34

   

Tryss looked down at the hundreds of campfires below, and smiled. From a distance it was easy to feel superior to these landwalkers. He and Drilli had talked about it last night. For a start, these people hardly ever looked up. He supposed they had rarely needed to before now. If the Pentadrians had the same weakness, it would be easy to exploit in the coming battle.

Another landwalker weakness was their slowness. The Siyee could travel in an hour or two the distance the rest of the army walked in a day. It had quickly become clear that the Siyee would not be following the Circlian army to the battlefield. There was no point in flying around in circles while the landwalkers made their slow but tireless way across the plains, so Sirri had offered to take the Siyee ahead to find a good place for the army to camp the next night. Juran had agreed.

There had been no need to hurry, so they had had plenty of time to inspect the territory. The plains were a different kind of terrain than they were familiar with. Flying low, they stirred up flocks of birds or herds of small, fine-boned animals the landwalkers called lyrim. These creatures provided an excellent opportunity for harness and blowpipe practice. Tryss and Drilli had led one of the many teams of hunters. So many of these animals were brought down that by the end of the day they had killed more than enough to feed themselves. The excess meat was cooked and presented to the landwalker army when it arrived that evening.

It made them popular with the army. The landwalkers had lifted their cups and dedicated their ration of drink to the Siyee after the meal. It was another amusing custom of theirs.

However, the hunt made the Siyee unpopular with a small group of landwalkers who appeared early the next morning. It appeared that these herds of lyrim had belonged to them. Juran had given these men bags of the metal coins the landwalkers used for money, and the lyrim herders had left looking grim, but no longer angry.

All feelings of superiority Tryss enjoyed soon disappeared whenever he was among the landwalkers. Their size was enough to intimidate any Siyee, but watching them at weapons training was truly sobering. Many of these fighters were quite arrogant. Once one sneered openly at Tryss and a group of Siyee. Later, Auraya heard of the incident and was angry. She explained that some landwalkers felt that killing a man at a distance, rather than face-to-face, was a dishonorable and cowardly act. They disdained landwalker archers for that reason. It was all right for them, Auraya had said. They were born large and strong. If only large and strong people fought in wars, armies would be small indeed.

“Tryss!”

Startled out of his thoughts, Tryss looked around. Speaker Sirri was riding an updraft toward him. She landed on the hill beside him.

“The war council is about to begin,” she called. “I want you to come with me.”

“Me?” he exclaimed.

“Yes. I can probably take a few companions, but I doubt I could get away with bringing all fourteen Speakers with me. I’d rather not choose between them, so I’ll take someone else instead.”

His heart was racing. “I don’t know anything about planning a war!”

She laughed. “Neither do I! I know one thing though. You’re clever. You think differently to me. There’s no point bringing someone who thinks like me, because they’ll probably only see the same problems and have the same ideas that I will. I need a companion who’ll understand what I don’t understand.”

“I might not understand anything.”

“I doubt that. So, are you coming?”

He grinned. “Yes!”

“Good!”

She swooped downward and he followed. They glided toward the white tent, where a small crowd of landwalkers had gathered. Only one of the group glanced upward and saw Tryss and Sirri approaching. As they landed the rest exclaimed in surprise and turned to stare at them. The one who had noticed them stepped forward and placed a hand on his chest.

“Lanren Songmaker,” he said. Opening his hand, he gestured to Sirri. “Hed Speekr Seerree?”

Sirri nodded. She looked at Tryss and spoke his name. The landwalker’s eyebrows rose. He waved a finger across his chest, then mimed shooting an arrow. Sirri nodded again. The landwalker pointed to his head and made a signal with his thumb that looked vaguely silly, but seemed to imply approval.

Tryss smiled and nodded to indicate he understood. Being praised so publicly ought to have embarrassed him, but instead he felt a growing dismay. These landwalkers didn’t know the Siyee language, and he didn’t know theirs. How was he going to help Sirri if he couldn’t understand a word spoken at the war council?

The man named Songmaker turned and introduced the others. He managed to make himself clear, despite the language difficulties. By saying “Hed Speekr” and pointing to one of the others, he told them that the person was a leader. Pointing to his head and mouth and then another person told them that the man or woman was present to provide thoughts and words to the leaders.

Advisers, Tryss thought. Like me.

A quiet woman in a multicolored vest smiled faintly as she was introduced. Sirri murmured to Tryss that this was one of the legendary Dreamweavers. Songmaker made the head and mouth gesture. Another adviser, Tryss concluded.

Songmaker then pointed at himself, patted the scabbard at his hip, then tapped his head.

So he is a warrior and adviser. A good man to befriends with during a war… if only there wasn‘t this language problem. I wonder how long it would take to learn their tongue. The Siyee language had evolved from a landwalker one, so it might not be that difficult. Some words might be the same, or at least similar.

The attention of the landwalkers had shifted now. Tryss could not see past them to the source of their distraction, however. Then leaders and advisers alike stepped back and the White appeared.

They were impressive figures. Five handsome men and women, all dressed in white. The man who began to address the crowd—Juran—greeted the group in sober but warm tones. Auraya caught Tryss’s eye and smiled.

Juran turned to Sirri. “Welcome, Speaker Sirri—and this is Tryss the inventor, isn’t it?” he said in the Siyee language.

Tryss felt his face warm. He wasn’t sure what to say to this powerful, formidable man. Auraya chuckled.

“Yes, this is Hunter Tryss.” She said something else in the landwalker tongue, and Tryss realized she was translating. He sighed with relief when he knew his fears were unfounded. If Juran or Auraya translated everything, the war council would not be incomprehensible.

He watched as the White ushered the leaders and their advisers into the tent. The man named Moderator Meeran paused just before the entrance. Auraya beckoned to Sirri. Tryss followed as Sirri stepped forward to join the landwalker as he entered. Tryss guessed there was some significance in this. He would ask Auraya about it later, if he had the opportunity.

Inside the tent was a large table too high for Tryss to see what was on top. All but the White moved to chairs arranged in a circle around the walls of the tent. Two of these chairs were empty. Tryss frowned as Auraya gestured to them. They were landwalker-sized chairs. The seats were as high as Tryss’s chest.

They could have brought some smaller chairs for us, he grumbled. It seems a bit rude…

Sirri didn’t complain, however. She moved to one and sprang easily up onto the seat. Tryss was conscious of the many eyes on him as he leapt up onto the second chair. He turned to face the room and saw that he could now see the top of the table.

Ah, that’s the reason they didn‘t.

A large sheet of thin material lay on the table. On it had been painted a colorful shape surrounded by blue. Looking closer, Tryss felt a thrill of amazement. This was a map— and he had never seen a map of such detail or scope. It was a map of the entire continent of Northern Ithania.

He stared at it, trying to work out where Si was. Eventually he realized the lines of scribbly upside-down “v” shapes were mountain ranges. The great mass of v’s near the bottom must be Si—it was the most mountainous part of Northern Ithania. He could not make sense of the placement of the individual mountains, however. Since no landwalker had ever charted Si, as far as he knew, the mapmaker had probably guessed their placement.

The White’s leader, Juran, began to speak. As he did, Auraya moved away from the table and slipped between Sirri’s and Tryss’s chairs.

“He says that we will begin by discussing how the Siyee can assist us before and during the battle,” she murmured. “Since he’ll be mainly talking to you, he’ll speak your language as best he can, and Dyara will translate to the others.”

Sirri nodded. Juran turned to face her.

“Welcome to the war Gathering, Head Speaker Sirri,” he said, forming the words slowly and carefully. The woman, Dyara, translated for the others in a murmur.

“Thank you, Juran, leader of the White,” Sirri replied. “I am eager to help in any way I can.”

He smiled. “How you may help us is what we will discuss tonight. What do you wish your people’s role to be?”

Sirri paused. “As archers of the air,” she said. “As eyes in the sky.”

“Indeed, that is how I imagine they would be best employed,” Juran agreed. “I do not think it wise to send you out to randomly attack our enemy during the battle. That would be risky and a waste of your potential. We should use every opportunity to surprise the enemy and work together on land and in the air to our best advantage.”

“How might that be done?” Sirri asked.

“Our war adviser, Lanren Songmaker, has many suggestions on this matter.”

Sirri looked at the man who had greeted them. “I am eager to hear them.”

“Then he will describe them now. Lanren?”

The friendly landwalker rose from his seat. At a nod from Juran he began to speak. Auraya translated. Tryss listened in fascination as possible encounters with the enemy were described, and how they might be resolved with the Siyee’s help. He had imagined the two armies clashing in one great confrontation, not in these carefully planned complex stages and layers of attack.

The man’s understanding of the Siyee’s limitations in flight was surprisingly good. It seemed Tryss had not been the only person watching and assessing the strengths and weaknesses of his allies. Then the man made a blunder, an assumption that the wind conditions in the mountains would be the same as on the plains. Tryss found himself interrupting. Too late, he realized what he had done and fell silent, his face burning.

“Don’t stop, Tryss,” Auraya murmured. “Speak up. This is what we are here for: to correct each other’s mistakes. Better now, than after they have caused deaths on the battlefield.”

He looked up at her, then at Sirri. The Speaker nodded encouragingly. Tryss swallowed hard.

“Air moves differently in the mountains,” he said. “Sometimes to our advantage, sometimes not.”

Auraya translated. The man spoke.

“Can you predict how these winds will move?”

“Only in a general way. We won’t know until we get there if the air will flow as we expect it to.”

From there, the discussion became more detailed. Sirri joined in, but often looked to Tryss when the scenarios Songmaker described became complex. The war adviser was full of enthusiasm, but after a while he stopped and spoke to Juran. Auraya translated.

“We could talk about this for hours, even days. May I suggest that we continue in my tent? All interested in the fine details would be welcome to join us.”

“Yes,” Juran agreed. “First I would like to consider how the Siyee might be of use before the battle as our ‘eyes in the sky.’ ” He looked at Sirri and returned to the Siyee language. “We have no spies in the Pentadrian army. The sorcerers who lead it are able to read minds and discovered our spies who had infiltrated their forces. The only reports of their position we are receiving are from scouts observing from afar, and their last report was to tell us that the army has entered the forests of the foothills. Would you be willing to send some of your people over the mountains to learn more?”

Sirri nodded. “Of course.”

“How long would they take to cross the mountains and return?”

She shrugged. “A day, perhaps two, to get across, and the same in returning. How long they spend scouting once they’re there depends on how many Siyee I send and how difficult it is to see into this forest. How large is the area they need to search?”

Juran pointed at one of the mountain ranges on the map. Sirri nodded as he circled his finger over the map to indicate an area.

“I’ll send twenty pairs. That should reduce the searching to a day.”

Juran nodded. “Can they leave tonight?”

“There is no moon tonight. It is dangerous flying in the mountains during times of such darkness. They can leave before dawn, however. By the time they reach the mountains there will be enough light to fly by.”

Juran smiled. “Then we must wait. Thank you, Speaker Sirri.”

Sirri chuckled. “I should thank you, Juran of the White. I have too many energetic young men itching for excitement and adventure. This will keep some of them occupied.”

The landwalkers smiled as Dyara translated this.

“Perhaps you should choose the more sensible of them,” Auraya suggested. “Ones who won’t reveal themselves unless they have to. We’re hoping your people will be a nasty surprise for the enemy.”

Sirri nodded resignedly. “You’re right, unfortunately. I will have to be careful in my choosing.”

“Are there any other changes or decisions we need to make for your benefit?” Juran asked. “Are your people happy with the arrangements made so far?”

“Yes,” Sirri answered. “I do wish to apologize again for our mistake in hunting the lyrim. If we had known—”

“There is no need to apologize,” Juran soothed. “If we’d encountered these herds I would have ordered them caught and slaughtered myself. Herders and farmers have always understood that such things happen in times of war. If they did not, they would never have had the courage to come to me and ask for compensation.”

“I see.” Sirri looked thoughtful. “Should we continue hunting, then?”

Juran smiled. “If you wish, but take only half from each herd you encounter, and leave the males and the pregnant females so that the lyrim may quickly replace their numbers through breeding.”

Sirri grinned. “We will.”

“Do you have anything else you wish to discuss?”

She shook her head. Juran glanced around the room. He spoke to the other landwalkers.

“He’s asking if anyone has any questions,” Auraya translated.

None of the landwalkers spoke, though a few of them looked as if they’d like to. As the discussion turned to other matters, Tryss felt himself relax as everyone’s attention moved away from him. Now, with Auraya translating, he would learn more about how these landwalkers planned to wage this war.

A young Hanian soldier stared into his campfire. He saw in the flames the shapes of fierce warriors and great sorcerers.

What is it going to be like? he wondered. I only joined the army last year. That can’t be enough training, can it? But the captain says a disciplined fighting spirit is all that I’ll need.

:And a great deal of luck, Jayim added.

:Move on, Leiard told his student. You look in order to learn, but if you linger for the sake of entertainment you are abusing your Gift.

Jayim was learning fast. He had achieved the trance state needed for mind-skimming the night before, but had not been able to converse with Leiard at the same time without losing concentration. Now he was faring better.

The next mind was more lively. A Siyee male, his thoughts distorted by tintra. He and two others of their tribe had invited a few Somreyan soldiers to their bower. They had not been prepared for the effect the alcohol had on their small bodies.

:I hope the Somreyans don’t take advantage of them, Jayim worried.

:They may, they may not. You cannot help them without revealing that you looked into their minds. They will not understand why we do this. Move on.

The thoughts they caught next were less verbal and more physical. This Siyee’s attention was entirely on her partner, on touching and feeling. She thought neither of fighting nor of the coming battle. Jayim was finding this all very, very interesting.

:Move on.

Jayim felt a rush of embarrassment at his hesitation. He turned his mind from the lovers.

:The Siyee have women fighters. So do the Dunwayans. Why don’t Hanians?

:Why do you think?

:Because our women are weaker?

:They could be as strong as Dunwayan women if they wanted to be. It only takes training.

:Because someone has to look after the children and homes?

:What of the Siyee children and homes? You know from the many minds we have touched that they have left their offspring in the care of the elder Siyee.

:I don’t know, then. Perhaps Hanians just don’t need to. We have enough men to fight for us.

:Or so we hope.

:There’d be no point bringing women if they were untrained. Women don’t have time to train if they marry and have children young.

:The Siyee marry young, too.

:So what is the reason?

:I don’t know for certain. We can’t read the mind of a race like we are reading the minds of individuals tonight. Customs and traditions accumulate over time and are resistant to change. Only a great need for change can alter the way a people live, or their sense of morality.

:So if we didn’t have enough men to fight, women would learn to?

:Probably. The trouble is, by the time the situation forces women to fight there is no time to train them. Now, seek another mind.

Leiard followed Jayim. The boy brushed past the minds of Dreamweavers camped around their tent. From one came a sharp jolt of alarm, but not at their touch. Something else. A shape in the darkness beyond the camp…

:Wait. Go back.

Jayim paused, then returned to the alarmed Dreamweaver’s mind. Through her eyes they saw a figure walking out of the darkness. A priestess. A high priestess. As the woman drew closer, the Dreamweaver recognized her and felt a wary relief. It’s the friendly one. Auraya.

:Auraya. Leiard felt a thrill of both pleasure and fear rush through his body. She has come looking for me.

:Looks like my lessons will have to end early tonight, Jayim said smugly.

:We’ll make up for lost time tomorrow, Leiard replied.

:Then I expect you to make sure my sacrifice is worth it.

Leiard sighed. The boy was as bad as Mirar.

:Enough, Jayim. Assert your identity.

As Jayim followed the ritual, Leiard concentrated on his sense of self. I am Leiard, Dreamwe—

And a fool, a voice in his mind interrupted. You knew she would join the army, yet you still tagged along with your fellow Dreamweavers when you should have run in the other direction.

Mirar. Leiard sighed. When am I going to be rid of you?

When you regain your senses. It’s not your identity you’re having problems with, it’s your loins.

I am not here to see Auraya, Leiard thought firmly. I am a Dreamweaver. I have a duty to treat the victims of this war.

Liar. You have a duty to protect your people, Mirar retorted. If these Circlians whom you feel a duty to treat discover you seduced their high priestess, they’ll pick up their swords and slaughter every Dreamweaver they can find. It’ll be a nice little warm-up to the battle with the Pentadrians.

I can’t just disappear, Leiard protested. I have to explain to her why I must leave.

She already knows why you must leave.

But I have to talk to—

And say what? That you know of a nice little remote spot, perfect for those times she fancies a bit of rough and bumpy? You can tell her that in a dream, just as you can explain why you can’t—

“Leiard?”

It was Jayim. Leiard opened his eyes. The boy was staring at him.

“It hasn’t got any better, has it?”

Leiard rose. “I have not lost control to him in weeks. That is an improvement. I expect it will take time.”

“If there’s—”

“Hello? Leiard?”

The voice sent a shiver down Leiard’s spine. Auraya’s voice. He had not heard it in months. It brought memories of dreams they’d shared, echoes of that first night together. His heart began to race.

All he need do was invite her in. He drew breath to speak and paused, waiting for Mirar to protest, but the other presence remained silent. Perhaps out of caution. If Mirar spoke, Auraya would hear him and…

“Leiard?”

“I am here. Come in, Auraya.”

The flap opened and she stepped inside. He felt his chest slowly tighten, realized he was holding his breath, and exhaled slowly. Her hair was pulled back into a plait, but wisps of it had blown free in the wind—or more likely in flight—and hung about her face. She was even more beautiful like this, he decided. Tousled, like after that night of…

“Greetings, Auraya of the White,” Jayim said.

She looked at the boy and smiled.

“Greetings, Jayim Baker. How is your training progressing?”

“Well,” the boy replied.

Her smile was warm, but it faded a little when she turned to regard Leiard.

“I heard you had resigned.”

Leiard nodded.

“It was nice to meet you again, Auraya,” Jayim inserted. “I’d best be going.”

She watched as he hurried from the tent, then turned back to Leiard.

“He knows.”

“Yes. A weakness of our mind-link teaching methods. I trust him.”

She shrugged. “Then so do I.” She took a step toward him. “I understand why you resigned. I think I do, anyway. You had to in case we were found out and my people reacted badly.”

“I did not resign only to protect Dreamweavers,” he told her, surprising himself with the force of his words. “I also did it so that we might… we might continue to meet.”

Her eyes widened, then she smiled and her face flushed. “I have to admit, I was a little worried. The dream links stopped and it’s taken me two nights to find you.”

He walked to her, then took her hands. Her skin was so soft. She looked up at him, and her lips curled into a small, sensual smile. The scent of her was teasingly faint, making him want to breathe in deeply.

What was I going to say? He blinked and thought back. Ah, yes.

“I had to make some decisions,” he told her. “Decisions best made alone.” He could feel the tension within her through her hands.

“And what did you decide?”

“I decided…” He paused. Until this moment he hadn’t realized how close he had been to giving in to Mirar. Life would be easier if he simply ran away. Now that he was with Auraya again—seeing her, touching her—he knew he couldn’t run from her. She would haunt him day and night.

“I decided that what mattered was that we be who we are,” he told her. “You are one of the White. I am a Dreamweaver. We are lovers. To be otherwise would be denying who we are. To allow others to be harmed because of our love would be wrong. We both know that. So…”

“So?”

“We can only meet in secret.”

“Where?”

“Far from Jarime. I have a place in mind. I will send you the location in a dream.”

The corner of her lips twitched. “Just the location? Nothing else?”

He chuckled. “You were getting a little too fond of those dreams, Auraya. I was afraid you would put me aside for them.”

Her fingers tightened around his. “No, I still prefer the real thing. Or… at least I think I do.” She looked over his shoulder, in the direction of the bed. “Maybe I had better make sure.”

He glanced toward the tent flap. Jayim had closed it well, he noted. No gaps.

“Don’t worry,” Auraya murmured. “Nobody will hear a sound. I’ve already made sure of it.”

As she drew him toward the bed, Leiard could not help wondering at the irony. What did the gods think of one of their most favored priestesses using her Gifts to hide her secret affair with a Dreamweaver?

He sobered. There was little chance they didn’t already know. If they’d disapproved, they would have done something about it long ago.

Then Auraya kissed him and all thought of the gods fled his mind.