15

Danjin had spent most of the last two weeks in a constant state of awe and wonder. He was not the only person to experience this, though he believed he was one of the few who had managed to keep their wits despite everything that had happened. Most of the priests either walked about in a daze or could be heard gushing out praise for the gods or speculating on what wonders might still be in store for them all.

As his platten bore him through the archway into the Temple, Danjin considered the events that had brought this about.

The first revelation had been Auraya’s return. Neither ship nor platten had brought her back to the city. Instead, she had flown into the Temple like a great white wingless bird. Dyara’s arrival had been considerably quieter, he had been told by a servant. She had returned on the Bearer she had ridden out on, looking “as if she had a lot to think about.”

The second revelation had been less pleasant. Auraya had told Danjin of her confrontation with the Pentadrian sorcerer and that the discovery of her new Gift came only as a result of her defeat. This information was to remain a secret, however. The White did not want to cause unnecessary fear among the people by making it known that the Pentadrians had a sorcerer of such strength he had overcome one of the White.

Danjin hadn’t grown used to the idea that the woman he worked for could perform aerobatics that even birds could not achieve. After the Siyee ambassadors arrived he noticed a subtle change in the other White’s behavior toward Auraya, as if the appearance of the Siyee explained why she had been given this new power.

It makes sense, I suppose, he thought. Does that mean I will be accompanying her on a journey to Si?

Since then Danjin had met with Auraya only once or twice a day. He had no knowledge of the sky people, and couldn’t speak their language, and it had come as a blow to realize he was of no use to her at the moment. It had been obvious the few times he had observed her with them that she was fascinated by these winged people. And the Siyee seemed equally captivated by her.

Little wonder, he thought. She has more in common with them than anyone else here.

The platten drew closer to the Temple buildings. He noted that the few priests about at this early hour were engaged in the new unofficial pastime, which he had dubbed sky-gazing. Most were looking at the Tower, however. It had not taken long for people to learn that a window in Auraya’s room had been replaced with a glass door so she and her Siyee friends didn’t need to ascend to the top of the building when they wanted a little aerobatic exercise. Seeing her emerge often brought cheers from her audience.

Thinking of the window-door in her rooms, Danjin shivered. Perhaps it was just as well she didn’t need him any more.

Of course she still does, he told himself. But it didn’t help. Here was an opportunity to learn about one of the few peoples he knew nothing of, but he couldn’t take advantage of it because she hadn’t included him in her discussions with them.

The platten stopped. He stepped off and thanked the driver. Priests nodded politely at him as he strode inside the Tower. He made the gesture of the circle in reply. The cage was resting at the base of the stairwell. He concentrated on his breathing as it bore him upward, keeping his mind from imagining the drop below it by recalling a verse of poetry he’d memorized, then translating it into Dunwayan. Arriving outside Auraya’s rooms, he stepped out and knocked on her door.

She answered it herself, and greeted him with a smile. Not quite the broad grin she had worn so often in the last two weeks, but a more subdued expression. He wondered what had tempered her recent high spirits.

“Come in,” she said, directing him to a chair. As she sat down he cast a quick look at the windows. To his relief, the glass “door” was closed.

“I know you’re disappointed that you haven’t seen more of the Siyee ambassadors,” she told him. “They may appear bold and confident, but in truth they find us landwalkers intimidating—especially as most of their experiences of us are as invaders and murderers. I’ve tried to keep the number of landwalkers around them to a minimum.”

As she spoke, a furry bundle on a nearby chair uncurled. Mischief blinked sleepily at them, then stretched, crept onto Auraya’s lap and curled up again. Auraya didn’t appear to notice.

“I was hoping to make it up to you by bringing you along, but I’m afraid that isn’t going to be possible now.”

“Bringing me along?”

A now-familiar sparkle entered her gaze. “To Si. To enter into negotiations for an alliance. Juran sent them a proposal months ago, and they want one of us to return with them to Si.” Her smile faded. “But the journey would take months, and involves crossing difficult terrain. You would have to climb mountains to get there, Danjin. Juran has decided that I must go alone.”

“Ah.” Danjin knew he would not be able to hide his dismay from her, so he did not bother keeping it from his face. “You’re right,” he told her. “I am disappointed. I am also concerned. In Somrey you had myself, Mairae and Dreamweaver Leiard to advise you. You are still too inexperienced, if you’ll forgive my frankness, to be tackling an alliance on your own. Can’t this wait?”

She shook her head. “We need allies, Danjin. More than lone sorcerers may venture north from the southern continent in the future. However, I will not begin negotiations with the Siyee immediately. I will spend a few months learning all I can about them first.”

“Then, perhaps if I left now I would arrive in time to help you negotiate.”

“No, Danjin,” she said firmly. “I will need you here.”

She reached under her circ, then leaned forward and opened her palm. On it rested a white ring. A priest’s ring. Danjin stared at it in surprise.

“You honor me beyond what I deserve,” he said. “But I do not wish to join—”

“It’s not a priest’s ring.” She smiled. “It is what we call a ‘link ring.’ Priests, as you know, can communicate with each other through their rings. They can because they are Gifted, and their rings are simple things. This,” she held the white band, “is more refined and took some time to make. If I need to communicate with you I can, through this. But that is all that it can do. It cannot link you with anyone else.” She held it out to him. “Wear this, and I will be able to speak to you from Si. Don’t lose it. I only have the one.”

He took the ring and held it up. It was plain and smooth, and he could not guess what it was made of. He slipped it onto his finger, then lifted his eyes to meet hers.

“There is one other matter that bothers me,” he told her.

She smiled and leaned back in her chair. “Your concern for me is heartening, Danjin, but I will be in less danger from Pentadrians in Si than anywhere else. It is a remote, sparsely populated place, difficult to traverse. The Siyee would notice and report intruders before they ventured far into their land. Why would any Pentadrian undertake such an arduous journey?”

“To find you,” he replied.

“They won’t know I’m there,” she told him.

“Then… for the same reasons you’re going.”

“The Si haven’t invited the Pentadrians into their land to negotiate an alliance as far as I or the ambassadors know. Nor have the Pentadrians approached any other lands.”

He sighed, then nodded his head in defeat. “So how long will I be at a loose end?”

She chuckled. “You won’t be, Danjin. I’ll be gone for only a few months—though if I’m successful Juran is considering sending me to the Elai. The courier he sent to them has not reported his progress for months.”

“The sea people.” Danjin whistled quietly. “Soon there’ll be no mysteries left in the world.”

A troubled expression crossed Auraya’s face, and she looked away. Mischief stirred. She looked down at him and her smile returned.

“There’s one other matter I wanted to discuss with you, Danjin.”

“Yes?”

“Could you come by each day and spend some time with Mischief while I’m gone? You’ll have to be careful. He’s getting sneaky. I keep finding him crawling around on the outside of the window. I’ve had a lock installed, but he’s already learned to open it, so I’m going to have the window nailed shut while I’m away.”

Danjin shuddered. “You do that, and I’ll take care of him.”

She chuckled. “Thank you. I’m sure Mischief will appreciate the company.”

After Danjin left, Auraya paced the room.

I know I sounded much more confident than I feel, she thought. It’s not any particular aspect of this journey that worries me, just that I must do it all alone.

She would not be out of contact with the rest of the world. She could communicate with the other White at any time. Juran had told her to consult with him before she made any major decisions. That was as reassuring as it was reasonable.

Dyara hadn’t raised a word of protest. She had filled the journey back to Jarime with lessons in magic, but there was less of a lecturing manner in her instruction. Dyara was no longer set on holding Auraya back until she had perfected every exercise but instead appeared determined to pass on everything she knew about wielding magic as quickly as possible, telling Auraya to practice whenever she had the time to.

“The rest of us had time to learn at our own pace. It may be that you, as the last of us, will not,” she had said cryptically.

Which only made it harder to avoid worrying about the future. Some nights Auraya woke from nightmares in which she was trapped, powerless, within the grip of the Pentadrian sorcerer’s magic. It was not comforting knowing that someone more powerful than her, who appeared to mean her and her people harm, existed.

She reached the window and stopped. Like any other mortal, she could only put her trust in the gods.

“Lee-ar.”

She turned to find Mischief staring at the door, his pointed ears upright and alert. Chuckling, she strode across the room. As she opened the door, Leiard froze, his hand poised ready for knocking.

“Dreamweaver Leiard.” She smiled. “Come in.”

“Thank you, Auraya of the White.”

“Lee-ar!” Mischief bounded off the chair. Leiard laughed as the veez dashed up the front of his clothes onto his shoulders.

“He likes you.”

“Lucky me,” he replied dryly. He flinched as Mischief began sniffing at his ear.

Thinking of the favor she’d asked of Danjin, Auraya sobered. Mischief didn’t dislike Danjin, but he did seem to like Leiard better. Her first thought had been to ask Leiard to visit Mischief, but she knew how uncomfortable he felt when in the Temple. Better to spare him that.

She suppressed a sigh. How had it come about that both of her advisers had reason to fear visiting her? For Leiard it was being in a place of the gods’ influence; for Danjin it was being so far from the ground.

Perhaps that was part of the reason she was enjoying the company of the Siyee ambassadors so much. Like her, they loved flying and the gods—or at least Huan. Though they were the first people she had encountered that worshipped one god over the others. That wasn’t surprising, however. Huan had created them.

“I called you here to assure you I haven’t been ignoring you,” she told Leiard. “I’ve been so busy I’ve had no time for unofficial visits. I regret that, because we’ll have few opportunities in the near future to talk.”

Leiard looked at her questioningly.

“I’m going to Si, to negotiate another alliance.”

His eyebrows rose. “Si?” He smiled. “You’ll enjoy that The Siyee are a gentle and generous people. Honest and practical.”

“What do you know of them?”

“A little.” He lifted Mischief from his shoulder and sat down. The veez immediately curled up in his lap. Sitting opposite, Auraya felt a small pang of jealousy that her own pet seemed to prefer her visitor.

“The Siyee are in my memories,” he told her. “Since you have spoken to them at length, you will know most of what I do. What they may not have mentioned are the taboos of their culture.”

She leaned forward. “Yes?”

“Not all Siyee can fly,” he told her. “Some are born incapable and some lose the ability. Accidents are tragically common. Old age is particularly cruel to them. Be careful how you refer to these Siyee. Never describe them as crippled.”

“How should I refer to them?”

He shook his head. “They have no commonly used term. If you are to meet with any Siyee, let him or her decide where it should take place. If the one you are to meet is capable of flight, he will come to you. If he is not, you must go to him. In that way, you are not insinuating that the former cannot fly, and treating the latter with respect by not drawing attention to his or her inability.”

“I understand. I’ve noticed they tire easily when walking.”

“Yes.” He paused, then chuckled. “They treat landwalkers more like flightless Siyee than not. But you…” He frowned. “You should not allow them to. Otherwise it will seem like you expect favors you do not deserve.”

This is valuable advice, she realized. I would not have thought it odd if the Siyee always arranged to meet me wherever I am staying.

“Anything else?”

He paused, then shrugged. “That is all I can recall now. If I think of anything else before you leave, I will make sure you know of it.”

She nodded. “Thank you. If you remember something after I have left, tell Danjin. He will be taking care of my affairs here while I’m away.”

“I will. When will you be leaving?”

“In a few days.”

“How long do you expect to be in Si?”

“As long as it’s necessary, and I am welcome. A few months, most likely.”

He nodded. “It is unlikely you will need my advice in that time now that the Somreyan alliance is signed.”

“Yes,” she agreed. “Though I will miss your company.”

He smiled, his eyes flashing. “And I yours.”

“How is your new student, Jayim?”

His expression was a mixture of remorse and determination as he replied. “Not used to working hard,” he said. “But he does have a natural fascination for cures and healing. I have a lot of work in front of me.”

“At least you’ll have more time for it, with me out of your way.”

“But no excuse to escape from my responsibilities,” he pointed out.

She chuckled, then a faint chime drew her attention to a timepiece on the side table. “Ah, I’m afraid I must send you back to them now. I have a lesson with Dyara next.”

She rose. He gently scooped Mischief up and set him aside, then stood and followed her to the door. As he wished her luck, she shook her head.

“I’m sure I’ll find time to talk to you again before I go.”

He nodded, then turned away and started down the stairs. Closing the door, Auraya felt a pang of sadness.

I’m going to miss him. I wonder if he’ll miss me. She strolled to the window and looked down at the people far below. From his thoughts she knew that Leiard regarded her as more than someone who could help his people. He felt affection. Admiration. Respect.

At that thought she felt a pang of guilt. The idea that had come to her in the garden of the Somreyan Temple came rushing back. She had struggled with it several times, unable to decide what she should or should not do. All reason told her that dissuading people from joining the Dreamweaver cult was the right thing to do. The gods did not preserve the souls of those who turned from them. By stopping people joining the Dreamweavers she would be preventing the death of many souls.

Yet she also felt that there was something wrong with causing the demise of the Dreamweavers. Those people chose to become Dreamweavers and knew what they sacrificed.

Furthering Circlian knowledge of healing was a good aim. Deliberately reading Dreamweavers’ minds in order to gain that knowledge was wrong, however. It was stealing. Although arranging for her own people to discover that knowledge for themselves was not.

If I think of it as merely increasing the priests’ healing knowledge, then I will be doing nothing wrong. How can I be blamed if it leads to the Dreamweavers’ demise?

Because I saw the consequences and continued anyway.

She sighed. It’s not my responsibility to save the Dreamweavers.

Leiard should fear me, she thought. She shook her head. It always comes back to Leiard. Do I struggle with this simply because I’m afraid I’ll lose his friendship?

Juran’s warning came back to her. “But be careful, Auraya, that you do not compromise yourself for the sake of friendship.” She turned away from the window. There’s no hurry. A project like this would take years. Its effects wouldn’t be felt for at least a generation. Not until long after Leiard has died.

Sitting down next to Mischief, she scratched his head. The way things are going I may never have time for it anyway. Between making alliances and avoiding a premature death at the hands of these Pentadrians, I think I’ll be occupied for some time.

* * *

“She said she’d always wanted to be buried in a box, like proper people.”

Rayo looked at his sister, then back at the body of the old woman. “Boxes cost.”

“She still has money left,” Tiro said. “Only right we use some for a box.”

“Don’t have to,” his sister said. “When we were in the pit we saw a box that looked like a coffin. It’s what got us talking ‘bout it. Might still be there.”

“Then go see,” Rayo tossed at Tiro. The boy and two others hurried away.

Crouching down, Rayo took the old woman’s hand. It was cold and stiff. “Thank you, Emeria. You fixed m‘ sis, and m’sel’, and were true gen’rous. We’ll get your box, if it’s still there. I hope you don’t mind us taking your money and stuff. It’s not like you’ll be needing it, now you’re with the gods.”

The others nodded. Rayo drew a circle on the old woman’s forehead, then got to his feet. The boys might need help if the box in the pit was big enough to be used as a coffin. There would be digging to do, too. It would take lots of time and energy. He looked at his sister.

“Take her stuff,” he said. She nodded and set to work.

An hour later Emeria’s body lay in the box. His sister and the other girls had slipped up into the hills to pick flowers. All but the woman’s worn-out undershift had been removed from the body, but with the flowers scattered over her everything looked right and respectful.

They each spoke a quick, tearful farewell, then covered the box with a few charred planks of wood salvaged from the burned house they lived under. Rayo and the other boys dug a hole in the small yard behind the house. The ground was hard, and it was dark by the time they finished. Finally they returned to the house, carried the box out and set it in the hole.

When all that was left was a mound of earth, they scattered a few more flowers, then returned to their cellar. All were silent and glum.

“Where’s her stuff?” Rayo asked his sister.

The others gathered around as she brought a stack of clothes and Emeria’s bag to the center of the room. They all grimaced as she opened the bag and a distinctly fishy smell wafted out.

She handled the contents carefully.

“They’re cures. She told me what they were for and how to use them. These ones she said she’d sell, because they weren’t really good for anything, but some people thought they made them good at sex so they were actually worth a lot.”

“We can sell them,” Rayo said.

She nodded. Bringing out a small leather wallet, she tipped the contents onto the ground. The others grinned at the pile of coins.

“She kept this real close, tied round her waist. Her secret stash.”

“Our secret stash,” Rayo said. “Everyone gets something, to be fair. We start with the clothes. I’m taking the tawl. Who wants the tunic?”

As they divided Emeria’s belongings, Rayo felt a warm feeling of lightness. She hadn’t been with them long, but so long as they each had something of hers it would be like a bit of her was still with them.

I hope she’s happy, up there with the gods, he thought. I hope they know they got the best part of her.