Last of the Wilds

by Trudi Canavan

  “Yes.”

  She nodded to herself. Her father would approve.

  “We have other customs foreigners misunderstand. Some of our rites require that we respect the privacy of the participants. Because we keep these secrets, foreigners think the rites must be of a disgusting or immoral kind.” He looked at her, his expression sad. “Remember this, if you hear such rumors about us from other landwalkers.”

  Imi nodded. If any other landwalkers told her Nekaun’s people were bad, she would tell them otherwise.

  They passed through the door into a plainer room. The pictures on the walls were of groups of people. Each contained a man, a woman and a child. Each wore slightly different clothing and had different skin and hair coloring. One family had large feathered wings. Suddenly she understood why the Siyee in the other room had looked odd to her. She put a hand to her mouth.

  “Yes,” Nekaun said, though she hadn’t made a noise this time. “We only recently learned how wrong that picture is. I’m considering whether to have it fixed or not.” He looked down. “Though that is not what I brought you in here to see. Look down. This floor design is a map of all Ithania.”

  She did as he said and drew in a breath of wonder. Large shapes floated in the center of a blue floor. The shapes were filled with pictures of mountains, lakes, strange cities open to the air and dry roads between them. Nekaun pointed at a large shape like a spearhead.

  “That is Southern Ithania.” He walked over it to the place where the spearhead shape met a much larger shape and pointed the toe of his sandal at a city. “This is where we are: Glymma.”

  “Where is Borra?”

  “I don’t know exactly. I was hoping you could tell me.”

  She shook her head. “I’ve never seen the world from above. It’s all…I’ve never seen something like this before.”

  He frowned. “Then we may not be able to return you to your home as quickly as we hoped.”

  “Why don’t you ask the raiders where they found me?”

  He chuckled. “If only we could, but we have seen no sign of them in Glymma’s port. Either they left after selling you, or news of your rescue and the trouble it caused your buyer warned them to keep away. We need you to tell us where your home is, Imi.”

  She examined the map closely, looking for anything familiar. Pictures of Siyee in an area covered in mountains caught her eye. She moved to the coastline. Si was a few days’ swim from Borra.

  “Somewhere in the ocean south of Si,” she told him.

  “South is that direction,” he said, indicating.

  Looking at the vast area of blue, she felt her heart sink. There weren’t any islands marked. How was she supposed to tell them where Borra was if it wasn’t on the map? But of course it isn’t on the map, she thought. If it was they wouldn’t have to ask me to find it!

  “Have your people met the Siyee?” Imenja asked.

  Imi looked up at the woman and nodded. “We trade with them.”

  “Would they know where your home is?”

  “Maybe. If they don’t, I could wait with them until the next visit by Elai traders. I…I don’t know how often they travel there.” Imi looked down at the map and felt a pang of longing. She had come so far, and now she was free to go home she wasn’t sure how to get there.

  “Then that is what we shall do,” Imenja said.

  Imi felt hope returning. “Will we?”

  “Yes. We’ll get you home, Imi,” Nekaun assured her. “As soon as we can. Imenja says you’ll be recovered enough to leave in a few days.”

  She looked up at him eagerly. “That soon?”

  Nekaun smiled. “Yes. Imenja will take you on one of our ships. She will do everything she can to reunite you with your father and your people.”

  Blinking back tears, Imi smiled at Imenja and Nekaun, overwhelmed by gratitude.

  “Thank you,” she breathed. “Thank you so much.”

  The man’s breathing was painfully labored. Auraya sat back on her heels and let out a long breath. She had expected a stronger version of Hearteater, but not one this virulent. Every member of the tribe was or had been seriously ill. Some had overcome the worst of it, but only with help from Leiard.

  Wilar, she corrected.

  Now that she had recovered from her surprise at finding him in Si she had started to question his presence here. He could not have known about this plague before he entered Si. The Siyee had been sick no more than a week or two, and it would have taken him months to reach the village from outside Si. He must have been here already.

  Why? I can understand him staying away from Jarime and Juran, but surely he didn’t need to change his name and appearance and live in one of the most remote places in Northern Ithania? Did he fear that our affair would become common gossip and people would try to harm him? Did he fear that I would seek to punish him for his infidelity?

  She wanted to ask him so many questions, but that meant bringing up painful subjects. The answers ought to have been easy to learn. She should have been able to read his mind, but she couldn’t. His mind was shielded. She had never encountered anyone who could do that. Had he always known how to do it, or learned it recently? Could other Dreamweavers learn it from him? What if all Dreamweavers learned to hide their thoughts? An advantage the White had over them would be lost.

  Remembering the hospice, she felt a pang of guilt. Knowing that she was working toward disempowering Dreamweavers made it harder to face Leiard. It was another reason she had avoided him, sending messages via Tyve then Reet.

  She had been sending for Leiard more often than she wanted to. One of the medicines Leiard was using worked better at breaking up the mucus in the lungs of victims than any she had brought. A few hours earlier a patient, delirious with fever, had insisted on being treated only by “the dream man.” Now she must send for him again.

  The patient before her, a middle-aged father, was sinking fast. His body’s struggles to fight the disease were pitiful. She expected him to die soon and it seemed prudent to reassure the Siyee that the healer agreed with her assessment. If a patient she was attending died, they might all decide they, too, only wanted to be treated by the Dreamweaver.

  Hearing a thump behind her, she turned and looked out of the bower. Reet stood on the platform outside, coughing quietly. His attention was on Leiard, who was hanging from a sling looped around the thick ropes stretched between the platform and another somewhere to the right. The Dreamweaver was hauling himself along by grasping the thick rope and pulling. As he reached the platform, she saw that his hands were red and raw. His bag hung from a rope around his waist.

  Reet helped him up onto the platform then out of the sling. Wasting no time, Leiard marched into the bower. His eyes met Auraya’s for a moment, but his grim expression did not change. He crouched beside her, placed a hand on the man’s forehead and closed his eyes.

  Unbidden, a memory rose of the few times she had watched him sleeping. A forgotten longing crept over her and she gritted her teeth. It is just an echo of the desire I once felt. I don’t love him any more. She made herself think of the nights of pleasure Chaia had given her. Then she shook her head. That was too distracting, and she ought to be concentrating on her patient.

  Looking down, she felt a thrill of surprise and hope. The man’s skin was still pale, but the blue tinge had gone from his lips and fingers. His labored breathing had changed to a slightly easier, deeper sound.

  How is this possible? she thought. I gave him what strength magic can provide, but his body wasn’t fighting the disease. It had ravaged him. Leiard can’t be creating new flesh where it has been eaten away. He can’t be making the body fight the disease. He can’t be killing the disease itself…

  Or could he? The Dreamweavers’ healing skills were greater than Circlians’. Leiard had only taught her about cures when she was a child, not of the healing methods of Dreamweavers. Since then no opportunity had presented itself for her to observe a Dreamweaver treat a man as sick as this.


  She felt a thrill of excitement. If Dreamweavers knew how to re-create damaged flesh, make a body fight a disease or kill the disease itself, her priests and priestesses could learn the skill from them. Circlian healers could save countless lives.

  Maybe I shouldn’t be avoiding Leiard, she thought. Maybe I should be recruiting him…again. She grimaced at the thought. It is a pity I can’t read his thoughts, or I would know right now what he has done and I could continue avoiding him.

  Leiard drew in a deep, slow breath and let it out. Removing his hand from the man’s brow, he stood up. From out of the shadows, where she had been waiting quietly, the man’s wife appeared. The woman had barely recovered from the disease herself. In her hands was a round, flat loaf of bread.

  “Eat, Wilar,” she said to him. “Reet tells me he hasn’t seen you eat or rest once.”

  Leiard looked at the woman, then glanced at Auraya. The woman followed his gaze.

  “You too, lady, of course,” she added.

  Auraya smiled. “Thank you.” She looked at Leiard critically. Dark shadows lay under his eyes. “He does look like he needs it.”

  Leiard hesitated, then turned to Reet.

  “Check on Veece,” he ordered. The boy nodded and flew away.

  As the Dreamweaver sat down the woman broke the bread and handed pieces to them both. It was stale. No doubt she hadn’t had a chance to cook for days. Many of the Siyee would be running out of fresh supplies.

  We must do something about that, Auraya thought.

  “What can I do for him?” the woman asked, looking at her husband.

  “Continue applying the essence,” Leiard told her.

  “Will he live?”

  “I have given him a second chance. If he does not improve, I might have to isolate him until the rest of the tribe are recovered.”

  “Why?” Auraya asked.

  He turned to regard her. “He will be in danger of catching it again.”

  She held his gaze. “So you are killing the disease in his body?”

  “Only when it is necessary,” he said, with obvious reluctance.

  “I know of no other healer who can do that. You’re more skilled than I was aware of.”

  He looked away. “There are many things you do not know about me.”

  At his sullen tone, the woman’s eyebrows rose. She rose abruptly and left the room. Auraya regarded Leiard. His aloof expression annoyed her.

  “Like what?” she asked. “Or should I ask: what else?”

  He turned to regard her, his eyes cold, but as she stared back his expression softened.

  “I am sorry,” he murmured. “I knew you would look for me. I should have been more…considerate about how and where you might find me. It was the only way I could be sure you would not approach me. I did not trust…myself. I did not trust myself to have the will to leave.”

  She stared at him in surprise.

  He was apologizing. And what surprised her more was to find herself accepting it. Not that it didn’t still hurt that he had run from her, that he had run into the bed of a whore, but now she had to admit that she had understood all along why he had done it. She had been as incapable of ending their affair, despite knowing the harm it would bring.

  Am I forgiving him? And if I am, what does this mean for us? She looked away. Nothing. We cannot start again. We cannot be together. Why would I even want to? I have Chaia.

  Leiard was watching her closely. The room was tense with expectation.

  Movements in the next room reminded her of the Siyee woman’s presence. Can she hear us? Auraya concentrated and sensed curiosity and speculation. The woman didn’t understand the little she had heard.

  “I…understand,” she said. “It is in the past. So…Lei—”

  “Wilar,” he interrupted.

  “Wilar, then. Why is your mind blocked?”

  His expression was suddenly guarded. To her annoyance she felt a small thrill of attraction. It is his mysteriousness, she thought suddenly. It intrigues me. Everyone else is so easy to read. I can know everything about them, if I want to, but with Leiard I always had this sense there was more to discover about him even though I could read his mind. Now that I can’t read his mind I’m even more curious.

  “An old friend taught me the trick. I never felt it necessary to use it until recently.”

  An old friend? She smiled as she guessed who he was talking about. “Is Mirar still lurking in the back of your mind?”

  His lips twitched into a wry smile. “No.”

  “Ah. That’s good. You wanted to get rid of him.”

  He nodded. He was watching her closely. A thump outside the bower drew their attention. Reet stood outside.

  “Veece is failing again.”

  Leiard frowned and rose.

  “Thank you for the food,” he called to the woman. Then, without a word of farewell he strode outside, stepped into the sling Reet had held up for him, and slid away.

  30

  The room Reivan had been given as a full Servant was twice the size of her previous one—which meant it still wasn’t particularly big. It was late and she longed for sleep, but no sooner had she entered her rooms than a knock came from the door. She sighed. It had been a day of interruptions. Returning to the door, she opened it, determined to tell whoever was out there to come back in the morning.

  Nekaun stood outside. She stared at him in surprise.

  “I have a few questions for you, Reivan. May I come in?”

  She gathered her wits and held the door open. “Of course, holy one.”

  As he walked into her room she felt an unexpected thrill of excitement. What would other Servants say about her prestigious visitor? Her stomach sank as she realized they might suspect an amorous encounter. She glanced over her shoulder as she closed the door. Nekaun was even more good-looking in the light of the single lamp she had used to light her way through the Sanctuary. Her heart began to race. What if he has come for more than just to ask questions? Would I mind?

  She shook her head. Don’t be ridiculous—and stop thinking about it! she told herself. He can read your mind, you fool. Embarrassed, she hurried to light a second lamp, filling the little room with a reassuring brightness.

  “Please sit down, First Voice,” she said. “Would you like some water?”

  “No,” he replied as he folded himself onto her only chair. “Thank you.”

  She poured herself a glass of water then perched on the edge of the bed. He smiled at her warmly and she looked down, suddenly self-conscious.

  “I wanted to ask you about the Siyee,” he said. “It appears they believe they were created by one of these Circlian gods. Do you think they would ever be persuaded otherwise?”

  Reivan frowned. “Perhaps. It will be far more difficult to convert them, but with effort and time they may see the error of their belief.”

  “Effort and time. A long investment of effort or a better-timed effort?”

  She looked at him. “I suppose eventually the rest of Ithania will be worshipping the Five. It would be easier to coax the Siyee out of their heathen ways then.”

  Nekaun’s gaze was thoughtful. “It might be worth the wait, so long as they don’t prove a threat to us in the interim.”

  “What else could you do?” she asked.

  He paused, then abruptly rose and began pacing the short space of floor between the chair and door. Two steps there. Two steps back. “Many Siyee died during the war. They are vulnerable right now.”

  “You would attack them?” she asked, surprised. This was uncharacteristically direct and warlike for him. His plans so far had been subtle and bloodless.

  “I’d rather not,” he said. “Not least because it might start another war.”

  “It might start a war?” She shook her head. “It would start a war.”

  He stopped pacing and turned to regard her with narrowed eyes. After a moment his face relaxed and he smiled.

  “Ah, Reivan. Imenja was rig
ht to single you out. You are so refreshingly frank. I am tempted to take you as a Companion for myself.”

  She felt her face warming and looked away, her heart racing at the thought. Me! An unSkilled woman! Companion to the First Voice!

  But it wasn’t just ambition that set her pulse racing. Breathing slowly, she willed herself into a calmer state.

  “I’m…flattered,” she said. “It would be a great honor.”

  He chuckled. “Imenja is determined to keep you and is taking you away with her to Elai. I will have to find someone else to provide frank and direct opinion when I need it.” He moved toward her and held out his hand. She took it and was drawn to her feet, but he did not step back to make room for her. Standing so close that she could feel the warmth of his breath on her face, he smiled. “Thank you for sharing your thoughts with me.”

  Her voice froze in her throat. She nodded, avoiding the eyes that sought hers. Her heart was beating quickly again, but this time she was unable to calm it. He reached out and touched her cheek lightly.

  “I will not keep you up any longer. Good night, Reivan.” Letting go of her hand, he strode across the room to the door. He opened it, paused to smile at her, then stepped outside.

  As the door closed she slowly let out the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. There is absolutely no chance that he doesn’t know how he affects me, she thought. She laughed wryly at his words. ‘Thank you for sharing your thoughts with me.’ Had he been making a joke?

  She sighed and sat down. What are the odds that I can make myself get over this infatuation while I am away? Surely a few months at sea will be enough for me to come to my senses.

  It better be, she told herself. Or this is going to make life in the Sanctuary very, very uncomfortable.

  I must be crazy, Mirar thought as he slid along the rope. I should have realized Auraya would come here the moment news of Hearteater reached her. I should have left before she arrived.

  But would you have? Leiard asked.

  Mirar frowned. It would have meant abandoning the Siyee. Those who cannot fight the disease would have died without my help.