The Last of the Wilds

34

From above, the blue lakes of Si looked like glittering gemstones strung together with silver threads. The lake Auraya was heading for was shaped like a crescent moon. Looking closer, she noted little boats on the water. She had been surprised at first to discover that the Siyee were as competent at sailing and fishing as landwalkers. They were a people of the sky, but that didn’t mean they could not sail a boat or net a catch.

More unusual was the sight of flat, cultivated land around the lake. The Blue Lake tribe lived well within Si borders so hadn’t needed to reclaim their tillable land from Toren settlers. It looked as if the area had been cleared of forest long ago in order for crops to be grown. The rows were dark green with the leafy winter crop the Siyee dug into the soil each spring to improve it.

For the past two months Auraya had watched as the land and its people prepared for winter. Food was stored carefully, bowers were repaired, warm clothes were woven. The bowers here did not rely on a tree at their center for support. She headed for the largest one, guessing that it might be a meeting place or at least the home of the village Speaker.

She must have been seen, as whistles filled the air and Siyee began to leave the fields and bowers, their faces turned toward her. They headed for a raised platform made of wood, so she altered her course for this.

Whistles and cries of welcome filled the air as she landed. To her relief, most of the tribe looked well. The Speaker emerged out of the large bower, which, she read from his mind, was a storeroom for the tribe’s produce.

“Welcome to the Blue Lake village, Auraya of the White. I am Speaker Dylli.” The leader took a cup of water from one of the village women, then the traditional cake of greeting from another, and gave them to Auraya.

She ate the cake and sipped the water. “I am relieved to see you are all looking healthy.”

The Speaker’s expression grew serious. “We grieve the loss of nine tribesmen, women and children, but would have lost many more if we had not followed the advice you sent on preventing the illness moving to others - and if the Dreamweaver had not come.”

Auraya smiled. “Wilar. I’d heard he’d travelled here, which is why I did not come sooner. You are in capable hands. I’d like to see him.”

“Then I will take you to him.”

He beckoned and led her away from the platform. Seeing her glance at it curiously, he chuckled.

“Most tribes live in trees, or on uneven ground like at the Open. Our land here is level. The oldest of us find it exhausting getting off the ground so we built this for them.”

Auraya nodded in understanding. While the Siyee could become airborne by running and leaping into the air, it took a lot of energy. Dropping from a tree branch or cliff was much easier, especially for the elderly. The platform would serve the same purpose.

The crowd followed them, the children chattering among themselves. At the edge of the fields three new bowers had been built. The adults in the crowd stopped several paces away and told the children to stay with them. Auraya and the Speaker continued on.

“I haven’t been ill, so I must stay away,” he told her. “Please give Dreamweaver Wilar my regards.”

She smiled and nodded. “I will. If there’s anything I can do to help, I will do it.”

He bowed his head in thanks. Turning away, she walked the rest of the way to the bowers slowly, searching for minds. The discomfort, pain and fear of the sick Siyee was a shock after the cheerful health of the rest of the tribe. After a moment she found what she was looking for: a mind aware of the presence of a man she could not sense. She stopped outside the bower.

“May I come in?”

There was a pause, then a familiar voice replied, “Of course, Auraya.”

At the sound of his voice she felt her heart lighten. She pushed aside the door-hanging and stepped into a dimly lit space. Four beds hung between a thick central pole and the outside supports of the bower, two on either side. Leiard stood beside one, spooning liquid from a bowl into a woman’s mouth. He glanced at her once and kept working.

“Look around,” he invited.

She moved from bed to bed, checking the health of each patient. They were in the worst stage of the disease but their bodies were fighting it, even if sluggishly.

“Those who are recovering are in the bower to our left, and those whose bodies cannot resist the disease are in the other,” Leiard murmured.

Hearing his footsteps, she looked up. He dropped spoon and bowl into a large stone dish of water, then paused to stare at it. The water began to steam, then bubble. He left it gently boiling, moved to the door and glanced over his shoulder at her.

“Do you want to see?” he asked.

She nodded. Following him out, she noted Siyee children watching at a distance as they moved to another bower.

It took Auraya a moment to take in the scene inside. Unlike the previous bower, this one was filled with furniture. A healthy-looking Siyee sat cross-legged in the center of the room, working on a dart harness. Another sat before a loom, his hands moving quickly as he worked. Two women were preparing jars of preserved fruit, and a boy and girl child were playing a game at the back of the room. All looked up as Auraya and Leiard entered.

As Leiard introduced her, Auraya slowly understood why these people were here. She had been expecting sick Siyee, but these people were obviously fully recovered.

Leiard had killed the disease within their bodies, but they couldn’t mingle with other Siyee for fear of catching it again. They could, however, continue doing domestic tasks - even cooking.

“How long must they stay in there?” she asked him as they left the bower.

“I have told them they can go once no other member of the village is ill. They know there can be no certainty that they will be safe then, but they can’t keep themselves separate forever.”

Auraya nodded. “Do they know how lucky they are? All those in their situation in the Open, and in other villages, die.”

Leiard winced and met her eyes. “How many so far?”

“About one in five.”

He grimaced and shook his head. Walking away from the bower, he sat down on a log at the edge of the forest, frowning. Auraya sat beside him. She considered his profile. His face did not look as weathered as it once had, she noted, though there were still smile wrinkles around his eyes. The dye in his hair had partly washed out, leaving it a dark blond color.

“I have come here to see if your offer still holds,” she told him. “Hearteater is everywhere. The toll is too great. I have come from Temple Mountain. The Siyee there haven’t been the most cooperative of the tribes and their cave system is too small for so many people. All that close contact... not good for preventing the spread of a disease.”

He smiled crookedly. “No.” His eyes moved away, then returned to her and narrowed. “So the gods no longer forbid it?”

“No. I may only use your healing Gift with the gods’ permission. Only in times of great need, such as now.”

He nodded. “A compromise.”

She turned to look at him, but found herself lost for words. In the last few months, in desperation, she had experimented on dying Siyee without success. She found she could not kill a disease that she could not easily sense as a separate entity to the body it attacked.

“Can you return tonight?” Leiard asked. “Tyve is out gathering cures and I need him to tend to the sick while we work.”

“Of course. How long will it take?”

He shrugged. “That depends on whether you have the ability to absorb the concepts and how quickly you learn to apply them. Perhaps an hour. Perhaps several nights.”

Auraya nodded. “There is another tribe I need to check on, but I can return by tonight.”

“Then we will begin then. Keep in mind that few can grasp the concepts involved. It is not a question of magical strength, but of mental ability. You may not have the ability.”

“I can only try,” she told him, smiling wryly. “There’s never been a Gift I could not learn.”

His eyebrows rose. “Is that so?”

“Yes.”

“What will you do if you fail, I wonder.”

“Try to take disappointment gracefully.”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “That will be interesting to observe.”

She met his eyes. “It may depend on whether you taunt me about it or not.”

“Do you believe I would?”

“I don’t know.”

He chuckled. “I will endeavor to be sympathetic.” He rose and looked toward the bowers. “If you have time, I will introduce you to the third group. They’re still in the early stages of the disease. There’s a woman among them who knows more about the medicinal plants around here than anyone I’ve encountered. I think you’ll like her.”

“Will I?”

“Perhaps.”

“Let’s go and find out.” Smiling, Auraya stood up and followed him back to the bowers.

Reivan leaned on the rail and gazed at the distant mountains of Si. The ship’s captain had kept the coast in sight for the last few days, a situation Reivan found both reassuring and frustrating. There was something disconcerting about being so far out to sea that no land could be seen, but the sight of it, dry and still, was all the more tantalizing when it was land they could not set foot on without risking angering its inhabitants.

She considered the reception the Servants who had travelled to Si had received from the Siyee. Not surprisingly, the sky people hadn’t welcomed the Pentadrians’ overtures of peace and friendship.

I wouldn’t welcome a visit by the people who had invaded my allies and killed my people, no matter what they said their intentions were, she thought. If the White sorceress does have mind-reading abilities she’d have worked out that peace wasn’t all the Servants were there to find.

Reivan was inclined to agree with Nekaun that attempting to convert the Siyee wasn’t worth the trouble for now. If they believed they were created by one of the Circlian gods, they weren’t going to embrace the idea that their creator wasn’t real and they should be worshipping the Five instead.

I wonder how they came by the notion? I wonder how they actually came to exist?

The slap of bare feet drew Reivan’s attention from her thoughts. She turned to find Imi, her black skin glistening with water droplets, walking toward her. The girl had put on some weight in the last few months. She walked with confidence, no longer weak and easily unbalanced by the ship’s rocking.

“Greetings, Reivan,” Imi said gravely.

“Greetings, Princess Imi,” Reivan replied.

The girl paused, then grinned. “You called me that because I was being too serious, didn’t you?”

“It is your title. I should be getting used to addressing you that way, now that we are getting close to your home.”

“Are we?” Imi asked anxiously. “I suppose we are closer than we were.”

Reivan nodded toward the line of mountains. “That is Si. Any day now we may see Siyee. When we do, we can go to shore and ask for... for...”

“Directions,” Imi finished. In the last few months Reivan had gained enough grasp of the Elai language to hold conversations, but her vocabulary was still limited.

“Yes,” Reivan said. “Though I am worried that the Siyee will refuse to help you because you arrived here with us.”

“Why would they do that?”

Reivan sighed. “Because of the war.”

“Ah, yes.” Imi frowned. “The Siyee are allies of the White sorcerers. They must consider Pentadrians their enemies.”

“Fourth Voice Genza travelled to Si before the war to discover what she could of the Siyee, but before she could learn whether they would make good allies or not, the White sent one of their own sorceresses there. The one they sent has an unusual Skill that allows her to fly. Genza could not win them after that.”

Imi looked up, her eyes shining. “That’s the same sorceress that came to Elai. She offered to help us get rid of the raiders if we helped her people in return.” Her eyes widened. “If we had, we’d be your enemies too. I’m glad my father sent her away.”

Reivan felt a thrill of excitement. “He did?”

“Yes. Father doesn’t like landwalkers. He didn’t trust her.”

“Will he trust us, do you think?”

Imi shrugged. “I don’t know. He’ll be happy that you brought me back.” Her eyes narrowed. “Are you thinking of asking him to be your ally?”

Reivan smothered a smile at the girl’s shrewd question.

“Maybe. We don’t ally ourselves with just anyone.”

The girl’s mouth set into a determined smile. Reivan looked away, hoping her expression didn’t betray her amusement.

“Will you try to make friends with the Siyee again?” Imi asked.

Reivan shook her head. “If we do, it won’t be for a long time. They are too set in their ways.”

“It would be good if you did. The Siyee and the Elai have always been friends. We have more in common with each other than either of us have with landwalkers. We both have troubles with landwalkers.” She paused, obviously considering this. “And we were both created by Huan.”

“The Elai believe they were created by a Circlian god?” Reivan asked, turning to regard Imi closely.

The girl shrugged. “That’s what the priests say.”

“How interesting.” Reivan hoped she looked more thoughtful than alarmed. Her heart was now beating a little faster. Had Nekaun known of this? Surely, if he had, he would not have thought Imenja taking Imi home in an attempt to woo the Elai was worth the trouble.

If Imi had thought about it, he or Imenja would have known about it. So if they don’t know then Imi must not have thought about it - or at least not in their presence. Despite all that had happened to the girl, her mind must not have turned to her god often during her stay at the Sanctuary. Perhaps religion wasn’t important to the Elai.

“Do you pray to this god?” Reivan asked.

Imi’s nose wrinkled. “Not unless the priests make me. I used to when I was little, if I wanted something, but the priests say Huan is too busy to arrange for little girls to get the presents they want. I decided I’d only pray if I needed something important.”

“Did you pray when you were a prisoner?”

“A few times.” Imi’s expression was sad. “I guess I was out of practice. Father doesn’t pray much - and sometimes he says angry things like if Huan cared about us she would stop the raiders keeping us from living on our own islands. He says she abandoned us years ago.”

Reivan nodded in sympathy. She opened her mouth to voice her agreement, but stopped. How could she frown upon the inaction of another god - even if this god did not exist - when her own gods had allowed her people to be defeated in war?

“The gods are mysterious,” she found herself saying instead. “We don’t always understand their reasons for doing - or not doing - something. Their view of the world is like that of a parent. Sometimes the actions of a parent seem cruel and unfair to a child, but later they understand those actions were for their benefit.”

Imi nodded slowly, her face tight with the intensity of her thoughts.

“Ah! Company!”

The voice was Imenja’s. Reivan turned to find the Second Voice walking toward them. Imenja pointed above their heads, at the sky.

“They’re coming to inspect us,” she said.

Imi glanced in the direction Imenja had pointed and gasped. Following her gaze, Reivan saw five large birds gliding toward the ship.

Not birds: Siyee.

“You had better conceal yourself, Imi,” Imenja said as she reached them. “We don’t yet know how they will react to us - or to you for associating with us. Let’s not reduce your chances of gaining their help.”

The girl reluctantly allowed the woman to usher her into the pavilion at the center of the ship. Imenja returned to Reivan’s side. The Siyee were close enough that Reivan could see the ovals of their faces.

“Imi just told me the Elai believe, as the Siyee do, that the Circlian goddess Huan created them,” Reivan told her.

“I know,” Imenja replied.

“You do?”

“Of course.”

“I’m surprised Nekaun allowed us to make this journey, then.”

Imenja laughed quietly. “Nekaun doesn’t know.”

Reivan stared at Imenja. She doubted Nekaun would regard Imenja favorably for neglecting to tell him something like this. “Why not?”

“You said yourself, Imi is a princess and she should be escorted home with great fuss and ceremony by someone no less important than a Voice.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Not exactly those words, but the meaning was the same.”

“That’s not the reason you’ve concealed this from him, is it?”

Imenja smiled. “Who’s the mind-reader here?” Then her smile faded a little. “I am not as easily dissuaded from exploring a chance at alliance with the Elai. They may be small in number and they may worship a false god, but until we have met them we cannot know their full potential. Consider the Siyee and how effective they were in battle. We might benefit as much or more from sea-warrior allies. Who cares what they worship?”

“Our gods would surely—”

The whoosh of wings drew Imenja’s attention upward. The Siyee had reached the ship. They circled, their fierce faces creased with frowns of suspicion. The contraptions strapped to their chests looked flimsy, but Reivan knew well how lethal they could be.

“They are brave coming so close,” Imenja breathed.

Reivan glanced around the ship to see that some of the crew were holding bows.

“Do not attack or retaliate,” Imenja called out. “Unless I give the order.”

After circling the ship three times, all but one of the Siyee swooped away toward the shore. The remaining man flew directly toward Imenja and Reivan. An object shot from the Siyee’s harness. Reivan took a step backward but Imenja remained still. The missile landed with a thud, embedding itself in the deck at Imenja’s feet. The Siyee flapped hard to avoid the rigging, then curved away toward the mountains.

Imenja nudged the dart with the toe of her sandal. “What do you make of that?”

“A warning,” Reivan replied, her voice wavering a little. “And a reminder. We are not welcome in Si.”

“I agree,” Imenja said. “The trouble is, we have to get Imi to shore if she is to find out where her home is. How are we going to do that?”

“Perhaps we should ask her.”

Imenja looked at Reivan and smiled. “Of course. We’ll discuss it with her tonight.”

35

Sitting down, Mirar rested his elbows on his knees and his chin on his fists and thought about Auraya.

Until she had visited that morning, he had not seen her for two months. While he had hoped they would encounter one another again as they battled Hearteater, he also knew there was nothing to be gained from a meeting except danger. The hopeless infatuation for her that had come with accepting Leiard as a part of himself wasn’t easy to live with. In fact, it was a great nuisance. He constantly told himself to get over it - the sooner the better. Yet when she had called out to him, when she had walked into the bower, his heart had performed all manner of acrobatics, and he knew it would take more than two months’ separation before he had full control of it again.

The last thing he had expected was for her to come seeking his magical healing technique. Since leaving the North River tribe, Mirar had cursed the gods many times for not allowing her to learn it. As the disease attacked Siyee in more and more tribes, many, many Siyee had died that she might have saved.

Why now? he asked himself. Why have they changed their minds?

The answer was clear. The disease had become a plague. Perhaps the Siyee had heard of his healing ability and started to wonder why the Gods’ Chosen did not have it.

If that is so, why don’t the gods teach her?

He’d pondered that question all day. The only conclusion he could come to was that they couldn’t. They were beings of magic. Perhaps beings with no physical body could not heal physical bodies, even through a willing human.

There was a danger in teaching her this technique. It was similar to the method all Wilds used to prevent themselves aging. Auraya might realize this. The gods certainly would.

I can’t bring myself to believe she will harm me if she suspects I am immortal. A suspicion is not a truth, and she is not one to act on mere suspicion. She promised I would not be harmed. Also, she will feel she owes me something in return for giving her the ability to save lives. Perhaps only the chance to leave Northern Ithania.

When he had told Emerahl, through dream links, of his encounter with Auraya, she had urged him to abandon the Siyee and flee. She suggested he go to Southern Ithania, where Dreamweavers were tolerated and even respected. When he had told her he had offered to teach Auraya his healing method she had called him an idiot, but she couldn’t come up with a reason why he shouldn’t - other than those he had already considered.

He heard the sound of feet meeting the ground. Looking up, he saw only darkness, then Auraya came out of the gloom like a beam of moonlight taking form. Mirar felt a shiver run down his spine. The hem of her priestess’s circ flared outward as a breeze stirred it. Her unbound hair blew across her face and she lifted a hand to catch and hook it behind one ear.

Look away, he told himself. If she catches you gazing at her she might suspect you’re still smitten.

He drew in a deep breath and rose.

“Greetings, Auraya of the White.”

One of her eyebrows quirked upward in amusement at his formal manner.

“Greetings, Dreamweaver Wilar.”

He directed her to one of two blankets he’d set on the ground outside the bowers. She sat down and watched as he moved to the middle tent. Inside, Tyve was sitting beside a Siyee man lying unconscious on a stretcher. The boy stood up, stooped to pick up one end of the stretcher and helped Mirar carry it outside.

After they had placed the stretcher on the ground between Auraya and the other blanket, Ty ve returned to the bower. Mirar sat down.

Auraya leaned forward and placed a hand on the man’s head. Her eyes grew distant as she accessed the Siyee’s condition. A grim twitch of her lips told Mirar she had seen the damage the disease had done. She looked up at him expectantly.

“What now?”

“I could explain to you in words and guide you toward discovering the Gift for yourself, but that would take months, or years, and neither of us have the time to spare. We must engage in a link.”

Her eyebrows rose. “A mind link?”

“Not exactly. We will link hands, but unlike a mind link there will be no need for you to open your mind. It is similar to a dream link, but easier since you do not need to be in a trance or part-asleep. Physical contact removes the necessity for that. I will project my instructions to you. You will answer in the same way. Are you willing to do this?”

The corner of her mouth twitched upward as she considered. After a moment she nodded to herself and held out her hands to him. He was not surprised. She had accepted dream links before, despite their illegality, and would have decided what he was going to teach her was worth bending the law for.

He took her hands and closed his eyes, then sought and found a sense of her presence before him. From her came a feeling of both anticipation and uncertainty.

:Auraya.

:Leiard? Or should I call you Wilar?

:Whatever you wish, he answered.

:I don’t think of you as Wilar, so I’ll call you Leiard. But... you seem different.

:I am changed?

:Yes and no. You seem more yourself. That sounds strange, I know, but before you were so... so uncertain of yourself. Now you are not.

He felt oddly pleased about that.

:It is true. I am not the person I was.

:I was probably the source of all that uncertainty, she continued sadly. Perhaps we should not talk of it.

:Perhaps. Perhaps not, he answered. It could do as much harm as good.

:True. She fell silent, then before he could think of a way to change the subject she spoke again.

:I forgave you, she told him. I was angry, but not any more. Not since we worked together at the North River. I would like it if we could befriends.

:I would like that too, he told her, perhaps with too much feeling.

:Do not fear that it will bring you or your people any trouble. The gods know where my heart lies now.

Mirar felt a twinge of surprise. She had found another lover? He struggled to hold back a feeling of jealousy. No, he told himself. Accept it. He examined the feeling then pushed it aside. Better that she is happy. Better that I am not making her miserable, anyway.

Then he realized that she might not have been referring to a lover at all. She might simply have meant her heart was for the gods. There was one way to find out...

:I hope he is worthy of you, he said.

A wave of embarrassment came from her. He smiled; he had guessed correctly.

He was only sensing embarrassment, however. She ought to be betraying some feeling of happiness or joy. She wasn’t. It won’t last, he found himself thinking with satisfaction. This time he did quash his feelings. It was time to direct their attention elsewhere.

:Magic can be used in healing in many ways, he told her. Dreamweavers divide these into three levels of difficulty. The first level is the simplest: the use of magic to hold or heat or move. The second uses the same Gifts but in more challenging situations as well as using magic to boost a body’s strength. The third is so difficult it requires great concentration and a sure knowledge and experience of all processes of the body. It enables a Dreamweaver to influence tissue within a body to a degree of detail where flesh and bone may be realigned and persuaded to heal immediately.

Mirar paused. No feeling of confusion came from Auraya, so he continued on.

:What I will try to teach you is a step beyond the third level. It does not require drawing a great deal of magic, or even gaining a great knowledge and experience of bodily systems. What it requires is a mind capable of sensing and understanding the body from the finest detail to the greater whole. Once you understand, you can influence.

He guided one of her hands down to the Siyee, setting it upon the man’s chest.

:Watch.

To show her he had to lower the shield around his mind that prevented her seeing his thoughts. He took care to let it fall only while he was concentrating on healing, opening and closing the shield like a shutter and passing what he saw and did to Auraya in images and ideas.

The man’s body filled his awareness. The damage within it, and the effect it was having on the whole, was obvious. He detected something out of place - the tiny but dangerous life that should not be there, and he communicated all that he sensed to her.

:Now you.

She did not send what she was perceiving to him. For a long time she was silent, then he felt a thrill of excitement from her.

:I see it! I can see the disease! Show me how to kill it.

He concentrated on the man again, showing her how to focus magic in a way that killed the intruding malaise but did not harm the body. Now he saw her actions by watching the effect she had on the Siyee. He was surprised and pleased to see that she had understood everything he had told her.

Her attack was not ordered, however, and he found himself demonstrating how to work systematically through the body so she left no trace of the disease alive. They began working together, each responding to complement or support the other’s actions. It was like a dance. It was exhilarating.

She does this naturally, he thought suddenly. It is like an innate Gift. She must be Gifted enough to become immortal without the gods’ assistance. The thought of what they could have been sent a thrill through him. Immortal lovers... But that’s not going to happen. It would make her an enemy of the gods she loves. And I am the hated Mirar. Even if she could forgive the deception...

She was engrossed in the healing. He let her continue alone while he watched. Since this healing method was new to her, she could not be using it to stop herself aging. Perhaps the gods, through the ring she wore, were keeping her from aging without her being conscious of how it was done.

I wonder how long it will be before she makes the connection, he wondered. Is that why the gods do not teach the White to heat?

:The disease is gone! she said.

He examined the Siyee closely.

:Yes, he told her.

:That was... easier than I thought. This way you have of sensing the body is... amazing. And logical. I cannot understand why I have never done this before. But... this man is still dying.

Yes, there is more to do.

He led her attention back into the Siyee’s body. Taking energy from stores of fat, he used them to help speed the regrowth of lung tissue. She followed suit. With the lungs restored, the blood began to improve and then the strength of the heart. Circulation enlivened, the fingers, toes and other extremities warmed. He could sense Auraya’s amazement and joy.

Finally he moved to the man’s hand. A finger had been broken and badly set long ago. Mirar carefully straightened it, shuffling the fibers of the bone into new positions. The amazement he sensed from Auraya changed into a bright excitement.

:You could heal anything this way, she said. You could give sight to a man who had been blind all his life. You could restore a cripple. You could revive a dead man.

:Yes, but with the last it must be immediate. Memory deteriorates within minutes of death and cannot be restored.

:Can I heal myself the same way?

:Of course, he told her. He needed to steer her away from this chain of thought. You’ve learned exceptionally fast and well.

:You thought this would take longer.

:I did. As always, you’ve exceeded expectations. If only all my students learned so quickly.

:If that is all I need to know, then I should return to the Temple Mountain tribe immediately. There are many there who may die tonight if I do not bring them this healing.

Then I won’t delay you any longer.

Their hands parted and the sense of her presence vanished. Opening his eyes, he found her looking at him, smiling broadly. He felt his heart skip a beat and quickly looked down at the Siyee.

“Thank you, Leiard. Every life I save with this Gift will be a life you have saved.”

He glanced up at her. “Don’t go telling the gods that. They can be unpleasant to be around when jealous.”

She opened her mouth to reply, then her eyes dropped to the Siyee.

“He’s awake.”

Mirar looked down at the man, who was regarding them curiously.

“Good evening,” he said. “Auraya and I have cured you, but you will have to live in the first bower until the rest of the village is well. You will be tired for a day or two. Sleep and regain your strength.”

The man nodded weakly and closed his eyes again.

Auraya climbed to her feet. “I’ll help you carry our friend here back into the bower, then I must go.”

Together they lifted the man and carried him to the bower of cured Siyee. Auraya stepped outside again. Standing in the entrance, Mirar watched as she walked a little way from the bowers. She smiled at him once, then rose up into the air and disappeared into the night.

He sighed. She had started to see the potential in the Gift within moments of learning it. It would not be long before she returned with questions.

Imenja’s ship was bigger than the raiders.‘ It was a different shape, too. Reivan had explained to Imi that this ship had been built with a narrow hull so it would travel fast. Most ships were used to carry things to trade with, so they had wider hulls in which to store goods. This ship only had to carry them, a crew, and their supplies.

The entire ship was made of a black wood from a place in the southernmost part of the southern continent. The star shape that Imenja and Reivan wore had been painted in white on the hull. The sails were also black with a white star. Imi could imagine how formidable this large, narrow vessel would look to traders and raiders. She almost wished they would encounter the raiders that had captured her. Maybe Imenja would punish them with her magic.

Where there had been a large hole in the deck of the raider ship to allow access to stolen goods stored in the hull below, Imenja’s ship had a shallow depression which created a sort of low sitting area, covered by a kind of tent. There Imi, Imenja and Reivan slept or sheltered whenever it rained. The rest of the time they sat on deck and tried to keep out of the way of the crew. Imi had been inside the hull a few times. There was a bucket down there for bailing out water, but the ship was so well made it didn’t leak much. The time she’d spent in the raiders’ ship felt like a distant memory or a story she’d been told, though she occasionally had nightmares about it.

The hull was full of stores. It was half as full as it had been when they had set out a few months before. The food they ate was far better than what she’d been given as a prisoner, but not as good as what she’d enjoyed in the Sanctuary. Tonight the meat they had eaten had been too salty and there had been only dried fruit and nuts to go with it. She found herself daydreaming of dried sea grass rolled around fresh crawler meat and smiled at herself for craving what she had once considered boring food.

A crewman was clearing away the plates and utensils now. Imi looked up to see Imenja unrolling a large map. She had seen it before many times, but it always intrigued her. It was the way the world looked to a Siyee, yet it was useful to landwalkers.

The captain unrolled his own maps, which were covered in lines that made no sense to Imi, and weighed them down with various objects. Lamps within the tent swung back and forth to the swaying of the ship, throwing moving shadows over everything. The captain pointed to a place on his map, then to one on Imenja’s, and spoke.

Reivan glanced at Imi, then translated. “He says we’re about here, far enough from shore that we can no longer see it from the mast.”

“Could a boat be rowed to shore from here?” Imi asked the captain, with Reivan translating quietly.

“Yes, but it would take many hours. Worse if there are currents against us.”

“What is the risk of being seen?”

“Always high during the day.”

“And at night?” Reivan asked.

“The moon is near full,” he reminded them. “We won’t be able to see if there are any reefs closer to shore, either.”

“You don’t have to take me all the way in,” Imi told him as soon as Reivan had finished translating. “I can swim some of the way.”

They turned to regard her, each wearing a frown.

“Are you strong enough for that?” Reivan asked.

The captain said something in a warning voice.

“He says there might be sea predators. Spinerakes, which I think you call flarkes.”

Imi felt a rush of fear, but she straightened her back. “The only really dangerous sea creatures are flarkes and they like smaller prey. They’ll only attack people that are hurt, or if there’s no other food. If the Siyee see you they’ll try to kill you. That’s more of a risk for you than this is for me.”

As Reivan translated Imi’s words, the captain smiled crookedly. He looked at Imi with what she thought might be admiration.

“We have to hope there are Siyee on shore to find,” Reivan said.

“I only have to swim along it to find them. Getting back to you will be harder. How will I find you if the ship and the boat can’t be seen from shore?”

Imenja and Reivan exchanged a glance.

“We must agree on a time and place,” Reivan said. “We take Imi toward shore in the morning and pick her up at night.”

“How will I find you in the dark?” Imi asked, shivering as she considered what it would be like swimming in darkness. “I’d rather swim during the daylight.”

Imenja smiled. “Then we’ll take you at dawn and pick you up in the late afternoon instead,” she said. “If you don’t find Siyee that day, we’ll sail farther west the day after and try again.”

Imi nodded. “That will work.”

Reivan translated this for the captain, who nodded. He turned to a crewman waiting nearby and spoke. The man disappeared, then returned carrying a flask and some small, duck glasses. Imi struggled to stop herself grimacing. The drink served at the end of formal meals was too strong and sour for her, but she always made herself sip it for fear of causing offense. It did make her pleasantly sleepy, however, which was better than tossing and turning in the “tank” bed they had made for her in the hull. The tank kept her wet, but it wasn’t easy to relax in water that constantly moved with the ship.

Tonight she probably would lie awake, despite the drink, thinking of the adventure ahead. Would there be any Siyee on shore? Would they help her?

And what will we do if they don’t know where Borra is?

As Juran opened the door to his rooms, Dyara felt instantly on edge. Though he looked calm, there were lines on his face that only appeared when he was in great distress. He stepped aside and gestured for her to enter, saying nothing. Rian and Mairae were already there. Both looked bemused.

Sitting down, she waited as Juran paced the room slowly, clearly gathering his thoughts. She knew him better than the other White, but that was to be expected. They had worked together for seventy-six years. Every sign of his agitation worried her more, and it took all her self-control not to demand he hurry up and tell them what was bothering him.

“For the last few months Huan and I have been watching a... a certain individual,” he began. “We have been waiting for a sign that our suspicions about him are right, or not. Tonight we found that they were.”

“Who is this person?” Dyara asked.

Juran stopped pacing and looked at her. He took a deep breath and his expression hardened. “The man we have been watching is Mirar.”

Dyara stared at Juran in disbelief. The room was silent for several heartbeats.

“He’s dead,” Rian stated.

Juran shook his head slowly. “He isn’t. I do not know how it can be true, but it is.”

“You’re certain of this?” Dyara asked.

“We are now.”

“But you found his body.”

“We found a body that had been crushed. It was the right height, the hair coloring was correct, but nobody could have recognized his face. He wasn’t seen leaving the collapsed house, and plenty were watching.”

“But there was no way to prove the body belonged to Mirar,” Dyara finished.

“No.”

Mairae leaned forward in her seat. “How did you discover Mirar was alive?”

Juran sighed and moved to a chair. “I should explain how this all came about. Auraya discovered Mirar in Si a few months ago, though she didn’t know it was him of course. He was treating the Siyee and—”

“Does she know who he is?” Dyara interrupted, alarmed. “Is she safe?”

Juran smiled. “She does not know, but she is safe enough. Chaia is watching over her.”

“She thinks Mirar is an ordinary Dreamweaver,” Rian guessed.

“Yes.”

Dyara nodded to herself. Of course. Then a possibility occurred to her and she looked up at Juran, but his attention was on Rian.

“She asked him to teach her his method of healing,” Juran continued. “At first Huan forbade it, but recently she decided it was a risk worth taking in order to confirm our suspicions. There was little dangerous information he might learn from Auraya’s mind, but much for us to learn from his.”

“Wait,” Dyara interrupted. “Both Auraya and Huan can’t read his mind?”

Juran grimaced. “No. It is shielded.”

“No wonder you were suspicious of him,” Mairae said.

“Yet you encouraged her to learn from him?” Dyara added.

Juran met her eyes and nodded. “We had to know if my suspicions were correct. Today Mirar agreed to teach her. Huan and I linked with Auraya through the lesson... though she was not aware of it.”

Mairae drew in a quick breath. “Why didn’t you tell her what you were doing?”

“To learn the healing Gift she needed to link with Mirar. If she had suspected who he was, or knew that Huan and I were watching, Mirar might have learned of it.”

“If he could learn that from her, what else might he have learned?” Rian asked quietly.

“Nothing,” Juran assured him. “We were ready to break the link, but it wasn’t necessary. She kept her own mind well guarded. What Huan and I saw of his, however...” He shook his head. “While Auraya’s attention was on what she was learning, Huan and I saw glimpses of Mirar’s thoughts. At one point, while Auraya was distracted, he even considered what she would do if she learned he was really Mirar.”

Dyara’s mind was spinning with questions. How has

Mirar survived? Will Juran have to kill him all over again? Or will the gods have mercy on him and send me or Rian to do it? Or Auraya, since she is in Si.

Then she remembered the possibility that had occurred to her earlier. “Why would Mirar be teaching something like that to one of us? Why would he help or trust Auraya?”

Juran looked at her, the lines of sorrow deepening. “He knows her well and we know him. He is... he is Leiard.”

The room fell into a stunned silence. Dyara nodded with a bitter satisfaction. She had guessed right.

“Leiard!” Mairae exclaimed. “How is that possible? We’ve all met him. We’ve all read his mind. How did we not discover his real identity?”

Juran spread his hands. “I don’t know. If he can hide his mind from the gods, who knows what other Gifts he has? Perhaps he has gained the ability to hide his identity behind a false one.”

“But you know what he looks like,” Rian said. “Why didn’t you recognize him?”

“He did not look as he did when I knew him.” Juran sighed. “It has been a hundred years and my memory has faded.” He moved to a table and picked up a sheet of parchment. “After Mirar’s death nearly all of the statues or paintings of him were destroyed. I sent priests all around Northern Ithania to find what they could. This is a sketch of a carving found in the ruins of an old Dreamweaver house a few years ago.”

He handed the sketch to Dyara. As she saw the face she drew in a quick breath. The face was smoother and fuller than Leiard’s, and was beardless, but it was still recognizable. She handed the sketch to Rian, who scowled as he, too, identified the face.

Dyara leaned back in her chair and thought back to when Leiard had arrived in the city, and before. He had known Auraya as a child. He had sought her out once she became a White. She had made him Dreamweaver Adviser. As the implications of Mirar being in such a position of influence over Circlians occurred to her she groaned.

“How far back does it go?” she asked aloud. “Did he know she would become a White? Was it a coincidence or did he arrange for her to come here, his unwitting tool?”

Juran turned to stare at Dyara. “Surely not.”

“We must consider the possibility,” she said.

“I doubt he arranged it that way,” Rian said, “but when he heard what she had become he wouldn’t have been able to resist the chance to meddle. He followed her here to gain her confidence and her trust.”

“And her bed!” Dyara hissed. Anger filled her and she looked at Juran. “Truly he is the rogue you once knew. He used his influence over her to encourage acceptance of his people among Circlians.” She felt a bitter thrill of triumph. “But he went too far. Taking her to bed was a mistake. After it was discovered he went to Si, knowing she would return there. Now he’s seducing her all over again, using his magical knowledge as a lure.” She looked at Juran. He shook his head in denial, but whether it was at Mirar’s scheme or just the horror of the situation she couldn’t guess.

He began to pace again. “What you say may be true, Dyara, but it may not be, either. When I confronted Leiard about his affair with Auraya I searched his mind and saw nothing to indicate he was Mirar, or any great plans of working against us. What I saw was a man in love with Auraya. A hopeless, fearful love, but a real one. He couldn’t have invented that.”

“And she loves him,” Mairae murmured. “Or she did.”

“What she loved was a lie,” Rian pointed out.

“Then it is fortunate she doesn’t love him any more,” Dyara said. “Because she will have to kill him.”

The room fell silent again. Mairae’s eyes were wide with horror. She looked at Juran. “Surely not.”

“She is in Si,” Juran said wearily. “It would take months for any of us to reach him.”

“You can’t ask her to do that,” Mairae insisted. “Even if she knows he is not the man she once loved, it is too cruel to make her kill him.”

“When she learns who he is and how he has used her she will understand he cannot be allowed to live!” Rian said vehemently.

Dyara winced. She was inclined to agree with Mairae. “What do the gods want us to do?”

Juran smiled thinly. “They are deliberating.”

“If they ask, I am willing to do the deed in her stead,” Dyara said. “I agree with Mairae that it is a hard thing to ask of Auraya. There are other ways to do this. We may be able to use Auraya to lure him out of Si, for instance.”

Juran nodded. “I will suggest that. Thank you.”

The four of them fell silent then, all absorbed in this new revelation and its possible consequences. After a while Dyara stirred and looked around.

“We can only wait for the gods’ decision. Let’s return to our rooms and consult again tomorrow.”

As she stood up, Mairae and Rian followed suit. They filed out of the room silently. At the doorway Dyara looked back. Juran smiled grimly. She felt a pang of sympathy for him as she stepped outside. He would get no sleep tonight. Truly his ghosts had come back to haunt him.

He has never forgiven himself for killing Mirar, she thought. Now he knows he’s been feeling guilty for a hundred years for something he never did.

36

It had been many centuries since Emerahl had sailed up the Gulf of Sorrow. Sennon, with its deserts and drab towns, didn’t appeal to her. In her long life she had never left the continent of Northern Ithania except to visit the island nation of Somrey, which nowdays was considered part of Northern Ithania anyway.

If she had been sailing along the middle of the gulf, and the air had been less hazy, she might have been able to see both Northern and Southern Ithania at once, but the need to stop for supplies from time to time kept her close to the Sennon coast. She could have tried to buy food in Avven but she didn’t know what sort of reception she would receive on the southern continent, and knowing nothing of the local language would make trade difficult. Sennon, on the other hand, had barely changed from what she remembered. Even the language hadn’t altered that much in the few hundred years since she had last visited.

The horizon in every direction was hazy with dust, blown up by the wind that drove her boat east. Ahead was the Isthmus of Grya, a strip of land that divided the Gulf of Sorrow from the Gulf of Fire. A city, Diamyane, lay at the point where the Isthmus joined Sennon. There her sea journey would end.

She chewed her lip and patted the tiller. The little boat had taken her a long way in the last few months. It had weathered more than a few storms as well as the unusual strain of being lent speed by the occasional push of magic.

She was going to miss it. The only way to get a boat past the Isthmus was to pay someone to haul it across, and she doubted she had enough money for that. Once she sold her boat, she could join a trader caravan travelling east, or, if she could afford it, buy passage on a ship.

Pushing aside regret, she reminded herself that she had made this decision months ago and there was no point changing her mind. She could have sailed right around Southern Ithania, but that would have added months to the journey. She might also have sailed around the top of Northern Ithania, but that would have taken her past Jarime and she would prefer not to travel past a country the White ruled.

Mirar had warned her in a dream link that the Siyee were watching their coastline closely after the Pentadrians had landed and been sent away again months before. He had also warned her that Auraya was in Si. Passing by one White was better than passing by four, Emerahl had reasoned. She had taken plenty of supplies so she could avoid landing in Si. No flying white-clad sorceress had come to visit her, and the winds had been in her favor most of the way. Until now she hadn’t had reason to regret her choice.

Unnaturally regular shapes began to appear in the dusty haze ahead. As they emerged they revealed themselves to be buildings. Emerahl directed her vessel toward them. She did not hurry, prolonging the moment she had to give up the boat. All too soon she was drifting up to a mooring and tossing rope to the dock boys, who pulled her boat in close and bound it to the bollards with practiced speed. She climbed up onto dry land, dropped coins into their hands and asked where the boat haulers were.

They had set up a shop by the docks. As she walked in she sensed the hauler’s mood change to gleeful greed. Over several cups of a hot, bitter local beverage she convinced them that a woman could barter as well as a man, but while her senses told her she had forced them down to a reasonable price, it was still too high.

Next she sought a buyer for her boat and discovered that craft as small as hers weren’t in demand. The main use for boats here was to transport goods, and hers was too small for that. One man was prepared to pay her a paltry amount for the craft, however. She arranged to meet him later in the day so he could inspect the boat.

Hours had passed. She sought the local market to exchange some money for the local coin, the canar. There she bought food and a measure of kahr, the local liquor, then half-heartedly tried to sell her services as a healer. Several healers already working the market regarded her with hostile stares. She knew she would not be able to stay here untroubled for long. In Sennon all were free to live as they wished and worship who or what they wanted so long as they did not break any of the essential laws of the country. On her way to the market she had seen a Dreamweaver House and plenty of Dreamweavers. In Toren people had approached her for help; here they ignored her, clearly satisfied with the amount of local healing available.

So I must get their attention with better or less common products, she told herself.

“Cures for infertility,” she called to the crowd. “Removal of scars. Aphrodisiacs.”

A man and a woman turned to look at her. The woman carried a baby and the man was holding the hand of a small boy. They exchanged a glance and hurried toward her. Emerahl wondered which of the three services they wanted. They didn’t appear to need fertility treatment. They might want aphrodisiacs, but scar removal was just as likely.

“Are you Emmea, the healer who wishes to sell a boat?” the man asked, using the name she’d given the boat haulers. She had stopped using the name ‘Limma’ once she reached Sennon. Using a different name when she was on the other side of the continent made her less traceable.

Emerahl blinked in surprise, then nodded. “Yes. Do you wish to buy one?”

“No,” the man replied. “Let me introduce myself. I am Tarsheni Drayli and this is my wife Shalina. We wish to buy passage for us and our children.”

Disappointment followed his words. “Oh. I can’t help you. I’m not going west.”

The man smiled. “We do not wish to go west. We want to go east.”

“I still can’t help you,” she told them apologetically. “I can’t afford haulage.”

“Ah, but you do not have to buy haulage,” he told her. “There is a small tunnel through the Isthmus. It was opened a few years ago. Only small boats can go through. The fee is much less than haulage.”

“Is that so?” Nobody had told her about this tunnel, but it was not surprising that haulage sellers would neglect to tell her of it. “How much does it cost?”

“Twelve canar per boat,” the man said.

Emerahl nodded. She sensed no dishonesty from him. Twelve canar was still too much, however. She could manage it, but would have no money left to buy food - unless she did take these people east. She silently cursed herself for not pricing passage on a ship. She had no idea how much to charge these people.

“My offer is this,” the man said, forestalling her. “We will pay the fee to go through the tunnel. In return you will take us east to Karienne.”

Emerahl smiled. “That’s reasonable. Passage on a ship will cost a lot more than twelve canar.”

He nodded and she detected no emotions associated with deception from him - just hope.

She pursed her lips as she considered the deal. The man, Tarsheni, regarded her patiently.

“You must bring your own food and water. I have no money to pay for your basic necessities,” she warned.

“We will, of course,” Tarsheni replied.

“And while I don’t believe you have any plans of stealing my boat from me, I should warn you against coming up with any such ideas in the future. My Gifts are not inconsiderable.”

Tarsheni smiled. “You have nothing to fear from us.”

Emerahl nodded. “Likewise. I have one more question. What is the reason for this journey?”

The couple exchanged a glance and Emerahl sensed apprehension. She crossed her arms and stared at them expectantly. The man’s shoulders slumped.

“You may find this foolish,” he said. “We have heard of a man in Karienne who knows wise and wondrous things. We are travelling there to hear him speak.”

Emerahl sensed no dishonesty, but guessed they were withholding something.

“What is so special about this man?” she asked.

“He...” Tarsheni began.

“Are you Circlian?” his wife asked.

Emerahl regarded the woman - Shalina - with cautious surprise.

“No,” Emerahl admitted, hoping she had not just lost herself the deal.

“You’re not Pentadrian,” Shalina said, her shrewd eyes glittering. “Are you a heathen or a non-believer?”

Emerahl held the woman’s gaze. “Does this man you want to see follow one of the dead gods?”

Shalina shook her head.

“He says the gods were created by a greater being,” Tarsheni said. “Maybe he is wrong. That is what we are going there to find out.”

“I see,” Emerahl said. “What an interesting idea,” she added, genuinely intrigued. If the idea became popular, it might be the first new religion to manifest in millennia, if she did not count her own long-dead unscrupulous and unwanted Followers of The Hag.

“So,” she said, bringing her attention back to the family, “when do you want to leave?”

The couple grinned broadly.

“We have only to pay the boarding house and fetch our belongings,” Tarsheni told her. “And buy some food. How much should we purchase?”

Emerahl smiled. They were young and inexperienced travellers who were probably used to living comfortably. They would probably find the journey rough going. She had better make sure they were well-prepared.

“Take enough to last a few days - you can never be sure how long it will take to get to the next village. Take nothing perishable and make sure everything is well wrapped. It can be hot out on the sea and everything will get wet if a storm blows in. Have you got any oilskins? No? You had better take me back to the boarding house with you. I’ll look over what you’re bringing and tell you how to pack it. And you’ll need something for seasickness...”

Feeling more cheerful than she had all day, Emerahl led the family out of the market. She didn’t have to give up her boat, and she might even make a profit out of transporting this family to Karienne.

Six more Siyee were sick from Hearteater at Temple Mountain by the time Auraya returned, and another two Siyee had reported members of their families sickening since then. Auraya had used her new healing Gift many times already, but the Temple Mountain Siyee were less willing and able to keep separate from each other. There were already signs of re-infection.

At the same time, news had come of sick Siyee in tribes that had escaped the disease so far. She was all too aware that her efforts would be more effective in tribes that were less crowded and more cooperative, but she was determined to leave the Temple Mountain tribe in a better state than at present.

“This disease is determined to test every one of us,” Speaker Ryliss said resignedly as he topped up the oil heater.

“It will, if given the freedom to spread,” Auraya agreed.

“How can we stop it?”

“Send everyone who has recovered from the disease away.”

He frowned. “You said people could not catch the disease from those who had fully recovered from it. I’d be sending away people who are of no risk to others here.”

“Yet they take up too much space, preventing us from properly isolating the sick. If you sent away those who have not been ill, you risk that some of them may be sick and not showing symptoms yet.”

“But sending people away... is that necessary?”

“Your village is overcrowded,” she told him, not for the first time.

“No more than others, surely.”

“Most villages have reduced in size in the last year, having lost members in the war. Many of the Siyee here have moved to this tribe recently, haven’t they?”

Ryliss nodded. “Yes. They came here to learn about and serve the gods.”

She looked up at him in surprise. “Why didn’t they go to the priests in the Open?”

He shrugged. “They came here before the priests arrived. And... not meaning to give offense, but some Siyee feel they should learn Siyee ways of worshipping from other Siyee.”

She smiled. “I can understand that. Would it help if priests came here? Would the Watchers be willing to teach alongside landwalkers?”

“I will ask them.”

“Thank you.” Moving away from one patient, Auraya approached the next. “These newcomers are young and strong. Their bodies are fighting the disease.” She straightened and met his gaze. “So will you send some of the people here away?”

His face wrinkled with reluctance, but Auraya did not hear his answer. Another voice filled her mind.

:Auraya. Come to the Temple.

As abruptly as it had arrived, Huan’s presence flashed away. Ryliss was still talking. Still making excuses, she noted.

“I’m sorry, Speaker,” she interrupted. “I must leave you now. I have been summoned by Huan.”

His eyes widened. “Best not keep her waiting.”

“No.” She strode out of the room and into a corridor. The cave system was shallow, and she reached an opening to the air in a few moments. She glanced upward, making sure no other Siyee was about to leap from an opening in the cliff face above and collide with her, then concentrated on her sense of the world and propelled herself toward the closest mountains.

Wind buffeted her face, cool and pleasant. As she drew closer she was able to make out the Temple. Though she had seen it several times now, she always felt wonder at the sight of the small structure carved out of the mountain peak. How it had been made was a mystery. Ryliss had told her it was far older than the Siyee race. Whoever had made it must have been either a talented climber or capable of flight. Why they had done it was an even greater mystery.

Five columns supported a domed roof. Auraya landed in the center of the circular floor. She took a deep breath and looked around, her heart beating quickly with anticipation. Though she had grown used to Chaia’s company, the prospect of being in the presence of the other gods was still both thrilling and daunting.

:Huan, I am here, she called.

Auraya concentrated on her sense of the magic around her. She felt a presence approaching at a rapid speed. The magic in the world roiled in its wake and she had to resist an instinctive urge to back away. It stopped abruptly just a few steps from her and the air about it began to glow. The light formed the figure of a woman, her expression stern. Auraya prostrated herself.

:Rise, Auraya, Huan said. We have a task for you.

“What must I do?” Auraya rose to face the goddess.

:We have discovered a great mistake, made long ago. You must correct it - but be warned: it will not be easy or pleasant. We have discovered that an enemy we believed long dead is alive. Not only does he still live, but he has been meddling in the affairs of the world.

Auraya’s heart skipped as she realized who this enemy must be. “Kuar! But how did he survive? How am I to defeat him?”

:It is not Kuar. If Kuar had survived we would not set you against him. He was more powerful than you. This is a lesser enemy and an older one. Juran was the last to face him. His name is Mirar.

Auraya stared at Huan in astonishment.

“Mirar? How can this be?” Then she realized what the gods wanted her to do and felt her heart sink. Oh, Leiard. Will you ever forgive me?

:He won’t, Huan told her. Leiard is Mirar.

“Leiard?” Auraya exclaimed. For a moment she could not think. Then she laughed in disbelief. “That can’t be. I’ve seen his mind. Well, I did before he—”

:Mirar is Leiard. He deceived us. He deceived the White and, worst of all, he tricked and used you. We are not sure how he managed to hide behind the persona of Leiard, but we are certain of his true identity. When you linked with him to learn his healing Gift, I saw the truth.

“You were there...?”

:Yes.

Auraya shook her head in disbelief. She had caught glimpses of Leiard’s thoughts during the link. None of what she had seen had revealed anything but healing knowledge.

:While you were distracted he let his guard down, believing he was safe.

She searched her memories of Leiard. First she recalled him as he had been when he had lived in the forest near her village, teaching her about cures and the world. Had there been any sign that he was really Mirar? She couldn’t recall any.

Next she considered the man who had been her adviser in Jarime. He had been so uncomfortable in the Temple. She had assumed any Dreamweaver would be. Was his fear of all things Circlian an indication of his true identity? He had overcome that fear and become Dreamweaver Adviser. It hadn’t been his idea, however; it had been hers. Dreamweavers had benefited from his work, but there was nothing unusual or wrong in that. Any Dreamweaver would have aimed to do the same.

Unless he had somehow used his position to gain other advantages without her knowledge...

:You are not seeing the depth of his deception, Auraya. Leiard does not exist. He never did. The man you knew was an invention designed to manipulate you.

Auraya frowned. She was looking for something unusual in Leiard’s behavior. She should consider what Mirar’s behavior had been. If he had set out to deceive her by inventing Leiard, he had succeeded. He had gained her friendship and trust, then her love. She thought of the dream links, the declarations of love, the promises. None of it had been real. She shivered. She had... done things with a man she didn’t really know, whose intentions couldn’t have been good for her, the gods or Circlians.

What was Mirar’s real intention, then? Did Juran ruin his plans by discovering our affair and sending him away? Did Mirar come to Si hoping to encounter me and resume our affair?

As the possibilities occurred to her she felt a rising anger. I was willing to risk so much for Leiard! But I saw that he had changed, she realized. When we linked so he could teach me, I sensed a difference. What did he say again? “I am not the person I was.”

:Now you do see the truth, Huan said. It will cause you pain. We wish that it were not so. Better that this mistake had never been made. Hold on to your anger. You will need it to do what must be done. The other White are too far away to act. You are close, and have the advantage of surprise. He will not expect you to be the one to execute him.

“Execute him?” Auraya went cold to the bone.

:Yes. You hesitate to kill. That is good; we would be disappointed in you if you did not. But he must die - properly this time. I will guide you.

“When?”

:Now.

“But the Siyee...?”

:It will not take you long, Auraya.

“Oh.” She felt strangely disoriented. I’m not going to have time to get used to this, am I? I’ll have to sort out what it all means afterward.

:Yes. You must not let anything distract you, Huan warned. He is strong. It will be difficult. He will try to manipulate you. He will try everything to stop you.

Of course he will, she thought. I doubt he wants to die.

:I will guide you. Go, Auraya. Find him.

37

The breath of the rowers misted in the air, yet Imi was warm. She had wondered at first why Imenja was not heating the air around the crew with her magic, but then as she noticed sweat glistening on their brows she realized that they were hot enough already from their exertions. If they’d been inside Imenja’s area of warmth they’d have been uncomfortable.

Clouds were visible at the horizon to one side. They muted the light of the coming dawn. The sea, the boat, even the tanned faces of the rowers were an unhealthy gray. All color seemed to have been leeched from the world.

The coast was a dark mountainous line emerging from the night sky, separated from the dark water by a band of pale sand. Imenja turned to Imi. Her eyes were steady and she did not smile as she placed a hand on Imi’s shoulder.

“This is as far as we can come without risking being seen,” she said. “Are we close enough to shore?”

Imi nodded. “I think so.”

“Don’t take unnecessary risks.”

“I won’t.”

“We’ll return here this afternoon. Good luck.”

Imi smiled. “I’ll see you then.”

She moved to the side of the boat. It was rocking too much with the waves for her to leap off into the water safely. She decided the best way to get into the water would be to sit on the edge, move her legs over, then drop from there when the boat tipped her way.

It worked well enough, though it was hardly an elegant exit for a princess. The water was deliciously cold. Taking a deep breath, she dove under the surface and started swimming toward the coast.

The distance had looked small from the boat but it took longer than she expected to get to shore. The water was murky and the pre-dawn light was still too faint to reveal much below the surface anyway. Imi had rarely been in such an open place, and never alone. She could easily imagine something emerging from the gloom around her. Something large and ponderous. Or maybe something smaller and quicker like a flarke, seen only a moment before it attacked.

She felt on the brink of a shiver, like the feeling that she had sometimes when she felt she would sneeze soon, but never did.

Suddenly the water lightened. She surfaced, expecting to find the sun had risen, but nothing had changed. The beach lay ahead, now forming an arc around a shallow bay. Looking down again, she realized that she could see the pale sea floor beneath her. She swam on.

Soon the water around her began to push and pull. It roiled above her, curling and twisting. She had heard of surf before, but had never tried to swim in it. A water dancer had told her about it once. He’d said you could ride the waves, if you knew how. Swimming up one of them, she sought the right part to ride. She knew she had found it when she felt the force of the wave catch and propel her forward.

The wave’s rush was exhilarating and ended too soon. She found sand under her feet and stood up. Looking back, she considered swimming out to ride another wave.

No, I must start looking for Siyee. I don’t know how long it will take to find them.

Wading out of the water, she continued up the sand to where the grasses began. The sun finally emerged in the gap between cloud and horizon, bathing all in golden light. She climbed a dune and found more dunes beyond, stretching out as far as she could see.

The Elai traders who had told her stories about the Siyee had said the winged people lived in strange houses that looked like half-buried bubbles. She doubted those traders would have travelled far from the water for fear of drying out, so she was hoping the Siyee houses would be visible from the beach. She began walking along the shore, following the wide arc of the bay to a rocky point, then around to a larger bay. After a while she grew thirsty and drank from the flask Imenja had given her. Though the sun was covered by cloud and the air filled with mist from the surf, Imi eventually felt her skin becoming uncomfortably dry. She returned to the water and swam parallel to the beach.

I could walk for hours before finding any Siyee, she thought. Maybe I should swim instead, stopping in the middle of every bay to look for Siyee. That way I won’t dry out and I can ride the waves in each time.

For the next few hours she swam along the coast. Gradually the spit of land between each bay became rockier. She gave the water around these points a wide berth. Seeing the waves crashing against the rocks, she knew if she swam too close they might throw her against the rocks as well.

Otherwise, there was little variation between one bay and the next. The clouds kept a jealous veil over the sun, but she felt the day growing older. Stopping to survey yet another stretch of grassy dunes, she sighed and shook her head.

I’m going to have to turn around soon or it’ll be dark before I get back to the place Imenja left me. She frowned, then felt a stab of panic. How am I going to recognize the bay?

The wind whistled and fluttered around her. She looked up... and jumped as she saw the figures circling above.

Siyee!

They looked just as the traders had described them. Though small, she could tell these two were adult men. One had gray hair while the other was younger. She felt her heart lift and waved her hands in what she hoped they’d interpret as a friendly, beckoning gesture.

The two Siyee circled lower and landed in a spray of sand. They straightened and regarded her with both caution and curiosity.

“Greetings, sea lady,” the older of the Siyee said slowly in the Elai tongue. “I am Tyrli, Speaker of the Sand tribe. My companion is my grandson, Riz.”

“Greetings, people of the sky,” she replied. “Please forgive me for trespassing uninvited in your land. I am Yli, daughter of hunter Sei.”

Imenja had warned her against telling the Siyee she was a princess. They wouldn’t want to let her go home alone. If she couldn’t go back to the ship she would have to wait until the next group of Elai traders arrived. She might have to anyway, if the Siyee could not tell her where Borra was, but it would be so much nicer if her father had a chance to meet Imenja and Reivan.

The man smiled. “You are forgiven, sea lady. May I ask you why you are here alone?”

She bowed her head. “I am lost,” she admitted. “It is my own fault. I slipped away when my elders were not looking. Raiders caught me, but I escaped. Now I find I do not know the way home. I’ve never travelled this far before. I hoped to find Siyee who could tell me.” It was the truth - or close enough. She saw sympathy in the Siyee’s faces.

“You are lucky,” Tyrli said. “Lucky the raiders didn’t kill you and lucky you escaped.”

“The White should do something about them,” the young man said, scowling.

“You are also lucky to find us,” Tyrli continued. “We are a few hours’ flight from our village, patrolling the coast for Pentadrian invaders. It would have taken you days to reach our tribe.”

“Do you know where Borra is?”

“I can give you rough directions.”

She sighed with relief. “Then I am lucky indeed.”

He chuckled. “You must be tired and hungry. We have made camp not far from here. Come and eat with us. You can rest in safety tonight and begin your journey home tomorrow.”

“I’d love to but I have to get back to—” She stopped as she realized she could not tell him she needed to return to meet Imenja. She could think of no good reason why she must swim back along the coast again.

He smiled at her warmly. “You’re anxious to get home. I understand that, but your home is still many days’ swim from here and it will be dark soon. Stay with us tonight.”

Perhaps she could slip away after they told her where her home was. Forcing a smile onto her face, Imi nodded. “Yes. I will. Thank you.”

He gestured for her to walk beside him along the beach. Glancing out to sea, she fought a rising panic.

Imenja is going to be so worried when I don’t return to the boat, but what can I do? If I press Tyrli to give me directions now he might get suspicious. She chewed on her lip. But if I don’t meet Imenja, she might come to shore to look for me.

Tyrli patted her on the arm. “Don’t worry,” he assured her. “We’ll help you get home.”

As Auraya neared the Blue Lake tribe’s village she slowed and felt her anger fade a little. Siyee were everywhere - in the village, fields, and, of course, the bowers where the sick were treated. It was too easy to imagine how confused and frightened they’d be if they saw her attack the Dreamweaver who was helping them.

:Huan, she said. The goddess had remained close, though silent.

:I am here, the goddess replied. Ah, I see your concern. It would be better to avoid disturbing the Siyee. Find a way to lure Mirar away from the village.

Auraya’s relief was short-lived. He would not leave the sick Siyee and the village unless she gave him reason to. If she faced him he might somehow detect that something was wrong. Could she ask someone else to take him a message? What should it say?

Only that I want to meet him privately, she thought. She felt ill as she realized he might interpret that as an invitation to resume their affair. It seems unfair, but so was deceiving me into believing he was someone else. At that thought, anger flared again.

Concentrating on the minds below, she located Speaker Dylli inside his bower. She dropped to the ground beside the entrance.

“Speaker Dylli,” she called.

“Auraya of the White?” he responded. She heard him coming to the door.

“Yes,” she replied. As the hanging door opened, she smiled. “Could you have a message delivered to Wilar for me?”

He nodded. “Of course, but I cannot tell you when it will reach him. He left a few days ago to gather ingredients for his cures. Tyve is here. Can he help you?”

“No.”

Mirar has gone. She felt a rush of emotion and found that it was relief. I don’t want to kill him, she realized. Even though he deserves it. I just don’t like having to kill. Maybe I won’t have to. He’ll slip out of Si and it will be up to Juran to hunt him down. But as soon as the thought came she knew she would not avoid the task so easily. “Do you know where he was heading?” she made herself ask Dylli.

He shook his head.

Auraya nodded. “He can’t have gone far. I will just have to fly around until I find him.”

The Speaker smiled. “Good luck, Auraya of the White.”

“Thank you.”

She propelled herself straight up into the sky and considered the village and surrounding lakes and forest. When the Siyee searched for animals to hunt they often flew in ever widening circles. She would try this, at the same time searching the thoughts of anyone who might have seen, or be watching, Mirar.

Searching gave her time to think. She considered everything Huan had told her. The goddess had detected Mirar through Auraya’s link with him. Strange that she didn’t tell me at the time, she thought. It’s also a little strange that Chaia hasn’t spoken of it. Perhaps he doesn’t want to sour our relationship by making it obvious that he wants me to kill my former lover.

She considered her reluctance to kill Mirar. It is because I haven’t fully comprehended that he is not Leiard, she told herself. It is all too incredible. I don’t have time to sit and think about it, however. I must trust that what Huan tells me is true. Perhaps it would be easier if I knew why Mirar did it, she thought. I wonder if I can trick him into revealing his plans to me.

:You would be unwise to believe anything he told you, Huan warned. A true villain does not gloat about his achievements or plans except to deceive. Accept that some questions will remain unanswered.

Auraya sighed. Why me? she found herself asking. Why did he target me? He would never have deceived the other White so easily. I am a fool!

:No, Auraya. We do not choose fools to be our representatives. If we could not see through the deception, we could hardly expect you to. That is why he must die. His abilities and his hatred of us make him dangerous to mortals.

Auraya winced. His abilities included an extraordinary healing Gift - a Gift he had taught to her, that had saved many hundreds of Siyee. Why would he do that? Was there a hidden trap in it that might cause her or her patients harm? Teaching her had led to his discovery. Had he known this was a risk?

A movement caught her eye below the foliage of the tall trees. She slowed and felt a chill run over her skin as she caught a glimpse of a Dreamweaver robe. Mirar was following a stream that flowed down a narrow ravine, carrying his bag and a heavy coil of rope.

Suddenly her heart was racing.

:Don’t be afraid, Huan told her. We made you strong enough to defeat Wilds.

:I do not doubt that, Auraya replied.

:Yet you fear. He can only harm you with words. Hold in your mind the knowledge of his deceit. Silence his lies forever.

Taking a deep breath, Auraya drew up all her anger and determination. He is not Leiard; he is Mirar. Then another thought shot through her mind. The Dreamweavers don’t deserve to have their future and reputation ruined by this man.

Auraya dropped down through the trees. She landed a few paces in front of him. As he looked up at her his eyes widened in surprise.

“Auraya,” he said.

Then he smiled. It was such an easy, familiar smile. From somewhere deep rose all the indignation and anger she ought to have been feeling. She embraced it and felt it strengthen her resolve.

“Mirar,” she replied coolly.

At the look of realization in his eyes she felt all lingering hope that Huan was wrong the. His smile faded. They stared at each other for a long moment.

“So you know,” he said.

“Yes. You’re not denying it.”

“Would it do me any good?”

“No. Huan saw who you were during your healing lesson.”

“Oh.” He grimaced.

Suddenly she felt empty. She had hoped the gods were mistaken, that Leiard would come up with a plausible explanation and prove that he was not Mirar. But he had all but admitted it. He was not Leiard. The person she had loved had only existed as an illusion, a lie.

To her surprise the realization brought a wave of relief. She did not know this man. He was only the trickster sorcerer of legend, a man the world was once rid of and should be again.

I can kill him, she told herself. But instead of gathering magic to strike, she found herself blurting out a question.

“Why did you do it?”

His chin lifted. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

The challenge in his eyes sent a chill of warning down her spine. “No, because there is no way I can know if anything you say is true.”

Huan is right. My questions can only remain unanswered. Suddenly she wanted only to get it done and over with.

:Good, Huan said. Further talk will only leave you vulnerable to trickery. Attack him now.

Auraya looked down as she drew magic to herself. As she did she considered how she should attack. He would have created a shield, but it might not be strong enough for an attack of great power. If he wasn’t able to strengthen his shield in time it could be all over in moments. She heard him take a few footsteps closer to her.

“There is a way you can know—” he began.

Without looking up, she let loose a bolt of power. He gave a yelp of surprise and staggered backward. His shield held.

“Wait...” he exclaimed, catching his balance. “Auraya!”

She attacked again. Though she now knew who he really was, she could not help feeling surprise at his strength. She had known Leiard was powerful, but not this powerful.

“What of your promise?” he half-shouted at her. “You said I would not be harmed. You swore on the gods!”

She paused, then battered him with magic again.

“I swore that Leiard would not be harmed. You are not Leiard.”

He wasn’t fighting back. He must know he has no chance of winning, she thought. I have only to increase the strength of my attack until it overwhelms him. As she drew in more magic his expression changed to one of determination and she braced herself for a counter attack.

“But I am Leiard,” he said quietly. “It is time you knew the truth.”

Where there had been nothing suddenly there was a mind. She saw a flood of memories and images and felt intentions and emotions.

:No! Huan hissed. Don’t look!

It was too late. The answers to all Auraya’s questions were there for her to see. Mirar’s mental voice spoke to her and she could not stop herself listening.

:This is how I died...

She saw Juran fighting and felt Mirar’s disbelief and betrayal as his strength failed. He reviewed all he had done and could not see how any of it justified his execution. His only crime had been to annoy the gods. Nobody had died. Nobody had been harmed. He’d only encouraged people to question and offered them a choice. And in return...

She saw a great explosion of dust and stone and felt an echo of the agony of being crushed. She understood that Mirar had reached out for enough magic to sustain a fragment of himself, and how he had evaded the gods and Juran by suppressing his personality and creating another to replace it.

:This is what I became.

Not the man she had known as Leiard. Not at first. His body twisted and scarred, his memory gone, he had roamed the world a miserable cripple. Only after many years did his body recover. Only when he came to Jarime and became Dreamweaver Adviser did his true identity begin to stir.

:This is why I remembered.

His disguise had unravelled because of her. His instincts, created when he’d made Leiard, told him to stay away from Jarime, but the desire to stay near her was stronger. She felt her heart twist. Leiard had loved her. She had not been deceived. But Leiard was not real.

:He is. This is what I have become.

She saw what she had only glimpsed before. The link memories of Mirar were his real self returning, but Leiard had spent a century becoming a real person. After the battle he had travelled to Si with a friend. Glimpsing this beautiful young woman, Auraya felt a stab of jealousy. Who is she? The friend had helped him realize that Leiard could not be anything that Mirar was not capable of being. Accepting that if Leiard loved Auraya then he must too had been the moment he had become whole again. Knowing he could not be with her hurt, but so did the thought that he might cause her trouble, so he intended to leave Northern Ithania when the Siyee had recovered and to take himself far away.

:I am Leiard, Mirar said. I am also Mirar. Neither of us are the same as we once were. But what we—

:No! Auraya started as Huan’s voice drowned out Mirar’s. A glowing figure flared into existence beside her. Whatever you have been this last century, you are no less guilty of the crimes you committed.

:What crimes? he asked defiantly. Being annoying? Giving people an option other than worshipping you blindly? Telling them the truth about your past? You and your companions are guilty of far worse crimes than I.

Auraya frowned as she glimpsed terrible memories in Mirar’s mind. He glanced at her as he pushed them aside.

:I would show you, he said, but to do so would cause you great pain.

Yet from what she had seen she knew that he believed the gods were capable of cruelty and injustice. He also believed he had done nothing to deserve death.

She also knew he had done nothing to her or the White out of spite or malicious intent. He had been bumbling about, struggling with the return of his true identity, and getting himself into strife.

:Auraya.

She turned to the goddess, numb from shock at all she had learned.

:Is it a crime to deny a soul immortality? Mirar claims he offered mortals a choice, but he cannot offer them an existence after death. To lure a mortal away from us is to cheat them of eternity. You know this.

Mirar shook his head.

:Some would prefer that, rather than an eternity chained to your side. I might not be able to preserve their souls, but I also cannot use that end as a reward or punishment. Perhaps I should show Auraya some of the things you have done—

:Things I did in the distant past. The Age of the Many ended long ago, Huan declared, her head high. The excesses of that time are forgotten. Even you must acknowledge that we, the Circle, have created a peaceful, prosperous world in the last century.

Mirar paused.

:You have, he admitted. But if your past can be forgotten, then why not mine?

Auraya felt a smile pulling at her lips. He had a point.

Then the glowing figure that was Huan suddenly flared brightly.

:Because you continue to work against us, immortal. See, Auraya, how he turns our words against us! She turned and walked toward Auraya. He has befuddled you with twisted truths and hidden lies. Give over your will to me.

Auraya’s heart stopped. Give over her will... Huan meant to possess her? She took a step back as the goddess drew close. Instead of colliding with her, the glowing figure passed through her. She found herself surrounded by light.

:Give over your will, Huan commanded.

Mirar was staring at her. Different expressions crossed his face: first horror, then fear, then resignation.

:I must do as she says, she told herself. I must.

It would be so easy to just give over the responsibility for Mirar’s death to the goddess. It wouldn’t matter that killing him was... was...

Unjust. Unfair. He had done things she did not approve of, but nothing deserving of death. Circlians did not execute people without good cause - at least not the law-abiding ones. There were alternative punishments for minor crimes. Imprisonment. Exile.

:Obey me, Auraya.

She put her hands to her face and groaned.

:I can’t. This goes against the laws that you laid down, and that you gave us the responsibility to uphold and refine. Killing without just cause is murder. I can’t kill Mirar. I can’t allow him to be murdered.

She waited for Huan’s reply, but none came.

“Auraya?”

Taking her hands from her face, she looked at the man standing before her. Whether Leiard or Mirar, he had brought her more trouble than anything else in the world. She wanted him gone. “Go,” she found herself saying. “Leave Northern Ithania before I change my mind - and never come back.”

:Auraya! Huan’s voice boomed. Do not defy me!

As Mirar hurried away, his boots splashing in the stream, she felt her knees weaken. She sank to the ground, feeling ill and desolate and yet also a bitter and disturbing satisfaction.

If I just made the right just choice, then why do I feel so bad? She shook her head. Because I just disobeyed one of the gods and for a moment there I was proud of it.

And Huan can’t have failed to notice.

38

The Drayli family had so much luggage with them that Emerahl suspected they’d brought every possession they owned apart from their home. They had been dismayed to learn they would have to sell or throw away at least half of it.

“My boat is small,” she had reminded them. “Not only will there be no room for you if we pack all this in, she’ll probably lie so low in the water that the slightest wave will flood the boat, and you’ll lose everything. Can you swim? I hadn’t thought to ask until now.”

Shalina had turned white, which told Emerahl her question had had the desired effect.

“They are only things,” Tarsheni said quietly to his wife. “Possessions. We can’t let mere objects get in the way of our search for the true deity.”

The sorting out of their belongings had taken a frustratingly long time, then Emerahl had to accompany the family to the market to watch over the selling of them. Their friendly innocence and generosity made up for their expectation that she would help them in all matters. When the afternoon grew old, Tarsheni had insisted he pay for a meal and a room for her at the boarding house. They did not want to search for the tunnel in the dark, concerned that their children would be frightened.

Now, as she watched them climb tentatively into her boat, she found herself worrying how they would cope with a sea journey. She sensed determination and excitement from both adults and curiosity from their son. The baby was blissfully unaware of the adventure his family was undertaking. They gazed at the other water craft as Emerahl guided her boat out of the docks.

Leaning forward, she gave Shalina a small bottle.

“What is this?” the woman asked.

“It is for seasickness,” Emerahl told her. “Take one capful each and a third for the boy. Give the babe a drop mixed with some water and let me know if she starts to redden.”

“I don’t feel sick at all,” Tarsheni said. “I don’t think I’ll need it.”

“You will when we get out into the waves. The cure takes some time to work and isn’t as effective after you get sick, so best take it now.”

They did as she said. Once free of the docks, Emerahl directed the boat in line with the Isthmus. The boy began asking his parents a flood of questions about sea-related matters. Emerahl resisted smiling at some of their answers.

“How are you moving us?” Tarsheni said suddenly. “The sail is down and you’re not rowing.”

“Magic,” Emerahl told him.

His eyebrows rose. “A useful Gift for a sailor.”

She laughed. “Yes. One tends to learn and practice what is useful to one’s trade. Do you have any Gifts?”

He shrugged. “A few. I am a scribe, as all my ancestors were. We pass down Gifts used for preparing parchment and ink, sharpening tools, and to defend ourselves.”

“Defend yourself?”

“Sometimes the letters we deliver are not well-received, even if we did not dictate them.”

Emerahl chuckled. “Yes, I imagine that would happen occasionally.”

“I hope to write down the words of the wise man of Karienne.”

“You seem to know a lot about him already,” she said. His quiet enthusiasm had impressed many at the boarding house the previous night. Emerahl had almost expected to find a string of boats following her to the tunnel today.

“Only what I have been told by others who have listened to him,” he admitted. “Sometimes what is said is contradictory. If his words are written down, none can alter his meaning.”

“In theory. Others might alter your work later.”

He sighed and nodded. “That is possible. If there were a Gift I could use to prevent it, I would dedicate my life to learning it.”

“You said last night that this god created the world, the gods, all creatures and every person. If it created humans, and they are capable of cruelty and murder, then it must either have intended that to be so, or made a mistake.”

Tarsheni grimaced. “That is a question I wish to pose to this wise man.”

“If it wasn’t a mistake, I don’t think I’d like this... Is that the runnel, do you think?”

Emerahl felt the boat shift slightly as the family turned to follow her gaze. She had seen a fold in the steep side of the Isthmus ahead. As they drew closer she noted a path running down to the gap.

“It looks like it,” Tarsheni answered.

“Yes,” Emerahl agreed. “No - don’t bring that into sight yet,” she added as he drew out his purse. “Let’s see what we find here first.”

He looked anxiously toward the tunnel. “Do you think it is a trap?”

“Just being cautious.”

The fold deepened, and as they reached it they could see lamps hanging from the walls on both sides of a tunnel and a half-circle of light at the other end. The walls were supported by brickwork, which looked like it had been recently repaired at the entrance. In what Emerahl guessed was the center, a large metal gate filled the gap. The path became a ledge that ran along one side of the tunnel.

She could see figures ahead and sense interest as they noticed her boat entering. Her skin pricked as their interest changed to greed and anticipation.

“How did you find out about this tunnel, Tarsheni?”

“A man told us about it. He said he could sail us north in exchange for the fee to get through the tunnel.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“We didn’t like the look of him.”

“Hmm. It seems to me that this tunnel ought to be busier or there’d be no profit in making and manning it.”

“Perhaps it is too early in the day.”

“Hmm.”

She considered who might use the tunnel. Fishermen could find it useful, but the tunnel was too small for any craft except little boats like hers. Only travellers like herself, alone or with a few others, would seek out the tunnel.

“What else did he say about the tunnel?”

Tarsheni shrugged. “That there used to be many tunnels through the Isthmus, most carved by smugglers, but people began to worry that they’d collapse and the Isthmus would be washed away by the sea. They had them filled in.”

Emerahl thought of the repairs to the brickwork around the entrance. Had this tunnel been blocked, then recently reopened?

“Did he say if anyone objected to this tunnel being reopened?”

“No,” Tarsheni replied. He paused. “It’s not likely to collapse, is it?”

Emerahl looked at the arched ceiling. “It looks solid enough.”

As they neared the gate, Emerahl saw four men standing on the ledge. Their expressions reflected the avarice that spilled from their minds. Drawing a little magic, Emerahl created a defensive shield around the boat. She guided the vessel to a stop before the gate then met the eyes of each of the four men in turn.

“Greetings, gatekeepers. My passengers and I wish to buy passage.”

A large man with missing teeth hooked his hands in his belt and grinned at her.

“Gree’ings, lady. Thi‘ your boat?”

“Yes.”

“No‘ of’n we ged women sailors.”

The other men moved forward, peering down at the family and their belongings. One started to step off the ledge down into her boat. The man’s knee rammed against her barrier. He cursed in pain and stumbled backward.

“I don’t allow anyone onto my boat uninvited,” Emerahl said, turning to regard the toothless man again.

He narrowed his eyes. “You be’er invi’e us, den, or you won‘ be going frough.”

“You don’t need to come aboard,” she told him firmly.

The toothless man puffed out his chest. “So you go‘ Gifs. Ameri here has doo.” He gestured to one of the men, a thin, sour-faced young man. She nodded to him with feigned politeness and turned back to the toothless man.

“How about you reduce the fee to ten canar and I leave the gate standing?”

She realized she was hoping for a refusal. They probably did this to travellers all the time. While she couldn’t put a stop to it completely without delaying her journey, it would be satisfying to ruin their little scheme - for a while at least.

The man’s eyes narrowed. “Ameri,” he said, without taking his eyes from Emerahl. “Make dem coopera’e.”

The thin man extended a hand toward her and made a dramatic and ridiculous-looking gesture. Magic splattered off her shield. He was stronger than the average man or woman and his attack would have hurt or even killed most travellers. She glared at him, no longer amused by the situation.

When he stopped she blasted him and his companions with a force that slammed them against the wall and held them there. She turned to the gate and sent a wave of heat out. Soon it began to glow and warp. As bits of molten metal fell into the water, hot steam filled the tunnel. Her shield protected her boat, but the men began to scream. Releasing them, she let them flee back down the tunnel.

As the last of the gate sank into the water, Emerahl moved the boat forward, taking care not to bump it against the glowing walls of the tunnel. Only when it had emerged from the other end did she relax and turn to regard her passengers.

They were staring at her in amazement.

She shrugged. “I told you: my Gifts are not inconsiderable. And I don’t have much sympathy for thieves.”

Auraya moved from sling bed to sling bed, examining the Siyee yet again. Two of the sick were fighting Hearteater effectively, the other two were struggling. She did not want to use Mirar’s healing Gift on them until she was sure they wouldn’t defeat the disease by themselves.

I’m calling it “Mirar’s healing Gift” now, she thought. Not Leiard’s. I suppose Mirar has been using it for hundreds, even thousands, of years. It is his more than Leiard’s.

Tyve watched her, his thoughts full of curiosity and worry. She could not make herself stop moving. She could only pace from bower to bower, trying to find a distraction to stop her thinking about what she had done.

I disobeyed Huan. I disobeyed the gods I’m sworn to serve.

The alternative had been to kill a man who did not deserve it. That should not matter. I should trust the gods have reason to want him dead. Juran did, long ago.

Instead of reassuring her, that thought only brought her more discomfort. I can’t believe Juran tried to kill Mirar without being sure it was justified. Though she knew it was his duty to do as the gods wished, she found she thought less of him for doing so. I wonder if he knows what has happened...

One of the Siyee woke and asked for water. Tyve did not stir as she rushed to take a bowl to the woman. As she held it to the woman’s lips a terrible feeling of dread welled up in her and she froze.

A familiar presence was moving toward her. Auraya let out a gasp of relief as she recognized Chaia.

:Auraya, he said.

:Chaia!

:I can see I don’t need to tell you that you’re in trouble, he said. His words were spoken lightly, but she sensed a deeper concern.

:No, she said.

A hand touched hers. She looked up, startled, to find Tyve taking the bowl away from her. He waved her away from the patient. Auraya moved toward the bower entrance.

:Why did I do it? she asked Chaia. Or why didn’t I do it?

:You have a conscience, he told her. You need to know your actions are justified. To you, being just and right is more important than obedience. It is a part of your nature I like. Unfortunately my view is not shared by the others.

:By all of the others, or just Huan?

:We vary in our opinions, but are united in our decisions, Auraya. It is not for you to know our individual views.

She stepped outside. The sunlight was too bright. She headed for the shade.

:You and the other gods must have known it was part of my nature. Why did you choose me to be a White?

:Because the White cannot all be the same. You each have strengths and weaknesses. When you work together your weaknesses are lessened and your strengths enhanced. Your own weakness - your compassion - is your strength. A leader who can kill without question is unlikely to have the empathy and compassion needed to negotiate mutually beneficial alliances and help other people resolve their differences.

:Then why did Huan choose me for this task?

:I’m afraid you are the wrong White in the wrong place at the wrong time. You should not be the one executing Mirar - and not just because you were once in love with a part of him.

Auraya felt a spark of hope.

:Am I forgiven, then?

:Not quite, Chaia replied. Some of us believe that the White must be obedient, no matter what is in their nature. If the White have different natures, then they are bound to disagree at times. When conflict happens they must look to us for a resolution. They must obey us, or their unity will be broken.

Auraya felt her stomach sink.

:Huan still wants me to murder Mirar.

:Execute, not murder.

As her hopes were smothered she was surprised to find anger stirring.

:And if I refuse again? she found herself asking.

:You will be punished. To what degree I cannot guess. It took me some time to persuade the others to give you a second chance. I also insisted that you be given a day to reflect on the task and the consequences of refusing or obeying. While you do, consider this: sometimes we face a problem where all solutions are unpleasant, where the least damaging option must be chosen. Consider which choice is the least damaging to the people you are sworn to protect.

Mirar has no intention of acting against us.

:No? He may not now, but that does not mean he won’t try in the future. He is powerful and clever - you know that. He hates us - you know that too. Can you gamble that if the opportunity comes to cause trouble, he won’t take it?

Auraya shook her head.

:Consider what might happen if he decides to reclaim his role as leader of the Dreamweavers, he urged. He can influence and direct them from another land through dreams.

Her stomach sank. Even exile wasn’t a plausible alternative.

:And consider the possibility that you may still love Leiard.

:I don’t, she told him.

:No? I know your heart, Auraya. I know there is still attraction and affection there, confused and unresolved. He will keep you bound to him if he can, not just because he is still enchanted by you but because you will not harm him while you are unsure of your feelings. You will not be free to love again until those bonds are gone.

Auraya wrapped her arms around herself. She felt ill. Wretched. Torn.

:I cannot console you, Auraya, though I wish I could, Chaia said sorrowfully. I cannot be affectionate, or fend off your nightmares, lest the others think I am rewarding you for your disobedience. They agreed that I should speak to you, as you know me better. I ask as your friend and lover, do as Huan bids.

He moved away. For a long time she sat alone, thinking about all that he had said, then she rose and returned to the bowers. She needed to think, but the Siyee needed her help more.

39

Mirar drew magic and warmed the air around him. During the months he had treated the Siyee he had barely noticed the turning of the seasons, too caught up in his work. Now he felt the chill of winter in the air, especially in these last hours before dawn. He leaned back against a tree and closed his eyes.

Though he had travelled all day and most of the night, this stop wasn’t for rest or sleep. Clearing his mind, he sent himself into a dream trance.

:Emerahl?

They had communicated through dream links every few days since she had left. Recently she had grown secretive about her location or destination. He hoped that meant she’d had some success finding other immortals, but couldn’t yet tell him about it.

:Mirar? she replied.

:How is my travelling friend?

:Much the same as before. Lots of sailing, more sailing, and a little sailing on top.

:Bored, are we?

:No. I have some interesting paying passengers. You?

:Life just got a lot more interesting, he told her. The gods know who I am.

:What! How?

:I taught Auraya how to heal. The gods must have been watching.

:You idiot.

:Yes. Disappointed in me?

She was silent for a moment.

:No. I’m not surprised. You should have left as soon as she appeared, but you didn’t. I know you stayed because of the Siyee and I’m guessing you taught her for their sake.

:That’s true.

:I suspect that’s not your only reason for tossing aside all concern for your own safety. So how did Auraya take the news?

:She tried to kill me.

:Oh. She was silent for several heartbeats. She was prepared to break her promise, then.

:As she pointed out, her promise was to Leiard.

:Ah. Obviously she didn’t succeed in killing you. Why not?

:Because I opened my mind to her and showed her the truth.

:And that dissuaded her? How interesting. Do you think killing you was her idea or the gods‘?

:The gods. Huan appeared and urged her to do it.

:Auraya disobeyed her?

:Yes.

:Even more interesting. So did she learn it?

:Learn what?

:Healing.

:Yes.

:You do realize what that means.

:That she is Gifted enough to become an immortal. She already is immortal, Emerahl.

:Yes, but what is significant is that she could be without the gods’ intervention. She is a Wild. What that means for her depends on why they hate us. If it is a pure hatred of all Wilds, they will kill her.

Mirar went cold. Had he doomed Auraya to die just by teaching her to heal?

:There is something else I must tell you. The gods may have seen more than I intended.

:You let some secrets slip out, then?

:Yes. When I explained how Leiard and I became one person I thought of you, though only as my helper. I tried not to...

:You think the gods will guess who this helper was.

:Yes. I am sorry. You may be in danger.

She said nothing for a long time.

:Not as much danger as you face. They know I still live, but they do not know where I am. They know where you are.

:Only that I am in Si.

:Where are you heading?

:Auraya told me to leave Northern Ithania. I am heading for the coast.

:Auraya may not be willing to kill you, but I wouldn’t rely on the other White having the same scruples if I were you. Huan will enlist the Siyee to search for you and send the White in once you’ve been found. Do you think you could evade the Siyee?

:If I travel at night, perhaps, but it won’t be easy without a light.

:It’s a pity you’re not close to the coast already. You could make a boat and sail out to sea. There will be a limit to how far out a Siyee can fly. Once you have lost their pursuit, you can come to shore again. So long as nobody sees you, the gods will not know where you arrive. But I fear the White will be waiting for you by the time you reach the coast. She paused. Eventually you will have to approach water in order to leave Northern Ithania. Good timing will be essential. Let me think about this. I will reach my destination in a few days. I may learn of a safe place for you to go.

:Your destination, eh? There you go, being all mysterious again.

:You have just revealed my existence to the gods. Do you expect me to tell you where they may find me?

:No. I expected you to flay my mind with telepathic curses.

:If I didn’t think you will probably die - properly - any day now, I would.

:That’s reassuring.

:Is it? It’s not meant to be. Now wake up and get yourself out of Si.

:Yes, oh wise and holy one, he replied mockingly.

She broke the link with deliberate abruptness, startling him out of the dream trance. As he began to stand up a memory of Auraya surrounded by light flashed into his mind. Had she refused to surrender her will to Huan, as he suspected? Would the gods punish her? Or would they kill her now that it was clear she was a Wild?

She could be dead already, he thought. Because of me.

He had to find out. There was only one way. He had considered and rejected it countless times during his trek. If he dream-linked with her, and she was still alive, would she talk to him? Would he put himself in any more danger? Or her?

So long as I don’t tell her where I am, I am safe enough.

Closing his eyes, he sent his mind in search of the woman who had tried to kill him.

:Auraya?

She was slower in responding than Emerahl. The silence deepened his fear that she was dead. Then he heard his name spoken in surprise.

:Mirar?

:Yes.

:Why are you dream-linking with me?

:I am worried about you.

:You’re worried about me? I just tried to kill you!

:I may be a little different to the Leiard you knew, but I do still care for you.

:This is too strange.

:You think this is strange? I’ve woken up after a hundred years to discover I’m not the same person I was. I find I’ve done some stupid things: going to Jarime, working for the White, falling in love with one of the gods’ most powerful servants. What is strangest is I don’t regret any of it. All I regret is that I can’t be with you. I fear what they will do to you for letting me go. Have they punished you?

She was silent for a long moment.

:Not yet.

:Will they?

:I don’t know.

:Don’t wait to find out. Come with me. We will leave Ithania and seek the distant continents.

He felt amusement from her.

:Abandon everything I have, the people I protect and the gods, for you? Abandon the Siyee just when the disease is at its worst?

:No? Oh well. It was worth asking.

:If I choose to disobey the gods, I will face whatever punishment they deem appropriate.

:Even death?

She paused again, but not for as long.

:No. They won’t kill me for this. That would imply that they made a mistake in choosing me. If Circlians learned that I disobeyed the gods they would start to doubt the rest of the White. No, the punishment will be subtle. I fear... I fear they will remove my ability to fly.

Flight. He felt a sudden and unexpected thrill of insight. Her flying Gift! None of the other White have it! If Emerahl is right, and Auraya is a Wild, flight may be her innate Gift!

:If I left with you, however, she continued, the gods would be angry. Even if they didn’t send the other White after me, they might still be able to punish me. Consider the ring I wear. If they can make me immortal through it, perhaps they can kill me through it too. I don’t even know what effect taking it off would have. At the least I would no longer be immortal. I would age and die. Forgive me if I think staying here and accepting whatever punishment they choose is the better option.

:But you are...

With an effort, he made himself stop. He desperately wanted to tell her that she could make herself immortal, that all it took was a different application of his healing method. He wanted to warn her that she was a Wild, and the gods might kill her just for that.

Yet he also realized that she was right: the gods would not risk that her death would shake Circlian belief in the gods’ infallibility. They must have known she was strong enough to be a potential Wild. What did it matter when she was a White?

Once again he felt the excitement of a sudden insight. The gods knew that more Wilds were likely to arise over time. Powerful sorcerers tended to become priests and priestesses. Did this enable them to ensure Wilds never reached their potential? Had they chosen Auraya simply to control her? Were the other White potential Wilds, too?

:I am what? she asked.

His thoughts were racing. The other White hadn’t manifested any unique powers. Only Auraya had. Now she had shown herself to be capable of rebellion. Worse still, she had rebelled in order to protect another Wild. The gods must be torn between the consequences of getting rid of her and the risks of letting her live. And she was aware of none of this.

Which might be the only thing that saved her.

He had two choices: leave her ignorant and gamble that the gods would not harm her so long as she was unaware of her true nature, or try to persuade her to flee with him. She was too distrustful of him and bound to the gods and the White. She would not believe him if he told her his suspicions - at least not straight away. Even if she did and left with him, he would be taking her away from the life she loved into a life of danger.

:Mirar? she asked. What were you saying?

:That you are a braver person than I, he said. Thank you for sparing my life. I hope I can repay you one day.

:Don’t thank me yet, Mirar, she told him.

:No? Are the other White coming to catch me?

She did not answer.

:All I can promise you is that if you are found your death will be quick. And permanent.

She broke the link. Opening his eyes, he saw that he was surrounded by mist turned white by the faint light of the coming dawn. He shivered, but not from the cold.

Her last words were a warning. She could not help him. The other White were coming. He must get away, and quickly. The mist would hide him from any Siyee that might be searching for him. Standing up, he stretched and started through the trees.

* * *

Sunlight glittered off the waves, setting Reivan’s eyes smarting. The night had been long and uncomfortable but the day wasn’t going to be any better, if the growing heat of the sun was any indication.

I’m grumpy, Reivan thought. It’s lack of sleep and being stuck in a small boat for most of a day. That would make anyone grumpy.

Whenever she thought of Imi she forgot discomfort and weariness. The princess hadn’t returned the previous afternoon so they had remained in the boat all night. Imenja sat in the prow, silent and watchful. Now she turned to Reivan.

“What would you advise, Reivan?” Imenja murmured. “Should we go to shore and search for her, or return to the ship?”

Reivan considered. “We promised to take her home. We also agreed to stay out of Si. That doesn’t mean we can’t row in close to shore to look for her. So long as we don’t set foot on dry land they can’t accuse us of invading.”

Imenja chuckled. “No. I doubt the Siyee will see it that way. They will...” She frowned and looked up. “Ah.”

Reivan followed the Voice’s gaze. Farther east, three tiny specks moved in the sky toward the seaward horizon.

“They have seen the ship.”

Reivan looked back. The ship was not visible.

“How?”

“They are higher up than we.”

“Of course.” Reivan shook her head. I am tired, she thought. I should have realized the Siyee would have a better view.

“No matter. They are...” Imenja’s eyes narrowed, then she smiled. “They are hoping to distract us so we don’t notice an Elai girl swimming toward her home.”

“Imi.”

“Yes.”

“Has Imi left us? Did they convince her that we are the enemy, and that she should go on alone?”

Imenja shook her head. “Those Siyee do not know she was with us.”

“Perhaps she told them she was going east so she could swim this way without drawing their attention to us.”

“We can only wait and see. If she does not appear in the next few hours, we will know she has gone on alone.”

They waited in silence. The distant Siyee returned to shore without noticing the small boat.

“I hear her” Imenja said suddenly.

Letting out a sigh of relief, Reivan searched the water around them. Every splash caught her attention. Suddenly a head appeared above the edge of the boat. The girl grinned, though she was breathing heavily.

“Sorry,” she panted. “I couldn’t... get away... They insisted... I stay... eat... rest.”

“I understand,” Imenja said, smiling. She rose and offered Imi a hand. The girl took it and yelped in surprise as the Voice lifted her out of the water and into the boat.

“You’re strong!” she exclaimed.

“When I need to be,” Imenja agreed. She ordered the rowers to take them back to the ship, then sat down again. “They told you the way to Borra?” she asked Imi.

“Yes.” Imi grimaced. “They don’t like Pentadrians much. They warned me to keep away from you.”

Imenja nodded. “That is the unfortunate consequence of fighting against them in a foolish war,” she said with feeling.

Reivan looked at Imenja, surprised the Voice would express such an opinion in the presence of others. Then she remembered that they were speaking in Elai; the rowers could not understand them.

“I wanted to tell them they were wrong about you,” Imi said. “But I didn’t.”

Imenja patted her hand. “They will find out, in time.”

“I hope so.” Imi yawned widely.

“You’re tired,” Imenja said. “Lie down and sleep. I’ll wake you when we get to the ship.”

Imi nodded and stretched out on a seat. Taking a blanket, Reivan dipped it in the sea and then draped it over the girl to protect her from the sun. She looked up and found Imenja nodding approvingly. They exchanged a look of mutual relief, then fell into a weary silence.

* * *

As Mairae entered Juran’s room she mused that the scene that greeted her was becoming a familiar one. Juran was pacing and Dyara was sitting on the edge of her seat, her back straight and her forehead creased with a frown. As Rian followed Mairae to the chairs, Juran stopped pacing, looked at them both, then sighed.

“I have called you here to report on the situation in Si,” he said. “The gods decided that, since she was closest, Auraya should find and execute Mirar.”

Mairae drew in a breath in surprise, which drew Juran’s attention.

“She was closest,” Juran repeated. “None of us could have got there quickly enough.”

Poor Auraya, Mairae thought. Wasn’t it bad enough that her former lover turned out to be an enemy of the gods? “So you’re about to tell us she’s feeling bad about it and we should give her our sympathies?” she asked dryly.

Juran winced. “No.”

Mairae blinked in surprise. “She isn’t? She’s made of stronger stuff than I thought. I suppose if she was angry enough she—”

“She didn’t kill Mirar,” Juran interrupted. “She let him go.”

“Oh.” Mairae looked at Dyara. The woman’s lips had thinned in disapproval. Rian was staring at Juran with what looked like both shock and anger. “Why?”

Juran shook his head. “Mirar opened his mind to her. He convinced her... of many things: that he smothered his own identity and invented Leiard in order to hide from the gods, that he didn’t intend any harm and means to leave Northern Ithania, that he does not deserve execution.” Juran sighed. “I cannot say if any of this is true. It may be that he is able to fill his mind with lies in a way that it appears he is offering up the truth. If he can or cannot is irrelevant. The gods ordered Auraya to kill him. She didn’t.”

The room fell silent. Mairae felt a pang of sympathy for Auraya, yet at the same time she was disappointed. It would not have surprised her to know Auraya had found it difficult and distressing to kill Mirar, but she had not expected to learn that Auraya had refused to do it.

“Wait...” she said. “Was she unable to bring herself to do it, or did she refuse?”

“What difference does that make?” Rian muttered.

“There’s a difference between hesitation and refusal. An experienced fighter may hesitate in battle when confronted with something unexpected - that his enemy is his friend, for example. Whatever Mirar showed her, it made her hesitate. If she’d had time she might have dismissed it. She should be given a second chance.”

“She has been,” Juran said. “She has until this afternoon to consider her actions, then she must complete her task. Mirar can’t have travelled far. Siyee have been sent out to locate him.”

“If she refuses again?” Rian asked.

Juran grimaced. “She will be punished.”

Mairae shook her head. “I still think this is too much to ask of her. She is still new to her role. One of us should go in her stead.”

“She must prove her loyalty to the gods,” Rian stated.

“He is right,” Dyara said. “If people knew that she had refused their order—”

“Who is going to tell them?” Mairae asked. “This happened in a distant place,” she glanced at Juran, “hopefully without witnesses. Nobody but us and the gods know about it.”

Dyara’s expression hardened. “If the gods ask this of her, it must be necessary. The gods see into our hearts and minds. They know when our loyalties need testing.”

Mairae stared at Dyara. The older woman could be stern and domineering, but she was not usually this lacking in sympathy. She sounded more like Rian. “How easily would you kill your adviser if the gods ordered it?”

Dyara’s eyes widened in surprise and anger. “Timare is a priest, not a... a filthy Wild.”

“How do you know? You didn’t detect Mirar’s mind behind Leiard’s.”

“I’ve known Timare for forty years. How well do you know your lovers?”

Mairae shrugged. “I don’t. I don’t need to.”

“It seems to me there are a lot more people in this world that you may find yourself reluctant to kill.”

“I use them for sex, Dyara. I’m not in love with any of them.”

“Mairae!” Juran protested. “This is not getting us anywhere.”

She looked up at him then smiled apologetically, knowing she was unlikely to gain Auraya any sympathy by arguing with Dyara. Juran was always more inclined to take Dyara’s side over hers, anyway.

“What are we going to do?” Rian asked.

Juran turned to regard him. “We have to be ready in case Auraya refuses again, or needs our help finding and killing Mirar. You and Dyara will sail south. We know Mirar intends to leave Northern Ithania so he will probably travel to the coast.”

Rian straightened in his seat.

“I will not hesitate. It will be a pleasure to serve the gods.”

Mairae smothered a sigh. I hope you find the resolve to do this, Auraya, she thought. Rian is going to be even more unbearable if he gets to kill someone as famous as the great Mirar.

40

Morning light revealed ominous clouds obscuring the mountains around the Blue Lake village. The air was icy and the vegetation around the bowers was white with frost. Auraya drew magic and dried off a log with a blast of hot air. As she sat down she realized it had only been a handful of days since she had rested here beside Mirar. It seemed a lot longer.

I suppose all those hours I’ve been awake thinking rather than sleeping make it seem longer. Last night she had only managed to fall asleep an hour or so before Mirar had linked with her. Afterward she had woken up fully. Something had nagged at her. Finally, as the light of the dawn filtered through the membrane of the bower, she had realized what it was.

Seeing into Mirar’s mind had been like seeing someone familiar and yet unknown. Like being reunited with someone she had known as a child, who had grown into an adult she didn’t know. Seeking a hint of Leiard, she had only seen that he was no longer the person she had known. Leiard was in him, but only as a part of a person she didn’t know - or love.

You’re wrong, Chaia, she thought. You see the remnants of the love I had for Leiard. You haven’t had the chance to see that I’m not attracted to Mirar in the same way - or what Mirar has become.

If Chaia didn’t see that, then perhaps he didn’t see that Mirar was not the person he had been a century ago. What he had done to survive had changed him - made him into a new person. As a new person he deserved to be judged on his own merits and character.

Huan had said that the past should be forgotten. That is even more true of Mirar than the gods. The gods haven’t changed. Mirar has. It’s unfair to punish him for the past crimes of another person.

But Mirar was not a completely new person, so she could understand that part of him was guilty and untrustworthy. However, when she considered what she had been told of his crimes she could not see how he deserved to be executed. Mirar had worked against the gods and the formation of the Circlian priesthood by seeding doubts about the fate of souls in the gods’ hands and spreading stories of terrible acts of cruelty that the gods were guilty of. One of the ways he had communicated to these people was through dreams.

Looking into his mind, she had seen an acknowledgment that he had done these things. She had also understood that he had done them out of concern that mortals would be ruled by beings he believed were capable of evil. Dream links were not banned then; he had broken no law. The Circlians had spread lies about Dreamweavers and he had used dreams, as he always had, to reassure mortals of Dreamweavers’ good intentions.

He hadn’t encouraged anyone to kill priests and priestesses, yet she knew that some Circlians had preached a hatred of Dreamweavers that had led to thousands of Dreamweaver deaths.

Yet she was disturbed by his conviction that the gods had done terrible deeds in the past. He had not revealed exactly what they had done, however. His fear that the gods would harm mortals through forming the Circlian priesthood proved unfounded, she told herself. They have done much good. Perhaps these evil deeds he accuses them of were only other ways in which the gods encouraged mortals to worship them - an aim he seems to think is wrong.

She sighed. Discouraging people from worshipping the gods was wrong because it cost them an eternal soul after death. Mirar hadn’t forced anyone to turn from the gods. He had given them an alternative. That was not a crime worthy of death. If it was, thousands of people would die every day. People resisted the gods’ will in many small ways.

How much easier is it to believe that resisting the will of the gods isn’t a crime when you’re guilty of it? she found herself thinking.

The priesthood existed to guide mortals toward a lawful and pious life. The White were the highest priests and priestesses.

That makes my crime worse than his. Mirar never vowed to serve the gods. If I don’t deserve to die, he doesn’t either. Perhaps that is why he thought the gods might have me executed. Perhaps he is right to worry...

She shivered. I’m not dead yet. They have offered me a second chance. I can find him and...

Her stomach twisted and she went cold all over. Frustration rose. Why can’t I do this? Why do I feel such strong resistance to even the thought of killing Mirar?

She bit her lip gently. How would she feel about herself and the gods if she did kill Mirar? Every time she considered this question she felt a chill of foreboding.

I would feel like I’d murdered someone. No matter what the gods said. I would feel differently about the gods, too. I would fear what they would have me do next. I would not think of them as benevolent and just any more. I would not feel I was worthy of ruling others if I could be induced to commit murder.

She frowned. And how would this affect Circlians if they knew of it? I’m not fool enough to believe anyone would openly question the gods or argue with their verdict, but there would be a change. It would be clear to some that it was unfair to kill Mirar without a public trial and clear guilt. It would shake their belief that the gods were just, too. Those that believed the gods were always right would see that unjustified executions were acceptable. They might decide that they could mete out other unjustified executions themselves.

Yet if people knew that one of the White had disobeyed the gods, their belief in the gods and the White would also be shaken. They would wonder if the gods had chosen badly in selecting her, and perhaps start doubting the other White. They would reason that if a little disobedience now and then was reasonable for a White, it must be reasonable for Circlians, too.

But there’s no need for the people to know of my disobedience, she thought. Only the White and the gods will know. I have considered how I would feel if I obeyed them. What if I disobeyed them?

There would be guilt, she knew. There would also be relief. She would respect herself for standing up for what she thought was right even as she disliked herself for failing to obey the gods. Yet it was better to feel disappointment in herself than in the gods.

I don’t expect the gods to hold a public trial, just let Mirar leave Northern Ithania. If he comes back... well, I will deal with him. If they punish me, so be it.

She felt a little better at that thought. Is this my decision? she asked herself. Am I prepared to accept any punishment?

What punishment would they choose? She didn’t believe they would kill her, as Mirar feared. They would not take away her position as White, either. That would shock the people as badly as if they executed her. No, every time she considered the worst punishment they could deal out she came up with only one: removing her ability to fly.

Just contemplating the possibility made her feel like her heart was being torn into pieces.

If they do, you’d better appreciate my sacrifice, Mirar, she thought. You had better get yourself out of Northern Ithania and never return, because if you come back I will kill you.

She closed her eyes and sighed. I think that means I’ve made up my mind. What next? Should I call Chaia and—

Her thoughts were interrupted by two Siyee landing several steps away. They hurried toward her, both radiating urgency and fear.

“Auraya of the White,” the taller said, making the sign of the circle.

“What is it? What has happened?”

“A Pentadrian ship was sighted off the coast a few days ago,” he said. “Within sight of the Sand tribe village.”

“Did they land?”

“No. A ship was seen to the east a few days before that.”

“Another ship, or the same one?”

“We don’t know.”

She rose. “I will fly south and investigate.”

“Thank you,” the taller Siyee said.

As they walked away toward the center of the village she hurried to the bower. Tyve nodded and smiled wryly as she told him she was leaving, wondering if he would ever learn what was going on between her and Wilar. Turning away quickly, she stepped outside.

As she propelled herself into the sky she felt a rush of sadness. This might be my last flight. I had better enjoy it while I can. Then she laughed aloud. If Mirar’s right, and the gods decide to kill me, removing my Gifts while I’m in the air would certainly do the trick.

Imi had come up onto the deck when the first island had been sighted and remained at the rail despite the rain. So far all that the ship had passed were small outcrops of rock barely large enough to call islands. Now there were larger shapes ahead, familiar to her from the paintings in the palace.

“Stony Island,” she said to herself as they passed an island bare of vegetation. In the distance was a low, shapely island covered in trees. “Maiden Island.”

She heard footsteps behind her and turned to see Imenja and Reivan approaching. They joined her at the rail.

“Is this your home, Imi?” Imenja asked.

Imi nodded. “Yes.” As the ship sailed farther past Stony Island it entered a ring of islands. “This is Borra.”

“Is there anything left of the old settlements on the islands?” Reivan asked.

Imi shrugged. “I don’t know. We haven’t been able to live outside the city for a long time. Some people tried to, but the raiders killed them.” She smiled. “But the raiders have never been able to settle either, because we burn their houses.”

“Did your people build defenses around your settlements?”

“Defenses?”

“Walls. Perhaps something on the beach to stop boats landing.”

“I don’t know.” Imi smiled. “That sounds like something you should tell my father about. Maybe if we could defend ourselves we would then find a way to get rid of the raiders.”

To her surprise, Reivan shook her head. “So long as there is trade between Northern and Southern Ithania there will be thieves in these waters. The wind blows in favor of ships sailing past these islands but there are no major ports along the Si coast from which to base a force of ships capable of dealing with the raiders.”

“It is a pity we can’t negotiate an agreement with the Siyee to deal with these raiders,” Imenja said.

Imi frowned. “Why haven’t my people done that?”

Reivan shrugged. “I’ve heard the Siyee were a peaceful people before they allied with the White.”

“They had their own problems with landwalkers,” Imi said, remembering what Teiti had told her. “Are those problems gone now?”

“I don’t know,” Reivan said. She looked at Imenja, but the woman said nothing.

Imi decided she would ask her father. Looking toward the peak where she knew the lookout was, she felt a pang of longing. She wouldn’t feel like she had truly reached home until she felt her father’s strong arms around her.

“Will they come out to meet us, Imi?” Imenja asked.

“I don’t know,” Imi confessed. “They’re scared of landwalkers. Maybe they will if they see me.”

“We’re a bit far away for that.” Imenja drummed her fingers on the rail. “We should take you to shore.”

“No.” Imi shook her head. “I know how I’d feel if I saw landwalkers walking on our islands. It will make people angry and frightened. If I saw an Elai with them I’d think she was a prisoner.”

“Then we’ll row you closer to shore and wait.”

Imi shook her head again. “No. I think I’m going to have to swim into the city.” She looked at Imenja and smiled apologetically. “I’m sorry, but my people are suspicious of landwalkers. I’ll talk to them; tell them what you did for me.”

“Will they believe you?” Reivan asked.

“I’ll make them.” Imi frowned. “Though it could take some time.”

“We’ll wait,” Imenja assured her. “You know your people best. If you must swim, then you must.”

Imi smiled, then stepped forward and hugged the woman. Imenja chuckled and patted her back.

“Take care, princess. I will be sad if I never see you again.”

“I will be too,” Imi told her, pulling away. She turned to Reivan. “And you, Reivan. I will try to talk father into meeting you both. I’m sure he’ll like you as much as I do.”

Reivan smiled in the self-conscious way she had. “We’ll see.”

“Go,” Imenja said. “The sooner you do, the sooner we get to meet him.”

Imi grinned. She ducked under the rail and squinted at the water below. It was deep here, in the center of the islands, but she had learned since coming onto the ship that it was always a good idea to check for large sea creatures inspecting the hull before diving into the water.

Letting go of the rail, she felt herself fall forward. The drop was short but exhilarating and she relished the plunge into cool water. Surfacing, she waved at Imenja and Reivan before taking a deep breath and starting toward the city.

She was not entirely sure where the entrance of the city was, so she decided to swim along the rock wall around the area she thought it was in. Soon she saw a shadow swimming below and felt her heart lift as she realized it was another Elai. Keeping at a distance, knowing she would attract a lot of attention once she was recognized, she followed.

The shadowy figure vanished and she felt her heart sink, but then another pair of Elai appeared. Following them, she saw a great blackness appear in the wall ahead. The lightfish were gone, perhaps a precaution against the landwalkers finding the city entrance. She realized it was possible, having seen landwalker divers. But landwalkers couldn’t hold their breath long enough to get into the city.

Swimming into the darkness, she was relieved to see light ahead. It led her to the pockets of air in the tunnel. She managed to swim the entire length without coming up for air at the same time as anyone else, so nobody recognized her. Then a larger, brighter glow drew her upward, and she surfaced in the Mouth.

For several minutes she floated there, gazing at the caves and lights and people. It was a sight too good to be real. She was afraid to swim forward in case...

As another arrival splashed up nearby she shied away.

What am I afraid of? she asked herself. Am I still afraid that Teiti or father will punish me for slipping away? Even if I knew they would, would I swim away now?

She shook her head and swam toward the edge of the water.

As she emerged she began to attract attention. Ordinary Elai glanced at her, then turned back to stare. Guards frowned, then blinked in surprise. One, the captain, stepped forward.

“Princess? Princess Imi?”

She smiled crookedly. “Yes.”

“Where have you...” He paused, then straightened. “May I escort you to the palace?”

Amused by his sudden formality, she nodded. “Please.”

At once he began to bark orders. Three more guards took their places with the captain, in front and behind her. Others ran down the main stream toward the palace.

They’ll tell father. He’ll know I’m coming.

She felt her stomach flutter but forced her legs to move. A crowd of onlookers had stopped to watch and now they began to keep pace with her on either side. Stares had changed to smiles. Voices called a welcome to her. Abruptly she felt tears coming and blinked them away.

The distance to the palace seemed endless. She quickened her pace, then slowed as she saw the palace gates. They stood open.

A man stood between them.

Her father.

The guards stepped aside as she started forward again. She barely noticed. All she saw was her father hurrying forward, then she felt her hold on her tears slip as she saw his own eyes glittering.

Finally, she threw her arms around him and felt his around her, familiar and strong. She realized she was apologizing, then laughed aloud as she realized he was too.

“What are you apologizing for, Father?” she blurted out. “I’m the one who gave Teiti the slip and left the city.”

He pulled away to regard her. “I should have let you out more often. You would not have been so curious, and you would have had guards to protect you.”

She smiled and wiped at her eyes. “I would have given them the slip, too.”

He looked at her searchingly. “Where have you been? That rascal trader’s son told us you’d been taken by raiders.”

“That’s true.” She paused. “You weren’t too mean to him, were you? I talked him into it.”

He frowned. “Teiti had me lock him up.”

Imi gasped. “Poor Rissi! She must have been so angry!”

Her father winced. “She was, but I was much angrier with her. You must tell me everything.” He turned her toward the palace. “Does your return have anything to do with the ship outside?”

“It has, Father. The people on that ship rescued me and brought me home. I owe them my life.”

He frowned, clearly unhappy to hear it.

“Not all landwalkers are bad,” she told him.

His frown turned into a scowl. “You think so, do you? What do they want in return?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing!” He shook his head. “They always want something. They won’t get anything from me!”

“Father,” she said firmly. “They saved my life.”

He paused, then sighed. “I should give them something in return.”

She shrugged. “At least your thanks.”

He stopped and looked at her strangely.

“What has happened to you, to make you so wise and brave?”

She grimaced. “A lot, Father. Let’s go in, and I’ll tell you everything.”

He nodded, put an arm around her shoulders, and guided her through the palace gates.

41

There was little point in going over it again. He’d considered everything he’d done and what the consequences might be. He had spent fruitless hours considering how he could have done things differently.

But while travelling in Si took much of Mirar’s concentration, it didn’t occupy his mind completely. The part not concerned with endless climbing and walking insisted on circling around and around, and every time he tried to think of something else he soon found himself dwelling on Auraya, himself, the White and the gods.

And Emerahl. Why did I have to go and think of Emerahl when I opened my mind to Auraya?

He had only thought of her briefly, as a helper and friend. He had not thought of Emerahl’s quest to find other immortals. If the gods had recognized her - and it was possible they hadn’t - they would alert the White to her existence. They did not know where she was, however. So long as Emerahl didn’t do something to attract their attention, or bump into one of the White, she was safe. The gods might search for her by looking into the minds of mortals, seeking someone visible to a human but invisible to them, but that would take time and they had a more pressing matter to occupy them - Auraya.

He hoped she was right that the gods would not kill her for fear of weakening their followers’ trust in the White. He hoped he had not doomed her by opening his mind to her. It had been the only way to save himself, but he hadn’t done it purely out of self-interest. He had wanted her to see the truth. Wanted her to finally know him for what he was - and that he loved her.

Fool, he thought at himself. She’s one of the Gods’ Chosen. She can’t love you in return.

But she could, another part of his mind whispered.

He felt a stab of alarm. Was Leiard coming back? He sought a sense of other in his mind, but there was none.

I am Leiard, he reminded himself. I had better accept that his weaknesses are mine and make sure I don’t endanger others again. If I can’t have Auraya, I had better take myself as far away from her as possible.

The air in the steep, narrow ravine was humid and still. It set Mirar yawning and he considered stopping for a short sleep. He’d barely paused to rest since leaving the Blue Lake tribe and the weariness he’d pushed aside for so long suddenly seemed unbearable.

He stumbled. Looking down, he frowned as he saw the thin vines crossing his path. His heart stopped and he looked up and around, fear chasing away the muzziness encroaching on his thoughts.

The trees and forest floor around him were draped with sleepvine. Caught up in endlessly circling thoughts about Auraya and the gods, he hadn’t noticed what the ravine had led him into. The smell of rotting flesh turned his stomach. Somewhere under the lush carpet was an animal corpse or two, victims of the sleepvine’s Gift.

Now that he was aware of the insidious suggestion at the edge of his mind it was easy enough to block it. He started forward again, carefully stepping over the vines that crossed his path. It was a large, mature plant. The ravine was a natural corral and probably brought the plant many victims.

The ravine narrowed further, but the reach of the plant’s vines soon ended. Breathing a sigh of relief, Mirar made his way down the narrow crevice. He had to climb or squeeze past several rocky outcrops.

This better not lead to a dead end...

If only Tyve had been able to come with him. He was sure the boy would have. But Tyve’s mind was open to the gods and would have unwittingly betrayed Mirar’s location to them.

The rock walls ended on both sides several paces ahead. Mirar could also see that the ground dropped away there, too. Beyond he could see the tops of trees swaying in the wind. As he reached the end of the ravine he found himself standing at a cliff edge. It wasn’t a dead end, but climbing down would take time and a lot of concentration.

Before him rose mountains, and the climb he faced next was nothing compared to what he was going to have to tackle to cross those rocky slopes. Emerahl had suggested he head for the Sennon desert. Crossing the mountains was the shortest route. The easier route, though longer, would have taken him downriver from the Blue Lakes to the coast, but the coast was where the gods would expect him to go. It was where the Siyee would watch for him and the White would wait for him. They would not expect him to climb over a mountain then tackle a desert to get to Southern Ithania. At least he hoped they wouldn’t.

Sighing, he sat down to eat and examine the terrain ahead. Though the forest hid much of the ground beneath, he could plot an optimistic path past more obvious obstructions.

A shadow passed over him. A large shadow.

He looked up in time to see a Siyee glide out past the edge of the cliff, then curve back out of sight.

Few Siyee lived in this part of Si. It was still Blue Lake tribe territory, but with so much usable land near their lake the tribe didn’t need to roam far to find food or other necessities. They could be after something they can’t find locally, he thought. Rare plants, perhaps. Or maybe they’re patrolling their land.

Or maybe they’re searching for me.

Standing up, he backed into the crevasse. Whether seeking him or not, any Siyee who saw him might reveal his location to the gods, if they were watching. He paused, considering if he should go back instead of climbing down the cliff.

The cliff stretched a long way in either direction, a natural barrier between him and the mountains. He would have to tackle it or go a long way out of his way.

A winged shape glided overhead. He sensed a smug satisfaction, and patience. His stomach sank.

He knows I’m here.

So he may as well let the Siyee watch him descend. After that, under the cover of trees, it would be much easier to evade pursuit.

No black ships were visible on the horizon as Auraya neared the village of the Sand tribe. Siyee were everywhere: among the bowers, on the coast and in the sky. When she was close enough she searched their minds and located Speaker Tyrli.

By the time her feet touched the sand a crowd of Siyee had gathered. One of the women from the village had brought two bowls with her, and Tyrli offered these to Auraya. One was full of water, the other filled with tart berries.

Auraya accepted the ritual welcome.

“I received your message, Speaker,” she told him. “Where did you see the ship?”

He pointed a little eastward of south. “It was only visible from the air. The sails were marked with a star. My men flew out to it and saw Pentadrian sorcerers on board.”

Auraya nodded. “Has it been seen since?”

“No.” She caught a glimpse of a hairless, dark-skinned child in his mind. An Elai girl. He was worried that she might have encountered the Pentadrians, though it was unlikely. Auraya restrained her curiosity; there were more important matters to deal with.

“Did anyone follow the ship?” she asked.

He nodded. “At a distance, for as far as was safe. It sailed southeast, far out to sea. Toward Borra.”

“They did not land?”

“No. Are the Elai in danger?”

Auraya shook her head. “I doubt it. The Elai are no threat to them, and they are too few to be of interest to the Pentadrians as allies. I suppose they might try to convert them, but the Elai were created by Huan. I doubt they’d turn from her.”

Tyrli nodded in agreement.

That doesn’t mean the Pentadrians won’t try, she thought, remembering that Juran had told her of Pentadrians trying to settle in other lands. She sighed. “I should discuss this with Juran.”

The Speaker smiled. “Come to my bower. My daughter will make sure you are undisturbed.”

Auraya hesitated, then nodded. “Of course.” He did not know she had reason to be reluctant to communicate with the other White.

I can’t avoid it forever, she told herself.

By the time she had reached Tyrli’s bower she had steeled herself for what she expected to be an unpleasant argument. Tyrli’s daughter brought water and a more substantial plate of food, then left Auraya alone.

The walls of the bower glowed with the sunlight the membrane allowed through. Auraya took a deep breath, closed her eyes and sent her mind out.

:Juran?

There was a pause, then,

:Auraya. Where are you?

:On the Si coast. The Sand tribe reported seeing a Pentadrian ship a few days ago.

:Did the Pentadrians land?

:No. They said it headed southeast, toward Borra.

:What would the Pentadrians want with the Elai?

:I don’t know. There is no reason for them to attack, and the Elai are unlikely to embrace any offers of friendship. We know how suspicious they are of landwalkers.

:Yes.

:Should I investigate?

Juran was silent for several breaths.

:No. How well are the Siyee recovering from Heart-eater?

:The disease has spread to all but the most remote tribes. The situation cannot get much worse.

He paused again.

:What are your intentions regarding Mirar?

Auraya felt her chest tighten.

:I can’t kill him if I believe he doesn’t deserve it.

:Not even if the gods order you to?

She hesitated.

:No. It makes all they represent - all we represent - worthless.

There was a long silence.

:Dyara and Rian are leaving for Si today. If they kill Mirar, will you feel they have rendered all we represent worthless?

Her stomach sank at the question.

:I might. I don’t know...

:I executed Mirar over one hundred years ago with as little evidence of his guilt as you have now. Have you lost your respect for me, knowing that?

She could not answer his question. To deny it would be dishonest, yet she still felt a great deal of respect for him.

:Our situations are not the same, she said. Mirar did not open his mind to you. When you faced Mirar the gods had only just begun laying down the laws that we live by. The laws and principles that they are asking me to break.

:They asked me to trust them. Do you trust them?

:Perhaps not as much as I did before, she admitted. I cannot help it. When they asked me to do something unjust, I lost my trust that they would never ask me to do something unjust. She felt a bitter amusement. If I kill Mirar I will hate myself and question the gods’ wisdom for all eternity.

:I fear you will now question the gods’ wisdom anyway.

She felt a cold stab of realization. He was right. There was no going back. She had lost a little of her respect for the gods and couldn’t make herself pretend that she hadn’t. I am a White. A White should not doubt the gods he or she serves! If I can’t regain my respect for them then... She shivered. Then I shouldn’t be a White.

:Auraya?

Her mouth was dry. She forced her attention back to Juran.

:What should I do? Should I return to Jarime?

:No. Stay in Si. There is no point you returning here when the sky people still need you.

He broke the contact. Opening her eyes, Auraya felt tears spring into them. All she had ever wanted was to be a priestess and use her Gifts to help people. To serve the glorious beings that were the gods.

The gods I love, she thought. But not as wholeheartedly now as before. That has been tainted. Ruined. Perhaps my love should be more robust. Perhaps I should be like Rian, willing to do anything, whether right or wrong, in their name. Am I being selfish? Does it matter whether I believe what I do is just?

But it had to matter whether the White cared if what they did was right or wrong. For it to be otherwise was frightening. And it did matter that the gods were good and just. Otherwise... what other abuses of power could the gods ask the White to perform?

If Mirar is right and the gods have abused their power plenty of times before, what would prevent them from doing so again? What if the gods had created the Circlians and White in order to to do whatever they wished in the world, unchallenged?

She felt her stomach clench. It was too frightening to consider. If the gods’ intentions were evil, where did that leave humans?

At their mercy.

The safest path for her was to stay in their favor - to kill Mirar and be an obedient servant. She should be as loyal as Rian, except her unquestioning obedience would be motivated by fear, not love or loyalty.

The thought made her feel ill. Living in a constant state of fear and lies, forced into actions she knew were wrong, would only lead to misery. An eternity of misery.

It might not come to that, she thought. No. The gods are not evil. They want Mirar dead because they fear he will harm mortals. Their viewpoint is too distant for them to see that he is no longer a danger. Mine is closer. I have seen inside his mind. I know better.

But how could that be so? The gods were supposed to be wiser than humans. If she believed they were wrong, then she must believe they could make mistakes. A White should not doubt the gods. She put her head in her hands and faced the simple truth. I am not worthy of this position.

The crew scurried about the deck of the Arrow as if their lives depended on them getting their tasks done as quickly as possible. Rian looked over to the Star. The crew of the other ship was as busy. Dyara stood at the prow. Though the two ships would sail together, he would not speak to her except mentally for the next few weeks.

Footsteps echoed on the deck. He turn to see Juran approaching.

“Rian,” he said. “Have you everything you need?”

“Yes,” Rian replied.

Juran paused as a young priest carrying a wooden box hurried on board. The man approached them nervously, placed the box on the deck, then made the sign of the circle.

“The copies you requested, Rian of the White.”

“Thank you,” Rian replied. “You may go.”

“So what did you ask the scribes to stay up all night to copy?” Juran asked.

“Sennon’s Code of Law, some histories of previous emperors and a few studies I commissioned on the many cults practiced there. I will need some reading material for the journey, and did not want to risk taking originals.”

Juran chuckled. “I would not have thought you’d have time for reading on the way to Si, with your mind occupied in speeding the ship through the water.”

Rian shrugged. “No, but once Mirar is dealt with we may return at a more leisurely pace.”

The White leader’s expression became grim and pained. Rian had seen that look before. It appeared whenever Mirar’s name had been spoken. He had guessed long ago that killing Mirar had been unpleasant for Juran. It must be frustrating to find that the heathen leader of the Dreamweavers had not died, and was manipulating mortals again. And immortals. The sooner he and Dyara rid the world of Mirar the better - for Juran as well as the world. However, talking about it was pointless and would only frustrate Juran further.

“I am beginning to think it will take years, perhaps centuries, to bring Sennon under our protection,” Rian said, bringing the subject back to that land. “These people will worship anything. Have you heard of this new cult of the Maker?”

Juran’s eyebrows rose. “No.”

“It is based on the idea that the world, even the gods, were created by some greater being for some high purpose. This being is known as the Creator. The man who leads the religion offers no tangible proof of this, but uses twisted logic to convince people of the truth. The cult is small now, but it is growing at a disturbing rate.”

“New cults usually do. Their followers’ enthusiasm fails when they realize there is no advantage to be gained from a non-existent god - especially when death is close.”

“Yes.” Rian sniffed in disdain. “So few of them worship simply out of awe or respect. Always they expect something in return.”

Juran smiled. “If awe and respect were all that was required, you could worship this Creator as easily as the true gods.”

Rian shook his head. “I still require proof of their existence.”

Juran’s gaze had sharpened now. “And their goodness? What would you do if they asked you to do something you thought was unjust?”

Leaning back against the railing, Rian resisted a smile. This was about Auraya, he guessed. “No task is unjust, if they ask it of us.”

“Even if it contradicts the laws and principles they have encouraged us to embrace?”

“They must have their reasons for contradicting themselves. There are always circumstances in which laws may be flexed.”

“And if this wasn’t one of those circumstances?”

“Then I would conclude that I do not know the true circumstances. If the gods do not offer a reason for acting against their law, I must conclude they cannot. I would have to trust that their decision was right.”

Juran frowned and rubbed his chin.

“So you would not require them to explain their full reasons to you?”

“No.”

Rian watched as Juran drummed his fingers against his arm, his expression thoughtful. Of the four White, Juran was the only one who welcomed religious debate. Dyara didn’t have the patience for what she called “fruitless speculation,” and the few times Rian had attempted to draw Mairae into the subject she seemed uncomfortable. He hadn’t tried to talk to Auraya. Though the opportunity had come a few times in the past, he had let it pass by. It wasn’t that she gave the impression she wasn’t interested - more the opposite. But he suspected he would not find her opinions agreeable.

“Have the gods ever made a decision that you would not have agreed with, but you accepted only because you trust their wisdom?” Juran asked slowly.

Rian’s heart skipped a beat. Should he admit to that? Before he could decide, Juran smiled.

“I think I can guess that your hesitation indicates that they have.”

Rian nodded once. “But I came to see the wisdom of their decision later.”

Juran’s eyes narrowed. “You do not wish to tell me what that decision was.”

At first Rian began to shake his head, but then he reconsidered. In light of recent events, Juran might need to know this small thing.

“In the past it would have been petty to speak of it, but now it may prove important.”

“Yes?”

“I disagreed with Auraya’s Choosing.”

Juran’s eyebrows shot upward. “But you say you came to see the wisdom of it.”

“Yes, she proved useful.”

“You speak in past tense.”

Rian shrugged. “I cannot see the future. I do not know if she will be useful in the future.”

“It almost sounds as if you see her as... expendable,” Juran mused.

“I did not mean to.”

Juran looked away and sighed. “She has only been with us for a year. Was killing Mirar too much to ask of her?”

Rian frowned. “What time limit would you place on obedience to the gods? She vowed to serve them the day she was chosen - and before then: the day she became a priestess.”

Juran chewed on his lower lip. “Making that vow does not mean fulfilling it is easy.”

“She killed Kuar.”

“I have to wonder if Mirar would not recover again anyway. We do not understand his powers.”

“I will burn his body to ashes and scatter them across the world,” Rian assured him. “I doubt he’ll recover from that.”

Juran looked at him, his expression unreadable. “And what would you have the gods do with Auraya?”

Rian paused and frowned. “She disobeyed them. Perhaps she hesitated out of confusion or indecision, but they gave her a second chance and she still defied them. I find myself questioning her Choosing again, but I will accept whatever the gods decide.”

Juran nodded, his expression thoughtful. Then he looked around at the crew. They were no longer rushing about, but pretending to work while they waited for the signal to leave. The crew of the Star was also waiting expectantly.

“Have a safe journey, Rian. Don’t strain the ship too much.”

“Dyara would never let me come close to risking a leak,” Rian replied.

Juran chuckled. “No.”

Rian watched the White leader leave the ship, then nod to the captains of both vessels. An earlier discussion with Juran and Dyara came to mind.

“Together you will be strong enough to repel an attack by one of the Pentadrian leaders,” Juran had said.

“But not two,” Dyara had pointed out.

“If that should happen, call on Auraya. She is the only one of us who can reach you quickly.”

“And if she refuses to help?” Rian asked.

“She would never consider it,” Dyara said indignantly. “She may be a fool when it comes to Mirar, but she would not abandon us.”

“And if Mirar joins with the Pentadrians?” Rian asked.

Dyara and Juran had exchanged grim looks. “I feel that is unlikely,” Juran had said. “There was no sign of such an alliance in his mind. If there had been Auraya would have... behaved differently. But if such a situation occurs I see no choice for you but to flee.”

The two ships pulled away from the docks. The gods will warn us, Rian told himself. And Auraya will have no choice but to come to her senses, or betray us all.

42

The boat vibrated faintly as its hull scraped against the sand. An order was barked, and the rowers quickly stowed their oars, leapt out into the water, and began to haul the boat onto the shore. Reivan rose with Imenja and followed her mistress to the prow. They stepped onto dry sand then started toward the crowd of dark-skinned, hairless men.

It was not hard to distinguish the leader from the rest. The King of the Elai wore no clothing apart from a pair of short trousers made of a leathery material similar in color to his skin, but his body was draped and decorated with jewellery. From chains of gold hung medallions molded into the shapes of sea creatures, glinting with inset precious stones. Carved shells polished until they shone like rainbows had been linked together to form an impressive vest. The weight of the jewellery must have been considerable, but he held himself proudly, back straight and shoulders set. In one hand he held a spear that, despite embellishments of gold and jewels, looked as if it could easily withstand more than decorative use.

He was scowling.

Reivan suppressed a smile. Imi had warned them that her father was hostile to foreigners.

A protective circle of Elai warriors stood around the king, all wearing armor and frowns, and carrying spears. Imenja walked to the edge of this circle and stopped. The warriors nearest her stepped aside, allowing her and Reivan inside.

“Greetings, Ais, King of the Elai,” she said.

“Greetings, Imenja, Second Voice of the Pentadrians,” he replied.

“I have come here, as you requested. Did Princess Imi return to you?”

“Yes. She did.”

Imenja smiled. “That is good to hear. I would have escorted her all the way to you, but I understand that you have reason to dislike unexpected visitors.”

The king’s eyebrows lowered even further.

“I am grateful to you for her return,” he said stiffly. “I have asked you to meet me here so that I may offer my thanks to you for freeing her from those who meant her harm and for bringing her to us.” He lifted his free hand. “As a reward I have brought you this.”

The warriors behind him parted and several equally fierce-looking men stepped through carrying bundles. They moved past the king and stopped to unwrap their burdens, revealing an array of beautifully wrought gold and silver vessels, brimming with jewellery, unset gems, carved shells and, ironically, dried sea bells. Reivan felt a little thrill at the sight.

“These are beautifully crafted,” Imenja told him. “You are generous in your thanks, but I am not sure if I can accept this. We did not come here expecting such a reward. Seeing Imi returned to her home is reward enough.”

Both of the king’s eyebrows rose. “Then why did you not leave once she had returned to us? Why did you stay here and not sail home?”

“I wanted to be sure Imi was safe. I could not leave without knowing she had been reunited with her family. Now that I have seen that this is so, I will leave satisfied that I have done what I promised. Before I do, I have some belongings of Imi’s to return to her that she could not carry when she swam to the city.” She turned and beckoned to the waiting rowers.

They lifted the chest of gifts from Nekaun from the boat and carried it forward. Reivan smiled at Imenja’s claim they were Imi’s. If Imenja had told the king they were for him, he could easily have refused them. Now he couldn’t. Entering the circle of warriors, the rowers placed the chest before the king. One unlatched the lid and opened it, then all bowed to the king and backed away, returning to the boat.

The Elai king’s eyebrows rose again as he saw the contents of the chest.

“This belongs to my daughter?”

Imenja smiled. “Gifts from the leader of my people, First Voice Nekaun. It is a custom of my land that gifts be given to guests of royal blood. For Imi it was a pleasure to follow that custom. And though the crime of abducting her was not undertaken by my people, she did spend some time as an unwilling captive in our land. For that, Nekaun felt she ought to be compensated.”

King Ais nodded, his eyes still on the chest’s contents and his expression thoughtful. He looked up at Imenja.

“In my land a good deed is rewarded. Take my gifts to your leader and give them to him with my thanks.”

She smiled. “I will, and I offer thanks on his behalf. He will be as impressed by the skill of your makers as I am.”

Beckoning to the rowers once more, Imenja ordered them to bundle up the Elai treasures and carry them back to the boat. When the men had left the circle she looked at the Elai king again.

“Imi told me of the raiders that cause you so much trouble. I would offer our help, if I thought you would accept it.”

“How could you help us?”

“Perhaps by teaching you what we know of sorcery, warfare, or simply the construction of fortified villages. Perhaps by selling you weapons.”

“What profit would there be for you in that?”

“These raiders prey on trade ships travelling between Northern Ithania and my lands. Our merchants lose much to them. Establishing a fleet of patrol ships would be impractical and expensive even if there was a suitable port to use as a base. If your people became strong enough to defend yourselves, you may eventually become a force able to help us control these raiders. I know our merchants would pay a healthy fee for such a service.”

The king regarded her skeptically. “So you say. More likely they will rob us.”

Imenja nodded. “You are wise to consider that possibility. The threat of being mistaken for raiders would keep most merchants honest, but in such an enterprise you would need to be both cautious and clever.”

“Or not embark on it at all.” He lifted his chin. “Thank you for returning my daughter, Imenja of the Pentadrians. You must leave before the midday.”

“Then we will, of course,” Imenja replied. “If in the future you wish to negotiate, look for a black-sailed ship. There will be a Servant of the Gods dressed as I am on board who will relay a message to me.”

She turned and began walking away. Reivan followed, resisting the temptation to look back to see the king’s expression. He’s probably still frowning and puffing out his chest, she thought.

:That didn’t go too badly, did it? Imenja asked.

Reivan glanced at her mistress.

:I don’t know. What did you read from his thoughts?

:Suspicion, mostly. He distrusts all landwalkers.

:Even those who rescued and returned his daughter?

:Especially us. Distrust is his strength. But I know what his weakness is.

:What?

:His daughter. He blames himself for her kidnapping. She has seen more of the world than he could ever imagine and returned better informed than he. Between feeling guilty, his old habit of indulging her, and realizing she will never be satisfied cooped up in the city, he is fighting quite a battle.

:A losing battle?

Imenja smiled.

:I’m counting on it.

The city of Karienne looked, in character, much as it had the last time Emerahl had visited. Buildings of all shapes and sizes mingled to form a sprawling metropolis on either side of a modest and dirty river. That sprawl had nearly doubled in size in the last few centuries, if what she could see of it from the water was any indication.

“Where would you like to disembark?” Emerahl asked, turning to regard the couple and their children.

Shalina looked at her husband.

“Won’t you be docking at the main wharf?” Tarsheni asked.

“I could, but it will probably cost me a hefty mooring fee. These smaller piers are usually less costly.”

“From what I remember, the main wharf is close to the Great Square, where the Wise Man speaks, and we would like to board near there if we can. If we pay for your mooring, will you come with us to listen to him?”

Emerahl considered. Part of her itched to sail up the river to the Red Caves as quickly as possible, but another part was curious to see this Wise Man. It had taken her months to get here, what difference would a half-day delay make?

“Very well,” she said. “I’ll come and see what the fuss is about.”

Soon they reached the edge of the main docks and found a mooring among the crowded piers and wharves. She helped the couple carry their belongings off the boat and into the city. The streets were narrow and many were covered to ward off the desert sun. They ran in all directions in a pattern that was unrecognizable to her or Tarsheni. Homes, warehouses, shops, temples and barracks mingled. None stood parallel to another, so all the streets varied in width.

Fortunately the residents were friendly and happy to give directions. Emerahl and the family emerged from a narrow, crowded street to find themselves in an open space.

The Great Square was not big compared to some in other cities, but it seemed large after the congested streets. A crowd had gathered at one corner. Tarsheni’s eyes glowed with excitement. The couple found a boarding house nearby and haggled down the price to a barely reasonable fee, impatient to finally see the man who had inspired them to travel so far.

With their belongings stowed in a room, they left the boarding house and strode across the square toward the crowd. Both adults were tense with expectation. Their son was merely overwhelmed by all the activity around them, and the baby blinked sleepily.

The crowd was thin at the edges. Tarsheni slowed and moved deeper. Emerahl could not see the object of the crowd’s attention, but she could hear him easily.

“We are all creations of the Maker,” he boomed. “You, me, the priest over there, the arem that hauls your goods and the reyner that you ride are its creations. The bird that sings and the insect that bites are its creations. The lowly beggar, the successful merchant, the kings and emperors of the world, the priests and followers of all gods, the Gifted, the unGifted, all are its creations. Even the gods themselves are—”

The voice stopped and Emerahl heard a fainter one.

“No!” the Wise Man continued. “That is not true. I have studied the texts and sought the wisdom of all religions, and no god has ever claimed to have created the world. But it must have a creator. A Maker—”

Emerahl almost caught the next question. She decided to move closer, leaving the family listening with rapt attention.

“The existence of the world is proof enough! Only a being of higher... Yes, that is right. The Maker made creatures that we consider evil. But why do we consider them evil? Because they kill? A carmook kills and eats other living things, and we keep them as pets. A reyner eats plants. They are living things as well. We fear the leramers and the vorns because they can kill us, but they do not do so out of malice, but hunger. We dislike them because they eat our stock. That is inconvenience, not evil.”

There was a pause, then a chuckle. As two men beside her shifted their weight, Emerahl unexpectedly caught a glimpse of a handsome young man standing on a wooden box, arms raised as he prepared to address the crowd again. She paused, surprised that the Wise Man was so young, then moved closer.

“... be evil, too. Why do we prey upon ourselves? I do not know. Why is the world not perfect? Why can we not comprehend and understand every part of it from birth? Clearly the Maker did not intend that. The Maker made the world changeable. Perhaps so that we have a reason to strive.”

Emerahl stopped as she found herself nearing several priests and priestesses. There was even a high priest in the group. While several of the Circlians were frowning, some were listening with interest.

“It has fallen to me to strive to understand the Maker,” the Wise Man continued. “All are welcome to join me. I do not ask you to give up anything. Not family, wealth, profession, power or even religion. Believe in the Maker and together - man and woman, rich and poor, Gifted and unGifted - we may strive to unravel some of life’s mysteries.”

He continued in the same fashion. Listeners moved on and others replaced them, and questions began to be repeated. Emerahl made her way back through the crowd to the family. She saw that the Circlians had left. A pair of Pentadrians were also departing. I don’t see any Dreamweavers, she noted. Tarsheni’s eyes were shining with excitement.

“I must get my inks and papers,” Tarsheni breathed. He turned to Emerahl. “What did you think?”

She shrugged. “An interesting idea.”

“So you said before.”

“I also said if he couldn’t prove it most people wouldn’t pay much attention.”

“Isn’t the existence of the world enough?”

“No,” she replied honestly. “I don’t think the Circlians like the idea that someone claims a greater being created their gods.”

Tarsheni grinned. “Who cares what the Circlians think, eh?”

Emerahl laughed. “Indeed.” She looked at each of them, then smiled. “I guess it is time for us to part.”

“It was a pleasure travelling with you,” Shalina said, with feeling.

“And you,” Emerahl replied.

“Thank you for transporting us,” Tarsheni said solemnly. “And for saving us from those thieves in the Isthmus tunnel.”

“If you hadn’t told me about the tunnel I’d have had to sell my boat,” Emerahl pointed out. “So you saved me from being robbed as much as I saved you.”

The couple chuckled. “Where will you go now?”

“Upriver.”

“A family matter?”

“You could think of it that way. I, like you, am hoping to meet someone I’ve heard much of but never met.”

“Then I hope you are as satisfied with your meeting as we are with ours,” Tarsheni replied. “Farewell, Emmea. May the winds always blow in your favor.”

“Farewell,” Emerahl replied. “And remember my advice. If he starts asking for your money, don’t give a coin more than you can safely afford. I’ve encountered false wise men before, and they can be cunning.”

“We’ll be careful.”

Smiling, Emerahl turned away from the family and started back to the docks and her little boat, and the last leg of her journey to the Red Caves.

43

For once Auraya wished she could fly into the Open without attracting a crowd of welcoming Siyee. Their reverence felt wrong. Misplaced. She was not worthy of it.

As she landed Speaker Sirri met her and offered the traditional water and cake. But before Auraya could eat them something streaked across the ground and bounded into her arms, knocking bowl and cake from her hands.

“Mischief!” she exclaimed. “That was rude!” The veez wriggled with excitement. It was impossible to scold him convincingly. She hadn’t seen him in so long, and it was suddenly so good to be the subject of simple, unconditional adoration.

“Owaya back,” he said. “Owaya stay.”

“All right, Mischief. Auraya stay. Now - bleargh! Stop that!”

She’d had a glimpse of a pink tongue headed for her, but too late to avoid it. Grabbing the veez, she held him at arm’s length to stop him licking her face, then looked beyond him and saw that Sirri was holding a hand over her mouth to stop herself laughing.

Auraya chuckled ruefully, and looked around in surprise as the sound of laughter came from all sides.

“Sorry about that, Speaker Sirri,” she said. “I’ve neglected his training of late and he has a talent for picking up new bad habits.”

“I think he learned that from the children,” Sirri said apologetically, removing a hand to reveal a wide grin. “They adore him.”

Mischief began to struggle, suddenly intent on getting down to the ground again. Auraya let him go, but groaned aloud as he pounced on the piece of cake. At this the crowd of Siyee burst into laughter again. Auraya felt a wave of affection for them. Instead of insult at the interrupted ceremony they found humor in the situation.

“Are you staying?” Sirri asked. “Would you like to join me in my bower for a proper meal tonight?”

“I am, and I’d love to.” Auraya picked up Mischief and set him onto her shoulders. “How are things here?”

“Let’s discuss it on the way to your bower,” Sirri said, stepping away. Auraya fell into step beside her. Sirri remained quiet until they had moved out of the hearing of other Siyee. “Messengers of the Sand tribe reported that a Pentadrian ship had been seen off the coast, and that they had alerted you.”

Auraya nodded. “They did, but the ship was long gone by the time I got there.”

“We have had several new cases of Hearteater since you left. They came from the Temple Mountain tribe, saying you sent them here. They have been isolated and the priests are looking after them.”

Auraya groaned. “I told the Speaker to send only those who had been sick and had recovered away from the mountain. What of the other villages?”

“Even the most distant tribes are sending messages for help. I fear you cannot reach them all in time. I do not know what to do. And the Blue Lake tribe has sent news that Dreamweaver Wilar has vanished.”

Auraya felt a shiver run down her spine at the name. From Sirri’s thoughts she could see the Speaker didn’t know the reason for Mirar’s disappearance, but the Blue Lake messenger had speculated at the possibility that there had been an argument between Auraya and Mirar.

“I know that he has left,” she said carefully. “And I know why, but I cannot speak of it except to say that I wish he did not need to and that there is nothing I can do to help him.”

Except do nothing, she added silently.

Sirri was intrigued, but she did not voice any of the questions that came to mind. They had reached Auraya’s bower. Mischief leapt off Auraya’s shoulder and darted inside.

“That is a shame,” Sirri said. “If you cannot help him, who can?”

“Only himself.” Abruptly Auraya remembered the friend she had seen in Mirar’s mind. Would the woman who had helped him regain his identity be able to help him again?

Sirri smiled and stepped away. “We have much to discuss tonight. What will you do next?”

“Convince Mischief to stay here, then visit the sick newcomers.”

Sirri nodded. As the Speaker walked away, Auraya entered her bower. Looking around, she noted the bowl of fruit and fresh jug of water sitting on a table. She silently thanked whoever had kept the place ready for her return, including taking care of Mischief.

The veez had climbed up to the hanging basket he used as a bed. His nose peeped over the edge, then he climbed onto the brim and leapt onto her shoulders.

“I think you’re heavier than before,” she told him. “Are you getting fat?” She scratched him under the chin.

“Msstf fat,” he agreed.

She laughed. He had recognized the Siyee word for “fat,” though she could see he didn’t understand it. People must have been saying it in his presence enough for him to associate it with himself.

“Have you been pestering people into giving you food?” she asked him.

He didn’t answer. His eyes were closed in appreciation of her scratching.

“Now, Mischief, stay. Auraya go and—”

:Where is she? Ah. Here she is.

She froze. The voice was Chaia’s. Her heart began to pound. Mischief leapt off her shoulders and turned to regard her, whiskers twitching. He could sense her agitation, but not the source of it. Then a glow began to form in the center of the room and the veez fled into the bedroom.

Auraya swallowed hard as the glow formed the shape of a man. Chaia was smiling, she saw with relief.

:Hello, Auraya.

:Hello, Chaia, she replied.

:Did you miss me?

She stared at him for a moment, unsure how to answer. It wasn’t the question she was expecting. His smile was the sort of playful expression he wore during his more amorous moods, but for some reason that disturbed and repelled her. As he stepped forward she had to resist the urge to back away.

:It’s a little hard to miss someone when you’re not sure if you’ll like what they’re going to do or ask of you when they return, she said, perhaps too bluntly.

His smile widened and he reached out to touch her cheek.

:It would be. But putting that aside, don’t you miss our nights together? Don’t you miss my touch?

Where his fingers passed through her skin she felt a delicious tingling. A shiver ran down her spine.

:Yes, she admitted. A little.

:Just a little? He pouted. Wasn’t I attentive enough?

She could not resist a smile.

:You were more than attentive enough. She stepped back out of his reach. But that was just physical pleasure, Chaia. I miss it. I even crave it sometimes. But...

:But? His eyebrows rose. You didn’t miss me, did you? You don’t love me?

She looked away. Now that he had confronted her with the question, she knew he was right.

:Not in the way human lovers do. Not in the way...

:The way you love Mirar, he finished, all humor gone from his face.

She felt a flash of anger.

:No. Nothing like what I feel for Mirar. Is it pity you want?

He stared at her, then smiled.

:I believe I asked for that. And I know you do not love me as you once loved Leiard. His eyes narrowed. What do you feel for me?

She considered.

:Something between love for a god and the love for a friend. I think... I think we are too different.

:I have always treated you as an equal, when we were alone together. You have done the same.

:Yes, but it isn’t about us pretending to be equals. She shook her head. A movement in the bedroom entrance caught her eye. Mischief was looking out. Maybe it is as implausible as expecting Mischief to feel romantic love for me. He is a veez, I am human. Gods and humans may be more similar than humans and veez, but not similar enough. There are so many differences in how we see the world. So much that we can’t get from each other that we can get from our own kind. I... She looked up at Chaia. But you know this. You can see my mind.

:I can only see what is, not what you have yet to decide, he told her.

She felt her heartbeat quicken.

:Then you can see what I have decided in other matters. What are you and the other gods going to do?

He shrugged, though his expression was now serious.

:We haven’t decided yet.

She frowned.

:Why not?

His mouth twisted into a crooked smile.

:We do not always agree on everything, Auraya.

:Then what options are you considering?

:Ah, he replied. That would be telling.

And he vanished. She felt a surge of anger and frustration.

:Chaia? Her senses told her he was still in the room. Chaia! I know you’re still here. I can sense you.

:I know you can. He drifted away, but before he faded from her senses words came to her like a distant voice blown to her on the wind.

:I expected you to refuse, Auraya. Know that you have made an enemy of one of the gods.

And then his voice faded to nothing. She turned around and around, wondering if he had been referring to her refusal to kill Mirar, or her admission that she didn’t love him like a human. Which of the gods had she made an enemy of: Chaia or another?

Imi walked slowly around her room, touching everything. She had done this several times in the last few days, not sure if it was to reassure herself that she was truly home, or to remind herself how much had changed.

The carvings around the walls had never interested her as they did now. As a child she had liked them for what they represented: famous Elai, the goddess Huan, creatures of the sea. Now she saw the workmanship in them and she wondered how much landwalkers would pay for carvings like these.

And what else could the Elai sell them?

While she hadn’t liked wearing the formal jewellery favored by adults before, now she carefully chose something from her chest every day. Her favorite toys she now displayed on a shelf, but she did not play with them. Instead she asked Teiti endless questions about Elai history, the landwalkers who had attacked or deceived Elai in the past, magic and the goddess. When her aunt could not answer her questions, she had sent the woman away to find answers, or demanded to see people who could tell her what she wanted to know.

“All landwalkers have Gifts - even small ones. Why don’t we?” she had asked of the palace sorcerer, an ugly old man with a wheeze and loose skin that hung from his bones like cloth.

“The oldest records tell how Huan selected men and women with weak Gifts to become Elai,” he told her. “They were less resistant to the changes she wrought in them.”

“Resistant? Didn’t they want to become Elai?”

“They did, but those with magic found they kept undoing the changes without meaning to.”

“What of the Elai who have Gifts now? Do they undo themselves?”

He shrugged. “We do tend to sicken easily and age faster.”

“Is it the same for the Siyee?”

He nodded. “They have fared better, however. They have a few sorcerers with moderately powerful Gifts. At least they did ten years ago, when I last visited.”

“Why have they done better?”

“I don’t know,” he had admitted. “Why don’t you ask the head priestess?”

She had followed his advice. The head priestess, a woman of Teiti’s age, told her that the way things were was how Huan intended them to be.

“So she doesn’t want us to change?”

“Not necessarily. We can change. But if we begin change in a way she does not want us to, she will intervene. She has done it before.”

Imi had considered this, then moved to another question that had been bothering her.

“We only follow Huan. What of the other gods? Why don’t we follow them?”

“Because Huan made us.”

“And she doesn’t let us follow other gods as well as her?”

The priestess’s eyebrows had risen at that, but not in surprise. Imi had met her disapproval with determination.

“What are the other gods like?”

“Chaia was always known as the God of Kings. Lore was the God of War. Yranna the Goddess of Women and Saru the God of Wealth.”

“You say that as if they aren’t any more.”

“They put aside their former titles after the War of the Gods. But these titles are still an indication of their natures. Chaia has the character of a leader, and is wise in all matters of holding and keeping power.”

Imi nodded. “What of the Pentadrian gods?”

The priestess shrugged. “I know nothing of them. It is said only five gods survived the War of the Gods, and that in some lands people still worship dead gods as if they are real.”

“Servant Reivan said that she once heard her god speaking in her mind. That sounds as if he is real.”

“She may have imagined it.” The priestess shrugged. “I know nothing of these Pentadrian gods, nor do I need to know anything. Huan is our goddess and creator. We need no other.”

“No. But it would be good to know all about other people’s gods.”

“Why?”

“In case Huan decides we need to change,” Imi replied. “Or in case we begin to change and Huan doesn’t stop it.”

“I doubt she’d approve of us worshipping other gods.”

“I don’t think any Elai would want that. But other things can change, sometimes without us wanting it. We should be ready to face anything.”

The priestess had smiled at that. “You’ll make a good queen one day.”

Imi felt a wry pride at the memory. She had nearly finished her circuit of the room. As she moved to the next shelf there came a knock at the door, and she stopped. Teiti emerged from her little “room” within Imi’s cave and opened the door. The woman frowned as she saw the boy standing there.

“Come in, Rissi.”

The boy sidestepped past Teiti and walked toward Imi. He stopped a few steps away and bowed.

“Princess,” he said. “I have come to report my findings.”

Teiti nodded approvingly at the formality before returning to her room. Imi smiled at Rissi. After a day of pleading, her father had finally agreed that several months’ imprisonment was enough punishment for the boy who had led her out of the city and to the islands where she had been captured. Rissi hadn’t been angry with her for leading him into trouble. Instead he apologized endlessly for failing to stop or rescue her. He had come to the palace each day, asking if there was anything he could do to make up for his mistake.

Teiti had suggested Imi think of something useful for the boy to do, as guilt - though undeserved - was obviously making him miserable. That had given Imi an idea, and she had sent Rissi out on a quest for information. Her father used the pipe room to listen in on the city populace and gauge people’s opinions on his rule. She would use the children.

Rissi had asked other children to pose a question to their parents. He was to tally the answers and give them to her.

The question was: “Should the Elai be friends with the people who had rescued Princess Imi?”

Imi smiled at Rissi. “What did they say?”

“It was even,” he told her. “Some said the answer was ‘yes.’ Just as many said ‘no.’ A few didn’t get an answer, or didn’t understand the answer, or their parents couldn’t decide.”

“So half of the definite answers were ‘yes’ and half ’no,‘” Imi mused aloud. “Without anyone trying to change their minds yet.”

“You’re not going to get your father to befriend landwalkers, are you?” he asked.

“You don’t like the idea?”

He shook his head. “Landwalkers took you away and made you work like a slave. They’re dangerous.”

“Not all of them,” Imi told him. “The Pentadrians were good to me.”

He shook his head in disagreement, but said nothing.

“Why don’t you believe me?” she asked.

He frowned. “It’s not that I don’t believe you, but...”

“But?”

His frown changed to a scowl. “It only takes one bad one among the good and we’re all dead.”

“Not if we don’t bring them here. When we trade we should do it somewhere else. And insist that there only be a few of them. We could even have them leave goods somewhere for us, and we could leave ours in return.”

“And if they come back and attack us? If raiders come to take the goods?”

“We should have a quick escape route. They can’t swim like us, remember. We have to stop running and hiding. We have to be able to stand and defend ourselves.”

“We have our warriors.”

“Who can only fight one on one. We need to do better than that. We need archers. And fortifications. And magic.”

Rissi shuddered. “I don’t like it. We’ve been safe living here for generations. Why change that?”

“Because we’re not growing, Rissi. Look at the Siyee. There are thousands of them. We’re crowded in here. We need to live on the islands again. We need space if we’re going to grow.” She sighed. “My father started talking about finding me a husband in a few years. I asked Teiti who he might choose, and there were only five boys or young men who were close to me in age, and they were all cousins, and I don’t much like any of them.”

“You might in a few years,” Teiti offered from within her “room.”

“Though he did say I might marry a warrior leader, if he was impressed enough with the man, in order to bring some new blood into the family,” Imi added, ignoring Teiti’s comment.

Rissi’s expression was a mixture of amusement and horror. “A husband? Already?”

She nodded. “I think he was trying to change the subject from landwalkers to something else.”

The boy chuckled. “I imagine he was. You haven’t stopped talking about the Pentadrians and Elai trading with landwalkers since you got back, from what I’ve heard lately.”

She frowned. “Do you think other people have heard? Do you think it would have affected their answers?”

He rolled his eyes. “Do you think about anything else?”

She straightened her back. “Not when I have the future of my kingdom to think of.”

“Don’t you play any more? Why don’t you come down to the Children’s Pool?”

She paused. “Father forbids it,” she admitted. “He doesn’t want me associating with foolish young men,” she added, keeping her expression serious.

Rissi looked away, his face reddening. “Then I should leave.”

Imi’s heart sank. She missed the company of other children. He was a boy, but at least he was closer to her age.

“You don’t have to,” she said. “I didn’t mean—”

He shook his head and moved back to the door. “I have to go. I have to go to the Warriors’ Pool.”

“Come back tomorrow,” she commanded. “I have another question for you to get the children to ask.”

He nodded. “I will, Princess. Goodbye.”

As the door closed behind him, Imi crossed her arms and sighed.

What did I do that for? Now I’m going to have to think of a good question to ask.

44

After several days travel Mirar had given up on evading the Siyee’s notice. They were diligent in their searching, and there was little chance of them failing to notice him once he reached the snow-laden slopes of the mountains, where there was no dense forest to hide him. He no longer even bothered to hide his tracks in the snow.

They did not approach him, however. Each night they disappeared into the forest below. Each morning he found them circling lazily above, watching him. He sensed no anger or conflict from the Siyee so he doubted they knew why they were tracking him.

Constantly sensing their emotions kept him on edge and he dreamed unpleasant dreams in which he was stalked by huge eyes with glowing white wings. One advantage in having the Siyee near, however, was that a change in the emotions he sensed might alert him to the approach of the White. He didn’t expect that to happen for weeks, though. Other than Auraya, the White would find it hard to reach him in these mountains.

At the first sign of dawn each day he would wake, clear his mind, then put himself into a dream trance. First he would try to find Auraya, but she never replied to his calls. She could be ignoring him. The gods could be blocking him from reaching her. Or she could be dead. Sometimes during the day the thought of the latter tortured him. If the gods killed her, he must take some of the blame.

When he could no longer bear Auraya’s silence he called to Emerahl. Now, as she replied curtly, he could tell she was still annoyed at herself for accidentally revealing her location to him the previous night.

:Yesterday was the same as the day before, she told him this morning. Except it’s swampy now. The river splits endlessly and I wasted half of yesterday discovering the branches I’d chosen were dead ends. But last night one of the swamp people approached me. He said he had a message from The Gull’s friend: “follow the blood of the earth.”

:Blood of the earth, Mirar mused. Liquid and soil. Silt from the Red Caves?

:Yes. Rather obvious, really. I had noticed that the water ranged from a filthy black to a filthy red. As soon as the sun is high enough I’ll set out again. How are you faring?

:My watchers are still watching, he told her.

:Do you think you can lose them?

:Not unless I find another forest on the other side. Then they are sure to patrol the edge of the desert and find me again. Once I have travelled far enough into the desert they won’t be able to follow. They can’t carry enough water.

:No, but neither can you. You’ll have to stop at wells or buy water from caravans. Every mortal you meet could reveal your location to the gods.

She was right.

:They must have guessed by now that I’m not going to head for the Siyee coast.

:Yes. You will have to approach the coast eventually if you are going to get to Southern Ithania.

:Which I’ll never reach if there’s a White waiting there to meet me.

:Ah, but I have thought of a way you can improve your chances there.

He felt a small thrill of hope.

:How?

:Your people. If the coastal towns are suddenly full of Dreamweavers, how much notice will anyone take of another one arriving?

It wasn’t a bad idea, but it was not without drawbacks.

:Do you have a clever idea for drawing enough Dreamweavers to the Sennon coast?

:Ask Dreamweaver Arleej to send them there.

:If I contact Arleej she will sense that I have changed. She might think me only Leiard gone mad.

:Yes. You’ll have to convince her of the truth as you did with Auraya - without revealing anything about me this time.

:Of course. But if I allow the world to know I have returned there may be consequences. If Circlians knew that the supposedly wicked sorcerer Mirar had survived his just punishment, they might turn on Dreamweavers.

:Then tell only Arleej. Tell her to give the Dreamweavers some other reason for going to the villages. It will be better if the Dreamweavers who come to your aid don’t know who they are aiding. They’ll give the game away if the White read their minds. If you are not dressed as a Dreamweaver, but as an ordinary traveller, you will attract no attention at all.

She was right. It would improve his chances considerably. He had not wanted to reveal himself to his people until he was sure it would do no harm. Arleej could be trusted to keep his return a secret. She had kept his and Auraya’s affair to herself, despite her disapproval of it.

:I think it will work. Thank you, Emerahl, he said.

:Anything for a friend.

:Anything?

:Almost anything, she amended.

:Have a nice day paddling in the swamp.

:Ha ha. Now go interrupt the sleep of a Dreamweaver.

Her mind faded from his senses. He paused a moment to reorient himself, then called out a name.

:Arleej?

It would be about the same time of day in Arbeem as it was here in Si. There was a chance Arleej was already awake, but that might not matter. She had proven herself sensitive enough to detect someone calling to her months before, when he had sought her after Juran had sent him away.

:Arleej?

After several calls he heard a faint and sleepy reply.

:Hello? Who is this?

:It is the one you know as Leiard.

He sensed his connection with her waver as she nearly woke up from shock.

:Leiard! But... you are not Leiard. You do not sound like him.

:No. I am him, and yet I’m not. There is much I need to explain to you. Do you remember the link memories I had of Mirar’s?

:Yes.

:They were not link memories. They were real memories. I am Mirar.

She paused.

:How long is it since you linked with another Dreamweaver?

:This is not a delusion resulting from me losing my sense of identity, Arleej. I created Leiard and suppressed my own memories in order to live. Let me show you.

He drew up the memories, feeling her react with sympathy, anger and wonder as she learned how he had survived. He explained how he had regained his identity yet also retained Leiard’s. When he had finished, Arleej was silent for a long time.

:So you are Mirar, she said finally.

:Yes. I’m back. And as always, I’ve made a complete mess of things.

He sensed her amusement.

:I imagine there was not much time to plan for the future while you were crushed and dying under the old House of Jarime. How could you have known the child you taught would become a White? She is an extraordinary person. This hospice she started in Jarime has been a great success.

:Hospice?

:Auraya has brought together Dreamweavers and priests in order to provide healing for the poor and encourage cooperation and tolerance.

:She never mentioned that.

:You’ve spoken to her recently?

:Yes, we have both been treating the Siyee, who have suffered badly from a particularly virulent plague of Heart-eater.

:I hadn’t heard. Should I send Dreamweavers there?

He felt a pang of guilt. If he had contacted Arleej earlier, Dreamweavers might have made the difficult journey into Si in time to be of assistance. But he had been so concerned with keeping himself isolated and hidden, and since no other Dreamweaver was powerful enough to heal magically their help would have been limited. Still, even those Siyee whose bodies could fight the disease needed care while they were sick.

:If there are any Dreamweavers willing to make the journey, send them. But Auraya may have the disease under control by the time they get there, he told Arleej.

:Will she? On her own? Her skills must be greater than I thought.

:I taught her all I know of healing with magic, he assured her.

:That was generous of you, what with her being one of the White!

:I know she will use it well.

:Yes. You are right. The hospice in Jarime is proof of that.

:There have been no protests? No trouble?

:Of course there has. But there’s been a rumor going around that she did it to prove that the priests and priestesses are better healers, so people won’t be tempted to join us.

:Which can’t be true. She knows we’re superior healers.

:But she can’t have meant the opposite to happen, either.

:No, he agreed. She would not encourage people to join us. Juran would not approve of this unless there was something in it for the Circlians to gain. He felt a chill. Knowledge. They will gain healing knowledge from us.

:Yes, but not everything. I doubt they’ll seek to learn any dream or mind-link methods.

:Wouldn’t they?

She hesitated.

:What do you think?

He considered.

An the long term, attitudes can be changed, he said. In a few decades, after she has encouraged the careers of healer priests who have open minds, the general attitude toward mind links will soften. It gives her time to work at changing the minds of other White, too. She is thinking like an immortal.

:I thought only that it was a chance to improve our standing among the people and...

:And?

:Sometimes I feel it is more important that our knowledge survive than that we survive. We have never held back from helping others, even if doing so was to our detriment.

Her admission disturbed him. That the current leader of the Dreamweavers felt this way about her people ought to appall him, but before he could think of the words to reassure her realized that he had taught Auraya for similar reasons. He was not free to roam the world performing healing miracles, so he had given her the ability.

Perhaps it would be better if Dreamweaver knowledge was given to the world, then the cult allowed to fade out of existence. In this age Dreamweavers could only live a life of persecution and division. The gods, through the White, were too powerful.

The way of life of Dreamweavers, of refusing to make war, of tolerance and generosity, might be lost, but what would rise in its place? While Dreamweavers represented that philosophy people would reject it. If Dreamweavers didn’t exist, some Circlians could take a similar philosophy to themselves without being accused of thinking like Dreamweavers.

:Now that you are here we will grow stronger again, Arleej said, perhaps interpreting his silence as dismay.

:Not if I don’t survive the next few weeks. When I taught Auraya I unintentionally revealed my identity to the gods. I am fleeing toward the Sennon coast.

:You can’t return only to perish so soon! Is there anything I can do to help?

:Perhaps. The Siyee are tracking me, and keeping my location known to the gods and the White. When I get to the coast I mean to take a boat and sail out into the sea. The Siyee can’t follow me far. It is my only chance to escape. But there is sure to be a White waiting for me at the coast.

:What can I do?

:Send Dreamweavers to the coast. Lots of them. Fill the streets of several villages with them. Hopefully I’ll be able to slip through one of the villages unnoticed.

:It will take some time for them to get there.

:I know. We must time this carefully. The Circlians may work out what we are doing and drive the Dreamweavers away. There is a danger they may retaliate if I am successful, too.

:We are used to evading danger. And once Dreamweavers hear about you, I’ll have too many volunteers to handle.

:No. They can’t know about me, Arleej. If they do the White will read our intentions from their minds.

:You’re right. I will create another reason for them to be there, she said.

:Thank you.

:If you do survive this, will we meet again?

:I hope so.

:Perhaps I will visit the southern continent. The Dreamweavers there lead a freer life than even those of us who live in Somrey.

:I won’t be letting anyone know who I am, he told her. The Pentadrians might tolerate Dreamweavers in their lands, but they may not tolerate me. I will link with you again when I know which village I intend to pass through.

:Take care of yourself.

:I will. Goodbye.

Drawing himself out of the dream trance, Mirar opened his eyes. The sky beyond the entrance of the crevasse he had sheltered in was dark and close, promising bad weather. There was no sign of the Siyee. He stood up, surveyed the ominous clouds, and cursed.

Looks like a blizzard coming.

He wouldn’t be travelling far today, but at least it would keep the Siyee out of the sky. For once he wouldn’t spend the day with the nagging sensation of Siyee minds watching him.

Emerging from below deck, Reivan saw that Imenja was standing at the stern. The Voice was leaning against the rail, her head bowed. Reivan had found her like this several times in the last two days. She moved to stand beside her mistress and wasn’t surprised to see that the woman was gazing down at the water.

“It’s amazing how quiet the ship is now that Imi has left us,” she said. “I think the crew miss her.”

“Yes,” Reivan agreed. “Or it might just be your moping.”

Imenja turned to regard Reivan. “Moping?”

“Yes. You’re always gazing off into the distance, or down at the water.”

“Am I?”

“Yes. I’m guessing you’re disappointed that we left without an alliance.”

“You’re guessing wrong,” Imenja told her, smiling. “This is not over yet, Reivan. The king may have sent us on our way, but his people haven’t seen the last of us.” She glanced down at the water. “We are being followed.”

Reivan felt a thrill of excitement and searched the waves, but could see no sign of Elai.

“Do they know you know they’re there?”

Imenja laughed. “That’s quite a mouthful. They suspect I have seen them, but they are not sure.”

“Is this why only the main sail is unfurled?”

“Yes. I don’t want us to outpace them.”

“And why is that?”

“Just hoping fate will favor us with an opportunity. Well, to be truthful, research has as much to do with my plans as fate. Before we left I read the minds of several Elai who’d seen raiders. I learned the most common places where trade ships are attacked.”

“And we’re headed for them?”

“We’re in one already. There is a raider ship to the south, beyond the horizon. I’ve caught the faint thoughts of its crew.”

“You’re hoping we’ll be attacked?”

“No. I doubt raiders would attack us. This isn’t a trading ship. Even if I ordered the sail changed to a plain one, raiders know how to recognize the shape of a hull.”

“So you intend to find and attack them? Is that wise? What if the White heard we had destroyed a ship? They might not learn or care that it was a raider ship.”

Imenja narrowed her eyes. “They would not hear of it, if there were no survivors.”

“But there will be witnesses, if the Elai are still with us.”

“I want them to be. I want to give them the opportunity to take part, if that is possible.” Imenja frowned. “But I’m not sure how. What would you do to harm a raider ship, if you were an Elai warrior?”

“I’m not sure. What advantages do they have over their enemies? They can hold their bream a long time, so they could easily drown their enemy.”

“If they can get to the raiders themselves. I want to know what they could do to harm a ship.”

Reivan shrugged. “Elai can easily reach a ship’s hull, and there’s nothing stopping them from trying to damage it. Could they break through it?”

“Not with their bare hands.”

“Nor with their spears, either. They need a weapon designed for the purpose. Or magic.”

“Neither of which we can give them.”

“Can’t we?” Reivan grinned. “There must be woodworking tools on board this ship.”

“Would they work fast enough, in a battle?”

“Maybe. Maybe not. It would depend how long the battle lasted, and how many tools were employed.”

“How else could they fight raiders?”

They had reached the prow of the boat now. “Luring them onto reefs, perhaps?” Reivan suggested. “But I doubt that would work. The raiders must know these waters well. I’m sure I could think of something better, given time and—”

Imenja abruptly lifted a hand to silence her. Eyes half closed, the Second Voice stared at the horizon.

“I think our raiders have found themselves a victim. Yes, a merchant ship sailing west. You had better come up with some ideas quickly, Reivan.”

“I thought you didn’t want the White to hear of this. Or are you planning to sink the merchant ship too.”

“No, I think it might be useful to us if a few merchants are grateful to have been rescued from their attackers by a Pentadrian ship.”

Reivan chuckled. “We can impress two peoples in one fight. But will it come to a fight? Once the raiders see we are approaching they’ll flee.”

“And we will give chase. I will make sure we catch them.”

A thrill of anticipation ran through Reivan. But I must not let the prospect of a bit of magic and justice blind me to possible ill consequences. “It’s possible that, if the merchants hate us enough, they will claim we were the attackers.”

“The White can read minds,” Imenja reminded her. “They’d soon learn the truth. Look.” She pointed to the south, where sails were just visible on the horizon. “The raiders.” Turning to the east she narrowed her eyes. “The merchant is ahead of us.”

She turned to the helmsman and ordered him to turn out of the wind. As he obeyed, the sails slumped and the ship slowed to a halt. Reivan looked at Imenja questioningly.

“The merchants haven’t noticed their pursuers yet,” Imenja explained. “And we don’t want to put the raiders off yet. The Elai need some time to prepare.”

“They do?”

“Yes. We’re going to show them how to use woodworking tools.”

“We are?”

“Yes.”

“I’m sure they already know how. There are some impressive carvings among the gifts the king gave you.”

“Yes, but just because they have talented crafters doesn’t mean their warriors know how to use a mallet and chisel.”

Imenja called to the captain, telling him to be prepared for chase and a battle. At the stern she stopped and called out to the Elai by name. After several minutes two heads appeared several strides from the ship.

“How much do you hate raiders?” she asked them, her voice full of challenge.

The pair exchanged glances, but said nothing.

“There is a raider ship ahead, about to attack a merchant vessel. I intend to stop it. Will you help me?”

“How?” one of the warriors asked.

“Let me show you.” Imenja beckoned to one of the crew. “Bring us carpentry tools. Chisels and mallets. Anything that might be used to put a hole in the hull of a ship.”

“Is that wise, Second Voice?” he asked. “What if they decide to sink us as well?”

“They won’t,” she assured him.

As the man hurried away, Reivan looked at the Elai. They look more suspicious of us than enthusiastic, she thought. They’re going to take a lot of convincing.

To Reivan’s surprise, the crewman returned with several chisels and mallets. She guessed that if a ship needed repair in some isolated place, the entire crew were expected to help in the work, and so they carried enough tools for all.

The two Elai had swum closer. Four more heads had appeared farther away.

“Demonstrate how they are used,” Imenja ordered.

The crewman cast about, then grabbed a bucket, placed it between his knees, and began chipping away at the wood. Imenja turned to the Elai.

“I will give you these tools. Use them to break the bottom of the raider ship. Water will flow in and the ship will sink.”

“But we’d never catch up with it,” an Elai protested.

“You will if you come aboard,” she told them. “My ship is faster than theirs.”

The two Elai vanished under the water then reappeared among the distant four. Several minutes passed, then four of the heads disappeared and, a moment later, reappeared beside the ship.

“We will come with you,” one said.

As crew threw ropes over the sides for the Elai to climb, Reivan turned to smile at Imenja.

“I can’t believe you convinced them to come aboard,” she murmured.

“They’re young and, like Imi, frustrated by being cooped up in their crowded city so much of the time,” Imenja explained quietly.

“Where are the others?” Reivan asked, looking out to where the two remaining Elai had been.

“They’ll follow at a distance, in case this proves to be a trick.” As the Elai reached the deck she stepped forward to greet them, drawing their attention to the raider ship on the horizon and telling them she would catch it in an hour or two. She then introduced Reivan to them.

The Elai warriors struggled to stay balanced on the rocking of the ship. If they were intimidated by Imenja, they hid it well. The crewman handed over the chisels and mallets. The Elai held them confidently and Reivan concluded she had been right: they knew how to use them.

The ship suddenly lurched forward. Reivan hadn’t noticed the sails being unfurled. Now ropes and mast creaked as the wind in the sails increased. The crew stopped and exchanged surprised looks, but the Elai appeared to accept this change without question.

They won’t have boarded a ship before, she reminded herself. This improbable wind is just another bit of strangeness.

Ahead, the raiders were bearing down on the merchant ship, which was too heavy and slow to outrun its pursuer. Every move in the distant struggle was laborious and deliberate.

“Have they seen us?” Reivan asked.

“Yes,” Imenja replied. “They think they can rob the merchant and get away before we arrive. And no Pentadrian ships have ever attacked them before.”

The closer they came to the raider ship and its intended victim, the faster they seemed to travel. Suddenly the raiders veered away from the merchant ship.

“They’ve realized we’re travelling faster than they first thought,” Imenja murmured. “Now the chase begins.”

Time stretched out. They passed the merchant vessel close enough to see the confused and frightened crew watching them. Imenja raised a hand to them, then turned her attention back to the raiders.

The distance between them shortened steadily. When they were close enough to see the men on board, the raider ship abruptly - or as quickly as a vessel could manage - turned about.

“They have decided to fight,” Imenja said. She spun around to face the Elai. “Now is your chance to strike your enemy. Take care. Once they realize what you are doing they will shoot arrows in the water.”

The warriors nodded, then, without speaking a word, moved to the rail and dove out into the water.

“Stay by me, Reivan,” Imenja said quietly.

The air thrummed with the sound of approaching arrows. Imenja darted to the side of the ship and spread her arms. The arrows bounced off an invisible barrier.

“This hardly seems fair,” Reivan muttered. “They can’t possibly defeat you.”

Imenja laughed. “Would you have me stand back and let my people die for the sake of a fair fight?”

“Of course not,” Reivan replied.

“Be assured these are thieves and murderers. We do not kill innocent men.”

The raider ship passed a few strides away. A few grappling hooks were thrown, but Imenja’s barrier blocked them and they fell down into the water. Reivan looked down, but she could not see far beneath the surface.

“How are the Elai doing?” she asked.

Imenja chuckled. “They’re enjoying themselves. I cannot tell if they’re making any progress because they don’t know themselves. The raiders are worried, though. They can hear the tapping.”

A man moved to the railing of the raider ship. He was dressed well, and gold glittered on his hands and chest.

“The raider captain,” Reivan guessed.

“Yes. A Skilled one.”

The man raised his arms and the air rippled. Imenja laughed quietly.

“It does seem unfair,” she admitted. She glanced at the crew, who were holding bows at the ready. “Fire!”

Before the arrows met their target the raider ship lurched in the water. A few raiders scurried out of the hull. Their panicked shouts sent a chill down Reivan’s spine. The sea began to nibble at the sides of ship, sucking it down. Her stomach sank as the raiders began to fight each other for a place on the small row boat. The raider captain abandoned his magical attack on Imenja to stake his place on the little vessel.

The ship tipped. Water spilled over the deck, then claimed it. Bubbles of air rose as the vessel vanished into the depths. A chill ran over Reivan’s skin as she saw men thrashing in the water, clearly unable to swim. They soon disappeared. Then she realized that those who were swimming confidently were going down too, pulled beneath the surface by shadowy attackers.

Reivan shuddered and looked away. The desperate pleas and shouts of anger dwindled. An ominous silence descended and she heard Imenja sigh.

“It’s over. No survivors. And the Elai did most of it themselves.”

“No survivors?” Reivan turned to see the little row boat floating upside down. “What happened to the captain?”

“Our sea-folk friends took care of him.”

Two dark heads suddenly appeared close by. The white teeth of the Elai warriors flashed as they grinned.

“Bravely done,” Imenja called. “You gave us almost no chance to attack them ourselves! You’ve brought down a raider ship all by yourselves!”

“We couldn’t have caught them without your help,” one of the warriors called back.

“No, but they saw us coming,” she told him. “You could have easily snuck up on them underwater.”

“Do you want the cutters back?”

She shook her head. “Keep them.”

Another dark head appeared. The warrior held up a gold goblet. “Look. Their ship is full of it.”

“Stolen from merchants,” Imenja told them. “It is yours now. So should be the treasure on any raider ship you sink.”

The warriors’ grins widened.

“But take care to be sure the ships you sink are raiders,” she warned. “If you sink a trader ship there are landwalkers who would seek to punish your people for the crime. Powerful landwalkers with powerful magic. They would make raiders seem as dangerous as children, and my people could do nothing to stop them.”

The grins had faded. Imenja raised a hand in farewell. “Well done, warriors of Elai. The sea is a little safer today, thanks to you. Go celebrate your victory with your people.”

“Yes!” the warrior with the goblet agreed.

“Farewell, then,” one of the warriors called. “Have a safe journey.”

“Many thanks for your help!”

“Goodbye!”

The fourth Elai surfaced, gold chains around his neck. He looked around, saw his fellow warriors swimming away, and dove after them.

Imenja turned and gave the order for the journey to resume.

“Not too fast,” she told the captain quietly. “When word of this reaches the Elai king, I don’t want us to be so far away that an invite to return to his land can’t reach me.” The captain nodded. She looked at Reivan and smiled wryly. “That is,” she murmured, “if he doesn’t take exception to me urging a few young, naive warriors to sink a raider ship.”

45

Every night since Emerahl had entered the swamp, the local people had passed on a message to her. First there had been “follow the blood of the earth.” That had been obvious, since the red mud that stained some of the tributaries could hardly be missed. Once all the water was the same color “head for the flat mountain” had kept her moving in the same direction. Not that she could go in a straight line. She had to wind between islands as small as waterlogged tussocks to large hillocks of solid ground, at the same time avoiding water too shallow for her boat to cross. This morning she had been struggling to “fight the fastest current,” which, to her relief, followed a channel more than deep enough for her boat to move along without its hull scraping through mud.

Once the ground had become solid enough to support more than tussocky grass, the vegetation had grown tall, lush and dense. Trees grew thin and high, and creepers roped them loosely together. When they reached heights too ambitious for the sodden soil they slumped against each other or toppled completely, their enormous root systems flaring out of the soggy ground.

Imposing spires of rock occasionally appeared. Some were broad, some thin, and all were draped with vegetation. Once she had passed a spire that had fallen against its neighbor. The top half of the gap between them had been filled with the web of a spider the size of her hand.

It was beautiful and yet utterly inhospitable.

And there are no signs of caves, Emerahl thought. There’s just not enough rock around. I guess I have a long way to go.

Even as the thought passed through her mind she saw that she was wrong. The river had turned and before her was a wall of rock barely higher than the trees. At the base of it the water had washed out shallow hollows - none large enough to be a cave, but there was potential for it.

Her heart began to beat a little faster. The river continued to follow this low cliff. She resisted the temptation to push the boat at a greater speed. There were still snags and shallows hidden beneath the opaque red water.

The wall undulated, luring the river into a winding path. After over an hour of following its twists and turns, she rounded a corner and let out a sigh of satisfaction.

The river widened ahead, forming a large pool before a latticework of hollows and caves. Ripples in the surface of the pool revealed the path of the current she was following. It led directly to a larger cave entrance. Emerahl followed it. Just before she reached the cave she glanced up at the sky and smiled grimly to herself.

Caves. Why do we immortals always end up in caves?

The muted light of the swamp forest quickly faded. Emerahl created a spark of light and sent it before her. The roof of the cave dropped until it was so low the mast would have scraped it, had she not taken it down the previous day to stop it tangling in overhanging vines. Her light revealed openings to either side leading into a maze of natural, half-drowned rooms and passages.

She followed the current deeper into the wall of rock. There were no turns, just the constant ripple of water. The air was heavy with moisture and the silence was intense.

Suddenly the roof ahead curved up out of the reach of her light, and walls and columns on either side ended. She slowed and approached this void cautiously, brightening her light until it revealed a large cavern. Only the ripples from her boat’s passage disturbed the still water. The roof was a smooth dome. At the far side she could see a ledge just above the level of the water.

And on the ledge stood a large pottery pitcher.

I guess that’s where I’m supposed to disembark, she thought.

She directed the boat to the ledge, grabbed the mooring line and stepped off. The pitcher was full of clear water. Emerahl looked around. There were two cave entrances nearby. Above the larger one was a symbol - two small circles joined with a line.

Feeling a tug on the mooring line, Emerahl turned to see that her boat was drifting away in the current. Casting about, she realized there was nothing to tie the line to. She looked down at the pitcher, looped the line around it and stepped back, ready to grab it if the pot began to move. The line pulled tight, but the pitcher remained standing. Emerahl nudged it. It seemed secure enough. Stepping away, she approached the cave marked by the symbol. She moved her light through. It illuminated a small room beyond.

The room was round. The walls were painted in an elaborate pattern of dots. Another pitcher full of water stood in the center. From the ceiling moisture dripped into the vessel.

“Who are you?”

The voice spoke in a whisper, in a long-dead language, and she could not judge what direction it had come from. It sounded as if two people had spoken, but that might just be an echo effect of the room.

Emerahl considered what name to give. “I am...” They might not know her real name, she realized suddenly. “I am The Hag.”

“Why are you here?”

“To meet you,” she replied.

“Then drink and be welcome.”

Emerahl regarded the pitcher suspiciously. The water was so clear she could see the base of the pot inside. Was there anything here to fear? Surely The Gull would not send her into a trap. No, she was just being her usual overcautious self. The invitation was probably a ritual of good manners. Dipping a hand in the water, she lifted some to her lips and sipped.

Immediately her mouth began to burn. She gasped and backed away, as if that would stop the pain. The sensation began to spread. She touched her face again, alarmed to find that it was swelling rapidly.

“What...?” she tried to say, but her swollen lips could not form words.

The Gull said his friend would ignore me if he or she didn’t want to meet me, not kill me! Why would he...? Why would they...?

Shut up, she told herself. You’ve been poisoned! Deal with it.

Backing out of the room, she staggered to her boat and collapsed into it. A lethargy was spreading through her body. She had no strength left to cut the mooring line.

Closing her eyes, she sent her mind inward.

The poison’s effect was spreading from her mouth, throat and stomach. She halted its progress by blocking the pathways it was taking. Pushing as much as possible back into her throat, she forced it and the liquids it had mingled with out.

Spitting it out, she sent her mind after poison that had managed to contaminate her blood. A burning sensation led her mind through organs and limbs. She saw that it was too dilute to do much damage. Speeding her heart, she filtered the poison out through the waste organs, gathering it into a little droplet, which she guided out of her body.

Taking three deep breaths, she opened her eyes and sat up.

“Congratulations, Emerahl the Hag. You passed the test,” a female voice said.

“Surely you could have come up with something a little more... polite,” Emerahl replied, scowling.

A laugh echoed through the cavern. Male and young. So there are two of them, she mused. The voice held no malice, but plenty of irony. She still could not judge where it had come from.

“If we could have, we would have,” the man replied. “Please forgive us, Emerahl. We had to be sure you were who you said you were?”

Emerahl rose and stepped out of the boat. “I’d have preferred a riddle.”

The man laughed again. “Would you? I find them annoying and pretentious.”

She looked around. “I don’t even know who you are, though I have a few ideas. How am I to test you?”

“Come through the other cave,” a woman replied.

Emerahl moved to the entrance and paused.

“Don’t worry. We do not have any more tests for you.”

Even so, Emerahl kept her barrier strong as she stepped into the room beyond. It was empty. An irregular stairway led upward. She climbed slowly.

She emerged in the center of a large cavern. The floor was uneven, and there were holes here and there. On some of the higher levels cushions had been arranged, woven in bright colors. Alcoves had been carved into the walls, holding a variety of homely objects including reed baskets, pottery bowls and wooden statues. There was even a vase of flowers.

“Welcome, Emerahl. Or do you prefer The Hag?” a woman said from behind her.

Emerahl turned. A man and a woman sat within two alcoves on the back wall, both pale-haired, handsome and simply dressed. They were so alike they had to be related, confirming her suspicions about their identity.

“You are The Twins,” she said.

The man grinned broadly, while the woman’s smile was dignified and almost shy. The sides of their faces wrinkled, drawing Emerahl’s attention to scars that ran down their faces, necks and shoulders.

Scars? If they are immortals, they should not have scars.

Then she noticed that the scars, on the woman’s left side, matched those of the man’s, on his right side, and a wave of realization swept over Emerahl. These two had once been joined. The scars were deliberate, perhaps a reminder of their former union.

“We are,” the woman replied. “I am Tamun.”

“And I am Surim.”

“Sun and Moon,” Emerahl translated. “In ancient Velian.”

“Yes. Our parents thought it might bring luck.”

“Did it?”

The pair exchanged a glance, then Surim shrugged. “We grew to be unexpectedly Gifted. Some consider that lucky.”

“Somewhat,” Tamun agreed, smiling faintly. She looked at Emerahl and grew serious. “Are we forgiven for our little test? There are some tests only an immortal can pass, and we needed to be sure.”

Emerahl spread her hands. “I guess I might have done the same, if I feared deception.”

Tamun nodded. “We have heard reports of you from time to time over the centuries. Despite our rude welcome, we have been looking forward to meeting you.”

“And I you,” Emerahl replied. “It is odd that we should have lived so long, yet never encountered each other before.”

Surim shrugged. “It is not wise to flaunt one’s immortality, especially in this age. If we immortals all have one common trait, it is keeping to ourselves.”

Emerahl nodded. “And yet I have felt compelled to seek other immortals.”

“Paradoxically, it is the increased threat to our lives in this age that motivates us to seek our own company,” Tamun said.

“And support,” Surim added.

“So you, too, have sought out other Wilds?” Emerahl asked.

Tamun’s nose wrinkled. “Wilds. That is what the gods call us. We called ourselves immortals before, and so we should now.”

“Yes,” Surim said in answer to Emerald’s question. “We have.” He rose and walked to Emerahl. Taking her hands, he smiled warmly and gazed into her eyes. “We’ve been isolated from the world too long. We crave company.”

“For the last hundred years we have watched the world through the minds of mortals, but that is not as satisfying as walking among them,” Tamun agreed, standing up and stretching.

“Come sit down,” Surim said, drawing Emerahl across the room. He led her to a pile of cushions. Tamun settled down next to Emerahl. She drew a small loom close to her and began weaving, her fingers moving with the sure deftness of someone who had been practicing a skill for a long time.

“I always wondered what it was that you two did,” Emerahl told him. “The reports I heard suggested you were prophets. Like The Seer.”

Surim laughed.

“We never claimed to be able to see or predict the future,” Tamun said. “Not as The Seer did. She couldn’t, you know. She just used her mind-reading skills to learn what a person wanted to hear, then gave them ambiguous answers.”

“She wrote the most appalling poetry and called it prophecy,” Surim added, gesturing dismissively. “All this nonsense about lost heirs and magical swords. We all know swords can’t be magical.”

“Unless they’re made of the wood of a welcome tree,” Tamun pointed out. “Or black coral.”

“Which makes them utterly useless as a physical weapon.” Surim looked at Emerahl and smiled. “Ignore us, dear. We have been arguing like this for most of a millennia. Now, tell us about yourself, and the world. The Gull keeps us informed, but he hears only rumors and gossip. You have seen recent events with your own eyes.”

Sitting down, Emerahl chuckled to herself. “No doubt The Gull told you. I have seen a few things. And not of my choosing.”

And she began to relate how a priest had driven her from her lighthouse over a year before.

Auraya paced the bower.

For the last few weeks she had flown about Si to all the villages suffering from Hearteater. In each place she had ordered three bowers to be built, as Mirar had done at the Blue Lake tribe. She had taught Siyee in each village how to prepare cures and how to judge when a patient probably needed magical help in overcoming the disease. Now, whenever she visited a village, she could attend to those who needed her most before flying on to the next village.

But Juran had contacted her this morning to tell her the gods would be delivering their judgment later that day at the Altar. It had forced her to remain in her bower for hours, knowing that sick Siyee needed her help and at the same time giving her nothing to distract herself with. Suddenly she realized she was wringing her hands, as her mother used to do when anxious. She threw her hands apart and sighed in exasperation.

Oh! Enough waiting! I wish the gods would announce their decision and be done with it!

Her stomach fluttered as she paced the room. She remembered Chaia’s words: Know that you have made an enemy of one of the gods. One of the gods. Not two. Of all the gods, she had given Huan and Chaia most reason to dislike her. Was disobeying Huan likely to make her an enemy? Probably. Was spurning Chaia’s love likely to? Possibly.

She had considered the revelation that the gods did not agree about her fate many times. What side had each god taken? Chaia had hinted that Huan was the most angered by her refusal. What did the other gods think?

Auraya?

Her stomach clenched as she recognized Juran’s mental voice.

:Juran? Is it time?

:Yes. Mairae and I are at the Altar.

She nodded, forgetting that he could not see her, and moved to a chair. As she sat down Mischief scrambled out of his basket and climbed down the wall of the bower. He curled up in her lap. Now that the weather was growing chilly he was constantly taking advantage of any warm body that remained still for more than a few moments.

Concentrating on Juran’s mind, she closed her eyes and let what he was seeing reach her. He was in the Altar. The walls had folded up. Mairae was in her seat. Auraya sensed Dyara and Rian link with Juran. When all were ready, Juran began the short ritual.

“Chaia, Huan, Lore, Yranna, Saru. Once again, we thank you for the peace you brought to Ithania, and the Gifts that you have given us. We thank you for your wisdom and guidance.”

“We thank you,” Mairae murmured. Auraya heard Dyara and Rian speak the words mentally and said them herself.

“You have indicated that you are ready to deliver judgment for Auraya’s refusal to execute Mirar. Please appear and be welcome among your humble servants.”

“Guide us.”

From Juran’s viewpoint Auraya saw four patches of air around the room begin to glow. The lights slowly took shape, forming the figures of Huan, Lore, Yranna and Saru. She wondered where Chaia was, then Juran turned his head and she saw that the god was standing at Juran’s right.

:Juran, Dyara, Rian, Mairae and Auraya, Chaia said. We have chosen you to represent us and act on our behalf in the world of mortals. Until now we have been satisfied with your work.

:We have taken care to give you only those tasks you are capable of, Yranna added. She looked at Juran. Once, long ago, we were forced to ask one of you to act against his heart. Recently we had no choice but to ask the same of one of you again.

:Only this time, the task was left unfulfilled, Lore rumbled.

:Twice we ordered for it to be done; twice we were denied, Saru said.

Huan’s gaze met Juran’s and Auraya shivered as she realized the goddess was not looking at Juran, but at her. She felt herself trembling. Fear ate away at her resolve. How could she pit herself against the will of the gods, who she had always adored?

How can I worship beings that can so easily throw away the laws and justice they established?

:We acknowledge that Auraya is new to her responsibilities, Huan said, but her inexperience should be no encumbrance to her ability to carry out her duties. Some of you believe that the task we gave her was unsuited to her character. We expect you all to perform unpleasant tasks when needed.

:Auraya believes our decision unjust, Lore said. We laid judgment upon Mirar a century ago and that judgment has not changed.

Auraya resisted the urge to protest. He has changed, she thought. He is not the same person.

:Time, even a century hiding behind another identity, does not negate the crimes he has committed in the past, Huan said.

They were crimes too minor to justify the punishment of execution, she thought. But she stayed silent. The gods knew her mind. There was no point speaking out.

:Auraya demands justice for the sake of her own conscience, Saru added. You cannot do this every time we ask you to execute a criminal.

:You must trust us at times like these, Yranna said softly. When the need is urgent and the justice in our actions difficult to see.

Huan’s gaze shifted upward and Auraya guessed she was looking at Chaia.

:We have decided that Auraya must return to Jarime, Chaia said. Was it her imagination, or did he sound weary and reluctant? She must not leave Jarime for a period often years, unless Northern Ithania is invaded and she is accompanied by her fellow White.

Chaia paused. Auraya waited for more.

:That is our judgment, Chaia finished.

Surprised, she let herself relax. That’s it? They did not take away my Gift of flight? I suppose ten years is a long time to be stuck in one place...

:Auraya must leave Si tomorrow and return to Jarime, Huan said.

Tomorrow? Auraya went cold.

:What of Hearteater? she found herself asking. Who will heal the Siyee when I am gone?

:They will have to deal with it themselves, Huan said. It kills only one in five. That is regrettable, but survivable.

Aghast, Auraya could not think of anything to say to that.

:Will you accept your punishment? the goddess asked.

Auraya felt ill. So many Siyee would die. All because of her.

:Auraya.

She dragged her attention back to the goddess.

:If I must. Yes, I will return to Jarime.

Huan nodded, a gleam of satisfaction in her eyes. Then, without another word, the gods vanished.

Etim stood straight and stiff before the king. In one hand he held his spear, in the other he grasped the mallet and chisel the Pentadrians had given him.

“What did they ask for in return?” the king asked.

“Nothing, sire,” Etim replied.

King Ais scowled. He turned to look at the young woman by his side, who had laid a hand on his arm. This must be the Princess Imi, Erim decided. She looked older than he had expected. It wasn’t just the adult clothes, but the maturity in her gaze as she smiled at her father.

“Imenja could probably have sunk that ship herself, father. She asked our warriors to do it to prove a point. We can fight them without great risk to ourselves.”

The king’s brows sank even lower. “Your priestess has forced us into a war. Once the raiders know we destroyed one of their ships, they will come here in force.”

They don’t know! Etim thought. But he couldn’t say that unless invited. Frustrated, he shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

The king noticed the movement. He looked at Etim and narrowed his eyes.

“You disagree?” he asked, his voice dark with warning.

Etim decided it would be better to simply state the facts than offer an opinion.

“We left none alive. None to tell the tale.”

“None but the Pentadrians,” the king finished.

“They won’t,” Imi said. “But I want the raiders to hear about it. I want them to fear us. I want us to cut holes in their ships and the fish to feed on their bodies and the city to be enriched by their loot.” She smiled. “I want us to be respected by traders and feared by thieves. We can be that, with the Pentadrians’ help.”

The king stared at his daughter, but Etim could not tell if it was with amazement or dismay. After a moment the king looked away. He rubbed his chin, then looked up at Etim.

“What do you think of these Pentadrians, warrior?”

Etim considered how best to answer.

“I would prefer to be their friend rather than their enemy,” he replied honestly.

A faint smile touched the king’s face.

Imi chuckled. “That’s what I want people to think of us.”

“And in the meantime, we must trust these Pentadrian landwalkers,” the king replied sourly.

Imi shrugged. “Even they cannot stop us boring holes in the hulls of their ships.”

The king’s eyebrows rose. Etim might have been mistaken, but he thought he saw a spark of interest in the monarch’s eyes. Imi reached out and touched her father’s arm again.

“Did you consider my suggestion?” she asked quietly. “Did you list all the terms you would want in an alliance?”

“They will not agree to them,” he replied.

“Maybe not,” she agreed. “But you won’t know that until you ask them.”

The king looked at her, then drew in a deep breath and let it out. He looked up at Etim.

“Bring me the First Warrior.”

Wondering if he had just witnessed a great decisive moment in Elai history, Etim hurried from the room.

46

“Msstf, Owayafly?”

Auraya looked at the veez, who was inspecting her pack hopefully.

“Yes, Mischief. Auraya and Mischief fly... to Jarime.” She had been about to say “home,” but the words didn’t seem right. Jarime no longer felt like home.

Sighing, she sat down and patted the veez. Sirri had been dismayed to learn that Auraya was leaving. Without my help many, many Siyee are going to die, she thought. But if the gods had removed my ability to fly instead, I would not be able to reach all the distant villages anyway.

She had expected that, with the plague spreading throughout Si, whatever punishment the gods decided upon would not take effect until the disease was under control. By sending her to Jarime now the gods were also punishing the Siyee for her disobedience. That was unfair. Cruel, even. She felt her mood darken. Perhaps Mirar was right about them...

It was ironic that by persuading Mirar to teach her his healing Gift she had brought about events that forced the only two people who could help the Siyee to leave Si.

Mirar’s words repeated in her mind. “Come with me. We will leave Ithania and seek the distant continents.”

What he had proposed was absurd. It meant abandoning the Siyee. She looked down at the ring on her finger and smiled wryly. Even if she had been ordered to give away everything it meant - her position, power, flight, immortality - she would still prefer to stay and help the Siyee.

Looking up, she regarded the array of objects on the table. Gifts had started arriving as soon as the news of her departure began to spread. She couldn’t take everything, her pack wasn’t big enough even without a veez filling half the space. But she wanted to fill her room in the tower with Siyee-made objects so that every time the other White visited her they would be reminded about the fate of the Siyee.

She wasn’t just abandoning the Siyee to Hearteater, but to the Pentadrians. If they tried to land here again, none of the other White could arrive in time to help. And what use would I be, without flight or my powers enhanced by the gods? She grimaced. I supposed I could live on the coast. If I had a ship, we could reach the place the Pentadrians landed fairly quickly. Maybe my reputation would scare them off.

It was almost tempting. Perhaps if Siyee, as soon as they showed signs of sickening, flew to her, she could help them. She could set up a healing place in the Sand tribe village. Maybe a few Siyee would be capable of learning Mirar’s healing Gift.

Then her heart sank. She wasn’t sure if she would still be able to use Mirar’s Gift if she removed the gods’ ring. She wasn’t even sure she could remove the ring without something terrible happening.

Perhaps I should ask Chaia, a dark, quiet voice in the back of her mind said. Shaking her head, she stood up and moved to the table. It’s absurd, she thought. I’m not going to take off the ring or turn from the gods. I have to accept their judgment. I will make the best of it.

In Jarime she could teach Mirar’s Gift to others. There must be healer priests and priestesses capable of it. Perhaps the Siyee who chose to join the Temple could take the skill back. It would be too late to save most Siyee from Heart-eater, but it might go some way toward them forgiving her for abandoning them.

Which she hoped they would. It would break her heart if, ten years from now, she found she was no longer welcome in Si.

Someone was screaming. No - lots of people. Their wails were almost comically melodramatic. Mirar tried to feel concerned, but only became worried that he wasn’t concerned.

:Mirar?

:Ernerahl? Are you making that noise? It’s irritating.

:What noise?

:This noise.

:Oh. That. You’re dreaming.

He paused to think.

:If I am, am I dreaming you?

:No. I’m trying to dream link with you. Get control of yourself, Dreamweaver.

Control. Of course. He exerted his will on the dream, and the screaming became muted. It should have fallen to silence. Then he remembered.

:It’s the blizzard, he told Emerahl. The noise of the wind must be so loud that my mind can’t help registering it even in my dreams.

:How lovely for you.

:Yes. How are you?

:I’ve reached the Red Caves. I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve told my hosts all about you. They’re impressed at how you managed to change your identity for a century.

Mirar felt a twinge of apprehension. She had told them that? What else had she told them?

:Do I mind? he replied. Well, that depends who your hosts are.

:The Twins.

Surprise nearly shook him from the dream state.

:Is that so?

:Yes. Have you ever met them?

:Once, a long time ago. About fifty years before Juran was Chosen they warned me that the Dreamweavers would face bad times in the next century. I didn’t believe them.

:They say they see patterns in the world. They constantly skim the minds of mortals, watching the spread of ideas. They say human behavior is fairly easy to predict, most of the time.

:Well, they’ve been skimming minds a long time, he reminded her. I heard rumors of their existence only a few hundred years after I became immortal.

:0h, they’re older than that, she told him. They’ve watched mortals for many, many centuries before they learned to see patterns in their behavior, and became famous for their predictions.

:What do they see happening in the near future? he asked.

:They don’t agree. Surim thinks there is some great change about to happen. Tamun does not think it likely, so soon after the rise of the Circlians and the Pentadrians. And that is interesting, too. They say the two religions formed and grew simultaneously. Surim thinks that there is nothing more to it than powerful beliefs rising to fill the voids left after so many gods died in their war. Tamun believes there is more to it than that - that the religions are linked.

:Do they know if the Pentadrian gods are real?

:They are. Too many Pentadrian worshippers can recall encounters with their gods for them not to be real. Nobody knows where these gods came from, however. They are different to the Circlian gods in that they rarely appear before mortals. They don’t like to meddle too much in the affairs of their followers.

:Except to tell them to invade Northern Ithania?

:The Twins believe that was the decision of the former leader, Kuar.

:Interesting. I like the idea of non-meddling gods, but if the result is mortals making decisions like that...

:Don’t tell me you’ve changed your mind and think we’re better off with gods than without.

:No. Never. But mortals can make astoundingly stupid and cruel decisions, too.

:Even your own followers? she asked.

:Of course not. Dreamweavers are always unfailingly sensible.

:Ha!

:Well, most of them.

:Have you contacted Dreamweaver Elder Arleejl

:Yes, he said. She’s making the arrangements you suggested.

:How did she take the news about you?

:She was surprised.

:I’m sure she was more than just surprised. The Twins told me something you’ll find interesting and maybe even useful in the future. There are more voids in the world. Most are of no use to anyone, but there are a few in remote locations that might be good places for you to hide.

:Do they know what caused them?

:No. Only that a great magical event must have happened to drain that much magic from one place in the world. They had never heard of them before the War of the Gods.

:That certainly qualifies as a great magical event, Mirar remarked.

:Yes. I’d always thought it strange that a war between such beings has never affected the physical world. All that changed for mortals was that gods no longer appeared, or they lost Gifts their gods had bestowed upon them.

:I wonder if the voids are dangerous to the gods. They are beings of pure magic, after all.

:Only if they blundered into one, I suppose.

:Yes. I wonder if we could arrange that.

Emerahl’s amusement came to him in a gentle wave of humor.

:It’s gone quiet, she said suddenly.

Mirar paused and listened. It took a moment for the meaning of the silence to occur to him. The sound of wind had stopped. Either his subconscious had finally blocked it, or the storm had ended.

:I had best wake up and be civil to my hosts, Emerahl told him. Happy travelling, Mirar.

:Thanks, he replied, thinking of the treacherous snow and rugged mountains he still had to cross.

Her mind faded from his senses. He drew in a deep breath and pulled himself into full consciousness. To his relief the wind had stopped screaming. Opening his eyes he saw only darkness, so he drew magic and created a spark of light. His relief changed to dismay.

The entire mouth of the enormous cave he had been sheltering in was completely blocked by a wall of snow.

That was why he couldn’t hear the wind any more.

47

A day after the Elai had sunk the raider ship, Imenja ordered her vessel to moor near a collection of little islets. Though more rock than anything else, those just beneath the waves were covered in bulfish. The islets were too far from Borra for the Elai to be relying on them for food, and too dangerous for anyone without magic to approach. Imenja had ventured out with a few daring crewmembers every day to collect bulfish, and they had feasted on the delicacy for two days.

All except Reivan. Unfortunately, she was the only person on board who didn’t like these bulfish. Some of the crew even preferred to eat them raw. Just the thought of that turned her stomach. The ship’s cook, however, had taken Reivan’s dislike as a personal challenge. Each night he prepared them in a different way, trying to find one that might win her over. Under Imenja’s watchful eye she had tasted them seared, roasted, in soups, and even mashed into a paste, but the strong, pungent, fishy taste left her gagging.

She longed for the ship to move on, but culinary pleasure wasn’t the only reason Imenja was dallying in this place. The Second Voice had to give the Elai warriors time to return to their city, give the king their news, and for a messenger to return - if the king decided to send one.

“I think I’m growing to like this life on the sea,” Imenja said. “Maybe I should put aside ruling the world and become a trader.”

Reivan turned to regard Imenja. “I suppose it wouldn’t be a great change for you. You’d still get to boss others around and negotiate with peoples of many nations. I think I prefer the simple comforts of the Sanctuary, though.”

“There’s much more room there,” Imenja agreed.

“And there’s no... oh, no. Here we go again.”

She had spotted the cook approaching the pavilion. He held a wooden board covered by an upturned dish.

Imenja chuckled. “He only seeks to please you.”

“Are you sure he’s not trying to make me ill?”

The cook entered the pavilion. He traced the star over his chest quickly, then lifted the dish off the wooden board with a flourish. Reivan sighed.

A shallow stone bowl lay on the board, filled with bulfish. Their shells had been removed and they steamed invitingly. A delicious smell of herbs reached Reivan’s nose, but it did nothing to boost her confidence.

The cook held out a fork.

“Try.”

Reivan shook her head.

“Just try it, Reivan,” Imenja said, in the tone of someone who would not be refused.

Sighing, Reivan took the fork and skewered one of the slimy-looking fish. She regarded it fatalistically, then forced herself to put it in her mouth.

The sickeningly pungent flavor she expected to assault her senses did not come. Instead, a mild flavor mixed with the pleasantness of the herbs filled her mouth. Surprised, she chewed cautiously, sure that doing so would release the flavor she disliked. It didn’t, and she swallowed almost reluctantly.

The cook was grinning. “You like it.”

She nodded. “It’s better. Much better.”

“Really?” Imenja took the fork from Reivan’s hands, then plucked a morsel off the board. She popped it into her mouth and chewed, and her eyes widened. “It is. It’s subtle and delicate. You steamed it?”

The cook nodded.

“Remember what you did,” she told him. “I wonder if we can get bulfish shipped home to—”

Her expression changed suddenly. With furrowed brows she waved the cook away, rose and stepped out of the pavilion. Reivan followed as her mistress moved to the ship’s rail and stared out at the sea.

“I think we are about to receive a visit from the sea folk,” she murmured. “Yes. There.”

She pointed. The water was all black shadows and the red light of the reflected sunset. Staring out at the waves, Reivan saw a head-sized object moving up and down with the waves. After a moment it disappeared. She sought another sign of the Elai, but in vain.

“Throw over a rope,” Imenja ordered a crewman nearby. He hurried to obey. As the rope unfurled, Reivan peered over the rail.

A head appeared and two milky eyes stared up at them. The inner eyelids of the Elai warrior slid back. He grasped the rope and began to climb.

When he reached the rail, he paused and looked at the crew nervously. He was older than the Elai warriors who had sunk the raider ship. As Imenja stepped forward to welcome him, he turned to regard her, his expression serious.

“I have come to give you a message,” he told her. “King Ais, ruler of Borra and the Elai, invites Second Voice Imenja, Servant of the Pentadrian gods, to consider this proposal.”

He spoke slowly and carefully, and had obviously memorized the message from the king. Reivan smothered the urge to smile in triumph as she realized this was a treaty proposal.

“The king suggests his people and yours meet to trade goods in the future, but not at the islands of Borra. Islands a few days’ sailing from Borra might be suitable, if they are not overrun by raiders.

“In return for help with Elai defenses, King Ais will help Pentadrians fight raiders, but only if the risk to his warriors is not too great. All valuables taken from raider vessels would become the property of the king. Training of Elai in fighting, magic or building defenses would also occur away from Borra.”

Imenja nodded. “Am I right to guess that the signing of such a treaty will occur on one of these remote islands as well?”

The messenger nodded. Imenja looked away as if considering.

:What do you think, Reivan?

:I think this is the only offer we’ll get. There will be no discussion of these terms. If we attempt it, we will not hear from him again.

:And what of the terms?

:The only part that sounds unreasonable is that they get all the loot. It would not take long for it to occur to them that if they wait until a trader has been attacked, they will get more loot from the raider.

Imenja turned back to the messenger.

“I agree to these terms on behalf of my people. If you tell me the location of the islands you spoke of, we will sail for them tomorrow.”

The messenger looked surprised, but not displeased. He gave her directions, then, bowing respectfully, he bid them farewell and moved to the edge of the ship. Unlike the younger warriors, who had leapt into the water, he climbed down carefully and slipped into the sea with barely a splash.

Imenja beckoned to Reivan, who moved to her side.

“You still fear they’ll replace raiders as the greatest danger for traders in these waters,” she said quietly. “Don’t worry. I will make them think twice about that.”

A warm weight lay between Auraya’s shoulders. After long hours of flight, Mischief had grown bored, yet he understood, perhaps instinctively, that he could not leave the protection of her pack. Instead he did something she envied him for: sleep.

The night landscape below was coy about revealing its features. Different shades of darkness marked different areas: forest was darker than fields, water was blacker still. From time to time the moon found a gap in the clouds and Auraya was able to make out roads and houses.

Now there was an aberration below. An interruption of the natural pattern, poised at the meeting of land and water. As moonlight once again bathed the world it showed hard angles and a jumble of interconnecting lines. Two buildings caught the light and seemed to throw it back. The Dome shone like a second moon, half-buried in the ground. The White Tower stretched up, like an accusing finger.

Moving toward the Tower, she considered once again the reception she might receive. Would all four White meet her? Would they be sympathetic or angry? Would she be expected to apologize or explain herself? As she descended she braced herself for a meeting that was probably going to be awkward, if not unpleasant.

As her feet touched the roof her surroundings darkened. She looked up to see that the clouds had covered the moon again. No one stepped out to greet her. She waited for several heartbeats, then laughed quietly.

I assumed the gods would let Juran know I was coming. Looks like they didn’t. She moved toward the door, amused to feel a faint disappointment. They might be waiting inside, or in my room.

She entered the building, opening and closing the door to the roof quietly. Moving down the stairs, she did not meet anyone - not even a servant. Reaching the door to her rooms, she paused to listen. No sounds came from within. She opened the door and found her rooms dim and empty.

Putting her pack down, she created a spark of light. A sleepy Mischief crawled out. He blinked at her then jumped onto a chair and curled up. She patted him, then looked around.

Everything was how she had left it, yet it did not feel like the place she had left. She felt no lifting of her spirits at familiar surrounds. Walking from room to room, she wondered if her lack of relief at returning home was because it was going to be something like a prison for the next decade.

She sat down on the edge of her bed and twirled the ring on her finger.

During her long flight, with nothing to distract her, she had spent a lot of time thinking. At first she had decided there was no point agonizing over her future. It was set and there was nothing she could do to change it. But something nagged at her and eventually she had admitted to herself that she did have choices, even if they were foolish or ridiculous. She began examining them, weighing up the consequences, in order to convince herself they were not ones she wanted to make.

By the time she had reached Jarime she had come to the realization that some of these choices weren’t as foolish as she’d first thought. That she might be happier, or at least more useful to the world, if she made them.

At the same time they frightened her. She had decided she needed to sleep before making any decision. And there was something else she needed to know.

Lying back on the bed, she let herself sink toward sleep. When she judged the time was right, she spoke a name.

:Mirar!

There was a long silence, then a familiar mental voice replied.

:Auraya? Is that really you?

:It is. I have a question for you.

:Yes?

:Will I be able to teach your healing Gift to others?

:Only in rare circumstances.

:What circumstances?

He did not answer.

:Mirar?

:Have the gods chosen a punishment for you yet? he asked.

:Yes.

:What did they decide?

She hesitated. If he had any intention of causing trouble, knowing she couldn’t leave Jarime might encourage him.

:That is none of your business, she told him.

:Isn’t it? Consider it an exchange of information. I will tell you the circumstances which limit the teaching of healing for the gods’ decision on your punishment.

She felt annoyance, but pushed it aside. She could give him part of the truth.

:They sent me back to Jarime.

:Ah. So the Siyee are without a healer, which explains your question about teaching. They’ve punished you by punishing the Siyee. I guess they didn’t have much else they could take from you.

:You did not expect them to remove my ability to fly?

:No. I’ve suspected that ability is your own since the day I taught you healing. Now I am sure of it.

A shiver ran down her spine.

:What do you mean?

:You were already a powerful sorceress when you joined the Circlians. I saw the potential in you long before that. Doesn’t it seem odd to you that the other White were not given this ability?

:Yes, but they weren’t meant to go to Si.

:Weren’t they? You discovered your ability yourself. If the gods meant you to have it in order to befriend the Siyee, wouldn’t they have given it to you in a ceremony, with great fanfare, so that people adored them for it?

:But if Juran is more Gifted than me then surely he could learn it.

:Did you try to teach him?

She paused. Juran’s efforts had come to nothing.

:But that would make me more Gifted - stronger - than him!

:Not if the gods are holding you back. They put you in third place, but since you started showing signs of growing beyond the limits of your position they’ve had to suppress you.

:How do you know this! she demanded.

:I don’t. I am guessing. But I do know that you are stronger than you think. Stronger than the gods intended you to be. I felt it the day you tried to kill me.

Auraya felt a stab of frustration.

:You haven’t answered my question: What circumstances will stop me teaching others your healing Gift?

He paused before answering.

:Only powerfully Gifted sorcerers will be able to learn it. Perhaps your fellow White can, perhaps not.

She felt her heart sink. There would be no priests or Siyee returning to fight Hearteater.

:What other circumstances are there?

:Did I say there were more?

:You spoke in plurals.

:So I did. There is this: if you did manage to find someone Gifted enough to learn my healing method, the gods may have them killed. Remember that Huan said it was forbidden.

:Why?

:That I cannot tell you.

:Cannot or will not?

:Will not.

:Why not?

:I can’t tell you that either.

She felt her frustration growing and took a deep breath.

:So why don’t they kill me?

:You’re a White.

:So if I wasn’t, they’d kill me?

:Yes. Or maybe not. It depends if you’re speaking of yourself before you were a White or not. If before, then yes.

:And if I were a former White, no?

:I’m not sure. Are you thinking of quitting?

She paused, knowing he would sense the lie if she denied it.

:Because if you are, he continued, the gods might be so angry that they’ll kill you anyway. Not that they’d find it easy to kill someone so powerful. You might escape them. But I know what it’s like to be hunted and despised by the gods. You don’t want that life, Auraya.

:No, she said. I have no intention of making myself an enemy of the gods. Thank you for answering my question, Mirar, even if not fully.

:I answered it as fully as you answered mine, he replied. Good luck.

As he broke the link she sighed. He is too shrewd. But shrewd or not, he doesn’t know everything.

He also knew much that she didn’t. She had learned a few things from their conversation, though she had to consider if his claims were true. It was unlikely she would get much sleep before morning.

Yet by the time Mischief leapt softly onto the bed and curled up beside her, she had made the journey from waking to slumber.

Stepping into her sleeping pool, Imi splashed her body. She sighed with relief as the cool water soothed her skin.

How does father do it? He listened as that merchant droned on for hours and hours, and all the weaver woman did was whine and complain.

When Imi had asked her father if she could sit with him as he dealt with the requests, protests and reports people brought to him, he had agreed, but only if she stayed there as long as he did. She soon discovered that he spent many more hours there every day than she had expected, and that most of the time it was utterly boring.

But she suspected her father had insisted she must stay the whole time so that she would lose interest and leave him be. He was testing her resolve. Or perhaps he simply wanted her to begin learning how to run the kingdom. That thought filled her with both fear and anticipation. And sadness, because the day she took charge of Borra would be the day her father died.

Her resolve hadn’t broken and her determination had finally been rewarded. She had realized that many traders and warriors, and even some of the courtiers, would have much to gain from a treaty with the Pentadrians, and she had pointed these reasons out to her father whenever he asked what she had thought of a visitor. When her father had decided to send the messenger to the Pentadrians, her heart had sung with victory.

Now that she’d had time to think, doubts had begun to weaken her confidence. Imi stepped out of the pool and began to pace the room.

What if the Pentadrians did prove untrustworthy? What if they came back and forced their way into the city somehow? What if her people were killed, and it was all her fault?

Imenja would never allow it, she told herself. She’s a good person. And powerfully Gifted. Nobody would dare disobey her.

When Imi was not worried about the future she had set in motion for her people, she worried if it would come about at all. The Pentadrians might not agree to the restrictions her father had placed on them. They might decide that the Elai had nothing worth trading, or that the Elai were too weak to be useful allies.

Even if that is true, even if the alliance doesn’t happen, things have changed for us.

She remembered the bright light in the eyes of the warriors who had sunk the raider ship. Father won’t easily stop them trying that again. Or trying out other ways to harm the raiders. He can order them not to, but they won’t like it. She frowned. Is that the only reason he sent the messenger? Is he afraid people will resent him, or even turn against him, if he refuses them this chance to strike back? Did he feel he had no choice?

Is that my fault?

No, she told herself. Even if he thinks he has to give in to the warriors, he doesn’t have to involve the Pentadrians at all. We don’t need them in order to fight the raiders.

But if the raiders proved too powerful an enemy, the Elai will need an ally like the Pentadrians to help them.

If this. If that. So many ifs.

From the door came a knock. She watched as Teiti emerged from her room to answer it. As Rissi stepped past Imi’s aunt she sighed with relief.

“Hello, Princess.”

“Rissi,” she replied. Here was a welcome distraction. She wondered if he could stay long. Perhaps they could play a table game. Anything to keep her mind from these worries. She ushered him toward some chairs. “Teiti, would you send for something to drink? Maybe something to eat, too?”

Her aunt narrowed her eyes at Rissi, then nodded and left the room. As Imi sat down, Rissi gingerly took a seat. There were dark, bluish patches on his arms.

“What’s wrong with you?” she asked.

He grimaced. “I’ve been practicing.”

“Practicing what?”

“Fighting.”

“What for?” She frowned. “You boys aren’t playing at wars again, are you?”

He grinned. “No. Me and a few others are having warrior lessons.”

“Oh.” She shrugged. “Aren’t you a bit young for that?”

He scowled. “No.”

She bit her lip as she realized she’d offended him. Boys were like that. Always wanting to be older.

“Of course you aren’t,” she said apologetically. “Is this something all traders’ sons do?”

He looked away. “We have to be able to defend ourselves, if we go outside the city.”

She looked at him closely. There was more to it than that. He glanced at her, then shrugged.

“And besides, I don’t want to be a trader. I want to be a warrior.”

Surprise slowly changed to alarm. If he became a warrior now, when warriors were going to be attacking raiders, he might be killed. And this, too, would happen because of her.

“The First Warrior has promised me I will have a place among the recruits when I’m old enough,” he told her. “If I pass the tests. Father doesn’t like it, but he can’t stop me.”

“Why?” Imi blurted out.

He spread his hands. “Because he wants me to take over trading.”

“No, I mean why do you want to be a warrior?”

He stared at her silently, then slowly began to smile. “Because, Princess Imi, I’m going to marry you one day.”

Teiti saved her from trying to think of a reply to that. The door to the room opened and the woman bustled in with a tray of food balanced on one hand and a jug held in the other. She placed both on a table next to Imi and Rissi, then straightened.

“The king sent a message for you, Princess,” Teiti said.

She always used and emphasized the titles when Rissi was visiting. “The messenger has returned from the Pentadrians. They have agreed to all terms.”

Imi jumped up. “They have! That’s wonderful. I have to talk to father now!”

And ignoring Teiti’s protest that she had just brought them food, and Rissi’s confident smile, Imi seized the opportunity to escape.

Hurrying through the palace, she felt a flash of annoyance. I should be overjoyed, but Rissi’s gone and spoiled that. I didn’t know what to say. I’ve never been so embarrassed! And where did he get the idea that becoming a warrior would mean he could marry me?

Then she remembered. She had told him. She’d told him her father would probably marry her off to someone of royal blood, unless he decided a warrior leader of impressive standing would bring new blood into the family.

It’ll take a lot to impress father, she thought. But he’s willing to give it a try.

And that was quite flattering, she realized. Would any of her cousins, second cousins and distant relatives do that? She doubted it.

Smiling, she slowed her stride and started considering where her father was likely to be.

48

“Ah, here he is,” Tamun said, looking away from her loom toward the cave entrance.

Emerahl turned to see Surim climbing the stairs. Around his neck was an enormous snake, its body as large as his thigh and so long he had draped it around his shoulders twice. He carried it to the side of the cave where they always prepared meals, and shrugged it off his shoulders.

He looked at Emerahl and grinned. “Dinner. We will have a fine feast tonight.”

Emerahl regarded the snake in horror.

“A fine and boring one, if that’s all you’ve brought us,” Tamun replied.

“I have more,” Surim said defensively. He reached into a woven bag that had been concealed by the snake and drew out several objects, all of plant origin, Emerahl noted with relief. She looked at the snake, lying motionless on the floor.

“Have you eaten takker before?” Surim asked.

Emerahl dragged her eyes from the reptile. “No.”

“They’re delicious,” he told her. “Rather like breem in texture, but slightly meatier in flavor.”

“You should have caught something more conventional,” Tamun said disapprovingly, her eyes not leaving her work. She glanced at Emerahl and smiled. “You don’t have to eat it. It took us a while to adapt to this place, but we’ve grown accustomed to some unusual additions to our diet. You are our guest, and,” her eyes narrowed as she turned to regard Surim, “should not be expected to eat such things.”

One of his eyebrows rose cheekily. “No, she should be treated with special generosity. Given the best. Rare delicacies like roasted takker, for example.”

“I’ll give it a try,” Emerahl said quickly, hoping to head off another endless argument. It wasn’t that their banter was hurtful, but it could and often did go on for hours. “And if I don’t like it, I’ll happily eat the vegetables instead.”

Surim smiled broadly. “Thank you, Emerahl. Or you might like to try this instead...”

From the bag he drew a spider at least twice the size of his hand.

“You are kidding me,” Emerahl found herself saying.

“He is,” Tamun growled. “Stop it, Surim.”

He pulled a face. “But it’s so much fun. I haven’t had anyone to play with for so long. Tricking someone as old as you isn’t easy.”

Emerahl looked at Tamun. “You’ve put up with this for how long?”

“Nearly two millennia,” she replied calmly. “You’d think after all this time he’d realize his pranks aren’t funny. It’s like being told the same joke over and over. Some would call it torture.”

“Being old doesn’t mean I have to lose my sense of humor,” he told her. “Unlike some people.”

“I’m amused by you every day,” she said dryly.

Emerahl shook her head. “You two never stop, do you?”

Surim grinned. “Not for a moment. Not even after we separated ourselves.”

The Twins paused to look at each other, their faces open and full of affection. Emerahl glanced from one to the other, wondering...

“A century ago,” Tamun said suddenly, turning to meet Emerahl’s eyes. Her expression was serious. “To escape the gods’ determination to rid the world of immortals.”

Emerahl stared at her in dismay. “Did you just...?”

“Read your mind? No.” Tamun shrugged and returned to her weaving. “But we know that expression well.” She smiled. “Don’t worry. We’re not offended by your curiosity. Ask away.”

Emerahl nodded. “How did separating save you?”

“The gods, as you may already know, cannot easily affect the physical world,” Surim told her. He had dragged the snake up onto a table and was gutting it. “They must work through a mortal, preferably someone Gifted in magic.”

“So they need their priests and priestesses to do their work,” Tamun continued. “After Juran dealt with Mirar, he went after the rest of us. The Seer was easy to find...”

“Bet she didn’t predict that,” Surim muttered.

“... and The Farmer was taken by surprise. We learned of the gods’ orders too late to warn him. The only immortal we were able to warn was The Gull.”

“He is older than all of us,” Surim said, pausing in his work to meet Emerahl’s eyes. His expression was full of respect.

“His habit of moving about constantly, concealing his identity and appearing to be nothing more than a scrawny ship’s boy saved him.”

“And folk of the sea protect their own,” Tamun added.

“We, on the other hand, were both well-known and particularly recognizable. Of course we tried to hide - and succeeded for a while. Then the gods declared that people like us are ‘abominations’ and should be separated or killed at birth. All joined twins of all ages were taken to Jarime. Most attempts to separate them failed.”

“But there were a few successes,” Tamun said with deliberate brightness. “Or so we told people. The fact that we had been separated suggested that we’d been examined by Circlians and found acceptable, so we could not possibly be the famous Twins.”

Emerahl scowled. “Cursed gods.”

“Oh, don’t be angry on our behalf,” Tamun said, smiling. “We’d always meant to do it. We just didn’t have the courage. What if we didn’t like it? What if we couldn’t put ourselves together again?”

“We have no regrets,” Surim assured Emerahl. “And some good did come of the separations. Healer priests and priestesses are better at it now. More children survive.”

“But the ones they kill...” Tamun frowned and shook her head. “For that, I hate the gods.”

“Among other things,” Surim muttered.

Emerahl sighed. “I, too, though they have done no more to me than force me into hiding. I hate them more for what they did to Mirar.” Emerahl sighed. “If only we could be free of them.”

“Well, they can be killed,” Tamun said.

Emerahl turned to stare at the woman. Tamun shrugged. “Before the War of the Gods there were many gods; after it there were five.”

“Ten now,” Surim corrected.

Tamun ignored him. “So the question is: Is killing a god something only another god can do?”

“And if it is, can we persuade, bribe or blackmail a god to do it for us?” Surim chuckled. “Tell her about the scroll.”

“Ah, the scroll.” Tamun smiled. “Over the last century of skimming minds we’ve occasionally encountered rumors of a certain scroll. It is said to contain the story of the War of the Gods, told by a goddess to her last servant before she was killed.”

Emerahl felt her heart quicken. “Where is this scroll?”

“Nobody knows,” Surim said, his eyes widening theatrically.

“But certain scholars in Southern Ithania have collected hints and undertaken searches over the years. Of all people in the world, they would be the ones most likely to find it.”

“Unless someone else finds it first.”

Both Surim and Tamun turned to regard her, their faces both wearing the same expectant, meaningful expression. Emerahl laughed.

“When it comes to giving hints, you’re both as gentle as a Dunwayan war-hammer. You want me to find it.” She paused as a delicious smell caught her attention. “Is that takker I can smell cooking?”

Surim chortled. “It might just be.”

“Smells good.” She shifted into a more comfortable position and turned to Tamun. “So what else can you tell me about this scroll and the scholars of Southern Ithania?”

* * *

The island was farther out to sea than the islands of Borra. Several rocky islets had led the way, each reminding Reivan of tiny drowned mountains. Now, as the ship sailed into the sheltered lagoon the Elai king had chosen as their meeting place, Reivan suddenly realized they were sailing into a crater not unlike those she’d seen in Avven. These islands were drowned mountains. Like soldiers standing in lines, the great mountain range that divided Northern Ithania stretched not just from Dunway to Si, but into the ocean.

A narrow beach edged the lagoon. At the center stood a small crowd of dark figures.

“Imi is among them,” Imenja said.

Reivan smiled. “Good. I was hoping we’d see her again before we returned home. Even if just to make sure she’s safe and well.”

“We know she’s safe and well.”

“Yes, but I can’t read minds.”

“Don’t you believe me?”

Reivan chuckled. “Of course I do. But that’s not like seeing it for myself. It’s like someone telling you something tastes good, but not tasting it yourself.”

Imenja looked at Reivan sideways. “Like bulfish?”

Reivan decided she didn’t need to answer that. She nodded toward the beach.

“Is the king there?”

“Yes.”

“What does he make of all this?”

“He’s still suspicious of us, but he can see advantages. He’s pleased with himself for gaining the restrictions he wanted, too. And he’s both proud and a little scared of Imi.”

“Scared?”

“Yes. Her adventures have changed her. It’s hard for him to accept that his little girl came back all grown up. He’s the sort of man who doesn’t like change.” She paused. “There’s another with him. A priestess. She is wondering if the king will change the treaty in the way she suggested.”

“How?”

Imenja smiled. “She fears the Elai will be seduced by our gods, so she wants him to forbid us from teaching their ways.”

“What will you do?”

Imenja didn’t reply. The captain was approaching. He told Imenja the boat was ready. The Second Voice nodded and looked at Reivan.

“Do you have everything?”

In reply, Reivan lifted the oilskin bag she had packed with parchment, ink and various scribing tools.

“Then let’s go and make a little history.”

They climbed down into the boat. As soon as they had settled the crew began to row. Nobody spoke. When the hull scraped against sand the men jumped out and hauled the boat from the waves. Imenja and Reivan stepped out. The crew waited by the boat as they strode toward the Elai.

As on their previous meeting with him, the king stood within a ring of warriors. Imi waited beside him and an old woman stood at his other side. The stranger wore gold jewellery and fine clothes, and Reivan might have mistaken her for a queen if she hadn’t known Imi’s mother was dead. No, this must be the priestess. Another man stood a few steps behind the king. At his feet were two slabs of stone.

“Greetings, King Ais, ruler of Borra,” Imenja said.

“Welcome, Imenja, Second Voice,” the king replied.

Imenja turned to Imi. “Greetings, Princess Imi. How are you settling into your home and life again?”

Imi smiled. “Well, Second Voice.”

Imenja glanced at Reivan and smiled. “That is good. Now, shall we discuss the terms of our treaty?” she asked of the king.

He nodded. Reivan listened carefully as they began to examine the issues of warfare and trade. As they decided how to word each part of the treaty she wrote notes on small pieces of parchment with a gray stick. Each point was considered carefully and it took some time before the subject of religion came up.

“My people are content to follow Huan,” the king told them. “But we also understand that the new can be seductive, and that even small religious disagreements among a people can cause strife. I must also ask that you do not attempt to convert any Elai, neither by endeavoring to teach the ways of your gods, nor by granting any request for such lessons.”

“My people will keep their practices to themselves,” Imenja assured him.

Reivan managed to stop herself glancing at Imenja in surprise. She touched the pendant around her neck.

:If you agree to that, Nekaun will not see much value in this treaty.

:No, but he will see, in time, that the more forbidden something is, the more certain individuals will want it.

“I have my own restriction to place on this treaty,” Imenja said aloud.

The king’s eyebrows rose. “Yes?”

“Certain of my people at home have expressed concern that your people might seek to rob traders, either by waiting until raiders have attacked merchant ships before attacking the raiders themselves, or by attacking traders directly. I have assured them that you will not, but they want your promise on this.”

“They have my word that any of my warriors found to be indulging in such practices will be punished.”

Imenja bowed her head in acknowledgment. “Change ‘warrior’ to ‘Elai’ and specify the punishment and they will be satisfied. And also note that, if we discover your people have begun preying upon non-raiders in this manner, this treaty will be considered broken by my people.”

The king nodded. “That is reasonable.”

Imenja held his eyes. “I will learn of it,” she told him. “In the same way I learned that the merchant who bought Imi from the raiders was guilty, and your warriors were following my ship, and that there is a second entrance to your city, where watchers keep a lookout for raiders. What I cannot see with the Skills the gods have given me, they tell me of themselves. I will know if your people turn into thieves.”

The king’s frown slowly faded as he realized what she was saying. He turned to Imi, who suddenly looked a little frightened. The girl straightened.

“I told you she was a sorcerer,” Imi said to her father.

“But you didn’t know this,” he muttered.

She shook her head.

The king turned back to Imenja and narrowed his eyes. “How do I know you won’t return with more ships and take my city?”

Imenja smiled. “I have no interest in taking your city. Not only is it too great a distance from my home, but what use would an underground city the size of an Avven village be to us? I can see the value of trade, and of keeping these seas safe for it.

“We both have taken a risk in doing this,” she continued. “For you, it is trusting that we have no interest in harming your people. For us, it is that you won’t turn what we teach you to ill use. I think it worth the risk.”

The king nodded. “I had my doubts. I admit I still have them. But my people cannot remain as they are, and they are willing to take this risk.”

He turned to the man behind him. Reivan saw that one of the stone slabs was covered in Elai writing. “Bring them forth and we shall watch you carve our words into promises.” He looked at Imenja. “We will set down our treaty in both languages.”

“And in the manner of both peoples,” Imenja agreed. She glanced at Reivan. Nodding at the unspoken order, Reivan opened the oilskin bag and drew out parchment, ink and a board to write against.

“That will never survive the water,” the Elai scribe murmured.

Reivan smiled and drew out a message tube, oilskin wrapping, wax and a coil of rope. “Yes it will,” she assured him.

He looked unconvinced. With a shrug, Reivan settled cross-legged on the sand and began to write.

Between Mirar and the thin spread of trees at the edge of the forest was a smooth, steep blanket of snow. The easiest way to descend would be to cross back and forth, he decided. Going straight down would make it hard to keep his footing.

Would that be such a bad thing? he asked himself. It might be faster to slide. He looked at the trees below. Though smaller than those deep within the forest, their trunks were just as hard. Sliding out of control and in a flurry of snow, he might not get a clear view of his path. He might not see a tree in time to use magic to stop himself crashing into it.

Yes, he told himself. That would be a bad thing.

Looking back up at the mountain, he sighed. Few times in his long life had he ventured into such high, inhospitable places, and always in the company of others. The views had been breathtaking, but the way had been treacherous in places. It had taken mere brute magical force to get out of the buried cave, but avoiding falling into snow-covered crevasses had been a much greater challenge.

Starting out across the open slope, he moved slowly. The snow was lightly packed but not deep. It cascaded down the slope at each step. Halfway across, he paused to look around.

After a moment he realized he was still moving. The whole slope was moving.

His heart skipped a beat then began to race. The smooth surface began to ruck and ripple. The instinct to flee turned him around and sent him hurrying back, but his path was all but obscured as snow above it folded over the snow below.

It tangled his legs. He struggled to stay upright and failed. As he landed on his side and began to slide, snow swept over him like breaking waves.

Don’t panic, he told himself. It’ll just carry me to the bottom. The only danger is suffocation and those trees below.

Drawing magic, he surrounded himself with a barrier, adding extra space around his face so he could breathe. He felt himself hurtling downward. Then his descent abruptly slowed and he stopped. Snow covered him. The weight of it against his barrier grew.

I’m being buried.

Memories of being crushed flashed into his mind. From somewhere deep within a terror began to rise. He fought it, forcing himself to breathe slowly. The pressure on his barrier felt powerful enough to crush him. If he lost concentration for one moment the barrier would fall and...

Why not let it?

A numbness began to replace fear.

Why not let go of this life? Find out what’s beyond. The gods’ servants might find and kill you in a few weeks, when you reach the coast. Why let them do the deed? Die here and deny them the satisfaction. Imagine how they will always wonder where you got to...

The cold of the snow was nothing compared to this empty despair.

What’s there to live for? My people are dwindling, and I can’t let them know me without endangering their lives. The woman I love is as far from my reach as any could be. This is the Age of the Five, and I have no place in it. I should just...

“Stop being so bloody melodramatic,” he said aloud.

Closing his eyes, he pulled a great stream of magic into himself, then channelled it. There was a dull boom. The whiteness above him flew upward and fragmented to all sides. As it pattered down around him he sat up and looked at his surroundings.

He now lay in the middle of a large crater. Standing up, he climbed one side of it and turned back to regard his handiwork. The hole was quite impressive. He smiled.

Then a shadow streaked past his own and his smile faded. Looking up, he glimpsed two Siyee gliding away.

Sighing, he turned away and began trudging toward the forest.

49

Auraya stopped and looked up at the Altar. The five sides were upright, closed to the world. Scenes from the day played through her mind.

Mischief had announced her return, somehow slipping out of her room to find Mairae’s veez, Stardust. Soon after, she had been summoned to Juran’s room. Mairae had been there, with both veez.

“Why didn’t you tell us you had arrived?” Juran had asked.

“I expected the gods would tell you when I arrived. I was surprised you weren’t there to meet me.” She shrugged. “It was late and I decided not to wake anyone.”

He had nodded at that. “I want you to tell me everything that happened, from the moment you first discovered Mirar, as Leiard, was in Si.”

So she had related everything. It had taken some hours. She was interrupted from time to time with questions from the other White. Dyara and Rian were listening through a link to Juran.

When she finally finished, Juran had spoken of the gods’ punishment and asked if she was willing to accept it.

“For myself, I am,” she had told him. “But I find it hard to accept that the Siyee are being punished for my actions.”

:You should have thought of the possible consequences to the Siyee before you disobeyed the gods, Dyara had said.

“I would never have guessed the gods would be so, so... would make such a decision,” Auraya answered.

:You still question the gods’ wisdom, Rian said.

“Yes,” she replied. He had made several such lofty comments. “If the ability to question was not a requirement of being a White, the gods would not have chosen me. And it certainly would have reduced the candidates at Choosing Ceremonies.”

Auraya remembered seeing Mairae smile at that, but when Juran had turned in her direction she had schooled her expression to one of stern disapproval. That was when I realized they all felt they must behave as if I were a disgraced child. That they must quash any sympathy they felt, whether for me or for my decisions.

:Those worthy of serving the gods are few, Rian had said next.

She had winced at that. I know I have been a fool, she thought. I don’t regret it, since the only other option was to be a hypocrite and a murderer. I only wish being a fool hadn’t had such an impact on the Siyee. I would do anything to make up for that.

Juran had stepped in then, saying that they should endeavor to cooperate and avoid unnecessary conflict. That matters should return to how they had been before. Mairae had looked at him with an expression of sadness and pity.

“I doubt matters will ever be the way they were before,” she had murmured.

Auraya wondered who Mairae had been referring to. Herself, perhaps? Had the gods’ decisions caused another White to question? Or was Mairae referring to all the White? Or just me.

She obviously wasn’t referring to the Siyee. Nobody seemed at all concerned about the sky people. When Juran had finally ushered Auraya from his room, she had turned back and asked him if he wanted to learn Mirar’s healing Gift. He had shaken his head as if the idea appalled him.

A faint sigh of air drew Auraya’s attention back to the Altar. The five sides were beginning to hinge open. She felt her heart stop, then begin racing.

I am about to take an enormous risk, she thought. I might lose everything. But as Mairae had said, matters would never be the same. I have already lost a great deal. If I lose the rest, I’ll just have to accept that.

Hurried footsteps echoed in the Dome. She turned to see Juran and Mairae striding toward her. Turning away, Auraya walked up to the Altar’s table and sat in her chair.

“What have you called us here for?” Juran demanded as he reached the Altar.

“I have a question to ask the gods,” she replied, meeting his eyes. “One that you may wish to hear the answer to.”

He stared at her, clearly annoyed that she had called a meeting without consulting him first. “Which is?”

“You will hear it just as soon as you begin the rite, and the gods appear.”

He hesitated, then Mairae put a hand on his shoulder.

“Go on. I doubt we’ll get it out of her any other way.”

Sighing, Juran took his place. Mairae slid gracefully into her chair, her eyes aglow with curiosity.

“You’re certainly keeping us entertained, Auraya,” she said approvingly, in a near whisper.

Auraya managed a smile. She looked at Juran expectantly. He sighed again, then closed his eyes.

“Chaia, Huan, Lore, Yranna, Saru,” he intoned. “Once again, we thank you for the peace you brought to Northern Ithania and the Gifts that have allowed us to keep it. We thank you for your wisdom and guidance.”

“We thank you,” Auraya murmured along with Mairae. She concentrated on the magic around the Altar, but felt no sign of the gods.

“Auraya wishes to ask of you a question. If you will allow her an answer, please appear before us.”

“Guide us,” she murmured.

Juran opened his eyes and leaned back in his chair. Meeting his gaze, she saw disbelief in them. He did not expect the gods to respond. But as she stared back at him she felt presences at the edge of her senses. They moved toward her.

Five glowing figures slowly appeared around the Altar. Chaia appeared beside Juran. He looked at her and smiled, but then his smile faded as he saw what was in her mind.

:What is your question, Auraya?

Huan had spoken. Auraya felt a sudden trepidation. This was the goddess she had defied. This was also the one who demanded unquestioning obedience.

Forcing herself to face Huan, Auraya gathered her courage.

“Will you allow me to resign from my position as White?”

Juran gasped and Mairae drew in a sharp breath.

“No, Auraya!” Juran said. “That is not necessary.”

“We were all a bit harsh on you today. You can’t take Rian too seriously,” Mairae added.

Auraya kept her gaze on Huan. The goddess’s eyes narrowed.

:Where will you go?

“To Si.”

Huan looked at her fellow gods.

:We must discuss it. Remain here.

The five figures vanished. Auraya drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly.

“Auraya,” Juran said sternly. “You said you would accept the gods’ punishment.”

She turned to stare at him. “And I have. But I cannot accept their abandonment of the Siyee.”

He frowned. “Are they worth giving up your position, your immortality - your power of flight? How can you help them without that?”

“I will do what I can,” she told him. “I...” She shook her head. At the limits of her senses was a buzzing. Concentrating on it, she was surprised to find she could make out words.

:... warned you this might happen, but you insisted on testing her again and again.

It was Chaia, she realized. He was angry.

:No more than we have tested the others, Huan replied.

:After many years in service!

:She was the last White. She was never going to have the luxury of time to get used to her role. Now we can find a more worthy replacement. What say the rest of us?

:Agreed, Lore said.

:Yes, Yranna added.

:Give her what she wants, Sam agreed. Then we can get rid of her.

:Only if she turns against us, Chaia corrected, his tone firm. I say we should keep Auraya a White.

:You are out-voted, but we will let her go to Si. The shock of her resignation will be damaging enough, though knowing she left to help the Siyee will reduce the... Wait. She can hear us! Huan exclaimed.

:I warned you. You know she can sense us when we’re close, Chaia said, perhaps a little smugly. Does this change your mind?

:No, Huan said.

The gods drew closer and moved into their positions around the table. Auraya realized she had been staring blankly at Juran, and looked away. The five gods reappeared.

:We grant you your request, Huan said.

:There are conditions, Chaia added. You must not seek to rule a land or people for yourself. If you set yourself against us or the White, or our work, or if you ally yourself with our enemies, you will be regarded as our enemy.

“That is reasonable. I accept your conditions.”

:Remove the ring.

Auraya’s heart lurched again. She held out her hand, then slowly drew the white ring off her finger. Standing up, she turned to face Chaia.

“Serving you has been the greatest joy and honor, but it is clear you need someone in this position more worthy of it. I do not wish to turn from you. You still have my respect and love, and I will continue to serve you as a priestess if that is acceptable to you.”

Chaia looked at Huan.

:That, as always, will be a decision for the White to make, he said.

Huan’s eyes narrowed slightly. Auraya glanced at Juran, then looked down at the ring. Taking a deep breath, she placed it on the table. She felt nothing - no wrenching loss, no change at all. Taking a step back, she straightened and looked up at Juran again.

He regarded the ring with a grim expression. Well he should, she thought. The White are vulnerable without a fifth member. But I’m sure the gods won’t leave them so for long. I doubt they’ll wait another twenty-five years to replace me.

She looked at Mainte. To her surprise, the young woman smiled and nodded. There was a friendly respect in her eyes. She doubted the other White felt the same. Dyara and Rian were sure to be watching through Juran and Mairae. Dyara will be disappointed, Auraya thought. Rian, however, will be overjoyed.

:Your decision cannot be reversed, Huan said. However, there is no need for you to remain in Jarime. You may return to Si.

Auraya nodded and made the formal sign of the circle. “Thank you.”

The gods vanished.

Auraya paused, uncertain what to do or say next. Juran was still staring at the ring. Slowly he reached out and picked it up. His eyes rose to hers.

“You sacrificed everything for the Siyee,” he stated.

She smiled. “Yes.” She thought of Mirar’s belief that her Gift of flight was her own.

“But maybe not everything,” Mairae said.

Auraya looked at the woman in surprise.

“I can read your mind now,” Mairae explained.

“Of course.” Auraya shook her head. “I didn’t think of that.”

“Well, are you going to try to fly?”

Auraya looked at Mairae, then focused her mind on her sense of her position in the world. She could still feel it. Drawing magic, she lifted herself upward. Mairae gave a laugh of triumph.

“Yes! You can still help the Siyee.”

Relief rushed through Auraya and she found herself grinning. “I can reach them. All I have to find out now is whether I can still heal them.”

“Then I guess you will be leaving as soon as possible,” Juran said. He looked tired. Auraya dropped to the ground again.

“Yes. I only need to pick up Mischief and a few belongings.”

He nodded, then stood up. “Take care of yourself, Auraya. I don’t need to tell you to avoid Pentadrian sorcerers. I... I must consult the others before deciding if you may remain a priestess.”

“I understand.”

“Drop by now and then, so we can catch up,” Mairae added.

Auraya smiled. “You must both come to Si some time. Perhaps you could sail to the coast. I think you’d like it there.”

Mairae looked at Juran. “We should make the effort.”

He nodded, then led the way down the Altar to the Dome’s floor. “We should. And it may be of great advantage to us to have a priestess living in Si who can reach us quickly.”

Auraya looked at him sideways. “I would like to continue working with you, too, Juran of the White.”

He looked at her, then for the first time since she had returned, he smiled.

Her boat was just where she had left it. Emerahl turned to Surim and Tamun.

“Thank you for your hospitality,” she said.

Tamun smiled and opened her arms wide. To Emerahl’s surprise, the normally reserved woman stepped forward and embraced her.

“I should be thanking you for coming here and giving me someone to talk to.”

“Other than me,” Surim added.

“You’re not such bad company yourselves,” Emerahl said.

As Tamun stepped back, Surim gave Emerahl a hug, squeezing the breath out of her.

“Take care of yourself, Old Hag.”

“You take care of each other.”

“Oh, we’re good at that. We’ve always looked after each other.”

“For better or worse,” Tamun added. Then she cleared her throat. “That’s enough, brother.” Surim released Emerahl and stepped back, grinning.

“But it’s been so long since I had another woman in my arms.”

Tamun made a low noise. “A few weeks, from what I recall.”

“A few weeks is a long time.” He looked thoughtful. “Hmmm, and I think it’s probably time I did another trip downstream.”

“That swamp girl takes too much of your attention,” Tamun said disapprovingly.

“She’s a little old to be called a girl, though I’m sure she’d be flattered by it.”

Tamun made a low noise, but said nothing. She handed Emerahl a bag - the one Emerahl had been watching her making.

“This contains food and clean water, and those local cures we talked about.”

“Thank you.”

“We’ll try to contact you every night,” Surim told her. “In dreams.”

“And I will contact you if I learn anything new.”

They both nodded. Surim frowned. “We would go ourselves, but you know the world that exists now much better than we do. Though we skim the minds of mortals every day, we cannot be sure what we have learned will enable us to survive.”

“And if we did go, we ought to separate.” Surim didn’t say how much they didn’t want to. He didn’t have to. His normally bright voice was strained.

“We will be of better use skimming minds and feeding what we learn to another.”

Emerahl smiled and raised her hands. “Stop it. I understand your reluctance. I want to do this. Even if we don’t find a way to kill the gods, knowing more about them - especially their limitations - is always a worthwhile pursuit.”

“It’s your quest,” Surim said, chuckling. “That’s what The Seer would have called it, anyway.”

Emerahl laughed. “She would have called it ‘The Quest for the Scroll of the Gods.’ ”

Tamun nodded. “And she would have written some appalling poetry and called it ‘prophecy.’ A green-eyed sprite will find the scroll; save the world and everyone’s soul.”

“Stop. Please.” Still chuckling, Emerahl turned to the boat. She unwound the mooring line from the pottery urn and stepped aboard. At once the vessel began to drift away from the ledge and The Twins.

“The current will take you out,” Surim called.

“Good luck,” Tamun added.

Emerahl set down the bag and looked over her shoulder. Already the current had taken her halfway across the cavern. The brother and sister waved. She raised a hand in reply.

Then, as her boat reached the cave entrances on the other side, she turned to the front and guided it into the main tunnel.

She chuckled to herself. The Quest for the Scroll of the Gods has begun.

Nothing had been said since they had left the island. Nothing could be said, since they swam the whole way with only a few short rests. When Imi had begun to lag behind, warriors had caught her hands and pulled her along, which would have been fun if everyone hadn’t been so serious.

Now, as Imi emerged from the water beside her father, she found just wading through it took an immense effort. Her whole body ached. Her legs hurt from so much swimming and her shoulders were sore from being hauled along. She was relieved when her father, having reached the edge of the Mouth, stopped.

“My people. Citizens of Borra.”

She looked up, surprised by her father’s voice suddenly booming loudly from beside her. Seeing the crowds of Elai milling around the edge of the Mouth, she realized that many had gathered to await their return. And for news.

“Today I have made a great gamble, but one I know many of you support. I have struck an agreement with the Pentadrians. They will trade with us, they will teach us - and you all know they have much to teach - and they will come to our aid in times of trouble.

“There is danger in such an agreement, and it relies on trust and integrity on both sides. But it also offers great benefits. I believe, with the Pentadrians’ help, we will grow stronger. Perhaps strong enough that we will no longer need to hide here in this city. Perhaps strong enough that not only will we no longer need to fear landwalker raiders, but we will rid the seas of their filth.”

He looked around at the faces before them. Some were frowning, but most looked pleased. He glanced at Imi, then took her hand.

“Together we will grow proud and strong, and live to occupy the islands once more!”

Someone cheered, then more voices joined in. Imi felt her weariness fade. She looked up at her father and grinned. He smiled at her, and for the first time it was not a wary half-smile, but one of determination.

And, together, they began to walk through the crowd toward the palace.

Danjin settled into a chair beside his wife. Silava smiled at him and put aside the letter she was reading. Rising, she collected a jug of tintra that had been warming by the brazier and poured some into a goblet for him. Returning to her chair, she picked up the letter again.

“Which daughter is it this time?” he asked.

“Your eldest,” she replied in mock disapproval at his tone. “Your granddaughter had a fever, but she appears to have recovered. Do you think we could visit them again this summer?”

“That depends whether—”

A knock interrupted him. Their servant appeared and hurried to the main door. Danjin caught a glimpse of a white-clothed man before the door closed again.

“A message for Fa-Spear,” the servant said respectfully, handing Danjin a metal cylinder.

Silava glanced at the message. “Off to the Temple again?”

He regarded the metal cylinder in puzzlement. “They usually just tell me to come. This is formal.”

“Perhaps it is an invite to a special ceremony.”

“Perhaps.” He examined the seal. It was unbroken. The cylinder was no fake, as far as he could tell.

Silava drummed her fingers on the arm-rest of her chair. “Are you going to open it?”

“Eventually.”

“Why not now?”

“You haven’t nagged me enough yet.”

He ducked as she threw her empty goblet at him. Laughing, he broke the seal and tipped out the scroll inside. Silava rose to collect her goblet and refill it with tintra. Danjin uncurled the scroll.

His eyes moved across the words, but his mind refused to comprehend them. Or so he wished. When he had read the message three times he laid it aside, then stared at the brazier as he struggled with disbelief.

“What did it say?” Silava asked.

“Auraya has resigned.”

He saw Silava’s head come up abruptly. She said nothing for a moment.

“Did it say why?”

“No, but it said she has returned to Si. She came here. To Jarime. She didn’t tell me.”

“Of course not. If people had known what she was going to do there would have been an uproar.”

“I suppose so. I would have kept it a secret, but if she didn’t want the other White knowing her plans she might—”

Another knock came from the door. This time Danjin rose and answered it. A white-clothed messenger solemnly handed Danjin another message cylinder, made the sign of the circle, then strode back to a Temple platten.

Danjin had the seal broken and the scroll in his hands before he reached his chair. When he saw Auraya’s graceful writing he felt a rush of relief. She hadn’t forgotten him.

To Danjin Spear,

I have little time to linger in Jarime, so I must make this regrettably short. Today I made a difficult decision, but one that I do not regret. I have resigned from the White in order to dedicate myself to helping the Siyee.

I wish I could deliver this news in person, but each moment I linger more Siyee may die of Hearteater. I want to thank you for all your advice and assistance this last year and a half. You have been as much a friend as an adviser and I will miss your wisdom and humor. I will recommend that the White instate you as the adviser for my replacement. I know you will do well.

A good future to you,

Auraya Dyer

“That’s nice,” Silava said. “She sounds rushed.”

Danjin looked up to find his wife standing by his shoulder. He shook his head at her. “This might have contained secret information.”

She patted his shoulders. “It might have. I took a risk. What will you do with the ring?”

He looked down at his hand. “I expect they’ll ask for it back.”

“Probably. It might not even work any more.”

“No.” He slipped it off his finger and cupped it in his hand. Looking at it, he felt a pang of sadness. “She was a good White. Too good. She’s given it all up to help the Siyee.”

“I know,” Silava said soothingly. “Let me take that and put it somewhere safe for now.”

He handed her the ring. Her footsteps moved away, then stopped and she returned. Taking the jug from the brazier, she topped up his goblet.

“Drink. It’ll warm you up. And think of this: it’s going to be months before they find a new White. We’ll have all that time to ourselves.”

He looked up at her. “And we’ll be free to visit our daughters for the summer, too, I suppose.”

She pretended to be surprised. “I hadn’t thought of that... but you’re right.”

As she walked away, he chuckled. At least his wife was happy. Looking down at the letter he felt a wry amusement. Since Auraya had first met the Siyee she had been enchanted by them. I hope that means you’re happy too, Auraya, he thought. I hope the sacrifice is worth it.

And I guess I should welcome you back to the world of mortals.