No reply came. Perhaps Leiard was playing a little joke on him. He waited a little longer. Nothing.
Perhaps he is gone. He shook his head. No. Not gone, but no longer separate from me, or me separate from him.
He looked around, then started walking. There was nothing to do but keep going. Alone. He felt a pang of regret. Somehow he knew he would not be hearing from Leiard again.
I think I’m going to miss him. I can’t have Auraya and now I don’t have Leiard to talk to.
The thought should have been funny, but instead it left him feeling empty and sad.
In the topmost rooms of the White Tower, Juran paced. Each time he passed the windows he glanced down at the city. Long ago he had given up trying to keep a picture in his mind of the way Jarime had looked at the beginning, or at different times in the last hundred years. He might not age physically, but his memories were as prone to fading as any mortal’s.
Which was the source of his dilemma now.
:I can’t remember, he said. It has been too long. It’s like trying to remember what my parents’ maid looked like—and I probably saw her thousands of times more than I saw Mirar when he was alive. Why do you want me to remember what he looked like?
:A suspicion. Either Mirar lives, or we have another Dreamweaver in the world with abilities normally restricted to immortals, Huan said.
Juran felt his heart turn over.
:I’m not sure what would be worse. You do not recognize him, then?
:I cannot see him except through another’s eyes. I cannot recognize him unless the viewer does. You are the only person alive who can recognize him.
Surely you would know if he was Mirar from his mind…?
:I cannot see his mind.
Juran stopped pacing and a chill ran down his spine.
:Would this Dreamweaver be Leiard?
:Yes.
:Leiard can’t be Mirar! I’ve seen into his mind.
:A mind which is now completely hidden. If he can do that, he may have been able to conceal parts of his mind before. He can also heal in a manner that immortals can, Huan added. As Mirar could. And there is one more suspicious factor.
:What is that?
:He has Mirar’s memories and admitted to hearing Mirar’s voice in his mind.
:But he can’t be Mirar! I would have recognized him!
:I wonder if you can. A hundred years is a long time. We have not observed the effect of memory loss in immortals we have created until now. Are there any portraits of Mirar left?
:Most were destroyed, but there may be a few in the archives. But…We found his body.
:You found a body that had been badly crushed. It may not have been his.
:What if Leiard isn’t Mirar?
:He may be a new Wild.
:And that makes him dangerous?
:Yes.
:Is Auraya safe?
:Chaia is watching over her.
Juran moved to the window and looked down at the city again. If Leiard was a new Wild and they were forced to kill him, Auraya would be devastated. Perhaps not as grieved as she would have been when she was still in love with him, but she would find the gods’ reasoning that all Wilds were dangerous hard to understand.
:We did not find all of the Wilds. Those that evaded us haven’t caused us any trouble, he said.
:Not yet. Remember, power is a corrupting force. Immortals do not recognize our authority. They believe their souls will never need to transcend the death of their body, so they feel no need to obey us. They are powerful and can do great harm. Better to be rid of them now, than wait until they fulfil their potential.
:What would we do if a Circlian became immortal—without your help?
:Perhaps, if they were loyal, we would allow them to live.
Juran pressed his forehead against the cool glass.
:So we must execute Leiard. We have no choice.
:If he is, indeed, a new Wild.
:How are we to confirm it?
:We will watch him closely. Do not alert Auraya to the possibility that he is a Wild yet, or the other White. Leiard has offered to teach her how to heal magically. That would require a linking of minds that may allow us to see past the shield hiding his thoughts. We must know if he is Mirar before we strike.
:When will this happen?
:We haven’t yet decided. There are risks. We will seek other means to discover his true identity first. When we have decided, we will let you know. Good night, Juran.
Moving away from the window, Juran headed for the cabinet he kept drinks for guests in. He poured himself a glass of Toren tipli. Though it would not make him drunk, he tossed it down and poured another. The tart flavor was both bracing and refreshing.
:I hope, for Auraya’s sake, that you are wrong, Huan.
The goddess did not reply.
PART THREE
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 mont
hs 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.
Last of the Wilds Page 37
