6

   

“What do you think of Dreamweavers, Danjin Spear?”

Danjin looked up in surprise. He was sitting opposite Auraya at the large table in her reception room, helping her examine the terms of the proposed alliance with Somrey.

Auraya met his eyes steadily. He thought back to the day news of her mother’s death had arrived. At her bidding he had sought the location of the man who had delivered the message to the Temple. To his surprise, the man was a Dreamweaver.

Later he had been even more surprised to learn that Auraya had visited the man in disguise. He wasn’t sure if he was more disturbed by the idea of a White paying a social visit to a Dreamweaver, or that Auraya had tried to do so secretly—which indicated she knew she was doing something that might be considered ill-advised or inappropriate.

Of course, she was reading all this from his mind right now. She must also know that he had looked into her past and learned of her childhood friendship with Dreamweaver Leiard and that she had been known in the priesthood for her sympathetic view of the heathens. She would have seen that her second meeting with the Dreamweaver had been noted, and that he had heard people, inside and outside the Temple, gossiping about it. She also had to know that he didn’t respect or like Dreamweavers.

In the weeks since he had found Leiard she had not discussed Dreamweavers with him at all. Now that she was working on the Somreyan problem they could not avoid the subject any longer. He had to be honest. There was no point pretending he agreed with her.

“I don’t think much of them, I’m afraid,” he admitted. “They are at best pitiful, and at worst untrustworthy.”

Her eyebrows rose. “Why pitiful?”

“I guess because they are so few and so despised. And misguided. They do not serve the gods, so their souls die when their body does.”

“Why untrustworthy?”

“Their Gifts—some of them—enable them to mess about with people’s minds.” He hesitated as he realized he was repeating what his father had always said. Were these truly his own opinions? “They can torment their enemies with nightmares, for example.”

She smiled faintly. “Have you ever heard of a Dreamweaver doing so?”

He hesitated again. “No,” he admitted. “But then there are so few now. I don’t think they’d dare.”

Auraya’s smile widened. “Have you ever heard of a Dreamweaver doing something to earn them the label ‘untrustworthy’?”

He nodded. “Some years ago a Dreamweaver poisoned a patient.”

The smile vanished and she looked away. “Yes, I studied that case.”

He looked at her in surprise. “As part of your training?”

“No.” She shook her head. “I’ve always taken an interest in crimes that involve Dreamweavers.”

“What… what did you make of it?”

She grimaced. “That the Dreamweaver was guilty. She confessed to it, but I wanted to be sure she wasn’t blackmailed or beaten into doing so. I looked to the reaction of other Dreamweavers for clues. They turned from her. I found that to be the most convincing evidence of her guilt.”

Danjin was intrigued. “They might have turned from her to protect themselves.”

“No. I think Dreamweavers know when another is guilty of a crime. When one is falsely accused—and some of the trials have been disgustingly transparent—they defend them in their own way. The accused is calm, even when they know they are to be executed. But when the accused is guilty, not a word is spoken in their defense. This woman was frantic,” Auraya shook her head slowly, “and angry. She raged against her own people.”

“I heard that she asked for garpa so she could avoid sleeping.” Danjin shuddered. “If they are willing to torment one of their own, what might they do to an enemy?”

“Why do you assume they were tormenting her? She might have wanted to avoid her own dreams.”

“She was a Dreamweaver. Surely she had control of her own dreams.”

“Again, you can only assume so.” Auraya smiled. “You judge them untrustworthy because they have the ability to harm others. Just because they can, doesn’t mean they will. I could snuff out your life with a thought, but you trust me not to.”

He stared at her, disturbed at her casual mention of her gods-given powers. She held his gaze. He looked down at the table. “I know you wouldn’t.”

“So perhaps you should reserve your judgment of each Dreamweaver until you know him or her personally.”

He nodded. “You’re right, of course. But I cannot trust them any more than I would trust a stranger.”

She chuckled. “Nor I. Or even those I think I know, as sometimes people I thought I knew well have demonstrated a meanness or callousness that I hadn’t realized they were capable of.” She looked down at the scroll spread before her. “I value your views even if I don’t agree with them, Danjin. I am finding myself alone in my perspective on this matter. I am no Dreamweaver. My understanding of them is proving to be limited. Neither am I a typical Circlian, who distrusts Dreamweavers at best and actively persecutes them at worst. I need to understand all perspectives if I am to suggest ways for Mairae to persuade the Somreyans into forming an alliance with us.”

Danjin noted the crease that had formed between her brows as she spoke. When he had been offered this position, Dyara had assured him that Auraya would not be given any difficult tasks during her first few years as a White. It seemed this task had found her.

Her knowledge of Dreamweavers made her the best White for it, however. Maybe this was why the White were allowing it to become common knowledge that the newest White was tolerant of, if not supportive of, heathens. What effect would that have in the long term? While the law dictated that seeking a Dreamweaver’s services was a crime, so many people ignored it that few were ever punished. Would Auraya’s tolerance of Dreamweavers encourage more people to defy the law?

Auraya said nothing. Her attention had returned to the alliance.

“Which terms did the Somreyans initially protest against?”

Danjin had anticipated this question. Bringing a wax tablet closer, he recited a long list of changes to the terms of the alliance. The last third were entirely to do with Dreamweaver matters.

“These aren’t new terms, are they? They’ve always been in the alliance.”

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t the Somreyans protest about them in the beginning?”

Danjin shrugged. “As larger matters are settled, smaller ones become more noticeable. Or so they say.”

“And they have been noticing them one at a time?” Her voice was heavy with skepticism.

He chuckled. “Every time one matter is resolved, they protest against another.”

“Are they delaying, then? Is there any reason you can see for the Council of Elders to put off signing? Or is it only the Dreamweavers who want to delay or stop the alliance?”

“I don’t know. Mairae feels certain that most of the council want the alliance.”

Auraya drummed her fingers on the table. “So either they are unhappy with the small matters and are presenting them one by one in order to avoid any being tackled with less seriousness in the shadow of others, or they are simply messing us about. Patience will overcome the first possibility. To overcome the other…”

“Nothing will overcome the other. Nothing but direct interference in Somreyan politics.”

“I don’t think we have to go that far. We simply have to reduce the power of the Dreamweaver elder.”

Danjin stared at her in surprise. This was not something he’d expect from a Dreamweaver sympathizer.

“How?”

“By giving some of that power to another Dreamweaver.”

“The council can only contain one representative of each religion. How can you change that without influencing Somreyan politics?”

“I don’t mean to put two Dreamweavers in the council, Danjin. This would be a separate position.”

“Chosen by whom?”

“By the White.”

“The Somreyans wouldn’t accept it!”

“They’d have no choice. It would have nothing to do with them.”

Danjin narrowed his eyes. “All right. You have me mystified. Just tell me.”

She chuckled. “Clearly the White need an adviser on Dreamweaver affairs.”

“And this adviser would be a Dreamweaver?”

“Of course. The Somreyan Dreamweavers would never listen to a Circlian elected to the position.”

Danjin nodded slowly as he considered the advantages of this arrangement “I see. First, the Dreamweavers will be mollified. By hiring one of them as an adviser, the White acknowledge that Dreamweavers have some value. The adviser tackles face-to-face discussion over the terms of the alliance so that, faced with one of their own, the Dreamweaver elder is forced to negotiate sensibly rather than reactively.”

“And our adviser could make suggestions on how the terms of the alliance might be altered to reduce the number of protests, and therefore speed the process,” Auraya added.

What are the disadvantages, then? Danjin asked himself. What are the weaknesses in this plan?

“You will have to take care that this adviser’s goals are not contrary to your own,” he warned. “He or she might suggest changes to the alliance that benefit their people and prove to have ill consequences for us.”

“He or she would have to be as unaware of those consequences as I,” she replied, tapping her forehead. “There are only four people in the world who can lie to me.”

Danjin felt a thrill at this piece of information. So the White could not read each other’s mind. He had always suspected it was so.

“Of course, it may be that no Dreamweaver will agree to work with us,” he warned.

She smiled.

“Do you have anyone in mind?” Even as he asked, he knew the answer.

“Of course. Naturally, I’d want to work with someone I feel I can trust. Who better, then, than the Dreamweaver I know personally?”

As the platten trundled away, Auraya took in her surroundings. She and Dyara were in a wide, flat space between rows of cultivated trees. Long grass swayed in the breeze. In the distance a priest and priestess cantered around a field on a large white reyer. Both looked familiar.

“Is that… ?”

“Juran and Mairae,” Dyara answered. “We call the last day of the month Training Day because it’s the day we work with the Bearers. Once you have established a link with one, you need to maintain it.”

“Is that what I’ll be doing today?”

Dyara shook her head. “No. You will have to learn to ride eventually, but it is not a high priority. It is more important to teach you how to use your new Gifts.”

The two reyer in the distance wheeled in a complicated-looking maneuver, their legs moving in unison. Auraya could not imagine herself managing to remain on a reyer’s back while it twisted about like that. She hoped her relief at the news her feet would remain on the ground wasn’t too obvious.

“The shield I taught you to make last time will hold off most types of attacks,” Dyara said, her voice taking on a now-familiar lecturing tone. “It will deflect projectiles, flame and force, but it won’t stop lightning. Fortunately, lightning is naturally attracted to the ground. It will take the easiest route—through you. To prevent that you have to give it an alternative route, and you have to do it quickly.”

Dyara held out a hand. A tortured ribbon of light flashed from her fingers to the ground and a deafening crack echoed across the field. A burn marked the grass. The air sizzled.

“When do I get to do that?” Auraya breathed.

“Only when you’ve learned to defend against it,” Dyara replied. “I will begin with small strikes, aiming at the same place. You must try to alter its course.”

At first Auraya felt as if she had been ordered to catch sunlight in her hand. The lightning strikes happened too quickly for her to sense anything about them. She noticed the wriggly line of light was never the same. It must have a reason to follow a different path. Something about the air.

:Dyara? Auraya? a voice said in Auraya’s mind.

Dyara’s head snapped up. She had obviously heard it too.

:Juran? she replied. Auraya glanced toward the field, but the two riders were no longer there.

:Rian has found the Pentadrian. Focus on his mind through mine.

Dyara looked at Auraya, then nodded. Closing her eyes, Auraya sought Juran’s mind. As she linked with him she sensed Mairae and Dyara, but Rian’s thoughts demanded attention. From him came sounds and images. A forest. A half-ruined stone house. A man in black clothing standing in the doorway. She drew in a breath in wonder as she discovered she could see what Rian was viewing as clearly as if she were standing in his place. She could also sense him drawing magic in order to feed the shield of protection around him.

The Pentadrian was watching Rian approaching. Vorns were all around him. He reached out and stroked the head of one sitting beside him, murmuring in his strange language.

Rian stopped and dismounted. He sent an instruction to the mind of his Bearer. It galloped away.

The sorcerer crossed his arms. “You come to catch me, priest?”

“No,” Rian said. “I have come to kill you.”

The sorcerer smiled. “That not polite.”

“It is what you deserve, murderer.”

“Murderer? Me? You speak of priests and men, yes? I only defend myself. They attack first.”

“Did the farmers and merchants you killed attack you first?” Rian asked.

:I can’t read his mind, Rian said. His thoughts are shielded.

:Then he could be dangerous, Juran said.

:As powerful as one of the immortals of the past Age. This will be an interesting fight, Rian replied.

“I not attack farmers and merchants,” the sorcerer said. He scratched the head of a vorn. “My friends hungry. They not given respect or food. You people not polite or respect me and my friends from day I here. Now you say you kill me.” He shook his head. “You people not friendly.”

“Not to murderers,” Rian said. “Perhaps in your land savagery is no crime, but in ours it is punishable by death.”

“You think you can punish me?”

“With the gods’ blessing and power.” Auraya felt the surge of adoration and determination that Rian felt. He is utterly dedicated to the gods, she found herself thinking. In comparison the rest of us are merely loyal. Yet the gods must find that acceptable, or all White would be like Rian.

The sorcerer laughed. “The gods would never bless you, heathen.”

“Not your false gods,” Rian replied. “The Circle. True, living gods.” He drew magic and channelled it out, shaping it into a streak of white heat. The air before the sorcerer suddenly became a wall of violent ripples. A wave of warm air washed back over Rian. The sphere of protection Rian had set about himself buckled inward. He strengthened it instinctively, warding off the force buffeting it. Auraya heard the snap of wood as the trees around Rian bore the brunt of reflected power.

Rian attacked again, this time shaping magic into darts that assailed the sorcerer from all sides. The Pentadrian’s defense held, and he returned with strikes of lightning that Rian guided to the ground.

So that’s how it’s done, Auraya thought.

The ground beneath Rian bucked and jumped. He sent magic down, steadying it. At the same time he drew air from around the sorcerer, trapping him in a vacuum. The sorcerer wrested air back.

:He’s testing me, Rian observed.

:I agree, Juran replied.

Rian felt a force envelop him, pressing upon the protection around him. He fought it, but it grew ever stronger. Auraya was not surprised to see that the sorcerer was standing with one hand extended and curved into a claw, just as he had during the fight with the priests.

:Now comes the test of strength, Rian said. He resisted the crushing, matching force with force. At the same time he watched for other forms of attack. Time slid by. The sorcerer’s attack grew steadily more powerful. Rian slowly increased the strength of his defense.

Abruptly, the crushing force eased.

Though Rian reacted quickly, a great wave of force rushed out from him. Trees shattered. The ruined house flew apart. Dust and rocks filled the air, obscuring all. Rian threw out a gentler magic, pushing the dust to the ground.

The sorcerer was gone. Casting about, Rian saw a huge black beast loping away, carrying a man. He sent a bolt of lightning toward it, but the energy skittered around the fleeing sorcerer and sank into the ground.

“Gods strike him,” Rian hissed as the man and beast disappeared into the trees. He sent a mental call to his Bearer. The mount was not far away.

:Take care, Juran warned. Follow him, but be wary. He is powerful, and a surprise attack could be deadly.

Auraya felt a chill run down her spine. Deadly to Rian? But surely nothing could harm him.

:Not as powerful as I, Rian replied, his thoughts dark with anger and determination. There will be no opportunity for ambush. I will not sleep or rest until I know he is dead.

Then his thoughts faded from Auraya’s senses. She opened her eyes. Dyara met her gaze.

“That was enlightening,” the woman said dryly. “We have not encountered an enemy this powerful for a long time.” Her eyes narrowed. “You look puzzled.”

“I am,” Auraya replied. “Is Rian in any danger?”

“No.”

“Then why did Juran warn him to watch for a surprise attack? Surely he cannot be killed.”

Dyara crossed her arms. “Only if he makes a foolish mistake—and he won’t. I taught him well.”

“So we’re not invulnerable. Or immortal.”

Dyara smiled. “Not exactly. Most would say we’re close enough to it. We do have limitations. One is access to magic. Remember what I taught you: when we draw in magic we use up some of what is around us. If we use a lot it becomes harder to draw in as the magic around us thins and we have to reach farther from our position to get to it. Magic will flow back into the place we have weakened, but it happens slowly. To gain a fresh, strong source we must move to a new position.

“It is rare for us to use that much magic,” Dyara continued. “But the most likely situation to cause us to is battle with another sorcerer—an exceptionally powerful sorcerer. The depletion of an area may cause you to weaken at an inopportune moment.” She paused and Auraya nodded to show she understood.

“Your own ability to learn and use Gifts is your other limitation. The gods can only enhance our Gifts. Each of us is as strong as the gods can make us. That is why we are not equal in strength. Why Mairae is the weakest and Juran is the strongest.”

“Is it possible for a sorcerer to be stronger than us?”

“Yes, though sorcerers of such strength are rare indeed. This is the first one I’ve learned of in nearly a hundred years.” She smiled grimly. “You have joined us during interesting times, Auraya. Lack of training is another limitation, but one I’m sure you’ll overcome quickly considering the rate at which you’re learning. Don’t worry. We would never send you out to deal with a sorcerer of such strength until your training was complete.”

Auraya smiled. “I’m not worried. And I had wondered how we could be invulnerable when the gods aren’t.”

Dyara frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Many gods died in the War of the Gods. If gods can die, then so can we.”

“I suppose that is true.”

Hearing the beat of hooves on the ground, they both turned to see Juran and Mairae riding toward them. As the reyer came to a halt Auraya realized that neither wore reins. She remembered what Dyara had told her: that Bearers were directed by mental commands.

Juran looked down at Auraya.

“I have a question for you, Auraya. Mairae tells me you’ve finished looking over the Somreyan alliance proposal. Would you make any changes to the terms?”

“A few, though I suspect even more changes need to be made. As I was reading I found that I didn’t know as much about Dreamweavers as I thought. I know how they’d treat woundrot, but not how they fit into Somreyan society. I began to wish I had an expert to call upon, and a possible solution came to me. Perhaps what we need is an adviser on Dreamweaver matters.”

Juran turned to regard Mairae. “You tried this, did you not?”

Mairae nodded. “I could not find anyone with the appropriate knowledge.”

Auraya felt her heartbeat quicken a little, but did not pause. “Did you try a Dreamweaver?”

“No. I did not expect them to cooperate.”

Juran’s eyebrows had risen, but his expression was not disapproving. “You believe they might, Auraya?”

“Yes, if they felt our purpose was not contrary to their well-being. The alliance isn’t, as far as I can see.” She smiled crookedly and touched her forehead. “And we have our own safeguards against the possibility that their purpose is contrary to ours.”

“Which they will be quite aware of.” Juran reached forward and rubbed his Bearer between the ears, around the stub of one horn. “I would be surprised if any agreed to it, but I can see the advantages we will gain if one did.”

Mairae smiled. “The Somreyan Dreamweaver elder would not so easily defy one of her own.”

“No,” Juran agreed.

“We would be admitting they have power and influence,” Dyara warned.

Mairae shrugged. “No more power than they actually have. No more than we have already acknowledged in the terms of the alliance.”

“We will signal to our people that we approve of them,” Dyara persisted.

“Not approve. Tolerate. We can’t pretend they don’t have power in Somrey.”

Dyara opened her mouth, then closed it again and shook her head.

Juran looked at Auraya. “If you can find a Dreamweaver willing to do this, then I will send you and Mairae to Somrey together.”

“But Auraya has barely begun her training,” Dyara protested. “This is too much to expect of her so soon.”

“The only alternative I see is to abandon negotiations.” Juran looked at Auraya and shrugged. “If you fail, people will assume it was through inexperience rather than a fault in our strategy.”

“That’s hardly fair on Auraya,” Dyara pointed out.

Auraya shook her head. “I don’t mind.”

Juran looked thoughtful. “If Mairae were to behave as if she didn’t expect to gain any ground, but has taken you there to educate you in other systems of government… Let them underestimate you.” His attention returned to her. “Yes. Do it. See if you can find us an adviser.”

“Do you have anyone in mind?” Mairae asked.

Auraya paused. “Yes. The Dreamweaver I knew as a child. He is living in the city temporarily.”

Juran frowned. “An old friend. That could be unpleasant for you, if he proves troublesome.”

“I know. However, I’d rather work with someone I know well, than not.”

He nodded slowly. “Very well. But be careful, Auraya, that you do not compromise yourself for the sake of friendship. It is far too easy to do.” His tone was regretful.

“I will be careful,” she assured him.

Juran patted his Bearer’s neck and it pawed the ground. Auraya resisted the urge to back away. They were such big creatures.

“We must return to our training,” Juran said. As he and Mairae rode away, Auraya wondered what had happened to cause him to feel such obvious regret. Perhaps she would find out, one day.

There was so much she didn’t know about her fellow White. But there was plenty of time to learn about them. Maybe not all of eternity, but, as Dyara had said, close enough.