legend. If the Pentadrians had their sights set on conquering some other place, the closest was the continent to their north.

:What’s wrong, Danjin?

He let out a gasp of relief.

:Auraya! At last!

:It’s nice to be missed, but that’s clearly not what’s bothering you. What is this about Pentadrians conquering Ithania?

He quickly related what he had learned.

:I see. So this is what people are saying. I don’t think the possibility of war will remain a secret much longer.

:You knew all this?

:Yes and no. We’ve only just begun receiving reliable reports of what’s going on in the south. They’re the observations of people who are being careful not to be noticed. The sort of information you have unearthed - purchases of materials and a change in their military behavior - are new to me. Tell Juran what you have learned. It will help him see the bigger picture.

:I will. How is your work in Si going?

:It’s a fascinating place. I can’t wait to tell you all about it. These people have such gentle natures. I was expecting some kind of internal conflict - like the ancient grudges between the Dunwayan clans - but there’s only a mild sort of competition between tribes that they channel into aerial contests. They look for matches between young men and women of different tribes, and marry quite young, which encourages adolescents to mature quickly. Have you heard from Leiard at all?

Danjin blinked in surprise at the sudden change of subject.

:No. Not once since you left.

:Could you... could you visit him? Just to let him know I haven’t completely forgotten about him.

:I’ll do it tomorrow.

:Thank you. And how is... Ah, here’s Speaker Sirri. I will talk to you again soon.

The sense of her presence faded, then suddenly returned.

:And give Mischief an extra scratch for me.

:I will.

Then she was gone. Danjin moved to the chair, crouched and scratched the veez’s head.

“There, that’s from your mistress.”

Mischief closed his eyes, his pointy face a picture of bliss.

Danjin sighed. If only I was so easily soothed, he thought. Auraya knows of the Pentadrian army, but that doesn’t make it any less frightening. I just have to hope that the White are doing all they can to prevent a war - or at least to win if it is unavoidable.

“Sorry, Mischief,” he said to the veez. “I must leave you. I need to tell Juran what I know.”

He gave Mischief one last scratch, then rose and hurried from the room.

After Speaker Sirri left, Auraya slowly walked around the bower the Siyee had made her. It was a marvellous creation, so simple yet so beautiful. They had made hers twice the size of a normal bower, measuring it against the landwalker named Gremmer who had delivered the offer of an alliance to them.

It was dome-shaped, made of long, flexible supports, with one end buried in the ground and the other secured against the trunk of an immense tree. A thin membrane stretched between the supports. Auraya could not guess if it was of animal or plant origin. During the day, light filtered through, filling the room with a warm glow. Membranes had also been stretched between the outer frame and a pole sunk into the ground near the trunk of the tree, dividing the house into three rooms. She ran her fingers lightly over the walls and their flexible supports, then turned to regard the simple furniture.

Chairs made of wooden frames with woven material slung between filled the main room. A single slab of rock lay in the center of the floor with a depression in the center for cooking in. Most Siyee families had a member with enough magical ability to learn the Gift of heating stone. The bed in the second room was a length of material slung between a sturdy support wedged into the floor and a loop around the trunk at the center of the room. The blankets on the bed were woven from the fine down of a small domestic animal and were deliciously soft. They beckoned to her. It was late. Tomorrow would bring a new challenge: speaking to the Siyee at their Gathering.

Stripping off her white circ she changed into a simple tunic she had brought for sleeping in. Since leaving Jarime she hadn’t bothered trying to dress her hair in the typically elaborate Hanian fashion, since all her hard work was soon blown undone when she was flying. Instead she plaited it into a single tail, which she now undid.

She managed to get into her sling bed without too much trouble. After arranging the cushions and blankets comfortably, she relaxed and let her thoughts wander. Time passed and sleep would not come. Danjin’s news had only added to her disquiet over the communication she’d had with Juran earlier that day. Every day it seemed more likely that Northern Ithania was facing the threat of war with the Pentadrians. And Juran had brought Mirae back from Somrey for fear she was vulnerable to an attack by one of the black sorcerers.

And here I am, trying to convince the Siyee to ally with us. If they do and war comes, they will have to join us in the fight. They are not a strong or robust people. How can I ask them to fight when it is likely some of them will die as a consequence?

She sighed and shifted a little. It would be unfair to the Siyee to keep the possibility of war from them until after they made their decision. Telling them of it might dissuade them from an alliance with the White, however. She would have to make them see that turning down the alliance and avoiding involvement in a war would not save them from the Pentadrians. If the Toren settlers could present a threat to them, so could invaders.

The Siyee might decide to take that risk. After all, the Pentadrians might not invade Northern Ithania. However, she couldn’t gamble that war wouldn’t come and that she didn’t need to warn the Siyee. Even learning that she had kept the possibility of war from them would anger them.

It almost seems as if the Pentadrians have spread the idea they’re planning a war in order to dissuade anyone from allying with the White, she thought. Then she shook her head. That is too devious to be true. The Pentadrians haven’t even visited Si. They’ve shown no signs of wanting the Siyee, who worship Huan, as allies.

She shifted again, her sling bed rocking with the movement.

I will have to tell the Siyee of the threat of war eventually, she thought. If I choose the right time, perhaps I can still convince them the alliance is beneficial to them. After all, with the gods on our side we can’t lose.

Holding onto that thought, she finally surrendered to the call of sleep.

:Auraya.

The voice was a whisper in her mind.

:Auraya.

This time it was stronger. She struggled awake and blinked at the darkened room. It was empty, and when she searched for minds, she found none close by. Had it been a mental call?

No, it had the feel of a dream about it, she decided. I think I dreamed that someone called me. She closed her eyes. Time stretched out, and she forgot about the dream.

:Auraya.

She felt herself rising toward consciousness, like floating up to the surface of water. Her awareness of the caller’s mind faded. She opened her eyes, but did not bother searching for the speaker. He was limited to the dream.

He? She felt her heart skip a beat. Who else would be calling for her in a dream but Leiard?

Abruptly, Auraya was wide awake, her heart racing. Should I answer? If I did would we be dream-linking? Dream-linking is a crime.

So is using a Dreamweaver’s services, she thought. A ridiculous law. I want to know what dream-linking is. What better way than to join one?

But if I engage in a dream link, I will be breaking a law. And so will he.

It’s not as if I’m a helpless victim. I could make him stop at any time.

Or could I?

She lay awake for some time. Part of her longed to speak to Leiard, but another hesitated to. Even if she wanted to, she was too awake now. She doubted she would fall asleep again easily.

Some time later she heard her name called and knew simultaneously that she had managed to fall asleep, and that she had to talk to Leiard.

:Leiard? she ventured.

A sense of personality grew stronger, flowing around her like thick, sweet smoke. It was Leiard and yet it was not. It was the man she had glimpsed on her last night in Jarime. The warm, passionate man hidden beneath the dignified Dreamweaver exterior.

:I cannot be anything but myself in this state, he told her.

:Nor can I, I am guessing, she replied.

:No. Here you can show the truth, or hide it, but not lie.

:So this is a dream link?

:It is. Do you forgive me this? I only wished to be with you in some way.

:I forgive you. But do you forgive me?

:For what?

:For that night we...

Memories flashed through her mind, more vivid than they were when she was conscious. She not only saw their limbs entangled, but felt the slide of skin against skin. From Leiard came amusement and a deep affection.

:What is there to forgive?

More memories washed over her, this time from a different vantage point. What this revealed was startling. To experience pleasure from his point of view...

:We both wanted it. I think that was clear, he said.

:What is happening? she asked. These memories are so vivid.

:They always are, in the dream state.

:I can touch, taste...

:Dreams are powerful. They can bring solace to the grieving, confidence to the weak—

:Justice to the wrongdoer?

:Once, yes, they had that role. No longer is it so. Dream links still allow loved ones to meet when they are parted. They are the Dreamweavers’ alternative to the priest ring.

:I would have given you a ring, but I didn’t think you’d accept it.

:Do you accept this? We are breaking a law.

She paused.

:Yes. We must talk. What we did - wonderful though it was - will have consequences.

:I know.

:I should not have invited you.

:I should not have accepted.

:Not that I regret it.

:Nor I.

:But if people find out... I would not like this to cause you harm - or your people.

:Nor I.

She hesitated, then made herself say what she ought to say.

:We won’t do it again.

:No.

They both fell silent.

:You’re right, she said. We can’t lie in this place.

He reached out to touch her face.

:But we can be ourselves.

She shivered at his touch. It awoke more memories.

:I wish you were here.

:So do I. I am, in one form at least. Memories, as I said before, are more vivid in the dream state. Are there any you wish to relive?

She smiled.

:Just a few.

22

The sun was a bright ball softened by the mist shrouding the city. Few people were about, and those who were hesitated before they passed Leiard, no doubt wondering what a Dreamweaver was doing wandering through the docks on such a morning.

What he was doing was thinking. Remembering dreams of remembering... and feeling guilty about them.

He had decided days ago that he would not reach out to her in dreams, but last night his subconscious had decided otherwise. By the time he had realized what he was doing, it was too late. She had answered him.

Even then, he should have had the will to stop, but Auraya had embraced the dream link so naturally and completely. She was impossible to deny, and the night’s pleasures had been too good to resist.

She has a good imagination, that one, a voice in his mind murmured. It is a pity she’s a tool of the gods.

Leiard frowned. She is more than just a tool.

No? Do you think that if the gods ordered her to kill you, she’d refuse?

Yes.

You are a fool.

Leiard stopped and looked out over the water. Ships swayed in the water, ghostly in the mist.

I am a fool, he agreed.

Well, it’s been a while.

Leiard decided to ignore that. I shouldn’t have done it, he thought. We broke the law.

A stupid law.

A law nonetheless. A law that is punishable by death.

I doubt she’ll be punished. As for you... once again, you were clever enough to ensure it was her decision. She’ll blame herself for encouraging you to break that law, if she has any conscience.

It wasn’t her fault.

No? So you think you’re so charming she lost all will and couldn’t resist you?

Oh, be quiet! Leiard scowled and crossed his arms. This was ridiculous. He was arguing with a memory of Mirar. Which was happening more often now. He hadn’t been linking with Jayim for fear of the boy learning of his night with Auraya, but Arleej had said he must in order to regain his sense of identity. Was this why Mirar’s personality had become so... so...

Protective? Because I know you and Auraya plan to sneak away to secret locations in the city to rut yourselves silly once she gets back. Because you’re a Dreamweaver, and when your affair is discovered my people will pay the price.

They won’t discover it, Leiard replied. Not if the other White never get a chance to read my mind. I will have to give up the role of adviser.

Which will make them suspicious. They’ll want to question you. To ask why.

I’ll send a message. I’ll tell them I need more time to train Jayim.

A likely story.

They won’t spare me a second thought. I’m just an ordinary Dreamweaver. They’ll probably be relieved to get rid of me. They’ll—

“Leiard?”

The voice came from close by. Leiard blinked as he realized he was at the end of a pier. He turned to see Jayim standing behind him.

“Jayim?” he said. “What are you doing here?”

The boy’s forehead crinkled. “Looking for you.” He glanced from side to side. “Who were you talking to?”

Leiard stared at his student. Talking? He swallowed and realized his throat did feel as it did when he had been speaking for some time.

“Nobody,” he said, hoping that he didn’t look as disturbed as he felt He shrugged. “Just reciting formulas aloud.”

Jayim nodded, accepting Leiard’s explanation. “Are we going to have lessons today?”

Leiard looked out at the ships. The fog was thinner now, rising in drifts. It was impossible to tell how long he had been standing here. A few hours, from the position of the sun.

“Yes. More cures, I think. Yes, you can never know too many by heart.”

Jayim grimaced. “No links?”

Leiard shook his head. “Not yet.”

Emerahl was dragged, protesting, from the depths of sleep by a persistent hammering. Reaching a state of befuddled awareness, she recognized the sound as that of a fist making contact with a door. She opened her eyes and muttered a curse. The one advantage of staying up late and sleeping all morning was that she did not have the tower dream, but occasionally the landlord came early for the rent.

“I hear you,” she called. “I’m coming.”

With an effort, she pushed herself upright. Immediately she felt the cloying ropes of sleep loosen. She blinked and rubbed her eyes until they remained open, yawned several times, then, throwing on her dirty old tawl, went to the door.

As soon as the latch clicked the door swung inward. Emerahl stumbled back, gathering magic quickly to form an invisible shield. The intruder was a large middle-aged woman dressed in fine clothing. Behind her stood two broad-shouldered men, obviously hired guards.

No feeling of violent intent came from this rich stranger and her guards, only curiosity and the arrogance of people with wealth or power. Emerahl stared at the woman.

“Who are you?” she demanded.

The woman ignored the question. She glanced around the room, eyebrows rising with disdain, then gave Emerahl an assessing look. “So you’re the whore Panilo’s discovered.” She pursed her lips. “Take off the tawl.”

Emerahl made no move to obey. She met the woman’s eyes levelly. “Who are you?” she repeated.

The stranger crossed her arms and thrust out her generous bosom. “I am Rozea Peporan.”

She obviously expected Emerahl to know the name. After a short silence, the woman frowned and uncrossed her arms, placing her hands on her hips instead.

“I own and run the richest brothel in Porin.”

A brothel? Opportunity comes knocking quickly in Toren. Or hammering, as it was.

“Is that so?” Emerahl said.

“Yes.”

Emerahl put a knuckle to her lips. “Panilo is the trader who bought my services the last few nights.”

“That’s right. He’s a regular customer. At least he was until recently. He has an eye for quality so I’m always suspicious if my spies tell me he’s been visiting Main Street.”

“So you’re here to tell me to move on, then?”

Rozea smiled, but her eyes remained cold. “That depends. Take off your tawl. And your shift.”

Emerahl shrugged out of the garments and tossed them on the bed, then drew her shoulders back and turned to display her naked body. She didn’t have to strain her senses to detect the guards’ interest. The way the woman examined her body was impersonal and calculating. Emerahl turned full circle and tossed her head.

“Skinny,” Rozea said. “Good bones. I can always work with good bones. No scars... What is your natural hair color?”

“Red.”

“Then why dye it?”

“To make it redder. So I stand out.”

“It looks cheap. My establishment isn’t cheap. My girls can strip it back and redye it a natural shade. Were any of your customers diseased?”

“No.”

“You?”

“No.”

“Good. Get dressed.”

Emerahl moved to her chair, where she had draped her green tunic after washing and drying it last night. “What makes you think I want to work in your establishment?” she asked as she donned it.

“Safety. A clean room. Better clients. Better money.”

“I have Gifts. I can protect myself,” she stated. She gave Rozea a sidelong look. “What kind of money are we talking about?”

Rozea chuckled...“You’ll earn no more than fifty ren to start with.”

Emerahl shrugged. “Panilo paid me that. I want a hundred.”

“Sixty, with new clothes and some jewelry.”

“Eighty.”

“Sixty,” Rozea said firmly. “No more.”

Emerahl sat on the edge of the bed and pretended to consider. “No rough customers. I hear people like you let rich men get nasty with their girls if they offer enough money. Not with me. I have Gifts. If they try anything, I’ll kill them.”

The woman’s eyes narrowed, then she shrugged. “No rough types, then. Are we agreed?”

“And no diseased ones. No money’s worth sickness.”

Rozea smiled. “I do my best to keep my girls safe,” she said proudly. “Customers are encouraged to bathe beforehand, which gives us the opportunity to examine them. Any customers known to be diseased are banned from the house. All girls are given cleansing herbals. If you are Gifted enough, there are other methods you can be taught.” She gave Emerahl a lofty look. “We have a reputation to uphold as the cleanest brothel in Porin.”

Emerahl nodded, impressed. “Sounds reasonable. I’ll give it a try.”

“Fetch your things, then. I have a platten waiting.”

Looking around, Emerahl recalled that her purse was in a pocket of the tunic and the sea bell was sewn into her sleeve. She rose and walked to the door. Rozea glanced at the discarded tawl and shift, then smiled and led her out.

“We tell our customers our girls are from good families that fell on hard times,” Rozea said as they descended the stairs. “You have an old-fashioned way of talking which will support that illusion. You’ll be taught all the social graces of high society. If you prove an apt student we’ll teach you a language or two.”

Emerahl smiled wryly. “You’ll find I’m a fast learner.”

“Good. Can you read?”

“A little.” She hoped she was right. If the language had changed over a century, how much had writing changed?

“Write?”

“A little.”

“Sing?”

“Well enough to frighten birds from the crops.”

Rozea laughed quietly. “No singing, then. What about dancing?”

“No.” Which was probably true. It had been a long time.

“What is your name?”

“Emmea.”

“Not any longer. Your new name is Jade.”

“Jade.” Emerahl shrugged. “The eyes, right?”

“Of course. They are your best feature at the moment. My girls will teach you how to enhance your better features and hide your worst by selecting clothing, modifying your posture and, as a last resort, applying paint.”

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, Rozea pushed through the door. A platten waited in the alley. The two guards climbed onto the seat next to the driver. Rozea gestured for Emerahl to join her inside. Emerahl glanced to either side as she climbed in. Main Street was empty but for a few sleeping beggars. Nobody was going to witness her “disappearance.” Not even her landlord, which wasn’t a bad thing.

At an order from the driver, the arem pulling the platten started forward, carrying Emerahl away. A brothel, she thought. Are the priests more or less likely to find me there? Probably neither. At least it will be more comfortable. It might even be profitable.

23

The sky was the blue-black of early evening. Stars blinked and shivered all around, but the cause of their disturbance was only visible when looking west, where hundreds of winged forms could be made out against a sky still aglow from the sunset.

These forms glided down to the Open, to the level area at the middle of the rocky slope known as the Flat. Fires had been lit in a large circle and their light set the faces of the Siyee aglow.

Auraya recognized many of these faces now. She had talked to Siyee of all ages, positions and tribes. Not far from her stood the trapper of the Snake River tribe who had described how his people had been driven from their fertile valleys by Toren settlers. Farther away stood the old matriarch of the Fire Mountain tribe who had shown Auraya the forges her people used to make arrowheads and knives from the abundant mineral deposits in their homeland. Landing now were three young men from the Temple Mountain tribe who had approached her to ask what they must learn to become priests.

“There has never been a Gathering this large in my lifetime,” Speaker Dryss murmured to her, “and I have attended them all.”

She turned to regard the old man. “Speaker Sirri explained to me that only Speakers or those chosen to represent them are required to attend a Gathering. I am not surprised more have come, however. What you decide tonight could change your way of life. If I was Siyee, I’d want to be here to hear their decision.”

“True, but I’m sure a few are here just to catch a glimpse of the Gods’ Chosen,” he replied, chuckling.

She smiled. “Your people have been welcoming, Speaker Dryss. I confess I’m half in love with this place, and wish I did not have to leave.”

His eyebrows rose. “You do not miss the comforts of your home?”

“A little,” she admitted. “I miss hot baths, mostly. And my friends.”

He opened his mouth to reply, but at that moment Speaker Sirri turned to the line of Speakers.

“It is time, I think. If we wait for stragglers, the night will end before we do.”

The others nodded in agreement. As Sirri stepped up onto Speakers’ Rock the Siyee below stopped talking and looked up expectantly.

Sirri lifted her arms. “People of the mountains. Tribes of the Siyee. We, the Speakers, have called you here tonight to hear the words of Auraya of the White, one of the Gods’ Chosen. As you know, she has come to us to discuss an alliance between Siyee and the Circlians. Tonight we will hear her words and voice our thoughts. In seven days we will gather again to make our decision.”

Sirri turned and looked at Auraya expectantly. Stepping forward to stand beside the woman, Auraya looked down at the Siyee people. Since she had arrived she hadn’t needed to read their minds to discover their doubts and hopes. They had spoken of them openly. Now she let her mind skim over theirs.

They were hesitant, sure that there would be a penalty whether they agreed to an alliance or not. They were a timid people, who rarely resorted to violence. They were also a proud people. While they did not want to go to war, where it was likely some would be killed, if they did they wanted to be seen as valuable and effective. It was this pride that she must appeal to now.

“People of Si, Huan’s creation, I have come to your land at your invitation to learn about you, to tell you something of my own people and to explore the possibility of an alliance forming between us.

“I have learned much about you and have come to admire you for your tenacity and peaceful ways. I find myself no longer unbiased - I would dearly love for there to be a link between my people and yours. I am dismayed by the Siyee deaths at the hands of landwalkers. I can also see many ways we may enrich each other’s lives through trade and an exchange of knowledge. I find myself thinking, selfishly, that an alliance would be a wonderful excuse to neglect my duties as a White and visit Si more often than needed.”

This brought smiles to many faces. She paused, then made her expression serious.

“An alliance requires agreement on several issues, and the first I will address is war. If we, the White, have an agreement with you to protect your lands, we can end this incursion of settlers without bloodshed by demanding the King of Toren take action to stop it. For such assistance, we ask for your promise of help in return, should we and our allies be threatened by invaders.”

She saw grim expressions on all faces, and nodded. “I know you do not believe you can be of much assistance in war. It would be as ridiculous for Siyee to engage landwalkers in hand-to-hand combat as it would be for me to do so. My strength is in sorcery, yours is in flight.

“Your ability to fly makes you more suitable as scouts. You can report on the positions and movements of enemy troops and warn of traps and ambushes. You can carry and deliver small precious items - cures or bandages for the wounded, messages to fighters who have no priest to relay orders to them.”

The mood of nearly all Siyee was the same now. They had responded well to her words, some with enthusiasm, some with a cautious acknowledgment that she was right. She nodded to herself.

“It is difficult to ask something of you that may one day bring death and grief to your families, just as it will be difficult should I ever have to ask the sons and fathers of my own people to fight in our defense. I hope never to see the day when a threat forces such terrible choices upon us.

“So you may wonder, then, how this alliance will benefit your people in times of peace. We can offer you trade, knowledge, and access to the Circlian priesthood. Many of you have expressed doubt that you have anything of value to sell. This is not true. You manufacture unique items that will be of both practical and artistic value outside Si. You have deposits of minerals that could be mined. You have rare plants that have curative properties. Even the soft blankets in the bower you have built for me would fetch a high price in Jarime. These commodities are but those that I have noticed in the few short weeks I have been here. An experienced trader would see more.

“Then there are the benefits that come with the exchange of culture and knowledge. We have much to learn from each other. Your methods of governing and of resolving disputes are unique. The Circlian priesthood offers education and training in healing and sorcery. In. return we only ask you to share your healing knowledge with us so that we may better help our own peoples.”

Auraya paused and let her gaze run over the hundreds of faces. “I hope that our lands may be united in a pledge of friendship, respect and mutual prosperity. Thank you for listening, people of Si.”

She stepped back from the edge of the outcrop and looked at Sirri. The Speaker smiled and nodded, then raised her arms again.

“The Speakers will now talk with their tribes.”

Auraya watched as the line of Speakers broke. Each leapt off the outcrop and glided down to their people, leaving her alone. She sat down and watched as the crowd separated into tribes.

Once again, she let her mind touch those of the Siyee, listening in as they argued and debated. Though they had been stirred by her words, they were still naturally cautious.

The changes she had spoken of both excited and frightened them.

They should consider this carefully. It is unlikely their world will ever be the same, even if war never comes. Landwalkers would come here and leave their ideas behind - both good and bad. They would want to carve a road into Si in order to make the journey easier. The Siyee would need to be careful; they could exchange invading settlers for greedy, unscrupulous merchants - especially if they decided to set up more mines.

I will have to make sure that never happens.

She was surprised at the strength of the protectiveness she felt. It had been only a few weeks since she had arrived. Had these people charmed her that much?

Yes, she thought. I feel like I belong here. I keep forgetting how different I am, and when I do I almost wish I could shrink to half my size and grow wings.

She looked up at the enormous trees, but caught a sliver of thought and quickly looked away. Someone was up there. A boy, waiting anxiously for his moment to appear. Auraya had already glimpsed enough of Sirri’s thoughts to know the Siyee leader was planning a surprise for later in the Gathering.

Some sort of demonstration, Auraya thought. Something she believes will convince the Siyee to agree to an alliance.

She resisted the temptation to read the boy’s mind, instead concentrating on the Siyee. Time passed and gradually the Speakers left their tribes and flew back to their former positions. When the last of them had returned, Sirri came back to the outcrop and the Siyee quietened.

One by one the Speakers talked, expressing the opinions of their tribe. Most of the tribes were in favor of the alliance, but a few were not.

“All tribes must agree on this,” Speaker Sirri stated. “And we have not. Before I call an end to this Gathering, I ask you to listen to me. I believe our reluctance to open our lands to the landwalkers stems from our inability to fight them. Why should we risk our own lives in war when we cannot harm our enemies? Why should we allow landwalkers into our land when we can’t drive them out if their intentions prove to be malicious?”

Auraya regarded the Speaker thoughtfully. She knew Sirri wanted the alliance, but these two points would only dissuade the Siyee from agreeing to it.

Sirri raised her arms. “We can fight. We can defend ourselves. How? Let me show you.”

She looked up at the tree the boy was waiting in, then into the edge of the forest, and nodded.

From high in the tree, Tryss could hear the voices of the people below, but he could not make out their words. He had given up trying to and instead had searched the crowd for Drilli. He found her standing with her parents.

He hadn’t spoken to her for over a week. Her father had sought Tryss out and ordered him to stay away from her. She was not going to marry a boy from another tribe, he had declared, and certainly not one with strange ideas who spent his time in idle daydreams. She could do better.

His cousins had made it clear who had revealed his and Drilli’s liking for each other, but they could be lying just to annoy him. Anyone watching Tryss and Drilli at the trei-trei would have had to suspect they were growing close. They had flown together for most of the night.

He looked down at his invention. Would Drilli’s parents change their minds about him if he abandoned inventing and started acting more like other Siyee boys? Would he give it up if that was the only way he could see Drilli?

The question bothered him. He pushed it away, but kept finding himself considering it. He looked at Drilli. She was beautiful and smart. Surely he would do anything...

Hearing Speaker Sirri’s voice again, he dragged his attention away from Drilli. The Speaker looked up at him, then down at the Siyee holding the cages of breem, and nodded.

The signal. Tryss’s heart leapt and started to pound. He searched the ground, looking for movement. There!

He dived. Pushing thoughts of the watching crowd out of his mind, he thought only of the small creature that he had spotted. He had to concentrate. His harness was new and a bit stiff, he had only lamplight by which to see the animals and breem were fast.

Leaves whipped past his ears. He spread his arms and swooped out from between the branches of the tree. Drawing a dart into his blowpipe, he took aim and blew.

The breem squeaked as the dart hit its leg. It continued limping on but the poison would soon finish it. Tryss had spotted a second breem and turned to follow it. This time the dart sank into the center of the creature’s back. He felt a surge of triumph and flapped his wings to gain a little height, looking for more of them.

Two darted out of the crowd from the other side of the Flat. He missed the first one, but hit the second. Curving around, he blew a dart at the first again, but it swerved at the last moment and the dart bounced off the ground harmlessly. The creature disappeared between the legs of the watching Siyee.

Frustrated, Tryss gained altitude again. He saw the last two breem scamper into the Open and turned quickly. Diving toward them, he tightened his grip on the thumb straps of the new addition he’d included with this harness. He’d only had a few hours to practice with it and it was much harder to aim.

The two breem stopped in the middle of the Open, aware only of the Siyee that surrounded them. Tryss took aim, flexed his thumbs and felt the springs snap open, realizing too late that he’d unintentionally released both. Small arrows shot forward. One speared a breem, the other skittered over the ground and wedged itself into the wall of the outcrop...

Which he was about to fly into. He arched his back and felt rock brush his hip as he barely managed to avoid a collision. The maneuver had lost him height, however, and he was forced to land abruptly, in a way he hoped looked intentional.

The Siyee were utterly silent. Then someone in the crowd began to whistle enthusiastically, as the crowd did during the aerobatic contests of the trei-trei. Others joined in and Tryss found himself grinning as the Open echoed with the sound. He looked up at Speaker Sirri. She smiled and nodded with approval.

The Speaker raised her arms and the whistling subsided.

“People of the mountains. Tribes of the Siyee. I believe you, like me, can see the potential in what Tryss has shown you tonight. What he has invented is a weapon. Not the kind of weapon suited to landwalkers, like those we discarded long ago. One made for us. Not only is it an excellent hunting tool, but it is a weapon that will allow us to fight with pride and effectiveness, whether that be in our own defense or that of our allies.

“It is late, tonight, for us to discuss the potential of this weapon and how it may alter our views of the White’s proposal of alliance. I suggest we do so in another seven days, when we gather to make our decision. Are you in favor of this?”

A shout of assent came from the Siyee. Sirri looked at her fellow Speakers. All nodded.

“Then it will be so. This Gathering is ended. May you return safely to your homes.”

The Siyee erupted into excited conversation. Tryss looked up at the priestess, suddenly curious to see what her reaction was. She was looking at Sirri, however, wearing a thoughtful frown that soon disappeared as one of the other Speakers turned to address her.

He felt a tug on his arm and turned to find Sreil grinning at him.

“That was fantastic! Why don’t you ever join the aerobatic team each trei-trei?”

“I, um...”

Someone saved him from answering by shaking his arm. “Is it heavy? What’s it made of?”

He found himself standing in the center of a crowd of Siyee who wanted to examine the harness. Their questions were endless, and often repeated, but he made himself stay and answer them.

It’s not just about demonstrating it, he told himself. I have to convince them to try it themselves.

But he longed to get away from them and find Drilli. Whenever a gap formed around him, he searched for her, but in vain. She and her family had gone.

24

Not long after Danjin entered Auraya’s room there was a knock at the door. Mischief was asleep on his lap, his usual energy suppressed by a bout of a common veez illness. Putting the creature aside, he went to answer the door. To his surprise, Rian was standing outside.

“Adviser Danjin Spear,” the White said. “I wish to speak to you.”

Danjin made the gesture of the circle. “Would you like to speak to me here, or somewhere else, Rian of the White?”

Rian nodded. “This will do.”

Up close, Rian appeared to be no older than twenty, and Danjin had to remind himself that this man’s true age was nearer to fifty. It was not so easy to forget who Rian was, however. He carried himself as if conscious and proud of his position, and, unlike Auraya, he was always serious and formal. His way of looking at others without blinking was uncanny.

“The observations of your family in regard to the sale of weapons to the Pentadrians have proved accurate,” Rian said. “Do you believe they may have other useful information?”

Danjin pursed his lips. “Perhaps.” But whether they would tell me is a question I can’t answer, he added.

Rian’s eyebrows rose. “Do you believe they would be willing to act as spies for the White?”

Spies? Danjin realized he was staring at Rian and lowered his eyes. Would they? He considered how his father and brothers might react to the idea and felt his heart sink. Of course they would. They’d be delighted at this confirmation of their worth. Merchants of information as well as goods.

“I believe they would.” But you’ll have to use those mind-reading skills to make sure they’re telling you all they know, he couldn’t help thinking. They might hide information they can reap an income from, or if it might damage their current business.

Rian nodded. “I will arrange to meet them, then. Do you wish to be involved?”

Danjin considered, then shook his head. “My involvement would complicate the arrangement unnecessarily.”

“Very well.” He turned toward the door, then paused. “What do you know of Sennon, Adviser?”

“Sennon?” Danjin shrugged. “I have visited the land several times. Mostly by sea, but I have crossed the desert twice. I speak Sennonian. I have a few contacts there.”

“The Sennon emperor signed a treaty of alliance with the Pentadrians yesterday.”

Once again, Danjin found himself staring at Rian, this time in dismay. He recalled Auraya’s first meeting with the Sennon ambassador. The man had invited her to visit. It had been ridiculous to expect a new White, untrained and not yet familiar with her position, to travel all the way to Sennon. Perhaps one of the other White should have gone. Reminding the emperor that a powerful alliance backed by the gods lay beyond the mountains to the west might have prevented him from signing an alliance with the Pentadrians.

“You think we should have made greater efforts to befriend the Sennon emperor and his people,” Rian said, frowning.

Danjin smiled wryly. “Yes, but what can you do? There are only five of you - only four until recently. You’ve only just allied with Somrey, and now Auraya is working on Si. You didn’t have the time or resources to woo Sennon as well.”

The corner of Rian’s mouth twitched. “No, we didn’t. Control of time is not one of the Gifts the gods have bestowed on us.”

“Perhaps the emperor will not like his new friends and change his mind. I imagine he will be as thrilled to meet those black vorns as the Torens were.”

Rian’s expression darkened. “Unless he desires his own hunt to train. He has advised all Circlian priests to leave, claiming it is for their own safety.”

Danjin grimaced. “Oh.” He shook his head. “The emperor has always maintained that he does not want to favor one religion over another.” Abruptly, Danjin thought of the Dreamweavers. He felt a pang of guilt. Auraya had asked him to visit Leiard, but he had been too busy hunting rumors of Pentadrians to do so. “Do you think I should warn Dreamweaver Adviser Leiard?”

Rian shrugged. “If you wish. All reports I have received suggest that Pentadrians are tolerant of the followers of small heathen cults. It is only Circlians they despise, no doubt because they know our gods are real.”

Jealous, eh? Danjin smiled grimly. If this all led to a conflict, at least the Circlians had this one advantage: their gods were real and would protect them. He only feared the damage these Pentadrians might do in the process. In war there were always casualties.

A light had entered Rian’s eyes. He regarded Danjin with approval.

“Thank you for your assistance, Adviser.”

Danjin inclined his head and made the gesture of the circle. “I am glad to be of help.”

He followed Rian to the door and opened it. The White stepped through, then paused and looked back.

“When I speak to your family, I will not mention I consulted you.”

Danjin nodded in gratitude. He watched Rian walk away, then closed the door. Mischief looked up at him, blinking sleepily.

“That,” he told the veez, “was very interesting.”

Auraya opened her eyes. The room was dark, and she could barely make out the walls around her. Had something woken her?

Well, it hasn’t done a good job. I still feel like I’m mostly asleep...

She opened her eyes a second time. This time the darkness was absolute. Except... a familiar figure wearing Dreamweaver robes appeared.

:Leiard?

:Hello, lover of dreamers; dreamer of love.

His lips moved as the words came to her.

:Is... is this a memory? It feels like it is you, speaking to me now, and yet it doesn’t.

:Yes and no. It is me speaking to you, dressed in your memory of me. My mind given a form by yours. You are learning fast. It seems you have a natural flair for this.

:Perhaps I should have been a Dreamweaver.

:But your heart is the gods’.

:My soul is the gods’; my heart is yours.

Leiard smiled - a sly, secretive smile. It was an expression she had never seen him wear before. Was this just her mind embellishing the mood she sensed from him?

:I’ve always suspected souls were a concept the gods invented to encourage people to serve them. In fact, I once had a conversation with a god in which he admitted that—

She jolted awake and found herself staring at the roof of the bower. Daylight filtered through the walls.

“Auraya?”

The voice came from the entranceway. She rose, wrapped a blanket around her shoulders and moved into the main room. Opening the flap that covered the doorway she found Speaker Sirri standing outside.

“Yes, Speaker?”

The woman smiled. “Sorry to wake you so early. We have just received a message that we feel we must urgently discuss with you.”

Auraya nodded. “Come in. I will be with you in a moment.”

She hurried to her room and closed the hanging divider. Undressing, she splashed water from a large wooden basin over herself and quickly dried off with magic. Once she had dressed again she ran a comb through her hair and began plaiting it as she returned to the main room.

Speaker Sirri stood beside the. entrance, tapping her forefinger against the frame of the bower. Auraya would never have guessed the woman’s mood from her face, but this small sign of impatience made her look closer. At once she sensed that the Speaker was resisting a growing alarm at the news of a landwalker woman seen in Si. The woman had apologized for the attack on a tribe by black birds that Sirri had told Auraya of.

“There will be food at the meeting,” Sirri said as Auraya stepped outside.

The Speaker took to the air and Auraya followed. Sirri caught an updraft and glided up to the top of the Open, where she landed neatly. The forest was cluttered with undergrowth here, keeping the bower hidden from view.

Auraya had visited the Speakers’ Bower several times already, but she was sure she had been led down a different forest path each time. She resisted the temptation to read the Speaker’s mind, sensing that Sirri wanted to wait until they joined the other Speakers before revealing the contents of the message that had so disturbed her.

I trust her, she mused. Or perhaps it’s just that I know she is not keeping something from me, and has her reasons for waiting.

They reached the bower. Sirri said nothing as she stepped up to the entrance and pulled the flap aside. Inside, the Speakers of the other fourteen tribes waited. They stood to greet her and she sensed a new caution in the way they regarded her. Sirri ushered her to one of the short stools then took her place. She glanced at the other tribe leaders before she turned her attention back to Auraya.

“Auraya of the White,” she began. “Do you remember me telling you of the large black birds that attacked the Sun Ridge tribe a month ago?”

“Yes. One of the hunters claimed to have glimpsed a landwalker nearby.”

Sirri nodded. “The birds have not been seen since, though some of us have looked for them cautiously, but the woman has been seen again recently.” She glanced at the leader of the Twin Mountain tribe. “By a child. We have no reason to doubt this girl’s story; she is not prone to making up fanciful tales.

“She says she encountered the woman close to her village. The woman asked her to deliver a message. It contained an apology for the attack on the hunters. She claimed it was an accident, that she did not know what her birds were doing until it was too late. Her true intentions were to befriend us.

“Then she saw you fly past,” Sirri met Auraya’s eyes levelly, “and changed her mind. She decided to leave Si, after telling the child to give her tribal leader a different message. She said if the Siyee ally themselves with Circlians they will gain an enemy even stronger.”

Auraya felt a chill. “What did this landwalker look like?”

“Her skin was dark. She looked young and strong.”

“Her clothing?”

“She was dressed in black and wore a silver pendant.”

The chill became a shiver of cold that ran down Auraya’s spine.

“Ah.”

“Have you heard of this woman before?”

Auraya shook her head. “No, but I have encountered people like her. She may be a member of a cult from Southern Ithania. I must tell Juran about this.”

Closing her eyes, she called out Juran’s name.

:Yes? he replied.

:I think a Pentadrian has been snooping around in Si. She told him what she had learned.

:A woman with birds; a man with vorns. The five leaders our spies named include two women.

:Yes. What shall I tell the Siyee?

:Everything. All of Northern Ithania will know of these sorcerers soon enough. This might nudge them into signing an alliance.

Auraya smothered a sigh and opened her eyes. What am I getting these people into? she asked herself, yet again. What would I be abandoning them to, if I didn’t try to persuade them to seek our protection? She looked around at the anxious faces of the Speakers.

“Juran and I believe we know what she is, just as she recognized what I am. She is a Pentadrian sorcerer,” she told the Speakers. “We have encountered two others. The first entered Toren with a hunt of vorns. The creatures were larger and darker in color than their wild relations and appeared to obey mental orders. Their master’s only intention in entering Toren appeared to be to cause terror and death. Rian found and confronted the man, who fled when it was clear he could not win the fight.

“The second sorcerer was not accompanied by vorns,” she continued. A memory of being pinned against a wall by the black sorcerer’s power brought an echo of fear. Auraya drew in a deep breath, pushing aside both the memory and the dread that came with it. “Or any other creature but an ordinary reyer. He did not harm anyone as far as we know. I was sent to help Dyara find him but he, too, escaped us.”

“What do these sorcerers want?” a Speaker asked.

Auraya grimaced. “I don’t know. One thing is sure, they hate Circlians. They call us heretics.”

“What do they worship?”

“Five gods, as we do, but theirs are not real gods.”

“Perhaps this is why they defend their beliefs so ferociously,” Dryss murmured.

“Why did this sorceress enter Si?” another Speaker asked.

“For the same reason Auraya has: to seek an alliance,” someone replied.

“By attacking us?”

“She said it was a mistake. She said she wanted to befriend us.”

“Until she saw Auraya.”

Several of the Speakers glanced at Auraya. She met their eyes, hoping she looked more confident than she felt.

“She threatened us,” Dryss reminded them. He grimaced. “I fear we are being forced to choose between two great powers. No matter what we do, we face changes we can’t avoid.”

“You don’t have to choose either,” Auraya pointed out. “You can choose to remain as you are.”

“And be slowly starved and hunted out of existence by these landwalker settlers?” another replied. “That is no choice.”

“We can fight the invaders now,” a younger Speaker declared. “Using this dart-thrower. We don’t need to ally with anyone!”

Voices joined in argument. Auraya raised her hands and the Speakers quietened again. “If you wish it, I will leave Si. Once I am gone you can invite this sorceress to return. Find out what she wants from you and what she offers in return. But please be cautious. Perhaps she did not mean to harm your hunters, but I do know that one of her fellow Pentadrians is a cruel man, who deals out death and pain for the sheer enjoyment of it. I would hate to see the Siyee suffer at his hands.”

“Maybe he was an outlaw. Maybe he came to Northern Ithania because he had been thrown out of Pentadrian lands,” the young Speaker argued.

“At least these Pentadrians have never taken our land from us,” someone else murmured.

“That may only be because they do not have a border with our lands,” Sirri pointed out.

Auraya winced. “They do now.”

The Speakers turned to frown at her.

“What do you mean?” Dryss asked.

“The Sennon emperor signed a treaty of alliance with the Pentadrians yesterday. Sennon shares a border with you, albeit a small one.”

“On their side there is only desert.”

“Except where the desert ends and the mountains begin.” This came from a Speaker who had not joined the debate so far. “There are several landwalker settlements along the coast.”

The Speakers fell silent. Their gazes dropped to the floor. Auraya felt a pang of sympathy as she sensed them struggling with their fears.

“Good people of Si,” she said quietly. “I wish that you were not facing such hard times and such difficult choices. I cannot make these decisions for you. I cannot tell you who to trust. I would never dream of forcing you to choose one way or another. I believe that when the gods asked me and my fellow White to seek allies throughout Ithania they simply wished to see us all united in peace. Perhaps they foresaw some future conflict. I don’t know. I do know that we would be honored to have the people of Si standing beside us, in times of conflict or peace.”

She rose, nodded once, then left. As she walked from the bower she heard muffled voices. She could not distinguish the words, but her Gifts told her what was said.

“We are caught up in this - whatever it is - whether we like it or not. I say we choose a side, because on our own we are sure to perish.”

There was a pause, then: “If we must choose who to trust, then will it be the one who came in secret, bringing dangerous birds, or the one who waited to be invited?”

And finally: “Huan made us. Do these Pentadrians worship Huan? No. I choose the White.”

25

In the shadows around Leiard and Jayim only the faint shapes of trees and plants could be made out. They might have been in the middle of a forest. It was the lack of familiar noises that ruined the illusion, telling Leiard plainly that they were on the roof of the Bakers’ house.

I miss the forest, he realized suddenly. I miss being calm. Being undisturbed in heart and mind. Safe.

Then go back, fool.

Leiard ignored the tart words in his mind. This voice in my head is merely an echo of a long-dead sorcerer, he reminded himself. If I ignore him, he’ll go away. He looked at Jayim. The boy was waiting patiently, used to Leiard’s long pauses.

“Magic can be used for healing in many ways,” Leiard said. “The Gifts that I will teach you are divided into three levels of difficulty. The first level involves simple actions: the pinching of a blood tube to stop bleeding; cauterization; the realignment of broken bones. The second involves more complex interventions: encouraging or discouraging blood flow; stimulation and guidance of the body’s healing processes; blocking pain.

“The third level involves using Gifts so difficult they take years to learn, if that is at all possible - as only one or two Dreamweavers in every generation has the ability to achieve this level. These Gifts require a trance of concentration and a sure knowledge of all the processes of the body. If you learn them, you will be able to realign any tissue within a body. You will be able to make a wound disappear, leaving no scar. You will be able to give a blind man sight and make a barren woman fertile.”

“Can I revive the dead?”

“No. Not those who are truly dead.”

Jayim frowned. “Can someone be dead, but not truly dead?”

“There are ways to...”

Leiard stopped, then turned toward the stairway. He could hear faint footsteps drawing closer. Two sets. A lamp appeared and light flooded out. Tanara climbed out, followed by a familiar, well-dressed man.

“Leiard?” Tanara called tentatively. “You have a visitor.”

“Danjin Spear.” Leiard stood. “What brings you—”

“Before you get talking, come inside,” Tanara interrupted. “It is too cold out here for entertaining guests.”

Leiard nodded. “Indeed, you are right.”

Tanara ushered them down the staircase into the communal room, where braziers provided warmth, then dragged Jayim away with her to help prepare hot drinks. Danjin settled into a chair with a sigh.

“You look tired, Adviser,” Leiard observed.

“I am,” Danjin admitted. “My wife and I hoped I would have more free time while Auraya was in Si, but I’m afraid the situation has been quite the opposite. How have you been?”

“I spend all my time teaching Jayim.”

Except for at night, when you indulge in illegal erotic dream links with one of the White, Mirar whispered. Wonder what he’d think of that? The mistress he loves like a daughter lying with a Dreamweaver...

Tanara entered the room again, carrying two steaming mugs of hot spiced tintra. Danjin took a sip and smiled.

“Ah, thank you, Ma-Baker. This is most welcome. It is cold outside.”

“It is, isn’t it?” she replied, sending Leiard a meaningful look. “Especially on a day too cold for anybody to be sitting on a roof.”

“Mother!” Jayim’s protest echoed through the doorway.

“I’ve told you a hundred times already: he taught me how to keep myself warm with magic.”

She sniffed, then smiled at Danjin. “Just call out if you need anything.”

When the door had closed behind her, Leiard turned to regard Danjin. Mirar’s comment had reminded him that he knew little about how Auraya’s work was progressing. Little of the dream links had involved any discussion of her work in Siyee. Their attention had been on... other matters.

“So how is Auraya?” he asked.

Danjin smiled. “She is enjoying herself immensely. As for whether she will be successful at her task,” he shook his head, “that is unsure. Their leaders, the Speakers, want all tribes to agree to an alliance before they sign anything, and during the first Gathering a few tribes spoke against it. She hopes that new revelations will change their mind. The threat of war is one. The other is a fortunate coincidence. One of the Siyee has created a new weapon that will allow them to strike at the enemy while in flight, making them an effective force in battle. They will hold another Gathering in a week to decide.”

What is this weapon? Leiard wondered. The idea that the Siyee might become warlike dismayed him. He had always been heartened to know there was at least one non-violent race in the world.

A non-violent people created by Huan. Now there’s an irony for you, Mirar muttered.

“She asked me to visit you,” Danjin added. He drained the mug of tintra.

Leiard smiled. “So she hasn’t forgotten us yet.”

“No.” Danjin chuckled. “I suspect that if it wasn’t for her commitment to her position she would settle in Si.”

“She is infatuated,” Leiard said. “It happens to some new travellers. They discover a place and fall in love with it. They believe everything there is done as it should be. Eventually they come to see that place for what it is - both the good and the bad.”

Danjin regarded Leiard with an odd expression. Leiard sensed surprise and a reluctant respect. “In my early years as a merchant, and later as a courier and negotiator, I noted the same phenomenon.” Danjin looked at the empty mug in his hands, then set it aside. “I must continue home. It is late and my wife is expecting me.” He rose. “Please pass on my gratitude for the warm drink.”

“I will,” Leiard assured him.

Leiard walked with Danjin to the main entrance. As they reached it Danjin hesitated, frowned and glanced at Leiard almost furtively. Leiard sensed a sudden shift in the man’s mood. Danjin wanted to say something. A warning, perhaps.

Danjin turned back to the door.

Ask him if there is anything else, Mirar said.

No, Leiard replied. If he was able to tell me, he would have.

You can’t be sure of that. We both know his family have always hated Dreamweavers. If you won’t ask him, I will.

Leiard felt something slip away, like the sensation of not quite catching a falling object in time and having it slide through his fingers. His mouth opened, though he hadn’t willed it to.

“There is something else, isn’t there?”

Danjin turned to regard Leiard in surprise.

Not as surprised as I am! Leiard thought. He groped for control of his body, but he had never lost it before and had no idea how to regain it.

“Something is bothering you,” Mirar repeated, holding Danjin’s gaze with Leiard’s eyes. “Something important. A possible threat to my people.”

Danjin was silent and thoughtful, obviously considering what he would say, and oblivious to the change within Leiard. He let out a small sigh and looked up.

“If your people have any reason to fear the Pentadrians, I would have them leave Sennon,” Danjin murmured. “That is all I can say.”

Mirar nodded. “Thank you. For the warning and for the visit.”

Danjin’s shoulders lifted. “I would have come sooner, if I could have.” He inclined his head. “Good night, Dreamweaver Adviser Leiard.”

As Leiard heard his name he felt Mirar’s hold over his body fade. Back in control, he swayed with shock. Danjin was looking at him expectantly.

“Good night,” he said.

Leiard watched Auraya’s adviser walk up to a covered platten and climb inside. As the driver urged the arem into a trot, Leiard closed the door. He set his back against the wall and let out a long breath. His heart was racing.

What just happened?

Mirar did not reply.

I just lost control of my body to a memory echo, Leiard answered himself. Can this happen again? Can Mirar take over permanently? He realized he didn’t know. I must find someone who does. But who? He smiled grimly. Dreamweaver Arleej. If the leader of the Dreamweavers can’t tell me the answer, nobody can.

A movement in the doorway made him jump, but it was only Tanara. She peered at him in concern.

“Are you well, Leiard?”

He drew in a deep breath. “Yes. I am tired. I... I will go to bed now.”

She nodded and smiled. “I will tell Jayim. Pleasant dreams, then.”

Leiard expected a cheeky reply from Mirar, but the presence in his mind remained silent. As he passed Tanara, he paused.

“Danjin asked me to give you his thanks for the drink,” he told her.

She smiled. “He seems like a nice man. Nothing like what I’ve heard about the Spear family.”

“No,” Leiard agreed.

“Good night.”

He entered his room, took off his vest and lay down on his bed.

All Dreamweavers learned mental exercises designed to speed the transition to the dream state. Even so, more than an hour passed before the Dreamweaver elder responded to his call. He guessed she had only just fallen asleep.

:Leiard?

:Yes. Do you remember me?

:Of course. One does not forget a Dreamweaver with so many of Mirar’s memories.

:No, one does not. I am beginning to wish it were not so.

:0h? Why is that?

He explained what had happened and felt her rising concern.

:How often have you linked with your student?

:Once or twice, he replied evasively. It is a little early to be doing so.

:You are avoiding it, she stated, not fooled by his excuse.

:Yes, he admitted. I have... I have found myself the holder of a secret I dare not risk revealing to him.

:I see. Then you must find someone else to reveal it to. Someone you trust. Otherwise I fear you will lose your identity. You will be neither yourself nor this manifestation of Mirar, but a half-mad mixture of both.

:I know of no one...

:There are other Dreamweavers in Jarime. Will one of them suffice?

:Perhaps. He paused. There is one other matter I should tell you of I spoke to Danjin Spear this evening. He warned me that the Dreamweavers in Sennon may not be safe.

:He speaks of the alliance between Sennon and the Pentadrians.

:Ah!

:Yes. We have nothing to fear from the Pentadrians. They have always treated Dreamweavers well. When you speak to this adviser again tell him to remind the White that we Dreamweavers do not take sides in war. If there is a conflict we will tend the wounded of all nations, as we have always done.

:I will. Is there to be a war?

:The more I learn of these Pentadrians, the more I fear a conflict is inevitable. She paused. What do you know of them?

:I have no link memories on the subject, Leiard replied. What I know is based on. comments from Auraya and the rumors circulating around Jarime. Are their gods real?

:Nobody knows. The Circlians assume not, of course. Even if they are right, that makes the Pentadrians only a little less dangerous.

:A little is something, at least.

:Yes. I must go now. I have more Dreamweavers to contact. Take care, Leiard. Consider what I have said.

The link ended as she turned her mind away. Leiard drifted in the nothingness, knowing her advice was sound, but fearing the consequences. If he allowed another Dreamweaver to know his secret, then the next Dreamweaver he or she linked with would discover the truth. Soon all Dreamweavers would know...

:Leiard?

His heart leapt as he recognized Auraya’s mental voice and he eagerly reached out to meet her.

There is no undoing what we have done, he thought. We may as well enjoy it while we can.

As Emerahl returned to her room, warm and relaxed from an hour-long soak in hot water, she considered how her situation had improved. She was still a whore, but at least she was a well-fed one, with customers of better quality than before. She was earning more money, though Rozea insisted on holding most of it in credit.

While she had played the prostitute twice before in her long life, it was not a role she particularly enjoyed. Thinking back to the first time, more than five hundred years ago, she grimaced. A triad of powerful sorcerers had hunted her across Ithania, determined to extract the secret of immortality from her, even though they were too weak to achieve it. Singly they were no match for her, but together they were a potent enemy. In desperation she had changed her appearance and taken on a role they believed she was too proud to consider.

They had been right. Her pride had smarted with the touch of every customer. How could she, one of the immortal ones, be reduced to selling her body to men who saw her only as a moment’s entertainment?

The three sorcerers eventually fell out, one killing the other two. She didn’t learn of it for two years. Two years of self-imposed humiliation she hadn’t needed to endure. What else could I have done? People on the streets don’t care about foreign sorcerers. That sort of news travels slowly.

She sighed. People often assumed that just because she was immortal she must know a great deal. They expected her to be able to describe momentous historical events to them as if she had witnessed them. For most of her life she had kept quietly to herself, staying away from power games and the people who played them.

Which was how she preferred to live. Fame and power had lost their charm within the first hundred years of her life. She had turned to prostitution the second time to escape both. Settling in a remote village, she had begun healing the locals as she always did. What started as a trickle of visitors come to see the healer sorceress had turned into a flood and the village had rapidly become rich. She was flattered at first, and reasoned that she was doing more good for more people this way. Her protests that she was just an old hag earned her an affectionate nickname: The Hag.

A few people had offered to help organize housing for the visitors. Soon they were extracting money from the sick. Tiring of their greed and fanaticism, she had slipped away. She had underestimated how famous she had become. People in even the most remote places knew of The Hag. Her followers kept watch for her everywhere and whenever she was sighted the news quickly spread.

It was the anonymity of prostitution that attracted her the second time, but she had not remained a whore for long. Mirar found her. She smiled to herself as she remembered how popular he had been with the girls and his surprise at finding her there. Though he understood why she had retreated from humanity in that way he insisted it was bad for her. He took her away into the Wilds, long before they were colonized by the Siyee. They’d been both lovers and friends, but she had never been infatuated...

“Jade,” a breathy voice called.

She looked up. Two women stood at the end of the corridor. One was Leaf, a friendly middle-aged woman who organized the girls for Rozea and had given Emerahl a tour of the brothel when she first arrived. The other was the brothel favorite, Moonlight, a curvaceous beauty with dark hair, pale skin and clear violet eyes. Those eyes were travelling up and down Emerahl’s body, and the fine nose was wrinkled in distaste.

“Panilo just arrived,” Leaf said as Emerahl reached them. “He’s asking for you.”

Moonlight’s eyebrows rose. “So this is the street whore Panilo took a liking to.” She met Emerahl’s eyes. “Don’t get too attached to him. His attention never stays on one girl for long.” A sense of bitterness emanated from the woman.

“You speak from experience, then?” Emerahl asked mildly.

Moonlight’s eyes flashed with anger. “Panilo’s kindness is the only part of my early years that I have in common with you.”

Emerahl smiled, amused that this woman had taken offense so easily. “I doubt your early years were anything like mine,” she replied. “Excuse me, but I...” She paused. Her senses were telling her something else about this woman. She focused them on the woman’s belly. Something stirred there.

“I have a customer to attend to,” she finished. Turning away, she strode back to her room. Before entering she paused and looked back. Moonlight had bent close to murmur to Leaf. One hand rested lightly on her stomach and her face was tight with worry.

So she’s pregnant, Emerahl mused. I could use that to gain her trust, or to weaken her position if she proves to be a problem for me. She shook her head. Better to ignore her. I don’t want to attract too much attention to myself.

As she stepped into her room she saw that both of her room companions were awake.

“Look, Jade. Tide’s in,” Brand said, pointing to the other woman.

Tide rolled her eyes at the joke. “Are you ever going to stop that? It’s not funny anymore.”

Emerahl chuckled and sidled past the beds to a line of long, feminine tunics hanging from hooks on the back wall of the room. She took down a new green tunic, made of a cloth invented some time in the last century that shone like polished metal but was luxuriously soft to touch.

“Panilo’s back?” Tide asked.

“Yes.”

Brand made a face and flopped back onto the bed, her bright yellow hair spreading over the pillow. “I’ve heard he’s nice, but he visits too early for my liking.”

Emerahl took off her bathing robe and slipped into the tunic. “I’m not used to sleeping all day and staying up all night, so it suits me fine.”

Tide stepped forward to pluck a piece of thread from the tunic. “You keep him as long as you can,” she advised. “He’s nice and rich.”

“I’ll do my best.” She moved to the door, then paused to look back at them. “How is my hair?”

“Magnificent,” Brand replied. “Get going, Jade, before some other new girl catches his eye.”

Emerahl grinned, then hurried down the corridor. A few turns, stairways and doors later she entered a large, richly decorated communal room. The high ceiling and tasteful decorations on the walls and columns gave the room a feeling of formal respectability. The roof aperture allowed a view of blue sky, also reflected in the pool below. Paintings on the walls depicted men and women engaged in lovemaking. She rarely had time to examine them, but during each visit had glimpsed intriguing scenes, including some that looked quite improbable.

Panilo looked up at her as soon as she entered, and was instantly on his feet, smiling.

“Emmea.”

“Jade,” she corrected, putting a finger to his lips.

“Jade, then,” he said. “I preferred Emmea.”

She glanced at the other two men in the room. One lounged on a bench with the air of someone waiting expectantly. A crowd of girls surrounded the other, flirting expertly. Both men had paused to stare at her.

Their unconcealed admiration sent a shiver of both pleasure and anxiety up her spine. Perhaps I should make myself look a little dowdy, she thought. I must not draw too much attention ...

“Don’t let them frighten you,” Panilo murmured. “Galero over there couldn’t afford you, and Yarro wants only the house’s best, which, fortunately for me, is a position you haven’t yet attained.”

She smiled at him, appreciating the compliment and wondering how much Rozea was charging him. “Let’s get out of here, so I can have you all to myself.”

She drew him through a door into a complex of rooms. Leaf had told her to use one of the luxurious suites whenever she was with Panilo, and a smaller, humbler room when with other customers. It made Emerahl wonder just how highly placed in Toren society Panilo was.

“Bath?” she asked. Each of the luxurious rooms had a large tub.

He shook his head. “After.” Reaching out, he ran his hands through her hair. His eyes roamed over her face. “You are so beautiful, Emmea. I’m glad Rozea brought you here, even if it does cost me twice as much to have you.”

She smiled and drew him toward the bed. “I’m glad she did, too. It’s a lot more comfortable than a wooden seat in a platten. Here I can take my time...” She began to loosen the ties of her tunic, undoing them with exaggerated slowness.

He chuckled. “Not too much time,” he said as he reached out to help her. “I have yet another meeting to attend.”

Another meeting? Emerahl reined in her curiosity, trying to smother it by concentrating on her work. His comment lingered in her memory. He had visited her nearly every night since she’d arrived at the brothel and each time he had mentioned a meeting. She was growing more and more certain that something important was happening in the city - something that only high-ranking nobles and the whores that attended them knew about. By practicing her mind-reading abilities constantly, on both customers and fellow whores alike, she had regained her ability to pick up emotions. The dominant feelings she had been sensing around the brothel were anxiety and anticipation.

She was sure Panilo knew what was going on and it was time he told her.

Later, when he was relaxing in the bath, she considered how best to nudge the information out of him. He was not one for word games. He preferred honesty to trickery. A direct question might be all he needed.

“So what’s got the city all stirred up?” she asked lightly.

He looked at her in dismay and she began to apologize, but he silenced her with a gesture.

“I’m not offended that you asked, but...” He sighed. “It’s not a pleasant subject. This last week...” He suddenly looked tired.

“I’m sorry,” Emerahl murmured. “I’ve spoiled your night - reminded you of the things that worry you. Here.” She moved behind him and began massaging his shoulders.

“You haven’t spoiled my night,” he told her. “That will come after I leave your company.” He paused, then shrugged. “I suppose you’ll find out eventually. Will you promise to keep this to yourself?”

“Of course - but don’t tell me if you don’t want to,” she said.

“I do want to. I have to tell somebody, and my wife isn’t the sort of woman who listens.”

Wife, eh? “Then I have to warn you about something.”

“What?” he asked sharply.

“I think half the girls here have sworn to keep the same secret.”

He laughed. “I don’t doubt it.” He hummed quietly. “That is good, what you’re doing.” A long pause followed, then she felt the muscles in his shoulders tense.

“The White have asked us to prepare our army for a war,” he told her.

“A war?” She felt a mingled dismay and hope. Wars brought danger, but also opportunity. Perhaps an opportunity for her to escape the city. “Who with?”

“With the Pentadrians.”

She paused. He had been astonished that she didn’t know who the White were. Should she admit that she didn’t know who these Pentadrians were either?

“You’re wondering who they are, aren’t you?” he asked. “Well, I can’t tell you exactly. All I know is that they’re a cult based on the southern continent. They’ve managed to persuade Sennon to ally with them.”

“They plan to invade Toren?” she asked.

“They plan to invade all of Northern Ithania. To get rid of all Circlians. They hate Circlians.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think anyone does.”

I could think of a few reasons, Emerahl thought. They’ve given plenty of so-called ‘heathens’ reason to hate them. Who knows what they did to these Pentadrians.

“So it looks like I’ll be marching to war in a few weeks,” Panilo continued. “With my own men to command. What do I know about war? Nothing.”

All that anyone ought to know, she thought sadly. Poor Panilo. Looks like my best customer won’t be around for a while - and might never return.

“You probably won’t have to do anything more than relay commands to your men,” Emerahl said soothingly. “The king will be making all the decisions for Torens.”

He nodded. “And he’ll be following the directions of the White.”

The White. Of course. All the priests and priestesses will be called forth to fight. The watch over the gates will be called off. I’ll be free to leave the city. Just a few weeks.

Panilo straightened. “How can we fail when we have the gods on our side. These Pentadrians are only heathens, after all.”

“That’s true.” She smiled, leaned against his back and wrapped her arms around his chest. “When you get back you can tell me all about it.”

26

Since demonstrating his harness, Tryss had been waking up early. Sometimes he rose quietly and slipped out to hunt; at other times he stayed in bed, listening for the sounds of his family starting their daily routine. Today he had decided to stay in bed. He’d stayed up late and all he felt like doing was dozing.

His thoughts strayed to conversations of the previous evening. Sreil, Speaker Sirri’s son, had told Tryss that the young men of other tribes were all eager to try out his invention, but their Speakers had ordered them to leave Tryss alone. They wanted to ensure no tribe was seen to be given favor over the others. Speaker Sirri had suggested that one man from each tribe be chosen to form the first group Tryss would teach. Those men would pass on what they learned to their tribe.

Tryss wasn’t sure if that was a good idea. It certainly wasn’t the fastest way to teach others and it might not be the most reliable. If one of those men didn’t understand him, mistakes might be passed on.

Nothing would happen until the alliance with the White had been signed, anyway. Last night the Siyee had held a second Gathering. This time all the tribes had agreed to an alliance with the White. The mood had been grim rather than celebratory. While most Siyee were happy with the decision, some clearly felt they were being forced to make a choice between the White and the White’s enemy in order to save themselves from the settlers. As if the priestess was to blame for the Siyee’s situation.

She isn’t, Tryss had decided. The White are as much to blame for having an enemy as the Siyee are for having their land stolen by invaders. It felt right that White and Siyee could now help each other out.

A faint noise drew Tryss’s attention. He listened carefully and decided that what he was hearing was his mother in the main room, probably preparing the morning meal.

I could go out and help her, he thought. Doesn’t look like I’m going to go back to sleep.

He swung out of bed and washed himself before dressing. Stepping out into the main room, he grinned as his mother looked up at him. She smiled, then turned her attention back to a stone bowl.

“You’re up late.”

He shrugged. “It was a long night.”

“I saw you talking with Sreil,” she said approvingly. “He’s a smart boy, that one.”

“Yes.”

The water in the bowl began to steam, then bubble. She dropped nutmeal and dried fruit into it and the liquid stopped simmering. Tryss watched as she stared at the porridge until the liquid began to boil again. If Siyee were more Gifted, we might never have needed the harness, he thought. Most Siyee could manage this heating his mother was doing, but little more. From what he’d heard, most landwalkers had small Gifts too.

“I haven’t seen much of Ziss and Trinn lately.”

“Me neither,” he agreed. “Thank Huan.”

She glanced at him. “You shouldn’t let that little prank of theirs ruin your friendship.”

“It wasn’t a little prank,” he retorted. “And they were never my friends.”

One of her eyebrows rose. “Just be careful how you treat them now. You’re going to be getting a lot of attention, and they’ll resent you for that. It’s always better to avoid making enemies out of—”

“Hello? Anybody awake?”

The words were spoken quietly and came from beyond the bower entrance. Tryss recognized Speaker Sirri’s voice, and exchanged a glance with his mother.

“Yes. Come in, Speaker Sirri,” his mother called.

The door flap opened and the older woman stepped inside. She nodded respectfully at Tryss’s mother, then smiled at Tryss.

“The Speakers will be meeting to witness the signing of the alliance this morning. I would like Tryss to attend.”

His mother’s eyebrows rose. “You would? Well, I can’t see why not. Does he have time enough to eat?”

Sirri shrugged. “Yes, if he does not take too long.”

“And you?”

The older woman blinked in surprise. “Me?”

“Would you like some nut mash? It is ready and I have plenty.”

Sirri eyed the bowl. “Well, if it is no trouble...”

Tryss’s mother smiled and spooned out the hot mash into four bowls. Sirri sat down to eat. From the look of relief on her face, Tryss guessed the Speaker had not found the time to eat anything this morning. The hanging across the door to his parents’ room opened and his father stepped out, his hair sticking up in all directions. He looked at Sirri in surprise.

“Speaker,” he said.

“Tiss,” she replied.

“Is that breakfast I can smell?” he said, turning to Tryss’s mother.

“It is,” she replied, handing him a bowl.

“You must be proud of Tryss,” Sirri said.

Tryss felt his heart swell with pleasure as his parents nodded. “He’s always been a clever boy,” his mother said. “I thought he would do well, perhaps become a bower-maker or arrowforger. I never guessed he would help bring about such changes for our people.”

“We couldn’t stay as we were,” his father added. “My grandfather always said adapting to and embracing change was the Siyee’s greatest strength.”

“Your grandfather was a wise man,” Sirri said.

Tryss’s mother nodded in agreement, then glanced at Tryss. “I only fear what any mother fears: that such changes will have a terrible price.”

Sirri grimaced. “I know that fear well. If we go to war with the White, as I suspect we will, I doubt I could keep Sreil here. Nor should I. It will be a difficult time.”

Tryss’s parents nodded again. They all ate in silence, then Sirri set her empty bowl aside and looked at Tryss.

“Change awaits no one, but alliance signings can’t happen without the Head Speaker. We must go. Thank you for the meal, Trilli. It is much appreciated.”

Tryss’s mother gathered the empty bowls and ushered them out. As Tryss and Sirri emerged into the sunlight he caught a movement from the next bower. His heart leapt as Drilli emerged. She saw him and grinned, but the smile faded as her father stepped out. He gave Tryss a warning look then strode away, Drilli following.

Tryss sighed, then turned to find Sirri regarding him.

“Your neighbors have been spending a lot of time with the Fork River tribe’s representatives. I did not think much of it until I remembered that a family from their own tribe had settled with the Fork River folk. I suspect Zyll hopes to persuade his daughter to marry into this other Snake River family. He’s keen to prevent the Snake River tribe becoming absorbed into other tribes.”

Tryss felt as though his heart was shrivelling up. When Sirri looked at him he shrugged, afraid that if he spoke his voice would betray his feelings.

“Of course, he can’t force her to if she is already pledged to another.” She shook her head. “I always thought that law a foolish one. It forces young people to choose who they marry too early. I don’t like the idea of fathers marrying their daughters off to young men they hardly know, either.”

She glanced at Tryss. “Come on.” Together they broke into a run, leapt and spread their arms wide. As Sirri’s wings caught the wind and she swooped upward, Tryss followed. Her words repeated over and over in his mind as they flew toward the top of the Open.

“... he can’t force her to if she is already pledged to another.”

Was she aware that he and Drilli had been seeing a lot of each, other until Drilli’s father intervened? She obviously disapproved of what Zyll was doing. Was she suggesting he and Drilli exchange a pledge of marriage?

It might be the only way he would see Drilli again.

But... marriage. It was such a grown-up thing to do. He would have to move out of his parents’ bower. The tribe would build them their own. He considered what it might be like to live with Drilli.

He smiled. It would be nice. A bower all of their own. Time together. Privacy.

Was she the right girl for him? He thought of the other girls he knew. The ones in his tribe, who he had grown up with, were like family members. A few were friendly, but they weren’t anything like Drilli. She was... special.

Ahead, Sirri landed and paused to wait for him. He dropped down beside her, then followed her along one of the trails to the Speakers’ Bower. Thoughts of Drilli were chased away as he realized he was about to participate in an event that was likely to become part of Siyee history. .

“Wha- what will I have to do?” he asked.

“Nothing. Just sit at the back and stay silent unless you’re spoken to,” Sirri told him.

Suddenly his mouth was dry. His stomach began to flutter disconcertingly. Sirri strode up to the entrance and pulled the hanging aside. As she stepped through, Tryss swallowed hard and followed.

The room was crowded with Siyee. All had looked up at Sirri when she entered, and were now regarding him with interest. The priestess was present, looking larger than ever in the close room. She met his eyes and smiled, and he felt blood rush to his face.

Sirri moved to an unoccupied stool. As she sat down, Tryss glanced around the room. There were no other stools. He sat on the floor, where he could see Sirri between two of the Speakers.

“Last night every tribe considered again the White’s proposal for an alliance,” Sirri said. “Last night all tribes made a decision, and all decided the same. We, the Siyee, will make this pact with the White. We will become allies of the Circlians.

“We debated long into the night the exact words of this commitment between us.” She looked at Auraya. “This morning Auraya of the White has scribed these words onto parchment in the languages of both Si and Hania. These two scrolls have been inspected by all.”

The White priestess held up two scrolls. Tryss noted that the wooden rods attached to the parchment were carved with Siyee patterns.

“All that remains is for each of us to sign it on behalf of our tribe,” Sirri finished.

She reached behind her stool and lifted a flat board into view. A small container of black paint sat within a recess of the board and a brush lay in another. Sirri placed the board across her knees.

The White priestess held the scrolls before her. She closed her eyes.

“Chaia, Huan, Lore, Yranna, Saru. Today your wish to see Northern Ithania united in peace comes a step closer to realization. Know that the people Huan created, the Siyee, have chosen to ally with the people you chose to represent you in this world, the White. We do so with joy and great hopes for the future.”

Tryss felt his skin prickle. He had no time to wonder at this as Auraya opened her eyes and handed Sirri one of the scrolls. The Speaker unrolled the parchment, picked up the brush and loaded it with paint.

As the brush-tip moved across the scroll, the bower was utterly silent. A shiver ran down his spine. He watched Sirri paint her name sign and tribe sign on the second scroll, then pass the board to the next Speaker.

Tryss realized this was no ritual refined by centuries of repetition. The Siyee didn’t have a ceremony for an event like this: they had never signed an alliance before. This was a new ritual, begun today.

The silence continued as the scroll passed from Speaker to Speaker. The White priestess watched all patiently. Tryss noticed that her gaze occasionally grew distant, as if she was listening to something beyond his hearing. Once she smiled faintly, but he saw nothing in the room to explain her amusement.

Finally the scrolls were returned to her. She signed slowly, obviously not used to using a brush to write with. When she was done, she handed the board and one of the scrolls to Sirri. The Speaker put the board aside, but kept hold of the scroll.

“Today our peoples have joined hands and hearts in friendship and support,” Sirri said. “May all Siyee, and our descendants, honor this alliance.” She looked at Auraya.

“Today the White have gained an ally we will value for all eternity,” Auraya replied. “In accordance with the agreement we have just made, our first act will be to effect the return of Toren settlers to their homeland. This will take time if it is to be achieved without bloodshed, but we are determined it will be done within the next two years.”

This brought triumphant smiles to the faces of the Speakers. The air of formality dissolved as one asked her how this might be done without spoiling future prospects of trade with Toren. The Speakers began talking with each other, and some rose and moved to Sirri’s side to inspect the scroll.

Tryss watched it all silently, but it did not take long before one of the Speakers noticed him. As the old man began to ask him questions about his harness, others joined in, and soon Tryss found himself unable to answer one query before another was thrown at him. He felt overwhelmed.

“Fellow Speakers, have some pity on the poor boy.” Sirri’s voice cut across the questions. She shouldered her way into the circle of men and women surrounding Tryss. “What you all want to know is when your tribes will get their own harnesses and when they will be trained to use them.” She looked at Tryss. “What do you think, Tryss?”

He glanced at the Speakers, then drew in a deep breath and considered.

“The harnesses have to be made first. I can teach two makers from each tribe, so one can correct the other if mistakes are made. I’ll start teaching them as soon as they arrive.”

“How does that sound?” Sirri turned to regard the Speakers.

The men and women nodded.

“Good.” Sirri patted Tryss on the shoulder. “Now, tell us what they’ll need to bring.”

As Tryss listed the tools and materials that he’d used to make his harness, a feeling of wonder began to grow. He’d done it. He’d convinced them, thanks to Sirri. She had listened to him when he had first wanted to demonstrate the harness. She’d seen the potential of his invention. She’d given him a chance. He glanced at the Speaker and felt a surge of gratitude. She even sympathized with him about Drilli - and had told him of a way they could be together again.

He owed her a lot. One day he hoped he might repay her. For now, the best he could do was train his fellow Siyee to hunt and fight.

Though now that he thought of it, he had never used the harness in battle. He had only his imagination to tell him it would be an effective weapon.

It’s not over yet, he thought. Even I have more to learn.

Since hearing how she had flown right over the Pentadrian sorceress weeks before, Auraya had paid more attention to the forest below her whenever she was flying. She had seen no black-clad landwalkers, thankfully, just an abundance of wildlife and a lot of trees.

The sorceress was long gone - or so the Siyee believed. She looked up and around at the mountains. Great spires of rock and snow rose on all sides. Forests clung to their steep slopes. In the valleys and ravines below, glittering threads of water wound down toward the sea.

Magnificent, she thought.

She felt buoyant. Lighter than air. It was not just her peculiar Gift, it was a mood that had stolen over her since she had first arrived, reaching its peak this morning when she had succeeded in her task of uniting Siyee and White.

That was not all. This morning she had woken from dreams of Leiard so full of love and passion that she had not wanted to wake at all. She longed to return to Jarime, yet sometimes she wondered if reality would prove to be disappointing in comparison to their shared dreams.

No, it will be better, she told herself.

Sirri changed direction slightly, so Auraya altered her course to match. The Speaker had been gradually gaining altitude for the last hour and the air had grown icy. Auraya drew magic constantly in order to keep herself warm. The Siyee seemed unaffected by the chill.

They had been flying for most of the day and the sun was dropping toward the horizon. Looking ahead, Auraya saw that they were heading toward a mountain peak slightly lower than the others. She had seen glimpses of their destination in the woman’s mind, and from them knew that they were heading for this peak and that she would find a Temple there.

Auraya had been intrigued to learn that the Siyee had their own Temple. Though they worshipped Huan, they were not true Circlians. They did not follow - or even know of - the rituals and traditions landwalkers had invented in order to express their worship of the five gods.

She had wanted to visit the Temple, but Siyee law forbade anyone to approach unless invited by the goddess or accompanied by a Watcher, the closest thing to a priest or priestess the Siyee had. This morning, Sirri had passed on one such invitation. Since then Auraya’s stomach had been fluttering with excitement. Did this mean they were finally going to speak to her?

If they are, why don’t they just speak to me? Why this invitation passed through others? Auraya found herself wondering, not for the first time. Maybe because they want the Siyee to note it. Had the gods simply spoken into my mind the Siyee would not know, or would have to trust that I told the truth. And if the gods appeared in the presence of the Siyee that takes some of the holiness out of this place, since it’s where they go when they commune with Huan.

They drew closer to the peak and Auraya began to make out details. The highest point was oddly shaped - cylindrical and rounded at the top. She saw a sliver of sky within the shape, and realized that it was hollow. Suddenly what she had glimpsed in Sirri’s mind made sense. A small pavilion Temple had been carved out of the stone peak.

She wondered how it had been built. Below the circular base, on all sides, was a near-vertical drop. Perhaps if a hollow had been made first, the structure could have been gradually carved from the inside. None but Siyee could have reached such a high, inaccessible place, however. She had not realized the Siyee stone-carvers were so skilled. As she drew closer she could see that it was a simple, underrated structure. Five columns supported a domed roof. The proportions were flawless, the surfaced polished to a shine.

Sirri flapped her wings to gain a little more height, then tilted them so that she landed neatly between two columns. Auraya abandoned all pretense of being subject to the forces of wind and the pull of the earth. She straightened and stopped, floating in midair, then moved herself forward until her feet met the center of the Temple’s floor.

Only then did it occur to her that the Temple had been made to landwalker proportions. She did not need to duck her head to avoid the ceiling.

“This is the Temple,” Sirri said quietly. “It has always been here. Our records say it was here long before the Siyee were created.”

“The Siyee didn’t create it?”

Sirri shook her head. “No.”

“Then who did?”

“Nobody knows. Huan, perhaps.”

Auraya nodded, though she was still mystified. The gods could only affect this world through humans, and then only through willing humans, so at least one human must have been involved. Perhaps Huan had given a stone-carver the ability to fly in order to have this place created.

“This is a sacred place. Even those of the Temple Mountain tribe, who keep watch over it, rarely visit.” Sirri gave Auraya a quick smile. “We don’t want to distract Huan from her work unnecessarily.”

Auraya ran a hand over a column. There was no sign of wear or age. “It is amazing.”

“I have one question, before I leave,” Sirri said. “The Speakers wish to know when you want to depart for Borra?”

“Want to? Not ever.” Auraya sighed. “But I need to - and soon. I must see if I can persuade the Elai to join us.”

Sirri smiled. “I wish you luck, then. The Elai distrust outsiders.”

Auraya nodded. “So you have said. Yet they trade with you.”

“We creations of Huan like to keep in contact. The Sand tribe trades with the Elai. You should meet with their Speaker before you go. I’m sure he can tell you more about the sea people than I can.”

“I will.”

The Speaker’s expression became serious. “For now, Auraya of the White, I must leave you.” She moved to the edge of the Temple and pointed downward. “See that river?”

Auraya moved to Sirri’s side and looked down. A ribbon of reflected sky wound down a narrow ravine.

“Yes.”

“When you are done, fly down there. The Temple Mountain tribe live in caves along the ravine.” She turned to give Auraya a smile, then leaned out over the edge and glided away.

:Auraya.

Her heart seemed to stop. The voice had spoken in her mind. It was distinctly feminine.

:Huan?

:Yes.

The air before her brightened. Auraya stepped back, her heart pounding, as a figure of light formed before her. She dropped to her knees, then prostrated herself before the goddess.

:Rise, Auraya.

As Auraya obeyed she felt herself trembling with a mixture of joy and terror. She was standing, alone, before one of the gods. Even though I am one of their Chosen, before them I am just another ordinary human.

Huan smiled.

:You are no ordinary human, Auraya. We do not choose ordinary humans. We choose those with extraordinary talents, and you have certainly proved to have more of those than we initially detected.

The goddess’s tone was approving, yet Auraya sensed a note of irony. She did not have time to wonder at Huan’s meaning as the goddess continued speaking.

:We are satisfied with your success in unifying Northern Ithania so far. I am particularly pleased to see the Siyee united with the White. You will find they are the easier of my two races to befriend, however. Your flying skills will not impress the Elai. They will be a greater challenge for you.

:How can I impress them?

:That is for you to discover, Auraya. The choice must be their own, so we will not interfere either by giving you instructions, or giving the Elai direction.

:I understand.

Huan’s lips twisted in a wry smile.

:I doubt it. You are young and have much to learn - particularly in matters of the heart. I do not disapprove of you enjoying the Dreamweaver, Auraya. It is up to your fellow White to decide what is acceptable or unacceptable to the people. However, heed this warning. Only pain can come of this sort of love. Be prepared for it. Your people need you to be strong. Falter, and they may suffer.

Auraya felt her face warming as surprise was followed by embarrassment.

:I will, was all she could think to say.

Huan nodded. The figure dissolved into a column of light, then shrank, faded and vanished.

Kimyala, high priest of the followers of Gareilem, donned his many-layered octavestim slowly, following the ancient ritual of his forebears with great care. As he arranged and tied each garment he murmured prayers to his god. It was important to remember every stage of the ritual, and every ritual of the day.

He had asked his master, the former high priest, why this was so. The great Shamila had replied simply that it was important to remember.

Kimyala had not comprehended at the time. He suspected he hadn’t wanted to, because of his youthful impatience with the endless and complicated rituals. Now he understood better. It was important to remember, because there were too few who did.

Too few believed. The Circlians thought Gareilem dead and scorned his followers. The Pentadrians believed this too and pitied Kimyala. The Dreamweavers agreed with both, but at least they treated him with respect.

Kimyala was sure of one thing: gods cannot die. This was one of the ancient secrets of the followers of Gareilem. Let the others doubt, but he and his people knew the truth. The gods were beings of magic and wisdom. They existed as long as magic existed, so Gareilem must still exist somewhere, in some form. Perhaps, one day, he would return. His silence may even be a test of their faith. He was letting his followers dwindle until only the most loyal remained.

The dressing ritual over, Kimyala left his room and climbed to the roof of the old temple. Gareilem was the god of rock, sand and earth. His temples had always been built high on the sides of mountains. Here, near the southern coast of Sennon, there were only a few hills. The temple was built on a small rocky outcrop in the midst of a sea of dunes, but the lack of vegetation taller than a saltbush meant it had an uninterrupted view of the surrounding area.

Reaching the roof of the temple, Kimyala let his gaze move across the land. The sun hung just above the horizon, calling for his attention. The ritual chant for the end of the day crowded his thoughts, but it was not yet time. There wasn’t much to see to the west. Just the swell of a few more hills along the coast. The Gulf of Sorrow stretched, blue-gray, before him. A little to the left he could see the Isthmus of Grya reaching toward the southern continent. At its base was the dark smudge that was the city of Diamyane.

The city was close enough that he could see the scribble of roads and the sprawling low houses between them. On a clear day he could make out the city’s denizens without even the use of a lens. Today a slight but persistent wind had raised enough dust to soften the details of the city. There was nothing interesting to see. Except... as he looked beyond he noticed something unusual.

“Jedire!” he bellowed. “Bring my lens! Quickly!”

He heard hurried footsteps as his acolyte, studying in the room below, responded. Glancing at the sun, Kimyala judged he still had several minutes before it touched the horizon. Soon all light would be gone and the land would disappear in darkness.

The sound of sandals slapping against the stone stairs heralded the arrival of Jedire. The boy reached the top and handed Kimyala the lens. The high priest held the tube up to his eye.

He searched for the city and from there found the Isthmus. The dark smudge he had seen took form. Columns of figures marched toward Sennon, some holding banners. In the center of each length of black cloth was a white five-pointed star.

“Pentadrians,” he said in disgust, handing the lens back to his acolyte.

The boy raised the tube to his eye.

“What are they doing?”

“Don’t know. A pilgrimage, maybe. ”

“They’re carrying weapons,” the boy said in a hushed voice. “They’re going to war. ”

Kimyala snatched the lens from the boy and turned to face the city. Raising the tube to his eye, he sought the Pentadrians again and examined the line of marchers closely. Sure enough, some were wearing armor. Heavily laden carts trundled in their midst. As he watched, the head of the black column reached the city.

He muttered a curse. He had already lost two boys to the Pentadrians. It was not easy keeping them when the Pentadrians were always about, flaunting their riches and powers. If that wasn’t enough to lure young men away, there were always the rumors about their fertility rites. It was said that they held orgies in which all participants were masked, and that sometimes their gods joined in.

“It’s an army, isn’t it?” Jedire asked. “Have they come to take over Sennon?”

Kimyala shook his head. “I don’t know. Nobody is trying to stop them. ”

“If they aren’t here to invade us, who are they going to invade?”

He turned to regard Jedire. The boy’s eyes were bright with excitement.

“Don’t get any foolish ideas about running off to join Ewarli and Gilare,” Kimyala warned him. “Boys die in battles. They die horribly, in terrible pain. Now take this lens below quickly. I have a ritual to perform. ”

As the boy hurried away, Kimyala turned his attention to the sun. The fiery disk was about to touch the horizon. It was time to ignore the ominous presence of the army below, and begin the ritual.

27

The window was open. Danjin cursed the servants. How had they let this happen? Mischief might get out - could be out there clinging to the wall right now, oblivious to the risk of falling.

He ought to call the servants and get someone else to deal with it, but he found he could not stop himself walking toward the opening. Cold air surrounded him. He moved to the edge. Felt his toes curl over the sill, chilled by the wind.

I am on the brink, he thought. Then he frowned. Why aren’t I wearing shoes?

He looked beyond his feet at the ground far, far below, and everything began to spin.

Suddenly he was standing at the base of the White Tower, looking up. He ought to have felt better now that he was outside on good, firm ground, but this only terrified him more. The tower loomed over him, leaned over him. Too late, he saw the cracks form.

He saw it crumple, saw the fragments fall toward him. He could not move. Rubble pelted down upon him, beat him to the ground, covered him, smothered him. He fought the terror. Told himself to lie still...

“Danjin.”

He felt hope. If he could hear someone, perhaps he was close enough to the surface that they could dig him out. His throat was dry and full of dust, and he could not make a noise.

Patience. There can be no fast way out of this.

But he must also hurry. He had to decide how to use his remaining strength carefully...

“Danjin. Wake up.”

A hand grasped his arm. Rescue!

“Danjin!”

He woke with a start and took in his room, the blankets wound tightly around his body - but not his feet - and his wife staring down at him.

“What?”

Silava straightened and placed her hands on her hips.

“There is an army outside.”

An army? He untangled himself from the blankets and followed her to one of the windows. This side of his house faced one of the main streets of the city. He looked down and stared in surprise at the lines of troops marching past.

It was strangely thrilling to see them. Hanian soldiers were always visible in the city, from the clean roads of the noble families to the low streets of the rougher parts, but never this many at once. The steady tread of their sandals sounded so confident and organized.

“They’re not wasting time,” he muttered to himself.

“For what?”

“At the meeting last night, Juran announced that the Pentadrian army has entered Sennon and declared their intention to rid the world of Circlians,” he explained. “It’s been so long since Hania faced a military threat. A few nobles expressed their doubt that our army was up to it. This will convince them.”

She looked down at the troops. “Where are they going?”

He considered. “Probably to the Temple to seek the gods’ blessing.”

“All of them at once?”

“Between them and the priests they’ll put on such a show that our young men will flock to join the army and be part of the great adventure. So will the forces of other lands, though they have no choice. They’re bound by the terms of their alliances with the White.”

She considered him speculatively. “So you’re allowed to tell me all this now?”

“Yes. It’s public knowledge, as of last night.”

“You didn’t tell me when you got home.”

“You were asleep.”

“News of this importance is worthy of being woken up for.”

“One is reluctant to interrupt another’s sleep when so deprived of it oneself.”

She gave him a withering look.

He spread his hands. “Would it have made any difference if you had learned of this five hours earlier?”

Her nose wrinkled. “Yes. I probably wouldn’t have slept at all.” She sighed. “So I guess you will be accompanying Auraya on this great adventure?”

He looked down at the soldiers marching past below. “Probably, though I am no military expert or soldier. I’ll probably end up doing much the same sort of duties as I do now - which was something my father insisted on mentioning numerous times last night.”

She chuckled. “I’m sure he did. Did you tell him you know they’re all spying for the White?”

“No. I changed my mind. He was so insufferably smug. Auraya and I find it much more amusing to let him think I don’t know.”

Silava’s eyebrows rose. “She’s back?”

He shook his head, then tapped his temple with one finger. “She wanted to see the reactions of the other nobles and ambassadors. They’re much more outspoken when they believe they’re not in the presence of a White.”

She paused. “Is she in your head now?”

“No.” He took her hand, recalling other occasions when the mention of Auraya seeing through his eyes had disturbed her. “It’s not like that. She doesn’t take over my mind. I’m still me. All she can do is hear what I hear and see what I see.”

Silava drew her hand away. “I understand that. Or at least I think I do. But I can’t help not liking it. How do I know whether she’s watching me or not?”

He chuckled. “She’s discreet.”

“That makes her sound like your mistress.”

“Are you jealous?”

She moved away, avoiding his gaze. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

He smiled and followed her. “I think you are. My wife is actually jealous of Auraya of the White.”

“I... she gets more time with you than I do.”

He nodded. “It’s true. She gets all that dry information about customs and politics and law that I know you love so much. Is that what you miss? Shall I tell you all about the laws laid down by the King of Genria fifty years ago? Or the many traditions and rituals for the serving of teho in Sennon high society?”

“There’s a lot more of that in you than anything else,” she retorted.

He caught her hand and turned her to face him. “That may be true, but everything else there is to have, I give to you. My friendship, my respect, my children, even my body - though you probably see nothing of worth in this sad, neglected form.”

Her lips thinned, but he could tell from the way the lines around her eyes deepened that she was pleased and amused by his words.

“If I didn’t suspect you were hoping I’d convince you otherwise, I’d be a bigger fool than you,” she said.

He grinned. “Can’t you at least pretend to be a fool for me?”

She pulled away and strode toward the door. “I don’t have the time, and my husband no doubt has more dry information to hurry off to gather and deliver to his mistress.”

He sighed loudly. “How can I face the world believing such things about myself?”

Reaching the door, she glanced back and smiled. “I’m sure you’ll manage.”

If Auraya hadn’t known that there were many times more Siyee than those now waiting in the Open, she might have thought the entire race had come out to see her off. Most had gathered together into a large crowd standing under the outcrop from which the Speakers had addressed them during the two Gatherings. Others filled the branches of the enormous trees on either side. Still more glided above, and their constant movement cast distracting shadows on the ground.

As she emerged from the trees, faces turned toward her and a shrill whistling began. This was their way of cheering. She smiled at them all, could not have stopped if she had wanted to.

“Your people are so friendly,” she told Sirri. “I wish I could stay a little longer.”

The Speaker chuckled. “Be careful, Auraya. While we would like to keep you for ourselves, we know how important you are to Northern Ithania, and to our own future. If you like it too much here, we may have to stop being so nice to you.”

“It would take a lot to change my opinion of you and your people,” Auraya replied.

Sirri paused to regard Auraya thoughtfully. “We have won you over, haven’t we?”

“I’ve never been so happy as I have been here.”

“You’re the only landwalker I have found myself constantly forgetting is a landwalker.” Sirri frowned. “Does that make sense?”

Auraya laughed. “Yes, it does. I keep forgetting I am a landwalker, too.”

They reached the first of the Speakers, who were standing in a line along the edge of the outcrop. Auraya spoke to each, thanking them for their hospitality if she had visited their tribe, and promising to visit their home in the future if she hadn’t. The Speaker at the end of the line was the leader of the Sand tribe, Tyrli. The somber old man and the few members of his tribe who had travelled to the Open for the Gathering would be guiding her to the coast.

“I look forward to your company on our journey, and seeing your home, Speaker Tyrli,” she said.

He nodded. “I am honored to be of assistance to the Gods’ Chosen.”

She sensed that he was a little overwhelmed. Moving on, she stood beside Speaker Sirri as the Siyee leader turned to face the crowd.

“People of the mountains. Tribes of the Siyee. We, the Speakers, have called you here to bid farewell to a visitor to our lands. She is no ordinary visitor, as you all know. She is Auraya, one of the Gods’ Chosen, and our ally.” She turned her head to regard Auraya. “Fly high, fly fast, fly well, Auraya of the White.”

The crowd murmured the words. Auraya smiled and stepped forward.

“People of Si, I thank you for your warm hospitality. I have enjoyed every moment of my time among you. It saddens me to leave you, and I know as soon as I depart I will be impatient to return. I wish you well. May the gods watch over you.”

She made a circle with both hands. A few of the children in the crowd copied her gesture. The air vibrated with enthusiastic whistling again. Tyrli moved to her side.

“Now we go,” he murmured.

He leaned forward and, spreading his arms wide, leapt off the outcrop. The wind bore him upward. Auraya lifted herself into the air to follow. As she did, Siyee flew out of the trees and joined her, some still whistling. She grinned and laughed as these young escorts swooped playfully around her.

As they flew farther from the Open some began to glance backward. Gradually their, numbers dwindled as Siyee fell back, some giving one last whistle in farewell. Eventually only Tyrli and his people remained.

Time seemed to slow then. The Siyee mostly remained silent while flying. If they communicated at all, the words they were most likely to use during flight - directions, commands - had long ago been replaced by whistles. To speak to each other while in the air involved flying closer together in order to make out words. Siyee did not feel comfortable flying close together. They felt crowded.

So Auraya was surprised when Tyrli slowed and moved close to her in order to talk.

“You wished to know more of the Elai,” he stated.

She nodded.

“They are ruled by a king,” he told her. “One leader instead of many.”

“Do they have tribes?”

“No. They did, once. One for each island. Few live anywhere but the main island now. In their city.”

“Why is that?”

“For many years, landwalkers have attacked them. It is not safe to live on the outer islands.” He glanced at her, his expression grave. “The Elai do not like landwalkers for this reason.”

Auraya frowned. “Why did these landwalkers attack them?”

“To steal from them.”

She scowled. “Raiders.”

“Yes. The Elai are in a much worse situation than the Siyee. Many have been killed by these landwalkers. There are many thousand Siyee, but barely a few thousand Elai.”

“All living in this city. Have you seen it?”

He looked almost wistful. “None but Elai have seen it. Only they can go there. It is a great cave reached by swimming through underwater tunnels. They say it is very beautiful.”

“An underwater city. That would keep them safe from raiders.” How was she going to talk to the Elai if they lived underwater? Were the gods going to give her the Gift of breathing water?

“Not underwater,” Tyrli said. He almost appeared to smile. “They may live in water, but they still breathe air. They can hold their breath for a long time, however.”

She looked at him in surprise. “So the legends are wrong. Are they covered in scales? Do they have a fishtail instead of legs?”

He laughed. “No, no.” She caught a glimpse of a figure in his mind: a near-naked, hairless man with dark, shiny skin and a broad chest. “Huan gave them thick skin so they can stay in the water for many hours, and big lungs so they can hold their breath for a long time. She gave them fins, too - but not like the fins of fish. Their fins are as much like fish fins as our wings are like bird wings. You will understand, when you see them.”

She nodded. “Has any landwalker befriended them before?”

He considered. “One. Long ago. He used to visit us, too. I heard he knew a secret route into Si, though not even Siyee know where it is now. Many people liked him. He was a Gifted healer. He could heal wings that were damaged beyond repair.”

“He must have been a powerful sorcerer. What was his name?”

He paused and frowned, then nodded his head. “His name was Mirar.”

She turned her head to stare at him. “Mirar? The founder of the Dreamweavers?”

He nodded. “A Dreamweaver. Yes, that is right.”

Auraya looked away, but barely noticed the landscape below as she considered this revelation. Was it so surprising that Mirar had roamed these mountains long ago? Then she remembered: Leiard had told her he had memories of the Siyee. Were they Mirar’s memories? And if they were, did Leiard also have memories of the Elai?

She pursed her lips. Perhaps tonight, if he spoke to her in a dream link, she would ask him about the sea people. Though it sounded as if the Elai were in even greater need of the White’s help than the Siyee, she suspected their resentment toward all landwalkers would make negotiating with them difficult. Perhaps Leiard knew how best to gain their confidence. She needed all the information she could get.

Turning back to Tyrli, she smiled.

“So how long has your tribe been trading with the Elai?”

Drilli sighed and followed her parents out of the bower. They were going to yet another meeting of the fragmented Snake River tribe. The families living among other tribes were using the Gatherings as an opportunity to meet in one place and plan for their future. She glanced at Tryss’s family bower, despite knowing he would be away training other Siyee in the use of the harness. Not even his cousins were hanging about.

As she turned back, her father caught her eye and frowned disapprovingly. She looked away, despite the temptation to glare at him, and obediently followed as he set off along a forest path.

How could he do this to me?

For months they had danced around each other. It had been a good-humored game at first. He would ask what she thought of some young man, and she would give some polite but dismissive answer. He would nod in acknowledgment and leave it at that.

Then she had met Tryss. He was no stronger or better bred than any of the matches her father had proposed, but he was interesting. Most of the young men in her tribe sent her delirious with boredom. Most of the older men did too. Except her grandfather... but he had died during the invasion of her home.

Like her grandfather, Tryss was clever. He thought about things. Really thought. He didn’t pose or boast to get her attention. He just looked at her with those deep, serious eyes...

Her father had lost all patience with her when he learned that she had been spending so much time with Tryss. He couldn’t come up with any good reason for his disapproval of their neighbor’s son, except that Tryss wasn’t of the Snake River tribe.

To Zyll, the need to keep his tribe from being absorbed by others was more important than anything else - even his daughter’s happiness, she was discovering. He had forbidden her to speak to Tryss. He was taking advantage of these meetings to look for a husband for her.

There was nothing she could do about it. Siyee law stated that parents could arrange their offspring’s first marriage. Marrying young had been essential in the past in order to increase the chances of more healthy children being born.

I can always insist on a divorce, she thought. We only have to stay together for two years. That seemed like an eternity. By then, Tryss might have found someone else. And I might have children.

She grimaced. I don’t even know if Tryss wants to get married. The trouble with being attracted to quiet types is that they aren’t good at letting you know what they want. She had no doubt that he liked her a lot, and that he was attracted to her - she was sure of that!

A flicker of light caught her attention. Looking beyond her father she saw that several lamps surrounded a clearing ahead. Though it was only mid-afternoon, the trees here were so close together that little sunlight penetrated to the forest floor.

One lamp stood in the middle. Several men and women were sitting in a circle around it. She recognized Styll, the Speaker of her tribe. Beside him sat her father’s latest proposed suitor for her, Sveel. The boy smiled at her and she felt a pang of guilt. He was obviously enthusiastic about the match.

She looked at the woman sitting beside Styll and felt a mild surprise. Speaker Sirri and her son, Sreil, sat among her tribe. A mad thought came to her. Perhaps Sirri had come seeking a wife for her son, too. Perhaps Sreil and Sveel would have to battle for her. Drilli smothered a laugh at the thought. Too bad, Sreil. My father won’t accept anyone born outside the Snake River tribe, not even the son of the leader of all Siyee.

Her family joined the circle, her father managing to direct her to the place beside Sveel. She made herself talk to the boy. There was no point being rude. If she must marry him, she may as well try to get along with him. He wasn’t a dislikeable person, just not interesting or particularly smart.

“So why have you joined us, Speaker Sirri?” her father asked. “I have heard you do not agree with our marriage traditions.”

Sirri smiled. “It is not that I disagree with them, Zyll, but that I think it is foolish for Siyee to marry so young. They haven’t fully developed as individuals at fourteen.”

“Which is why it is best that their parents select a partner for them.”

She shook her head. “If only that were so. I have observed parents make bad matches as often as good ones. While they may take great care with their choice, they are hampered by the fact that their sons or daughters haven’t yet become the person they are going to be. How can they decide who will make a suitable mate when they don’t yet fully know their offspring’s character?”

Zyll scowled. “This is not just about character. It is about bloodlines and tribal connections.”

She frowned. “Huan released us from our interbreeding laws over a century ago.”

“Yet we don’t want to regress to a state where half of our children are born—”

“There is little danger in that now,” Sirri interrupted, her eyes suddenly cold. Drilli suddenly remembered hearing that the Speaker’s first child had been born wingless and shrivelled, and had died an infant. “There are enough of us now that such occurrences rarely happen.”

“I was not talking of inter-tribal connections,” Zyll said. “I was talking of links within a tribe. My tribe is scattered. If we are not careful, it will vanish in a few years.”

Sirri’s expression changed subtly, somehow becoming thoughtful and dangerous at the same time. “You need not be worried about that anymore. The White will return your land to you, and you now have an effective means to defend it, thanks to young Tryss.”

Zyll’s jaw tightened at the mention of Tryss’s name. “Even so, we need to strengthen the bonds between our families, or we will return only to find we are strangers to each other.”

Her eyebrows rose, then she nodded respectfully. “If you must go to such lengths to reassure yourselves, then, that is what you must do. I will miss your family’s presence here in the Open.” She looked at Sveel. “You’ve been training with the warriors, haven’t you? How are you finding it?”

Sveel straightened. “It’s hard, but I’m practicing every day.”

She nodded. “Good. You’ll need those skills to defend your land after you return. Which is what I wanted to talk to you all about.” She paused, then turned to look at her son. “Sreil, did you bring that basket?”

The boy blinked, then his eyes widened. “No, I forgot. Sorry.”

She shook her head and sighed. “Well, go fetch it then. Bring some water, too.”

“How am I supposed to carry all that?”

“Take Drilli with you.”

Drilli blinked in surprise, then looked at her father. He nodded his approval, though he did not look happy. She got to her feet and hurried after Sreil.

Speaker Sirri’s son set a rapid pace, and soon the voices of her tribe had faded beyond hearing. He glanced back, then slowed so she could catch up.

“So you’re going to be married,” he said.

She shrugged. “Looks like it.”

“You don’t sound too enthusiastic.”

“Don’t I?” she asked dryly.

“No. You don’t like Sveel, do you?”

“He’s all right.”

“But not who you’d like to be marrying, right?”

She frowned at him. “Why are you asking?”

He smiled. “It was pretty obvious who you favored at the trei-trei, Drilli. So why aren’t you marrying Tryss? He’s more famous than the founders.”

Her stomach twisted. “Because I don’t have a choice.”

“Of course you do.”

She scowled. “Do I? I haven’t spoken to Tryss for weeks. He hasn’t even tried to talk to me. I don’t even know if he wants to get married.”

“I could find out for you.”

Her heart skipped. “You’d do that?”

“Of course.” He smiled, then chuckled in a self-satisfied way. At once she felt a stab of suspicion. She stopped and crossed her arms.

“What’s in it for you, Sreil? Why help us?”

He turned to face her, still smiling. “Because...” He paused and began to chew his lip. “I shouldn’t say.”

She narrowed her eyes at him.

“Well...” He grimaced. “All right then. Your father is a tribal snob. It’s not just that he won’t even consider letting you marry someone whose invention might save our people and get him back his lands - though that just tops everything - it’s other things he’s said and done since coming here.” His expression changed from angry to apologetic. “Sorry.”

She nodded. What he’d said was fair, though she did feel a little offended that this was how her family was regarded. Surely after all they’d been through...

“Mother also thinks you probably contributed to Tryss’s success,” he added. “He might need you in some way, so it’s foolish to take you away from him.”

She blinked in surprise and was about to deny it when she remembered that she was the one who had shown him how to use blowpipes. He had come up with the idea of using them as part of the harness, but if she hadn’t been there...

“Ask him,” she said. “But don’t tell him why. I don’t want him to marry me just to save me from marrying someone else. He has to want to marry me because he wants to.”

Sreil grinned. “I’ll get back to you on that.”

28

Millo Baker was a quiet man. Leiard had come to understand that Jayim’s father knew the value of being content rather than happy. Millo might not be overjoyed with his life, but neither was he unhappy with it.

He rarely joined his wife, son and guest for the morning meal. Today, however, a bout of the usual winter head infection had forced him to rest. He had surprised Leiard by being unusually talkative, telling them of the news, official or speculation, that he had heard. But then the cure Leiard had given him sometimes had that effect on people.

“Have you been to the Temple?” he asked Leiard.

“Not since Auraya left.”

Millo shook his head. “I’ve never seen so many soldiers. Must be the whole army in there. Didn’t know it was so big. The lines of men - and women - looking to join are so long they go out the arch and two blocks down the main road.”

Tanara frowned and glanced at Jayim. “Just as well they don’t take Dreamweavers.”

Jayim’s expression was guarded. Leiard sensed that the boy’s feelings were a mixture of relief, guilt and annoyance.

“What do you know of these Pentadrians, Leiard?” Millo asked.

Leiard shrugged. “Not much. Only what other Dreamweavers have told me. They are a young cult, only a few hundred years old at the most. They worship five gods, as the Circlians do.”

“Real gods, or dead ones?” Millo asked.

“I do not know. Their names are unfamiliar to me.”

“What are their names?”

“Sheyr, Ranah, Alor, Sraal and Hrun.”

“Perhaps they are old dead gods who had different names in the southern continent,” Jayim suggested.

“Perhaps,” Leiard agreed, pleased that Jayim would think of this.

The boy’s eyes brightened. “Or the same gods as the Circlians follow, known by different names.”

“That wouldn’t make much sense,” Tanara pointed out. “They’d be sending their own followers to fight their own followers.”

Leiard looked at her thoughtfully, then shook his head. “No, I can see no profit in it for them.”

She frowned. “You think they’d do that, if there was profit in it?”

“Possibly.”

“But that would be unspeakably cruel.”

“The gods aren’t as noble and fair as the Circlians would have us believe,” Leiard found himself saying. “We Dreamweavers remember what they have done in the past, before this charade of concern for mortals began. We know what they are capable of.”

Tanara stared at him in horror.

Mirar, Leiard thought sternly. I told you not to do that.

Yes, you did. But what can you do to stop me? the other voice replied.

Leiard ignored the question. What did you hope to achieve by frightening her?

Now another knows the truth.

And how will that benefit Tanara?

Mirar didn’t reply. Tanara looked away. “Then we’d best hope they continue to want to keep up the charade,” she murmured.

Jayim was watching Leiard through narrowed eyes. “What do these memories of yours tell you about the Pentadrians?”

“My memories tell me nothing. I have learned what I have learned from Dreamweavers in Sennon.”

“Through dream links?”

“Yes.”

Jayim frowned. He opened his mouth to speak, then sighed and shook his head. “What do they think of them?”

“That Dreamweavers have nothing to fear from the Pentadrians. The southern cult regards us with pity, not fear or dislike. Which proves that their gods are not the same as the Circlians’,” he added.

The boy nodded slowly and thoughtfully. “Will we join this war?”

“Dreamweavers do not fight,” Leiard replied.

“I know, but will we go as healers?”

“Probably.”

Tanara’s eyes widened. She glanced at her son and bit her lip. Millo frowned.

“We will be quite safe,” Leiard assured them. “The Pentadrians understand that we tend to all, no matter what race or religion. Our Gifts will protect us from mishaps or misunderstandings.” He looked at Jayim. “It will be a good opportunity for Jayim to hone his healing sk—”

A knocking interrupted him. They all looked up at each other, then Millo stood and moved to the door.

Leiard finished his drink, then left the table. Jayim had finished his meal long before. Like most boys his age, he was perpetually hungry. He stood and followed Leiard toward the stairs to the rooftop garden.

“Wait, you two,” Millo called.

He stepped back from the doorway. A woman moved past him, and as Leiard took in the Dreamweaver robes and familiar face he blinked in surprise.

“Dreamweaver Elder Arleej,” he said, touching heart, mouth and forehead.

She smiled and returned the gesture. “Dreamweaver Adviser Leiard.”

“It is good to see you again. Are you well?”

She shrugged. “A little tired. I have only just arrived.”

“Then you will be wanting some food and a hot drink,” Tanara said. “Sit down.”

Tanara ushered Arleej to a seat then bustled out. Leiard sat down next to the Dreamweaver elder and gestured for Jayim, who was hovering uncertainly by the stairway, to join them. Millo shuffled away to his room.

“What brings you to Jarime?” Leiard asked.

Arleej smiled crookedly. “Haven’t you heard? There is to be a war. You and Auraya talked us into an alliance just in time, it seems.”

Leiard smiled. There was no resentment in her voice, only irony. “No wonder you are tired. Did you share a ship with hundreds of soldiers, or did the Somreyan Dreamweavers manage to claim one for themselves?”

She shook her head. “We are travelling in small numbers on merchant ships, arriving before and after the Somreyan army. Memories of the massacres of Dreamweavers on the mainland are still strong. We will attract less attention this way.”

“I do not think you would have been in any danger, had you arrived with Somreyan troops.”

“You are probably right. Seeing the troops of another land valuing Dreamweavers might have encouraged Hanians to do the same. Old habits and fears are hard to defeat, however, especially for us.” Arleej looked at him, her direct gaze unsettling. “How are you, Leiard? Has linking with Jayim helped you control your link memories?”

Leiard sensed Jayim’s surprise and alarm. “I am making some progress on my—”

“He doesn’t link with me,” Jayim interrupted. “He teaches me everything except mind links or dream links.”

Arleej looked from Jayim to Leiard, her brows lowering into a frown.

“And he mumbles to himself all the time,” Jayim added, his voice strained. “Sometimes it’s like he’s not aware of me. Then he says odd things in the voice of a stranger.”

“Leiard,” Arleej said, her voice quiet but filled with suppressed alarm. “Do you know... ? Are you... ?” She shook her head. “I know you understand what you risk. Is this secret of yours so great you would sacrifice your identity - your sanity?”

He shivered. My sanity. Maybe I’ve already lost it. I am hearing voices - one voice, anyway.

You think you’re going insane? Mirar injected. Living inside your mind is enough to drive anyone mad.

If you don’t like it, go away.

“Leiard?”

He looked up. Arleej was frowning at him. He sighed and shook his head.

“I can’t link with Jayim.” He turned to regard his student. “I am sorry. You should find another teacher. One of the Somreyans will surely—”

“No!” Jayim exclaimed. “If what Ar - Dreamweaver Elder Arleej says is true, you’ll go insane without my help.” He paused to catch his breath. “Whatever secret you have, I’ll keep it. I won’t tell anybody.”

“You don’t understand,” Leiard said gently. “If I tell you this secret you can never link with another Dreamweaver. I would not restrict your future that way.”

“If that’s what it takes to save you, then I’ll do it.”

Leiard stared at Jayim in surprise. When, in the last few months, had this boy become so loyal?

Arleej made a small, strangled sound. She let out her breath in a rush. “I don’t know, Jayim. That is a heavy price for you to pay.” She turned to Leiard, her expression tortured. “How... how long would Jayim have to keep this secret?”

Forever. Leiard looked away and shook his head. It was unfair, but he could not unlive the past.

You know this affair can’t last, Mirar whispered. Eventually it will be discovered so you may as well tell Jayim.

Why do you want me to stop? You seemed to enjoy dream-linking with her.

She is one of the gods’ pawns. I enjoy the irony. In fact, next time I might have a little play with her myself.

Leiard felt his stomach turn. Could Mirar interfere with the dream link?

I might show you a few things you thought you didn’t know.

You wouldn’t dare. If Auraya knew you had this much control...

She would do what? Kill me? But that would mean killing you. I suppose that might not be so hard if she knew her lover could turn into the hated Mirar at an inappropriate moment.

Leiard sighed. What do you want me to do?

Leave Jarime. Find somewhere remote where Auraya won’t find you. Train Jayim in mind-linking.

If Arleej is right, it will mean the end of your existence.

I don’t want to exist. This is the Age of the Five. My time is in the past, when there was a multitude of gods, and immortals roamed freely - what they now call the Age of the Many - and perhaps the far future, but not now.

Leiard was amazed by this admission. If this shadow of Mirar did not want to exist, why was it so concerned about Leiard’s safety?

The other voice did not answer.

Very well, he thought. But I will join the Dreamweavers going to the war first.

He waited, expecting Mirar to protest, because following the army meant being near the White - and Auraya - but the voice remained silent. Relieved, he looked up at Arleej.

“I can only do this if Jayim and I leave Jarime,” he told her. “I will join you in tending the wounded after the war, then we will disappear for a while. We will meet with other Dreamweavers in the future, when it is safe to do so.” He turned to Jayim. “You must never allow yourself to come into the presence of the White. They can read minds more thoroughly than any sorcerer has before.”

Jayim frowned. “If they can read my mind, won’t they read the secret from yours?”

“Yes.”

“But you’re the Dreamweaver adviser.”

“Not for much longer. I will be resigning as soon as I am ready to leave.”

“Why not now?”

“They may attempt to meet me in order to learn the reason. I want to be long gone when they receive my message.”

Jayim’s eyes were wide. “This must be quite a secret.”

Arleej smiled grimly. “Yes. I hope it is worth all this trouble.”

“What trouble?”

They all looked up to see Tanara standing in the doorway, holding a platter of food. As Arleej explained, Leiard felt a pang of guilt. He would be taking Jayim away from his family, probably never to return. Then something else occurred to him and he groaned.

“What is it?” Arleej asked.

He looked at her apologetically. “The White could learn from you and the Bakers that I have left because I have a secret I wish to keep from them.”

She grimaced. “Which would be enough reason to send people out to find you and bring you back.” She shrugged. “I don’t intend to go anywhere near them anyway.” She looked at Tanara. “I doubt the White will seek out you and your husband. They’re too busy organizing a war. Just in case, can you be somewhere else for a few weeks? If you need money for accommodation, we can provide it.”

“Millo has a brother living in the north,” Tanara said. “We haven’t visited in a while.”

“Then visit him,” she said; “I think I can keep away from the White so long as they still have a Dreamweaver adviser to consult.” She turned to Leiard. “Do you have anyone in mind to take on the role?”

He shook his head. “That would be your decision, or Auraya’s.”

She pursed her lips, then her eyes narrowed. “Since Auraya is absent and the other White are busy with war preparations, the matter will probably be put off until she returns - unless I can offer a few candidates. Hmm, this will take some consideration.” She rapped her finger on the table and paused to think. “My people will be leaving in advance of the army. We will always be more than a day’s ride from the Circlians. The White won’t know you’re with us, and even if they find out they’ll be too busy with their preparations to seek you out. I would like to remain close at hand while you sort this out. You may need my help.”

Leiard bowed his head. “Thank you. I hope I won’t need it.”

* * *

The eastern horizon brightened steadily, casting a thin, cool light over the sea. As Auraya walked along the beach with Tyrli she considered her first impressions of the Sand tribe’s home. She had come to associate the Siyee with high mountains and forests, but seeing their bowers among the treeless dunes of the coast yesterday had caused her to reassess her assumptions about them. They lived well here on the beaches of Si, which only highlighted what they had lost when Toren settlers had stolen the fertile valleys of their homeland.

“You have everything you need?” Tyrli asked.

“Everything except enough time,” she replied. Or Leiard’s recommendations, she added to herself. He hadn’t dream-linked with her in days, which had made it easier to rise before dawn this morning. She had been waking up early, worrying about the reason for his silence, for the previous two mornings.

“If you had more time I would introduce you to the Elai who trade with us, but they will not meet us for nearly a month.”

“I would like that, even if just to see more of your tribe,” she told Tyrli truthfully. She had only glimpsed how his people lived and would have liked to learn more about them. “Juran is pressing me to meet with the Elai as soon as possible.”

“There will be another opportunity,” he replied.

“I’ll make sure of it.” She turned to face him. “I will return to the Open in about ten days.”

He nodded. “We will be ready.”

She smiled at his grim confidence. He had sent messengers back to the Open with her news of the Pentadrian invasion and Juran’s request for help in the coming battle. She sighed and looked across the water.

“You should be there by midday,” he assured her.

“How do I find my way?” she asked.

He turned to face the mountains and pointed. “See the mountain with the double peak?”

“Yes.”

“Fly away from it, keeping it aligned with this beach. You’ll see the coast on your right. If you don’t see it after a few hours, keep bearing right until you do. Follow it to the end of the peninsula. Then head directly south. There are a lot of little islets around Elai. If you fly for more than an hour without seeing one, you’ve missed Elai and should head northward again.”

She nodded. “Thank you, Tyrli.”

He bowed his head. “Good luck, Auraya of the White. Fly high, fly fast, fly well.”

“May the gods guide and protect you,” she replied.

Turning to face the sea again, Auraya drew magic and sent herself directly upward. The beach dropped away from her feet until Tyrli was a small dot in a great arc of sand stained gold by the rising sun. She glanced behind at the mountains and noted the position of the double peak. Turning her back, she sent herself in the opposite direction.

For the last few months she had become accustomed to flying in imitation of the Siyee. Now that she was alone she did not feel the need to pretend what she could do was limited by physical strength or the pull of the earth. She began to experiment. The Siyee could only fly as quickly as the wind and their stamina allowed. She had no idea how fast she could move so she began to increase her speed.

Wind was already a problem and she guessed this would be the factor that limited her. As she flew it buffeted her face, dried her eyes and chilled her. She could use magic to generate warmth, but as she flew faster she found that this warmth was quickly stripped away. Curiously, she also began to find it hard to breathe.

She created a magical shield in front of her. It slowed her abruptly, like an oar dragging in water. The shield acted like an oar because of its shape, she guessed. She didn’t need an oar, she needed... an arrowhead. Inspired, she changed the shape of her shield to a pointed cone. Now it cut through the air easily. It diverted the wind around her and she found she could breathe again.

By now she was moving quicker than she had ever moved before, on land or in the sky, but the only way she knew this was because of the wind rushing past. The sea was too far below to give her any true feeling of speed, and there were no Siyee or reyer riders to compare herself to.

Looking ahead she saw that a shadow had appeared on the horizon - the coast Tyrli had described. If she skimmed over land she might get a better idea of how fast she was flying. She watched the coast impatiently as it drew closer. A rocky face appeared. Cliffs. When she finally reached them she curved to the left and began to follow this rocky, vertical road.

As she did she felt a thrill of excitement. The rock wall rushed past. The air hissed. She was flying faster than she had imagined. Exactly how fast she couldn’t guess. As fast as falling, perhaps?

It would have been faster to fly in a straight line, but she found herself following the curves of the wall. It was exhilarating. She swooped into bays and ducked around points. An archway of rock appeared ahead. She flew through it and found herself weaving between several spires of rock that had survived the slow erosion of the cliff face. Ahead, she could see one huge spire standing like a defiant sentinel just beyond the next point. She flew out and circled it.

Coming back around to face the coast, she felt a wry disappointment. From here the cliffs turned sharply northeast. The sentinel marked the end of the peninsula. Her flirtation with the coastline must come to an end.

Circling back around the sentinel, she slowly rose until she reached the top, then set herself down on a flat area of rock. The thin whistling of the wind through the cracks and crevices of the spire was unnaturally quiet after the roar of air passing her during flight. She considered the coastline then turned to regard the sea.

Borra was too far away to be seen from the coast. She had made good time so far. Perhaps if she continued to fly as quickly she would reach it in the next hour. Drawing more magic, she started the final leg of her journey.

The first of the islets appeared after several minutes. Soon more followed, then she saw bigger islands ahead. By the time she had reached these islands even larger ones had appeared on the horizon.

Unlike the smaller islands, which looked like the tops of sand dunes that had accumulated vegetation with the tides, the larger islands appeared to be small, half-drowned mountains. The first she passed was a pair of mountains linked by a rocky ridge. To her left she could see a single smaller peak, and to her right a high rocky crescent rose out of the sea. These landmasses, and the smaller islands between them, formed an enormous ring the size of one of the Si mountains.

Tyrli had told her to look for Elai on the beaches of the largest island. That would be the crescent-shaped island, she decided. She flew toward it, descending slowly. When she was low enough to make out the shrubby vegetation near the coast, she began to search for signs of the sea people.

She found them moments later. Dark-skinned men and women roamed every beach. They were laying strips of glistening seaweed out on the sand, and she could see human forms swimming underwater around the dark shadows of the vegetation, cutting more.

Most were working steadily, though one Elai in each group appeared to be there only to direct the others. A few individuals had climbed to higher ground and stood looking out to sea. One appeared to be looking directly at her and she sensed his amazement. He did not wave or alert the others to her presence. From his thoughts she saw that he didn’t believe what he was seeing.

Then there was a bellow of anger, and the watcher jumped and turned to look down at the nearby beach. The leader of the working Elai waved a fist threateningly. The watcher pointed at her. The leader glanced up, then took a step back in surprise.

Time to introduce myself, Auraya thought wryly.

As the leader continued staring at her, other Elai stopped working and looked up to see what he was gazing at. She descended slowly, as she was now sensing both fear and awe from them. Though she dropped toward a place several paces from them, they backed farther away.

Then, as her feet touched the ground, they threw themselves onto the sand.

She blinked in surprise, then searched their minds. At once she saw the reason for their reaction. They thought she was Huan.

“People of Borra,” she said slowly, picking the words in their language from their minds. “Do not abase yourself before me. I am not the goddess Huan, but one of her servants.”

Heads rose. The Elai exchanged glances, then slowly got to their feet. She could see them clearly now. They were only slightly shorter than landwalkers and completely hairless. Their skin was a smooth, glossy blue-black, similar to the skin of the seaner she had seen swimming next to the ships on her return from Somrey. Their chests were broad and their hands and feet large and flat with membranes between the fingers and toes. As they stared at her, she noticed that their eyes were rimmed with pink. When they blinked she saw that this pinkness was another membrane, which slid over their eyes like a second set of lids.

All eyes were fixed on her. She skimmed their thoughts. Several had quickly concluded that, if she was no goddess, and clearly not Siyee, then she was a landwalker and not to be trusted. These Elai regarded her with unconcealed suspicion and a hint of simmering hatred. The rest were still confused, their thoughts sluggish. These were the lowest of the Elai society, she guessed. The slow or the unfortunate. They did this menial work because they could do little else. She looked at their leader. He was no smarter, but his bullying temperament had earned him this higher position.

As she met his eyes, the man squared his shoulders. “Who are you?” he demanded.

“I am Auraya of the White,” she replied. “One of the Gods’ Chosen. I have come on behalf of the gods to meet the leader of all Elai - King Ais.”

The leader narrowed his eyes. “Why?”

“To...”

It was hard to find the right words when these Elai workers’ thoughts were full of words they associated with landwalkers - killing, raping, stealing. The words for peace, negotiation or alliance did not pass through their minds so she changed tack. The leader did not expect her to explain herself.

“That is for the king’s ears only,” she said.

The leader nodded.

“Will you send one of your people to the king for me?” she asked.

He scowled. “Why?”

“I would not enter your city without permission,” she replied.

He paused, then looked around at his workers. He pointed to the man who had first seen her - the watcher. The man’s shoulders were slumped and his skin looked dull. She read thoughts of discomfort and realized he was dehydrated from spending too much time out of the water. As he received his orders he cheered at the thought of a decent swim.

“Go tell Ree,” the leader said. “He’ll send someone to the palace.”

As the man splashed into the water the leader looked at Auraya. “It will take time. The palace doesn’t take much notice of harvesters. We have work to do now. You wait here, if you want.”

She nodded. He said no more, but raised his voice and hounded the workers back to their tasks. Auraya watched them for a while, but when she caught several resentful thoughts about her staring she moved farther away and took care to appear as if her attention was elsewhere.

The sun climbed to its zenith, then began to descend. The Elai did not pause for rest, though they stopped now and then to wet their skin. From their minds she learned more about Elai customs.

Their city was crowded, and most Elai lived in tiny rooms. Living in such close quarters made them respectful of each other’s space. Strong taboos about touching or meeting another’s eyes existed, and were based on a strict social hierarchy.

They couldn’t have been more different to the Siyee.

Despite these divisions of class and power, there was a strong sense of duty toward all other Elai. These men and women willingly emerged from the city to harvest the seaweed, be bullied by men like their leader, and risk being attacked by raiders, in order to help feed their people. She read concern from many of them for a worker who was ill and to whom they had brought food.

Even the wealthy and powerful contributed to the city’s safety. If the king knew his people were starving, he would distribute food to them. Four times a year he held a feast to which all Elai were invited. He even took his place in the roster for manning the lookout above the city, climbing the long staircase in order to help watch for raiders.

Staircase? Above the city? Auraya smiled. So there is another way into the city other than the underwater one.

It was an interesting piece of information, but not one she intended to use. To do so would be to ensure she never gained the Elai’s trust. Reading the workers’ minds had shown her the terrible impact the raiders had made on the sea people’s lives. It was no surprise to see how deeply they loathed landwalkers. Being a representative of the gods might get her an audience with the king, but it would not ensure anything more. She was going to have to prove herself trustworthy.

She sighed. And I don’t have time for that.

“Landwalker woman.”

She started at the gruff voice and turned to see that the leader was approaching. Standing up, she walked forward to meet him.

“The king sent a reply to your message,” he said hesitantly. She realized with dismay that he was gathering his courage. He expected her to be angry and feared how she would express it. “He said: The King of Elai does not want to talk to the landwalker claiming to speak for the gods. Landwalkers are not welcome here - not even to stay on the smallest island. Go home. ”

She nodded slowly. There was no sign of deceit in his mind. The message might have changed a little with repetition, but not the general meaning in it. The man regarded her warily, then hurried away.

:Juran?

:Auraya? Juran replied immediately.

:The King of the Elai refused my request to meet with him. I don’t think he believes that I am what I say I am. She repeated the message. That is not all. These people’s hatred for landwalkers is strong. I think we will have to prove ourselves trustworthy. I wish that we could do something about these raiders...

:That would remove a potent incentive to ally with us.

:I don’t think a promise of dealing with the raiders some time in the future will impress them at all. Unlike the Siyee, help will have to come before, not after an alliance.

:You can’t be sure of that until you meet the king. Be persistent. Come back tomorrow and every following day. You can, at least, impress him with your determination.

She smiled. I will.

Looking down at the workers, she saw that they were now tying huge bundles of seaweed on their backs. Some were wading into the water and swimming away. She caught snatches of thought that told her they were leaving early and that some suspected this was because her presence frightened their leader.

She sighed in frustration. How was she ever going to win over the Elai, when just her presence on the beach had an adverse effect on these people?

Huan did say this would be a challenge, she reminded herself.

Smiling wryly, she gathered magic and lifted herself into the sky.

29

As the dark folds of sleep slipped away, Emerahl became aware of voices.

“Jade. Wake up.”

“That’s probably not her real name.”

“I don’t know her real name. Do you?”

“No, she wouldn’t tell me.”

“You asked?”

“Didn’t you?”

“No. It’s not polite.”

“I used to know a girl named Jade.”

“It’s a nice name. Not like Brand. Who’d call their daughter Brand? I hate my name.”

Who are these women? Emerahl felt her mind rise toward full consciousness and memory return. They’re just my room companions. She frowned. They’re awake before me? That’s unusual...

“Who’d call their daughter Tide? Or Moonlight?” Tide asked.

Brand giggled. “My little brother used to have a pet moohook called Moonlight.”

Tide chuckled. “Moonlight. Diamond. Innocence. Names best suited to whores or pets. Only an idiot would curse their child with them. Jade isn’t too bad, I suppose. Look, she’s awake at last.”

Emerahl found herself looking at the two attractive young women. She yawned and sat up.

“What are you two doing up this early?”

Brand smiled ruefully. “Rozea’s called a meeting. You’d better get dressed. Quickly, too.”

Emerahl swung her legs out from under the blankets and stretched. The other two girls were wearing older tunics rather than their best. Emerahl chose the worn, plain tunic Leaf had given her to wear outside of working hours or during lessons and quickly changed into it.

As she dressed she saw and heard other girls passing in the corridor. Brand and Tide waited quietly but she could sense excitement and expectation from their minds.

“What’s this meeting all about, then?” she asked as she quickly combed her hair.

“Don’t know,” Brand replied.

“Probably something to do with the war.”

“Hurry up and we’ll find out sooner,” Brand urged.

Emerahl smiled and moved to join them at the doorway. They stepped out into the corridor, Brand in the lead. Emerahl took note of the turns they made, and after climbing the third staircase guessed that their meeting place was on the top floor of the brothel.

A few steps later she followed her companions through a pair of large open doors into an enormous room. Windows lined opposite walls. A wide screen painted with scenes of lovemaking stood on a raised floor at the end of the room. The main floorspace was filled with girls.

Emerahl looked around, surprised to see so many. Some she had only met briefly since arriving at the brothel, others had introduced themselves and welcomed her warmly. There were girls here she had never seen before. As she scanned the faces she saw a distinctly masculine one, and realized that there were young men in the room as well as women. She hadn’t seen male whores here before, either.

“This is the dancing room,” Tide murmured. “Rozea has two or three big parties in here each year. Sometimes the king attends. Last year he—”

Her words were lost behind the clang of a bell. Faces turned toward the raised floor. Rozea had appeared. The madam waited until the room was quiet, then handed a large gold bell to Leaf.

“It is good to see you all in one place again,” she said, smiling. “So many lovely faces in one room.” Her gaze flickered around the room, then her expression became sterner.

“You will have all heard by now that Toren’s army will be leaving in a week to join the fight against the Pentadrian invaders. Many of our customers will be going to war to risk their lives for our sakes.” She paused, then smiled. “And we will be going with them.”

Emerahl felt her stomach sink. The last thing she needed to do was tag along after the very priests who wanted to find her. She would have to leave the brothel.

“Well, not all of us,” Rozea corrected. “Some of you will stay here. I’ll leave the choice up to you. We will travel as comfortably as we can. I have already arranged for tarns and tents to be made. Our customers will still be of the same quality and they expect a certain degree of luxury for their money.”

She smiled. “For some of you this will be a rare opportunity to travel outside Porin. You will also witness a great event. It is not every day you have the chance to see the White in battle. You may even, if you are lucky, meet one of them.”

Emerahl resisted a smile. Rozea was making tagging after an army sound like a wonderful adventure. There would be a lot of work, in rough and dangerous conditions. Surely none of these girls - and boys - were fooled by this pretty speech.

Her senses told her that the room was buzzing with excitement. Emerahl sighed. These young women and men know nothing of war, she reminded herself. There hasn’t been one in over a hundred years, from what I’ve heard.

One pair of eyes was not shining with excitement, however. Moonlight was standing to one side, her expression aloof. Emerahl sensed mild envy from the woman. Rozea’s voice became businesslike again.

“Those of you who wish to go, come to the front of the room. Those who want to stay behind, move to the back. Go on now. There is no shame in either. I need people to come and people to stay.”

Brand strode forward confidently. After a moment’s hesitation, Tide followed. Emerahl stayed where she was, near the back. As the room began to settle, Rozea scanned the faces of those closest to her. She frowned, then looked up at the back of the room. Seeing Emerahl, her lips thinned in disappointment. Emerahl felt her stomach knot. She tried to think of a reason Rozea might want her to come on this trip, but she could find none.

The woman’s attention returned to the small crowd before her.

“Thank you. Stay here and Leaf will write down your names. You may all have a day free to visit family before you go, if you wish to. Once again, thank you.”

She stepped down from the raised floor and strode toward a pair of doors. As she reached them, she paused and looked at Emerahl.

“Jade. Come with me. I want to speak to you.”

Emerahl smothered a sigh and followed Rozea into a large room furnished with an enormous bed fit for a king. In fact, she thought, it probably is for the king. The woman closed the doors quietly, then turned to face her.

“Why don’t you want to come with us, Emerahl?”

Emerahl signed and looked away. “I only just got here. I feel comfortable and safe for the first time in... well, a long while.”

Rozea smiled. “I see. What if I told you I have plans for you? What if I said that by the time you returned to Porin you would be the richest, most sought-after lady of pleasure in all of Toren?”

“What do you mean?”

Rozea’s smile widened. She took Emerahl’s arm and gently drew her to the bed. They sat down. “Moonlight is pregnant. I can’t take her with me, and I’ll need a new favorite soon anyway. The comments customers have made about you have proved me right. You’re good at your work. You have a quality about you that intrigues men. I want you to be the new favorite. Since you must be seen to earn the position, you will leave with the girls and take on your new role when we—”

“I don’t want to be the new favorite,” Emerahl interrupted.

Rozea’s eyebrows rose. “Why not? You will have fewer customers, and then only the best of them. You will earn ten times as much as you do now.”

“But Panilo—”

“If you have a special place for him in your heart, then you may still see him.”

“I don’t want to leave Porin.”

Rozea straightened and crossed her arms. “I’ll give you a few days to think about it. I have to warn you, Jade. The comfort and safety you have here must be earned. I expect you to come with me, favorite or not.” She inclined her head at the door. “Go.”

Emerahl bowed her head and walked out of the room. The knot in her stomach had grown into a hard lump of anxiety. She looked around at all the whores talking excitedly and sighed. I thought I’d found a place to lie low and hide. Instead I’m to become the city’s favorite mistress. So much for the anonymity of prostitution! She considered the options she had. She could leave the brothel now and remain in Porin, alone, unprotected, with limited money in a city half-empty. If Rozea pays me. Emerahl chewed her lip. Or I could leave the city with Rozea and the girls.

Rozea would probably follow behind the army, after the supply carts. The priests would travel at the front of the column, leading the army. Their attention would be elsewhere. But the priest searching for her might guess she’d take the opportunity to leave. He might stay behind to watch for her. This is so frustrating. I don’t even know if the priest is still watching the gates. She did not like taking even tiny risks. One small mistake could mean her death. She had lived a long time, and the longer she had lived, the more fond of living she had become.

Either that, or I’ve just become a bigger coward.

Then I must get over it. Sometimes risks have to be taken, or one ends up trapped and miserable. So which risk is worse?

Leaving the city with the whores might be a smaller risk than leaving by herself. If she was one girl among many the priests might not look closely. Then again, she might stand out as the only one whose mind was unreadable.

Unless, of course, they think there’s a good reason for my lack of thoughts. A good reason, like being dead... or unconscious.

She felt a shiver of cold run over her skin. Playing dead was not something she wanted to do again if she could avoid it. Reaching an unconscious state, however... There were many ways to do it, and not all of them were unpleasant.

“What’s wrong, Jade?”

Emerahl turned to find Brand approaching. “Rozea ordered me to go.”

Brand snorted. “So much for giving us a choice. Are you going to visit your family before you go?”

“No, are you?”

The girl shrugged. “Probably. I don’t like them much, but I may as well take the chance to leave the brothel for a day.”

Emerahl frowned. She doubted Rozea would allow her to go out. How was she to get the substances that would make her fall unconscious?

Then the obvious solution came to her. She lowered her voice. “Could you do me a favor, Brand?”

The girl smiled. “Depends what it is.”

“I’ll probably need a little something to help me relax on this journey. Could you do some shopping for me while you’re out?”

Brand’s eyebrows rose, then she grinned. “Sure.”

The warm updraft from the ravine bore the young Green Lake tribesman upward. He tilted his wings and landed lightly on the cliff top. His face was flushed with embarrassment and anger.

“It’s not easy, is it?” Tryss asked the man, smiling wryly. “Think of what it was like when you first learned to use a bow. This is even harder. Both you and your target are moving. If you had the dedication to learn the bow, then you have what it takes to learn this.”

The man’s expression softened a little. Tryss turned to the next young warrior, a sullen-looking man, and frowned.

“Your harness is loose.”

The man scowled. “It is uncomfortable.”

Tryss met the man’s eyes. “I’m not surprised. Fitted properly, it should move with you. Hanging like this it will only hamper you. When you first carried a bow you would have been conscious of its weight. You would have been taught that you must strap it tight against your body or it could be dangerous in flight. The same is true for this harness. Like your bow, you will soon grow used to the feel and weight of it. Fit it properly and I’ll—”

A loud whoop and laughter smothered his words. Tryss turned to see a group of boys, led by Sreil, land nearby. Small packs were strapped to their backs. Seeing them, Tryss sighed with relief. The packs were filled with replacement darts and arrows for the harnesses. The Siyee too young or too old to fight were making them in great numbers. He knew these Green Lake tribesmen would be more enthusiastic about learning to use the harness if there was the prospect of actually killing something.

The boys distributed the darts and arrows while Tryss gave instructions on how to set them into their harnesses. He noted that the sullen man had tightened his harness straps at last. Sreil sent the boys home, then turned to regard Tryss.

“Can I talk to you for a bit?”

Tryss nodded. He turned to the warriors. “Find me something worth hunting,” he told them. “I’ll catch up.”

Several of the men grinned. They turned away and leapt off the cliff. Tryss watched them, making sure all the harnesses were working well. Three days before, a badly made harness had seized up. Its owner had not been far from the ground but he had broken both legs in the fall. Since then Tryss had recommended that harnesses be inspected carefully every day by a member of each tribe proficient in their use and making.

“I spoke to Drilli again,” Sreil said.

Tryss’s heart skipped a beat. He turned to regard Sreil expectantly.

“And?”

“It wasn’t easy,” Sreil added. “Her father practically keeps her locked up in their bower all the time now. I think he suspects something. Mother wasn’t all that subtle about what we were up to that day we met with the Snake River tribe. I wouldn’t be surprised if—”

“Sreil! What did she say?”

The boy grinned. “You are tense today. Anyone would think you were about to get married.”

Tryss crossed his arms and glared at Sreil. Since Tryss had started training the Speaker’s son, he had been pleased to find he got along well with the boy. Nothing bothered Sreil. He found something funny in every situation. Sometimes his sense of humor was deliriously dark, at other times infuriating. Like now.

Sreil put up a hand as if to ward off a blow. “Stop that glaring. You’re scaring me.”

Tryss continued glaring.

“All right. She said ‘yes.’ ”

Two emotions swept through Tryss: relief and a giddy terror. Drilli wanted to marry him. She was willing to defy her father and leave her tribe to become his wife.

He was going to get married.

It’s not like we can’t change our minds in a few years, he told himself. If she decides she doesn’t like me after all.

Still, it meant the end of their childhood. They would be adults, expected to contribute to the tribe to the fullest. Not just the simple chores he did every day for his parents, but the work of gathering food, making bowers and fighting.

Which I’m already doing now anyway. Instead of going home to my parents I’ll go home to Drilli... and maybe a child too, in a year or so.

He smiled, picturing himself playing with his own little son or daughter. The thought was appealing. The things he could teach them...

I just have to survive this war first - and she has to survive having the children.

He turned his mind from that thought. He could not go through life always afraid the worst would happen. People overcame their troubles as they came to them. For now, all he needed to deal with - other than training warriors - was getting Drilli away from her father so a marriage ceremony could take place. For that he needed Sreil’s help.

“So who is going to do the ritual?” he asked. “Your mother?”

Sreil grinned. “No,” he said. “She doesn’t mind people suspecting she had a hand in this, but she doesn’t want anyone knowing for sure. Performing the ritual would make it obvious that she planned it. Once we get Drilli away I’ll fetch one of the other Speakers. The head of the Temple Mountain tribe is still here. I bet he doesn’t know what’s going on.”

“What if he refuses to do it?”

“He can’t. He has to do it. It’s law.”

Tryss took a deep breath. “So when?”

Sreil grimaced. “That depends on Drilli’s father. We’ll have to wait until he and her mother leave her alone in the bower.”

“Can’t we arrange something? Give them some reason to leave?”

Sreil smiled. “Of course. Yes, that’s what we’ll do.” He rubbed his hands together gleefully. “This is going to be so much fun.”

“For you, maybe,” Tryss retorted. “I’m going to be dying of nerves.” Then he grinned. “I’m glad you’re enjoying helping us, Sreil.”

The other boy shrugged. “I’d better go and start plotting. I think your students have found something worth hunting.”

Tryss searched the sky until he saw the Green Lake warriors. The men were flying in circles, and as he watched, one dived down into the trees.

“I had better make sure they’re being careful.” He nodded at Sreil, then leapt off the cliff and flew toward his latest group of trainee warriors.

30

Danjin’s new clothes - the uniform of an adviser - were stiff and tight. Until now he hadn’t thought it possible that anything could be less comfortable than the fancy garb a nobleman was expected to wear in public. The thick leather vest of the uniform, designed to emulate armor, fitted too closely over a white tunic that looked like a frugal attempt to mimic a priest’s circ. Clearly, whoever had made the uniforms could not decide whether advisers were military or priestly, so they’d mingled elements of both styles of clothing.

The door to his bedroom opened. He turned to find Silava staring at him.

“Appalling, isn’t it?”

She nodded. “If you have an opportunity, lose the vest rather than the tunic. I suspect you’ll look fine in just the tunic, but you haven’t got the body for wearing only the vest.”

He patted his chest and stomach. “What do you mean? Aren’t I manly enough?”

She smirked. “I’m not answering that. If you do rid yourself of both the vest and the tunic, be sure to time it well. Your adversary will probably be blinded by all the white skin. Or laugh so much he drops his sword. Either way, it might give you a chance to run away.”

Danjin huffed with indignation. “Me? Run away?”

He expected a quip about his fitness, but instead her expression became serious.

“Yes,” she said. She walked up to him and gazed into his eyes. “Run away. I’m too young to become a widow.”

“I’m not going to... wait a moment. Too what?”

She pinched his arm, somehow managing to hurt him despite the thick cloth.

“Ow!”

“You deserved that. I’m trying to tell you how much I’m going to worry about you.”

Several cheeky replies sprang to mind but he pushed them away. He gently wrapped his arms around her shoulders. The material of the vest resisted the movement and he felt a stab of resentment that even embracing his wife was difficult in this ridiculous garb.

Silava sniffed. He drew away, surprised. She wiped her tears and turned from him, embarrassed.

“You will... you will be careful?” she asked quietly.

“Of course.”

“Promise me.”

“I promise I will be careful.”

She nodded and drew back. “I’ll hold you to that.” The sound of footsteps approaching drew their attention to the doorway. Their servant appeared, breathing heavily.

“Fa-Spear has arrived.”

Danjin nodded. “I’ll be down to join him in a moment.”

He turned to his wife and kissed her. “Goodbye for now, Silava.”

Her eyes glistened, but her voice was normal as she replied, “Goodbye for now.”

He hesitated, reluctant to leave her when she was upset, but she waved a hand impatiently.

“Go on. Don’t keep your father waiting.”

“No, that would never do.”

She managed a smile. He winked at her, then left the room. As he started down the stairs to the ground floor he drew in a deep breath and steeled himself for his father’s scorn.

It was cold outside, despite the bright morning sunlight. Fa-Spear was waiting in a covered platten. Danjin stepped out of his house and into the vehicle.

“Father,” he said in greeting.

“Danjin,” his father replied. “What a beautiful day to set out for war, eh? I wonder if the gods arranged it.”

“Whether they arrange it or not, every rain-free day will be appreciated,” Danjin replied.

His father leaned back in his seat and called to the driver to move on. As the platten sprang into motion, he regarded Danjin in his typical calculating manner.

“You must be feeling proud today.”

“Proud?”

“You are risking your life for your country. That is something to be proud of.”

Danjin shrugged. “I will not be in any great danger, Father. Certainly nothing equal to what my brothers have faced recently. It takes a braver man than I to venture into the south at this time.”

His father’s eyes gleamed. “Indeed, their job is one that involves taking many risks.”

Danjin chuckled. “Yes. Though it didn’t surprise me when Rian observed that Theran has a habit of taking unnecessary risks.”

“Rian said that?”

“Yes. He also said Theran is not good at following orders either, but I guess that doesn’t come easily to a man who is used to having a free rein.”

Fa-Spear stared at Danjin, his eyes slowly narrowing.

“What do you know of Theran’s travels?”

Danjin shrugged. “Everything he bothered to report. Nirem and Gohren were much more reliable. And careful.”

“You... you knew all along.”

Danjin met and held his father’s eyes. “Of course I did.”

Fa-Spear stared at Danjin, his expression neither approving or disapproving.

“Was it your idea?”

“No,” Danjin answered truthfully. “Even if it had occurred to me, I would not have suggested it. I could not have deliberately sent family members into danger. Rian raised the matter with me beforehand and kept me informed of their activities.”

“I see. Why didn’t you tell us you knew?”

Danjin smiled. “It wasn’t necessary. These sorts of matters are best left undiscussed. For everyone’s sake.”

“So why are you telling me now?”

“Because Rian and his people are too busy preparing for war to tell you the latest news, so I offered to pass it on myself.” Danjin paused. “Theran was taken captive as we suspected, but our people managed to rescue him. He, Nirem and Gohren are on their way home.”

His father nodded, the relief clearly written in his face. The same relief Danjin had felt at the news. While he might not get along well with his brothers, he did not want to see any of them enslaved or killed.

Then he took a deep breath and forced himself to go on. “There is something else you should know, Father. When Theran was captured he was tortured. He revealed many names, including Nirem’s and Gohren’s. Because of this, neither Theran, Nirem or Gohren will be safe if they sail in southern waters. The White have released them from their duties. I recommend you do not send them—”

“No!” Fa-Spear’s eyes blazed. “Theran would never—!”

“He did,” Danjin said firmly. “No man can guess how well he, or another, will stand up to torture. The White know this and do not judge him. They are grateful for all he endured in order to bring us information about the Pentadrians.”

His father looked away, his brow a mass of wrinkles. How forgiving will you be, Father? Danjin thought. You never did have any tolerance for weakness, especially not in your sons.

Fa-Spear was silent for the rest of the journey. The Temple grounds, once neatly scythed grass, were now a mess of mud, tents, carts, soldiers and animals. A long line of platten had formed along the road to the Tower. As the occupants of each disembarked, the vehicles were driven away to a waiting area behind the main Temple buildings.

When their platten finally stopped before the Tower, Danjin waited for his father, as the head of their family, to step out, but the old man did not move. He looked at Danjin, his expression serious.

“Take care of yourself, Danjin,” he said quietly. “You may not be my favorite son, but you are my son, and I do not want to lose you.”

Danjin stared at his father in surprise as the old man rose and climbed down from the platten. He shook his head, then followed.

So this is what it takes. Well, I don’t intend to go to war every time I want him to show he values me in some small way.

“I must take my place,” Danjin said as the platten moved away. “Take care of yourself, Father. And my brothers.”

“I’ll probably have to spend the next year recouping losses from the trade deals we’ve lost in Sennon,” Fa-Spear grumbled quietly. “Go on, then. Go take your place in this unprofitable but necessary war.”

Danjin smiled. Back to his old gruff self. He nodded politely, then turned away to look for his fellow advisers.

The White’s advisers would travel in a tarn together, once the parade left the city. Danjin hadn’t been told where to meet them, but he had a good idea how to find them. After searching for several minutes he saw a small group of men and a few women wearing the same uniform as his own. They looked about as comfortable as he felt, he noted.

They stood in a rough circle beside the platform that had been built for the White to address the army from. Their attention was on something or someone in their midst. As Danjin reached them he saw that Rian was talking to them. He stepped into a gap in the circle.

“Adviser Danjin Spear.” Rian glanced at him, then around the circle. “Now that you are all here there is someone I must introduce.”

Rian glanced over his shoulder, then stepped back. To Danjin’s surprise, a Dreamweaver woman stood a little apart from the group. Rian beckoned and she stepped forward, her gaze wary.

“Dreamweaver Adviser Raeli. She replaces Dreamweaver Leiard, who has resigned in order to dedicate himself to training his student.”

The advisers nodded politely, but the woman did not smile or return the gesture. She met Danjin’s gaze and he realized he had been staring at her out of surprise.

“Then I wish him well,” Danjin said to her. “I found him a useful and reliable fellow adviser.”

The woman acknowledged this with a shallow nod, then looked away. Danjin glanced at Rian. Did Auraya know of this turn of events? She hadn’t mentioned it last night, when she had spoken to him through the ring. He considered asking Rian, but the White had turned abruptly to stare in the direction of the platform. A crowd of high priests and priestesses had gathered before it. Beyond them were the rest of the priesthood. Beyond that was the army. Danjin could just see the plumes on their helmets - blue for the Hanians and red and orange for Somreyans.

“I must leave you now,” Rian stated. “We are nearly ready to begin.”

He made the one-handed gesture of the circle, which all advisers apart from the Dreamweaver woman returned, then hurried away to join Juran, Dyara and Mairae at the platform. After a brief exchange of words, the four White ascended the stairs.

The crowd immediately began to quieten. The White formed a line. As the third strongest, Auraya would normally have stood in the middle of that line, Danjin noted. Was she watching now?

Of course she is, Danjin thought. But she will be linking with the other White. They’d have the best view from up there. It must be quite a sight.

Juran stepped forward and raised his arms. When the last few voices had dwindled to whispers and murmurs, he let his arms fall to his sides.

“Fellow Circlians. People of Hania and Somrey. Loyal friends and allies. I thank you all for answering my call to arms.

“Today we will set forth for the Plains of Gold. There we will meet with the forces of Genria, Toren and Si. We will form a vast army. It will be a sight to inspire awe. Never before have so many nations of Northern Ithania united in one single purpose.

“It will also be a terrible sight, for what brings us together is war - and not a war of our making. A war brought to us by a foolish and barbaric people, the Pentadrians.” He paused. His voice had been dark with contempt when he had spoken the name of the heathen cult.

“Let me tell you what I know of these Pentadrians. They claim to worship five gods, as we do. But these gods are false. The Pentadrians must enslave and seduce men and women into worshipping them, and they have set forth for Northern Ithania with the intention of forcing us to do so as well. But we will not!” His voice rang out, strong and angry.

Several voices in the crowd rose in reply, shouting denials.

“We will not exchange our gods for these corrupt sorcerer priests!” Juran continued.

“No!” came the reply.

“We will drive them back to their heathen temples.”

“Yes!”

“We will show them what it is to worship real gods, with real power.”

The crowd began to cheer. Juran smiled and let them yell their enthusiasm for a while before speaking again.

“The gods have entrusted us, the White, with great power in order that we can protect you. We have called together an army of our own. We Circlians are not a violent people. We do not relish bloodshed. But we will defend ourselves. We will defend each other. We will defend our right to worship the Circle of Gods. And we will win!”

He raised a fist and shook it at the crowd. The response was deafening. Danjin resisted a smile. With the sun shining and Juran’s confidence infecting all, it was hard to imagine them losing this battle. Not that I can imagine us losing the battle anyway, he mused. How can we fail, when we have the gods on our side?

“Follow us now!” Juran called over the cheering. “Follow us to war!”

He stepped off the platform and mounted his Bearer. The other White followed suit. They urged their magnificent white reyer toward the crowd. High priests and priestesses stepped back to allow their leaders through.

Gradually, everyone began to follow. Danjin edged toward the platform, then climbed a few steps so he could watch as the great mass of people shuffled inward to become part of a column marching out of the Temple. Hearing a distant roar, Danjin looked over their heads. The White had just passed through the archway into the city. He took another step up, and saw that the streets beyond were lined with people.

The stairs vibrated from another’s steps. Danjin looked down to see Lanren Songmaker, one of the military advisers, climbing toward him.

“We should move closer,” the man murmured. “I doubt the army will wait for us if we aren’t ready to step in behind the priests.”

“Yes,” Danjin agreed. He descended to the ground and joined the other advisers. As the last of the priests and priestesses joined the column, Lanren ushered them forward to take their place.

Auraya looked at the remains of the previous night’s meal and grimaced. She liked fish, but the only species she had been able to catch last night was woodfish. They were notoriously bland and she had found no spices or herbs with which to add flavor. She had resigned herself to this tasteless fare only to be tormented by impressions of the fine feast Danjin was enjoying during their mental conversation last night.

If I had known I’d be camping on an uninhabited cliff top for days I would have brought a bit of food with me. And some soap.

She had just washed herself in a small pool of rainwater she’d found the day before. Her circ was far from its former dazzling white, though she used her Gifts every day to help remove dirt and stains. Sometimes it seemed the only use she had for magic was everyday chores.

Well, apart from flying and reading people’s minds, she amended.

Moving to the cliff edge, she looked out toward the islands of Borra. She had returned there every day for the last four days. Each time her request to meet with the king had been denied. Yesterday, however, the message the courier had memorized had been different.

“Tell her that I will meet her only if she comes to the palace.”

Was he afraid she was trying to trick him into emerging from the safety of his underwater city? Surely the Elai who had seen her would have reported that she had always come alone. Or had he made the condition out of spite, thinking that she would not be able to reach the city, or would drown in the attempt?

She smiled and leapt off the cliff. While she could easily enter it via the secret path to the lookout, that was no way to earn their trust. If she was to meet the king’s challenge she must enter by the underwater way. Her arrival would generate as much curiosity as fear. They’d be as interested in knowing how she had managed to get to their city without drowning as frightened that a stranger had reached their home.

While waiting for Elai messengers to deliver her request for a meeting to the king she’d had plenty of time to think about how she would get to the palace. She had watched these strange sea people, noting how quickly they could swim and for how long they could hold their breath - which was not as long as she had expected. They could remain underwater for only about three to four times as long as a landwalker. They could swim remarkably fast, however. Her experience of swimming had only ever been a little paddling in a quiet bend of the river near her village. That should not be a problem, though. She was not intending to swim.

The air was moist today. Wind teased the waves, sending spray upward. It buffeted her, forcing her to slow down, so she arrived an hour later than she had the previous days. Once she sighted the islands she headed for the one with the two peaks. She descended slowly, noting that the beaches of this island were deserted. Searching with her mind she found several pairs of Elai keeping watch from the highest peak and more in the water. As she landed on the sand she caught a thread of thought from the watchers. She had been seen. She smiled and walked toward the water.

Just before she reached the waves lapping the sand, she stopped. She created a magical shield about herself and then, still upright, lifted herself a little above the ground and moved forward. When she was above deeper water she allowed herself to descend. The shield dipped into the water. The water resisted the intrusion, but she had practiced this many times now. The bubble of air around her wanted to bob to the surface, but she didn’t let it. She strengthened her shield, sent herself downward, and entered a ghostly world.

Ripples of sunlight produced an illusion of movement all around her. The waves, whipped up by wind, in turn stirred the sea floor into clouds of sand. In the gloom she could see bizarre shapes. Structures in the form of trees or fungi or huge patterned eggs loomed around her, all fringed by sea-grasses and weeds whipped back and forth by the waves. Fish hid in this strange sea garden. She suspected they were the same species of fish she had been dazzled by during her experiments at travelling underwater, but their colors were muted in the diminished light.

This fantastic underwater forest ended abruptly. She moved over the edge of a cliff and looked down into an endless gloom. The sea floor could be a few hundred paces down, or several thousand. She shivered and began to descend. From the Elai minds she had read, she knew her destination was not too far distant.

As she dropped down, a dark shape veered around her and stopped. The Elai - a woman - turned back to stare at her. Auraya smiled, but this only startled the woman out of her shock, and she fled.

More Elai appeared. They too stared at her then flitted away. Faint lights drew Auraya to a great hole in the cliff side. Elai were swimming in and out of this constantly, but as they saw her the flow stopped. Some rushed around her and away, others turned and disappeared back into the hole.

The light, Auraya saw, came from the ugliest fish she had ever seen, imprisoned in small cages. The cages were positioned in pairs, and their occupants appeared entranced by each other. As she entered the hole, she passed a pair. One darted toward the other, but the cage prevented its sharp teeth from meeting the flesh of the other fish.

The air within her shield was growing a little stale now. She resisted the temptation to move faster, not wanting to frighten the Elai any more than she already had. After what seemed like an eternity of travelling along the slowly ascending tunnel, she reached the first pocket of air.

It was only shallow, but it was wide enough that several Elai could dart up for a lungful of air when they needed to. She knew from the Elai that narrow vents and cracks between the rock and the surface above kept the air in the pocket fresh.

She opened the top of her shield and let fresh air in. It was cold. When she could feel cold air touch her ankles, she sealed the shield and descended again.

Though she could not see them, she was aware of Elai minds in front of and behind her. If they had wanted to, they could have fled. Instead they remained close enough to watch her. That’s good, she decided. They’re not as skittish as they first appear. Their eyesight must be better than mine, too.

She stopped for air eight more times, then the sides of the tunnel widened abruptly and numerous lights appeared above the surface. She moved herself upward. As her shield broke the surface of the water she found herself at the edge of an enormous cavern.

Thousands of holes had been carved into the walls, and more than half of them were filled with light. At the other side of the lake was a wide archway. The floor of the cavern sloped upward from the water like a giant ramp, and a crowd of Elai milled about by the water’s edge, staring at her. As she watched, more hurried up out of the water to join them.

A horn sounded, filling the cavern with echoes. The Elai scattered to either side of the ramp. From behind them appeared a group of Elai men, carrying spears and wearing proud expressions. They stopped at the edge of the water and formed a defensive line.

Auraya moved forward slowly until she was floating just before them.

“I am Auraya of the White. As the king requested, I have come to the Elai city to meet with him.”

The warriors did not move, but several frowned. From one side came a voice.

“So I did. Come, then. These men will escort you to the palace.”

Auraya searched, but could not see or sense the owner of the voice nearby. Intrigued, she moved forward and set her feet on the ground. The warriors moved apart and formed a double row on either side of her. She drew her shield in close and followed her escort into the underground city of the sea people.

31

Leiard looked down at the snow collecting on the tufted ears and stubby horns of the arems before him. The plodding gait of the large, spotted beasts pulling the four-wheeled tarn was soothing. Arems were strong, placid creatures well suited to hauling vehicles or plows. He could remember seeing carvings of arems hauling carts in ruins from ages long past, so he knew they had been tamed thousands of years before. They could be ridden, but were slow to walk and respond to instruction, and too broad of back to make a comfortable ride. No noble man or woman would ever deign to ride an arem. The fine-boned, flighty reyer that nobles rode did not make good harness beasts, however, though they could be trained to draw racing plattens.

Unlike other animals, arems didn’t appear to have any Gifts. Most animals or plants used magic in small ways that helped them find food, defend themselves or search out a mate. If arems had a Gift, he suspected it was the ability to sense the destination in their driver’s mind. They had an impressive memory of the roads and places they had visited, and many stories were told of them bringing drivers who had fallen into a doze, due to drink or illness, home. Or to the houses of their mistresses.

The Dreamweavers were taking turns driving the three four-wheeled tarns they had purchased in Jarime to carry their food, tents and supplies. Some walked ahead to melt or sweep away snow where it had blocked the road. All Leiard could see of the cart before him was the oiled cloth covering the large bundles of supplies strapped onto it. There was no point looking over his shoulder; his view was blocked by his own equally loaded tarn. He could hear the voices of the Dreamweavers that made up Arleej’s group.

“Do you think the army will catch up with us?” Jayim asked.

Leiard looked at the young man sitting beside him, then back at the arems.

“No. Most are travelling on foot.”

“Why?” Jayim asked.

Leiard chuckled. “There aren’t enough trained reyer in Hania for half the local army, let alone for the Somreyans as well.”

Jayim chewed his lip. “We’re hardly travelling much faster than a walk, and we keep having to stop because of the snow, so we won’t get much farther ahead of them.”

“We might. Remember, we don’t have an army to keep in order. Imagine the time and effort it will take for them to camp each night, to arrange distribution of food and fuel for fires, settle disputes, rouse everyone in the morning, get them to pack up and start marching. Even when these last snows stop and the weather warms, there is much to do.”

Jayim looked thoughtful. “It would be interesting to watch. I almost wish we were travelling with them, though I understand why we aren’t.”

Leiard nodded. During a mind link a few days ago he had shown Jayim a few link memories of previous wars. Because Dreamweavers did not take sides, and treated the sick and injured no matter what the nationality or creed of their patient, this often caused resentment. In the past, more than a few Dreamweavers had been killed for “helping the enemy.”

Dreamweavers did not travel with armies. They travelled before and behind, in small groups. They waited at a distance during the folly of battle, then, afterward, they entered the battlefield and the camps of both armies simultaneously to offer their assistance.

Jayim glanced at Leiard, then quickly away.

“What is it?” Leiard asked.

“Nothing.”

Leiard smiled and waited. It was unusual now for Jayim to hesitate to speak. After a few minutes, Jayim looked at Leiard.

“Do... do you think you’ll meet with Auraya at some point?”

At her name, Leiard felt a thrill of hope and expectation. He took a deep breath and reminded himself why he was here with Arleej.

“You’d have to meet in secret, wouldn’t you?” Jayim persisted.

“Not necessarily.”

“I guess you’ll be safe so long as the other White aren’t around to read your mind.”

“Yes.”

“Do you think you will... get together? One last time?” Jayim asked.

Leiard glanced at Jayim. The boy grinned.

“This is no small matter, Jayim. I’ve put us in great danger. Don’t you understand that?”

Don’t be such a bore. The poor boy is a virgin. What he saw in your memory was more interesting than anything he’s imagined before.

Leiard frowned at the familiar voice in his head. Not quite gone yet, are you, Mirar?

It’ll take a few more mind links to get rid of me. Maybe a lot more.

“Of course I understand,” Jayim replied, his expression serious. Then he grinned again. “But you have to see the funny side, too. Of all the people you had to pick. It’s like one of those plays the nobles enjoy. All scandalous affairs and tragic love.”

“And their consequences,” Leiard added.

I like the boy’s attitude, Mirar said. He has a sense of humor, this one. Unlike the man I’m stuck inside...

“Sometimes the lovers get away with it,” Jayim pointed out.

“Happy endings are a luxury of fiction,” Leiard replied.

Jayim shrugged. “That’s true. Of all the secrets you could have had, I wasn’t expecting something so... so...”

“Risqué?” Leiard offered.

Jayim chuckled. “Yes. It was a surprise. I don’t know why, but I thought the White wouldn’t be... um... they’d be celibate. I suppose if you’re immortal it’s a bit much to expect. Perhaps that’s why Mirar was like he was.”

Leiard choked back a laugh. Well? Was that the reason you were so badly behaved?

I don’t know. Maybe. Does any man know why he does the things he does?

You’ve had plenty of time to work it out.

Sometimes answers can’t be found, even when you have all the time in the world. Immortality doesn’t make anyone all-knowing.

“I wonder if all of the White are like that?” Jayim wondered. “If immortality makes them... you know. Surely people would have heard about it if the other White were bedding everyone in sight.”

Leiard scowled in indignation. “Auraya has not been bedding everyone in sight.”

“She might be. How would you know?”

“Enough gossip,” Leiard said firmly. “If you’ve time for gossip, you have time for lessons.”

Jayim made a disappointed sound. “While we’re travelling?”

“Yes. We’re going to be travelling a lot for the next few years. You’ll need to become accustomed to receiving your training on the road.”

The boy sighed. He half turned to look over his shoulder, then changed his mind.

“I can’t believe I’m not going home after this,” he murmured, almost too faint to be heard. Then he straightened and looked at Leiard. “So what am I going to learn today?”

Something has happened, Imi decided as she followed Teiti, her aunt and teacher, along the corridor. First there had been the messenger, panting from exertion as he hurried up to Teiti, whispered something in the old woman’s ear, then limped away. Then Teiti had told her she must leave the pool and the other children, and would not listen to any of Imi’s protests as she dragged her home.

They had taken one of the secret routes, which instantly made Imi suspicious. When they had reached the palace the guards hadn’t smiled at her like they usually did. They ignored her completely, looking stiff and serious. The guards who always stood beside the doors to her room smiled, but there was something in the way they then glanced up and down the corridor that told her that they, too, were nervous about something.

“What’s going on?” she asked Teiti as the doors closed behind them.

Teiti looked down at Imi and frowned. “I told you, Princess, I don’t know.”

“Then find out,” Imi ordered.

Teiti crossed her arms and frowned disapprovingly. Unlike the rest of the palace servants, Teiti wasn’t easily intimidated. She was a family member, not a hireling, and of a status only a little lower than Imi.

Teiti did not scold Imi, however. Her scowl of disapproval changed to a frown of worry.

“Sacred Huan,” she muttered. “Wait here. I’ll go and see if I can learn what is happening.”

Imi smiled and pressed her palms together. “Thank you! Please hurry!”

The old woman strode back to the doors. She laid a hand on the handle, then turned to regard Imi suspiciously.

“Be a good girl, Imi. Don’t go anywhere. For your own safety, stay here.”

“I will.”

“If you’re not here when I return, I won’t tell you anything,” she warned.

“I told you, I will stay here.”

Teiti’s eyes narrowed, then she turned away and left the room. As the doors closed behind the old woman Imi raced into her bedroom. She ran to a carving on one of the walls and slipped her hand behind it. After a little groping around she found the bolt. She pulled it back and the carving silently turned outward like a door.

Behind it was a hole. Her father had shown her this hole many years ago. He had told her that if any bad people should invade the palace, she should crawl through the hole and wait until they were gone.

He hadn’t told her that this hole was the beginning of a tunnel. She had discovered this one night when boredom overcame her fear of venturing into an unknown dark place. Pushing a candle before her, she had only managed to crawl a short way before encountering a wall of stone and mortar.

It wasn’t a completely solid blockage, however. The adult who made it must have had little room to move, and had done a poor job. She had been able to hear voices beyond it, filtering through cracks and holes in the barrier. Voices she couldn’t quite understand.

So for a month she slipped into the hole every night, long after she ought to have been asleep, and chipped away at the blockage. The dust and crumbs of mortar she tipped into the privy. The larger stones she smuggled out in her clothing.

Now, as she climbed up into the hole, Imi congratulated herself again for her discovery. Once the blockage had been removed she had crawled on to find a small wooden door, latched on the tunnel side. She had opened it to find herself in a small cupboard. Beyond that was a room lined with pipes.

She had guessed at once what this was. Her father had told her that he had a device that enabled him to speak or listen to people in other parts of the city. He had described the pipes that carried sound.

He didn’t know that she knew where it was, or was using it herself.

Coming here was the most delicious fun. She always made sure she knew he was busy somewhere late at night before she crawled through to the room. There she pressed her ear to the ear-shaped openings in the pipes and listened to conversations between important people, quarrels between servants, and romantic exchanges between secret lovers. She knew all the gossip of the city - and the truth as well.

Reaching the wooden door, Imi listened for voices then pushed through. She hurried to the pipe she knew came from the king’s audience chamber and pressed her ear to the opening.

“... of the benefits of trade. The art I see here in this room, the jewelry you wear, tell me you have talented artisans here. These artisans could make goods to sell outside Borra. In exchange you might enjoy some of the luxuries of my people, like the beautiful cloth produced in Genria that sparkles like stars, or the bright red firestones of Toren.”

The voice was a woman’s and was strangely accented. She spoke slowly and haltingly, as though searching for and considering every word. Imi caught her breath at the description of sparkling cloth and burning stones. They sounded marvellous, and she hoped her father would buy some.

“There is also a world of spices, herbs and exotic foods that you might like to try, and I know there are people in the north who would pay a fortune for the opportunity to try new flavors and produce from Borra. Do not think we have only luxuries to trade. My people have many cures effective in treating all kinds of diseases, and I would not be surprised to discover that you have cures we have never encountered. There is much that we could exchange, Lord.”

“Yes, we have.” Imi felt her heartbeat quicken as she heard her father’s voice. “It is a fair speech you make, but we have heard it before. Landwalkers once came here claiming that they wished only to trade with us. They stole from us instead, taking sacred objects from this very room. We hunted them down and retrieved our property, and swore never to trust landwalkers again. Why should we break that vow and trust you?”

Landwalker? Imi thought. This woman is a landwalker! How did she get into the city?

“I understand your anger and caution,” the woman said. “I would do the same if I had been betrayed in such a manner. I would urge you to retain that caution if you were to open your doors to traders. They are not always the most honest of people. But I am no trader. I am a high priestess of the gods. One of the five chosen to represent them in this world. I cannot stop duplicity in this world any more than you can, but I can work to prevent it, or make certain it is punished. An alliance with us would include an agreement of mutual defense. We would help you protect your lands from invaders, if you would agree to help us in return.”

That seems a bit silly, Imi thought. There are only a few of us and lots of landwalkers ...

“What help could we possibly offer you, a sorceress of great strength, in command of great armies of landwalkers?”

“Whatever help you could give, Lord,” she answered calmly. “The Siyee have just made such an agreement with us. They may not be large or strong in body, but there are many ways they can help us.”

Silence followed. Imi could hear her father clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth, as he always did when thinking hard.

“If you are what you say you are,” he said suddenly, “then you should be able to summon Huan now. Do that, so that I may ask her if you speak the truth.”

The woman made a small noise like a smothered laugh. “I may be one of her representatives, but that doesn’t give me the right to order a god around.” She paused, and her voice became so quiet that Imi could barely hear her. “I have spoken to her of your people recently, however. She said this was for you to decide. She would not interfere.”

Another silence followed.

“You know this already, don’t you?” she added in a tone of mild surprise.

“The goddess has said as much to our priests,” the king admitted. “We are to decide this ourselves. I see it as a sign that she trusts my judgment.”

“It would appear so,” the woman agreed.

“My judgment is this: I do not know enough about you, landwalker. I see no reason why we should risk our lives for the sake of a few trinkets. Your offer of protection is tempting, as I’m sure you know it is, but how can you defend us when you live on the other side of the continent?”

“We will find these raiders and deal with them,” the woman replied. “Any other threat can be tackled by ships sent from Porin.”

“They would never get here in time. Next you’ll suggest mooring a ship here. Then you’ll want to start a settlement for the crew. That is unacceptable.”

“I understand. An alternative will be found. If we discuss this—”

“No.” Imi recognized the stubborn hardness that came into her father’s voice when he had made a decision. She frowned, disappointed. It had sounded so exciting, all this talk of trade. Surely the easiest way to get rid of the raiders was to pay someone else to do it.

“Imi!”

She jumped at the voice. It was Teiti’s, and it was not coming from within the pipe. It was coming from the hole in the cupboard. Her teacher had returned. Imi’s heart skipped. The only reason Imi could hear the woman was because she had left the carving - the door to the hole - open! If Teiti discovered the hole, Imi’s visits to the pipe room would end.

Imi dived into the cupboard. She closed the door behind her, then climbed into the hole. The wooden door was harder to close; she had grown a bit lately and there wasn’t much room to reach back and close the latch.

Crawling forward as fast as she could, she stopped just within the hole and looked out. Teiti was in the next room, roaming about. As the woman looked under a chair, Imi choked back a laugh. Teiti thought she was hiding.

“Imi, this is naughty. Come out now!”

The woman started toward the bedroom. Imi froze, then, as Teiti paused to look inside a cupboard, quickly reached out and pulled the carving back over the hole.

She listened as Teiti roamed around the bedroom, her voice all trembly. Imi frowned. Was Teiti angry? Or just upset? The voice faded as her teacher returned to the main room. Then Imi heard a quiet snuffling sound. She flushed with guilt. Teiti was crying!

Pushing aside the carving, she slid out of the hole as quietly as she could, then carefully bolted the carving back in place, before running into the other room.

“I’m sorry, Teiti,” she cried.

The woman looked up, then gasped with relief.

“Imi! That was not funny!”

It wasn’t hard to look guilty. Teiti might be a strict teacher, but she could also be fun and generous. Imi liked to play tricks on her friends, but only to make them laugh. She didn’t want to hurt anybody.

“This must be serious,” she said.

Teiti wiped her eyes and smiled. “Yes. There’s a landwalker in the palace. I don’t how she got here, or why, but we’d better stay put in case there’s trouble.” Teiti paused and frowned. “Not that I think you’re in any danger, Princess. She doesn’t even know about you, so I think you’re quite safe.”

Imi thought about the woman she’d overheard talking to her father. A sorceress and priestess of the gods, who wanted the Elai and her people to be allies - which was another word for friends. She didn’t sound like someone to fear.

Imi nodded. “I think so, too, Teiti.”

The moon was a cheerful grin of white. When Tryss had first seen it, he could not help thinking how it was a good omen. Now, several hours later, the pale crescent seemed more like a mocking smile.

Or a murderous blade, he thought. He let out a long breath, sending mist billowing around him, then shook his head. Superstitious nonsense, this. It’s just a big rock stuck in the frozen water of the upper sky. Nothing more, nothing less.

“I don’t believe it. He’s pacing. Calm, serious Tryss is pacing.”

Tryss jumped at the voice. “Sreil!” he whispered. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” the older boy said. “It just took a little longer to cut through the wall than I thought.”

Two figures emerged from the shadows, their footsteps dulled by the snow. Moonlight lit both faces, but Tryss saw only one. Drilli, wrapped in a yern pelt. His heart flipped over as he saw her face. Her eyes were wide. Her expression... hesitant. Anxious.

“Are you sure—”

“- about this?”

They’d spoken the same words, together. Drilli grinned and he found he was doing the same. He stepped forward and took her hands, then touched her face. She closed her eyes briefly, smiling blissfully. He pressed his lips to hers. Her answering kiss was strong and confident. He felt his entire body flush with heat. All the chill of winter seemed to retreat from around them. When they parted, his heart was racing and every doubt had evaporated.

Or I’ve completely lost my senses, he added. It’s what they say about young men, after all.

He turned to Sreil.

“Where now?”

Sreil chuckled. “In a hurry, are we? I still think Ryliss is the best choice. He has camped a little farther from the Open than everyone else. You know what these Temple Mountain types are like. All serious and seclusive. Follow me.”

Tryss took Drilli’s hand and they followed Sreil through the forest. It was a long journey; they had to skirt around the top of the Open. The dark shadows of the trees blocked the moonlight and snow blanketed all. Tryss and Drilli tripped over obstacles.

Drilli made a small sound.

“What’s wrong?” he whispered.

“My feet hurt.”

“Mine, too.”

“Couldn’t we have flown?”

“I’m sure if we could have, Sreil would have chosen to.”

“I guess this is hurting him as much as us.”

She fell silent, then after a few minutes squeezed his hand.

“Sorry. How romantic of me to complain about sore feet on my wedding night.”

He chuckled. “I’ll give you a romantic foot-rub later, if you like.”

“Mmm. Yes, I’d like that.”

When a bower appeared among the trees ahead, Tryss felt a surge of relief. Sreil told them to wait while he checked to see if Speaker Ryliss was alone. Tryss felt his stomach beginning to flutter. Sreil moved to the entrance of the bower. A shadow within came to the doorway. The hanging was pulled aside, then Sreil turned and beckoned to them.

Drilli’s hand was tight around his as they hurried toward the bower. They stopped just outside the door. Speaker Ryliss regarded them thoughtfully, his eyes shadowed by thick gray eyebrows. He waved a hand.

“Come in.”

They went inside. A fire was burning to one side, the smoke rising to a hole in the roof. Its heat was welcome. Ryliss gestured to log seats, and as they sat down he settled into a hammock chair.

“So you two want to get married tonight,” he said. “That is no small thing. Are you both sure of it?”

Tryss glanced at Drilli, then nodded. She smiled and murmured a “yes.”

“I understand this is against your parents’ wishes.”

“Drilli’s parents,” Tryss answered. “Mine wouldn’t protest.”

The old man regarded them soberly. “You both should know that while you may choose to marry each other without permission from your parents, doing so means your tribe is not obliged to provide a feast or give you any gifts. Your parents are not obliged to accommodate either of you in their bower.”

“We understand,” Drilli replied.

The Speaker nodded. “I cannot refuse you this rite, if you request it formally.”

Tryss rose and Drilli stood by his side. “I am Tryss of the Bald Mountain tribe. I choose to marry Drilli of the Snake River tribe. Will you perform the rite?”

“I am Drilli of the Snake River tribe. I choose to marry Tryss of the Bald Mountain tribe. Will you perform the rite?”

Ryliss nodded. “By law I must grant your request. Tryss must now stand behind Drilli. Please take each other’s hands.”

Drilli grinned as they did as they were told. Her eyes were bright as she looked over her shoulder at him. She looked both excited and a little frightened.

“Last chance to get out of it,” she whispered.

He smiled and tightened his grip on her hands. “Only if you can get loose.”

“Quiet, please,” Ryliss ordered. He frowned at them both. “This is a serious undertaking. You must remain together for the next two years, even if you come to regret your decision. Raise your arms.”

He opened a small pouch strapped to his waist - the pouch all Speakers wore - and drew out two brightly colored pieces of thin rope. He began to tie one pair of their hands together.

“I am Ryliss of the Temple Mountain tribe. I bind Tryss of the Bald Mountain tribe and Drilli of the Snake River tribe together as husband and wife. Fly together from this day.”

He moved to their other clasped hands. “I am Ryliss of the Temple Mountain tribe. I bind Drilli of the Snake River tribe and Tryss of the Bald Mountain tribe together as wife and husband. Fly together from this day.”

Tryss looked at their hands. If they had been flying this close together, they’d have to be conscious of each other’s every movement.

I guess that’s the point.

Ryliss stepped back and crossed his arms.

“In choosing to bind yourself to each other, you have committed yourselves to a partnership. You are responsible for each other’s health and happiness and for the upbringing of any children produced from your union. As this is your first marriage, you have also chosen to step into the responsibilities of adulthood. You will both be expected to contribute to whichever tribe you choose to live with.”

He paused, then nodded. “I declare you married.”

It’s done, Tryss thought. He looked at Drilli. She smiled. He wrapped his arms around her, drawing her arms across her body.

Sreil cleared his throat. “There remains only one last step.”

Tryss looked up at Sreil in dismay. What could there possibly be... ?

“That is true.” The corner of Ryliss’s mouth twitched, the closest he had come to a smile all night. He looked at Tryss, then Drilli. “I will be back in the morning. Please do not make a mess.”

With that, he strode out of the bower and disappeared. Tryss looked at Sreil, confused.

“What step?”

Sreil’s grin widened. “I don’t believe you asked that.”

“Oh!” Tryss felt his face beginning to heat as he realized what Sreil had meant. Drilli giggled.

“Sometimes I wonder how someone so clever can be so silly,” she said.

“Me too,” Sreil agreed. “Well, then. I’m sure you’ll have no problems finishing off the ritual. You don’t need my help, so I’ll head back.”

“Thank you, Sreil,” Drilli said.

“Yes. I owe you,” Tryss added.

Sreil feigned innocence. “I had nothing to do with all this.”

“Nothing at all,” Tryss replied. “Go on, then. We won’t say a word.”

Sreil chuckled, then backed out of the bower and pulled down the hanging. Tryss listened to his footsteps crunching in the snow. They faded into the distance. Drilli lifted a hand and regarded the ropes, then raised an eyebrow.

“I do hope Ryliss hasn’t tied these too tightly.”

32

The brothel’s caravan was an impressive sight. Twelve tarns stood before the building, each pulled by two arems. The first six tarns were brightly painted, their sides bearing Rozea’s name. The sturdy covers were trimmed with matching colors. The last six were plainer and servants hovered around them, the women waiting beside one of the vehicles, the men adding a few sacks and boxes to another.

Brand and Tide made appreciative noises, their breath misting in the air. They started toward the fourth cart with Emerahl and three other girls. An hour before, waiting in the dance hall, they had been asked to form groups of six, then Rozea had selected cart numbers for them by taking marked tokens out of a bag.

Our employer does like to appear to be fair, Emerahl mused. I wonder if Moonlight agrees. Does she know that Rozea intends for me to return as the brothel favorite? Does she hate me? Or is she happy to be relieved of the position?

It didn’t matter. Emerahl didn’t intend to return. She planned to slip away from the caravan as soon as she was free of the city.

That is, if I can get out of the city unnoticed, she amended.

She resisted the temptation to run her fingers over the hem of her sleeve. Tucked into it were small nuggets, each a compressed lump of formtane. Taken in this form the drug took effect slowly and lasted about an hour.

It was not an unheard-of drug in Porin. The usual method of taking it was as a tea or burned in a pipe. It produced a blissful calm, quashed nausea, and in strong quantities put one to sleep.

Sleep wasn’t enough for Emerahl. She needed it to render her unconscious.

The knot in her stomach tightened as she considered the risk she was taking. If this didn’t work - if the priest who could read minds was watching at the city gates, noticed that he couldn’t read the mind of one of the whores, decided to investigate, thought it suspicious that she had drugged herself into unconsciousness, and held them back until she woke up - then her unnaturally long life was about to end.

To make her taking of the drug less suspicious, she had prepared several nuggets of formtane. These she would give to the other girls. They were a weaker dose, so they would only experience the delicious calming effects. A tarn full of unconscious women was bound to raise suspicion rather than avoid it.

Emerahl was the last to climb into the tarn. They were all dressed in heavy tawls and carrying blankets. The tarn covers would protect them from rain, but not from cold. Winter was far from over, and would grow harsher as they travelled northward.

It was cramped inside, with six women squeezed onto the hard bench seats.

“They looked roomier from the outside,” Brand muttered. “Watch where you put your shoes, Star.”

“It smells like smoked ner,” Charity complained.

“I doubt Rozea bought them new.” Bird kicked her heels backward, making a solid thud. “There’s something under the seat.”

Emerahl peered under the seat opposite. “Boxes. I think some of our supplies are in here. Our seats are closer together than they need to be. I wouldn’t be surprised if there are compartments behind them.”

“Why would there be?” Tide asked. “Is Rozea too stingy to buy enough tarns?”

“No,” Brand said. “I bet they’re secret compartments to store things, just in case we get robbed.”

The others stilled and looked at her.

“Anyone who robs us will think the supply carts are all we have,” Brand explained. “If they look in here they’ll see us, and nothing else.”

“Nobody’s going to rob us,” Star declared. “We’ll be with the army.”

“But we might fall behind,” Bird said in a small voice. “Or even be separated.”

“We won’t,” Star assured her. “Rozea won’t let us.”

A high-pitched whistle sounded outside. The girls exchanged nervous glances, and all remained silent until the tarn jerked into movement.

“Too late to change your minds now,” Tide murmured.

“We could all jump out and run back inside,” Charity suggested half-heartedly.

Emerahl snorted. “Rozea would send someone in to drag you back. I thought everyone but me was eager to set out on this glorious adventure.”

The other girls shrugged.

“You don’t want to go, Jade?” Star asked. “Why not?”

Emerahl looked away. “I think robbers will be the least of our problems. It’s the soldiers we’ll have to watch out for. They’ll think fighting earns them a free roll with us whenever they want, and we don’t have enough of our own guards to prevent them. This is going to be rough, dirty work.”

Charity grimaced. “Let’s not talk about it any more. I’d rather delude myself that we’re going on a great adventure, during which we’ll witness great events. Events I can tell my grandchildren about.”

“Just as well grandmothers are allowed to edit out the bad parts,” Brand said, chuckling. “And embellish the good parts. The soldiers will be brave, the generals handsome, and the priests virtuous and even more handsome...”

At the mention of priests, Emerahl felt the knot in her stomach clench. She leaned past Tide and lifted the door flap. They were halfway to the gates. Her mouth went dry. She resisted the urge to reach for the formtane. Soon.

“Have you ever bedded a priest?” Tide asked Brand.

“A few.”

“I haven’t. What about you, Star? Charity?”

Star shrugged. “Once. And he wasn’t handsome. He was fat. And fast, thank Yranna.”

“Quite a few,” Charity admitted with a grin. “I think they like me for my name. They can go back to their wives and say they spent the evening in Charity work and be telling the truth.”

Brand burst out laughing. “Rozea certainly knows how to pick names. What about you, Jade?”

“Me?”

“Have you ever bedded a priest?”

Emerahl shook her head. “Never.”

“Perhaps you’ll bed your first one on this trip.”

“Perhaps.”

Brand wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. “They’re supposed to be quite good at it.”

“About as good as any nationality or creed that is supposed to be good at it, I’m guessing.”

“You’re too serious, Jade - and why do you keep looking outside?”

Emerahl let the flap go. She sighed and shook her head. “Travelling makes me sick.”

Star groaned unsympathetically. “You’re not going to throw up, are you?”

Emerahl made a face. “If I do, I’ll be sure to lean in your direction.”

“You’re cranky. Here.” Tide stood up, bracing herself against the flexible cover. “Sit by the window. If you feel sick you can open the flap for some fresh air.”

“Thank you.” Emerahl managed a smile and slid across the seat. Tide sat down in the middle and patted Emerahl’s knee sympathetically.

Looking outside again, Emerahl judged they were not far from the city gates. She let the flap fall and turned to the other girls.

“I brought something,” she told them. “Something for the nausea. It wouldn’t be fair if I didn’t share it.”

Brand smiled knowingly. “The formtane?”

“Formtane!” Star exclaimed. “Where’d you get that?”

“I took a little side trip to the market on the way to visit my family,” Brand told them.

Emerahl held out her left arm and eased the first of the nuggets out of her sleeve hem. She popped it into her mouth and swallowed, then began to push the next one free.

“So who wants some?”

The other girls leaned forward eagerly.

“I’ve never tried it before,” Tide admitted.

“It’s wonderful,” Charity whispered. “Time seems to slow down and you feel all light and floaty.” She accepted a nugget of formtane. “Thank you, Jade.”

A wave of dizziness swept over Emerahl. She worked another nugget out of her sleeve and gave it to Brand. She had to concentrate hard on removing three more nuggets for Tide, Bird and Star. Then she let herself relax against the seat back. Waves of delicious dizziness were rolling over her now.

“Have you got any more?” Star asked dreamily.

Emerahl shook her head, not trusting herself to speak. She thought about checking how close they were to the gate, but could not rouse herself to do so.

The other girls were smiling blissfully now. Such silly expressions. Emerahl felt a laugh bubble up and out of her. They grinned at her in surprise.

“What’s so funny?”

“You’ll look s’ happy,” she slurred.

Tide giggled, then they all burst into lazy-sounding, breathless laughter.

“Feeling better now, Jade?” Brand asked. “Not so Jaded?”

Emerahl laughed, then leaned forward. She swayed. Her vision blurred.

“Ma‘ mine li’l strong’r,” she managed.

Then she slipped into a comfortable, delirious blackness.

Time stopped, but she felt too lazy to care. She let her mind relax into the safe, warm darkness. Out of it a tower appeared. The sight of it disturbed her. She felt a flash of annoyance.

Oh no. Not again.

The tower stretched impossibly high. It tore clouds as they drifted past. She couldn’t stop herself looking at it. It captured her attention.

Where is this place?

The tower flashed out of existence. She looked down. A different building stood in its place. The old Dreamweaver House in Jarime. The one that Mirar had been buried under after Juran, high priest of the circle of gods, had killed him.

I’m dreaming. I shouldn’t be. I should be unconscious. This isn’t good...

She tried to break free, but the dream tightened its grip. Suddenly the high white tower loomed over her again, even more menacing than before. She wanted to flee, but couldn’t move. Once again she knew she would be seen if she stayed. She couldn’t stop herself looking. They had only to see her and...

“What’s wrong with her?”

... know who she was...

“She took formtane. She gets sick when she travels. I think she made it a bit too strong.”

... and when they saw...

“She certainly has. She should be unconscious, but instead she’s been caught in a dream.”

... they would kill her...

“Caught? You can see that?”

“Yes, I’m a priest.”

“In a guard’s uniform?”

“Yes.”

“Will she wake up?”

... the tower loomed over her. It seemed to flex. She felt a stab of terror as cracks ran down the surface...

“Yes. She will break free of the dream when the drug wears off.”

... and the tower began to fall...

“Thank you, Priest... ?”

“Ikaro.”

The voices barely registered in Emerahl’s mind. The dream was too real. Perhaps the voices were a dream and the dream was reality. She heard the roar of the collapsing tower, felt the pain of her limbs being crushed, of her lungs burning as she slowly suffocated. It went on and on, an eternity of pain.

“Jade?”

I don’t like this reality, Emerahl thought. I want the dream. Perhaps if I convince myself the dream is real, I will escape this pain. She struggled to hear the voice better, concentrated on the words. The pain faded.

“Jade. Wake up.”

Someone forced her eyes open. She recognized faces. Felt the radiating concern from familiar minds. Held onto that and pulled herself clear of the dream.

She gasped in a lungful of wonderfully clean air and stared at the five girls leaning over her. Their names ran through her mind. She could feel the movement of the tarn. She was lying down. The Tower dream, she thought. I had it again. There were voices this time. Another dream inside the dream.

“What happened?”

The relief on the girls’ faces was touching. They had good hearts, she decided. She would miss them, when she left.

“You took too much formtane,” Brand told her. “You fell unconscious.”

“A priest at the gates came over to see,” Charity added. “I don’t know how he knew.”

Emerahl felt a stab of alarm. She sat up. A priest! So the dream within the dream had been reality? “What did he say?”

Tide smiled. “He had a look at you and said you were fine, just dreaming.”

“I think he could read minds,” Star added.

He could see me dreaming? She frowned. I must have let my guard down.

“We were worried you’d made a mistake with the dose,” Brand told her. “Or that you had tried to kill yourself.”

“You weren’t trying to kill yourself, were you?” Tide asked anxiously.

“No.” Emerahl shrugged. “Just thought it would last longer if I took more.”

“Silly girl,” Brand scolded. “You won’t make that mistake again.”

Emerahl shook her head ruefully. She swung her legs over the end of the seat. Brand sat down beside her.

“You look a bit dreamy still,” Brand said. “Lean on me and have a nap - if you can sleep with all this rocking.”

Emerahl smiled in gratitude. She rested her head on the shoulder of the taller girl and closed her eyes.

So the priest read my mind, she thought. And dismissed everything he saw there as a dream. She thought of the fear of being seen that always lurked in the tower dream. A fear similar to her own fear of discovery. She silently thanked the Dreamweaver who was projecting these dreams. He or she had probably saved her life.

As Auraya woke she realized she had not dreamed of Leiard, and she sighed in disappointment.

He hadn’t visited her dreams since she had left Si. She had nursed a faint hope that the reason had something to do with her travelling and being hard to find, and that he would link with her again when she came back to the Open, but her sleep hadn’t been interrupted last night.

That’s only one night, she thought. He won’t know I’ve returned yet, and now I’m leaving again.

She rose and began to wash. Surely he checks to see if I’ve returned each night. Perhaps he is too busy - or maybe dream-linking is too tiring to spend each night at it.

I shouldn’t be thinking about this. I should be thinking about taking the Siyee to war.

There had been a lot to arrange. She had spoken to the Speakers until late last night, discussing what they would need to bring, and what they would have to rely on the landwalker army to supply. The Siyee could not carry a lot of weight. They would bring their weapons, small transportable bowers and enough food to get them to the Plains of Gold, but no more. Auraya had spoken to Juran and received assurances that food would be provided for the Siyee once they’d joined the army.

Auraya examined her clothing closely and used magic to remove as many stains as she could. She combed out the knots in her hair, which she’d gained while flying yesterday. The Siyee definitely have the right idea keeping their hair short, she mused. I wonder what I’d look like with short hair...

She braided her hair into a long tail then moved into the main room of her bower. A Siyee woman had brought her a small basket of food the night before. Auraya drank some water then began to eat.

This may be my last night here for many months. After the war, Juran will want me to come back to Jarime. The thought brought a pang of sadness. She did not want to leave. But she also felt a stirring of curiosity. What will my next challenge be, I wonder? Another alliance to negotiate? Will I return to Borra to appeal to the Elai king again?

It would take more than words to persuade King Ais to consider an alliance. She had seen much suspicion and hate of landwalkers in the Elai’s minds. Dealing with the raiders might help gain the sea people’s trust. If not, it would at least remove the main reason the Elai hated landwalkers. In a few generations their hatred might diminish to the point where they wouldn’t consider contact with the outside world to be so dangerous. She had told Juran as much and he had agreed.

If her next task was not the Elai, then what? She considered the possible consequences of the war. Sennon was backing the Pentadrians. If the gods still wanted Sennon to ally peacefully with the rest of Northern Ithania, there would be work to do there after the war, not least encouraging forgiveness from the White’s allies. By uniting with the enemy, Sennon would cause the deaths of many Northern Ithanians. Many would want to see Sennon punished, but that would only cause ongoing resentment and more hatred.

She frowned. Persuading the Sennons to sign an alliance would be best handled by Juran. She and the other White would probably work at convincing Circlians to accept it, but that wouldn’t keep her completely occupied.

There’s always the Dreamweavers.

Her stomach sank at the thought. For months she had barely thought about her ideas for improving Circlian healing knowledge in order to prevent people being lured into becoming Dreamweavers.

It’s not as if my intention is to harm Dreamweavers, she told herself. I only want to save the souls of those who have not yet become Dreamweavers.

“Auraya of the White. May I come in?”

She looked up at the door eagerly, grateful for the distraction.

“Yes, Speaker Sirri. Come in.”

The hanging over the door moved aside and the Siyee woman stepped in. Sirri was dressed in clothing that Auraya had never seen Siyee wear before. A hard leather vest and apron, crisscrossed with straps, covered her chest and thighs. One of the new dart-throwing contraptions was bound to her chest, and a bow and a quiver of arrows were strapped to her back. At her hip she wore a pouch and two knives.

“Don’t you look prepared for a fight,” Auraya exclaimed.

Sirri smiled. “That’s good. My people need to think their leader is prepared to fight beside them.”

“You certainly are,” Auraya said. “I’d flee if I were a Pentadrian.”

Sirri’s smile became grim. “More likely you’d laugh. In truth, I think we’re going to learn a lot from this war.”

Auraya felt her grin fade. “I won’t pretend there isn’t going to be a cost,” she said. “I do hope that it will not be a high one. I promise I will try to ensure it isn’t.”

The Speaker acknowledged Auraya’s promise with a nod. “We know what we face. Are you ready?”

Auraya nodded. “Are your people already assembled?”

“All loaded up and ready to fly. They just need a speech or two.”

Putting her empty mug down, Auraya stood and glanced around the room one last time, then picked up the small pack she had brought with her to Si and followed Sirri outside. She could hear the gathered Siyee long before she saw them. The chatter of so many voices combined was like the sound of water cascading over rocks. As she and Sirri approached the outcrop above the crowd, whistles filled the air. Auraya smiled down at the largest crowd of Siyee she had seen so far.

The tribes ranged in size from a few dozen families to over a thousand individuals. Of the thousands of Siyee, more than half formed this army. Not all were warriors, though. For every two Siyee dressed as fighters she could see one that was not. Each tribe was bringing their own healers and domestic helpers, who would also carry portable bowers and as much spare food as possible.

Sirri’s appearance was the cue for the other Speakers to come forward and form a line. Auraya took her place - a few steps from the end of this line - and watched as Sirri stepped onto Speakers’ Rock and spread her arms wide.

“People of the mountains. Tribes of the Siyee. Look at yourselves!” Sirri grinned. “What a fierce sight we make!”

The Siyee shouted and whistled in reply. Sirri nodded, then raised her arms higher.

“Today we are leaving our homes and flying to war. We do so in order to keep a promise. What was that promise? It was a promise to help a friend. Our allies among the landwalkers need our help. They need us, the Siyee, to help them defend themselves against invaders.

“We know what that is like.” Sirri’s expression was hard now. “We know the pain of losing land and lives to invaders. No longer will that pain be ours, for our new allies are also keeping their promises. Last night Auraya of the White gave me the welcome news that the King of Toren has ordered his people out of our lands.”

The whistling that followed this announcement was deafening. The noise continued on and on. Sirri turned and beckoned to Auraya. As Auraya moved to join the Speaker, the crowd slowly quietened.

“People of Si, I thank you,” she said. “By giving your support and strength to my people you help us defend against a terrible enemy. For many years we have heard rumors about these barbaric peoples of the southern continent, but they were too distant to be of concern. We heard that they enslave men and women, and that these followers of the Pentadrian cult force strange and perverse rites on their people. We know that they worship war for the sake of violence itself.

“Now these Pentadrians wish to spread their vile ways. They wish to destroy my people and enslave all of Ithania.”

She paused. The crowd was silent now and she sensed the beginnings of fear.

“They will fail!” she declared. “For men and women who worship war for the sake of violence are not true warriors, as we are. Men and women who invade another land are not driven by a passion to defend their homes, as we are. Most importantly, men and women who follow heathen cults do not have the protection of true gods...” she paused, then spoke each word quietly but firmly “... as we do.”

She put her hands together to form the symbol of the circle. “As one of the White I am your link to the gods. I will be your translator and interpreter. I am proud to be the link between such a people and the gods. I am proud to accompany such an army as this.”

:And I am proud to have created such a people.

The faces below Auraya changed as one. Eyes widened, mouths opened. She felt their awe, like a gust of wind, at the same time as she sensed the presence at her side. The crowd, as one, dropped to the ground as she turned to face the glowing presence of the goddess. Huan lifted a hand, indicating that Auraya should remain standing.

:Rise, good people of Si, Huan said.

Slowly the Siyee climbed to their feet. They gazed at the goddess in awe.

:It pleases me to see you gathered here today. You have grown strong and plentiful. You are ready to take your place among the peoples of Northern Ithania. You have chosen your allies well. You have a loyal friend as well as an ally in Auraya. She loves you more than duty requires. All the White will protect you as best they can. But it will be your resilience as a people that will ensure you survive in the future, not Auraya or I. Be strong, but also be wise, people of Si. Know your strengths and your weaknesses, and endure.

The goddess smiled, then her glowing form faded and disappeared. Sirri looked at Auraya, her eyes still wide, then at the gathered Siyee.

“We have heard the words of the goddess Huan. Let us wait no longer. Let us fly to war!”

She nodded to the Speakers. They immediately moved to the edge of the outcrop and flew down to join their tribes. Sirri turned back to Auraya.

“I had a stirring final speech planned, but I completely forgot what I was going to say,” she confessed quietly.

Auraya smiled and shrugged. “A visit from the gods can have that effect on a person.”

“It doesn’t matter. What matters is we set off in a confident state of mind, and Huan certainly arranged that nicely. Now, it looks like my tribe is itching to get into the air. Would you like to fly with us?”

Auraya nodded. “I would, thank you.”

Sirri grinned, beckoned, and they both leapt off the outcrop. The Speaker’s tribe immediately surged into the air to join them, followed by tribe after tribe of Siyee. Auraya looked back at the cloud of flying figures and felt a thrill of amazement.

But it was followed by a stab of concern. This will be their first war, she thought. There is no way they can be fully prepared for what they will face. She sighed. And there is no way I am either.