At the first sign of dawn each day he would wake, clear his mind, then put himself into a dream trance. First he would try to find Auraya, but she never replied to his calls. She could be ignoring him. The gods could be blocking him from reaching her. Or she could be dead. Sometimes during the day the thought of the latter tortured him. If the gods killed her, he must take some of the blame.
When he could no longer bear Auraya’s silence he called to Emerahl. Now, as she replied curtly, he could tell she was still annoyed at herself for accidentally revealing her location to him the previous night.
:Yesterday was the same as the day before, she told him this morning. Except it’s swampy now. The river splits endlessly and I wasted half of yesterday discovering the branches I’d chosen were dead ends. But last night one of the swamp people approached me. He said he had a message from The Gull’s friend: “follow the blood of the earth.”
:Blood of the earth, Mirar mused. Liquid and soil. Silt from the Red Caves?
:Yes. Rather obvious, really. I had noticed that the water ranged from a filthy black to a filthy red. As soon as the sun is high enough I’ll set out again. How are you faring?
:My watchers are still watching, he told her.
:Do you think you can lose them?
:Not unless I find another forest on the other side. Then they are sure to patrol the edge of the desert and find me again. Once I have travelled far enough into the desert they won’t be able to follow. They can’t carry enough water.
:No, but neither can you. You’ll have to stop at wells or buy water from caravans. Every mortal you meet could reveal your location to the gods.
She was right.
:They must have guessed by now that I’m not going to head for the Siyee coast.
:Yes. You will have to approach the coast eventually if you are going to get to Southern Ithania.
:Which I’ll never reach if there’s a White waiting there to meet me.
:Ah, but I have thought of a way you can improve your chances there.
He felt a small thrill of hope.
:How?
:Your people. If the coastal towns are suddenly full of Dreamweavers, how much notice will anyone take of another one arriving?
It wasn’t a bad idea, but it was not without drawbacks.
:Do you have a clever idea for drawing enough Dreamweavers to the Sennon coast?
:Ask Dreamweaver Arleej to send them there.
:If I contact Arleej she will sense that I have changed. She might think me only Leiard gone mad.
:Yes. You’ll have to convince her of the truth as you did with Auraya—without revealing anything about me this time.
:Of course. But if I allow the world to know I have returned there may be consequences. If Circlians knew that the supposedly wicked sorcerer Mirar had survived his just punishment, they might turn on Dreamweavers.
:Then tell only Arleej. Tell her to give the Dreamweavers some other reason for going to the villages. It will be better if the Dreamweavers who come to your aid don’t know who they are aiding. They’ll give the game away if the White read their minds. If you are not dressed as a Dreamweaver, but as an ordinary traveller, you will attract no attention at all.
She was right. It would improve his chances considerably. He had not wanted to reveal himself to his people until he was sure it would do no harm. Arleej could be trusted to keep his return a secret. She had kept his and Auraya’s affair to herself, despite her disapproval of it.
:I think it will work. Thank you, Emerahl, he said.
:Anything for a friend.
:Anything?
:Almost anything, she amended.
:Have a nice day paddling in the swamp.
:Ha ha. Now go interrupt the sleep of a Dreamweaver.
Her mind faded from his senses. He paused a moment to reorient himself, then called out a name.
:Arleej?
It would be about the same time of day in Arbeem as it was here in Si. There was a chance Arleej was already awake, but that might not matter. She had proven herself sensitive enough to detect someone calling to her months before, when he had sought her after Juran had sent him away.
:Arleej?
After several calls he heard a faint and sleepy reply.
:Hello? Who is this?
:It is the one you know as Leiard.
He sensed his connection with her waver as she nearly woke up from shock.
:Leiard! But…you are not Leiard. You do not sound like him.
:No. I am him, and yet I’m not. There is much I need to explain to you. Do you remember the link memories I had of Mirar’s?
:Yes.
:They were not link memories. They were real memories. I am Mirar.
She paused.
:How long is it since you linked with another Dreamweaver?
:This is not a delusion resulting from me losing my sense of identity, Arleej. I created Leiard and suppressed my own memories in order to live. Let me show you.
He drew up the memories, feeling her react with sympathy, anger and wonder as she learned how he had survived. He explained how he had regained his identity yet also retained Leiard’s. When he had finished, Arleej was silent for a long time.
:So you are Mirar, she said finally.
:Yes. I’m back. And as always, I’ve made a complete mess of things.
He sensed her amusement.
:I imagine there was not much time to plan for the future while you were crushed and dying under the old House of Jarime. How could you have known the child you taught would become a White? She is an extraordinary person. This hospice she started in Jarime has been a great success.
:Hospice?
:Auraya has brought together Dreamweavers and priests in order to provide healing for the poor and encourage cooperation and tolerance.
:She never mentioned that.
:You’ve spoken to her recently?
:Yes, we have both been treating the Siyee, who have suffered badly from a particularly virulent plague of Hearteater.
:I hadn’t heard. Should I send Dreamweavers there?
He felt a pang of guilt. If he had contacted Arleej earlier, Dreamweavers might have made the difficult journey into Si in time to be of assistance. But he had been so concerned with keeping himself isolated and hidden, and since no other Dreamweaver was powerful enough to heal magically their help would have been limited. Still, even those Siyee whose bodies could fight the disease needed care while they were sick.
:If there are any Dreamweavers willing to make the journey, send them. But Auraya may have the disease under control by the time they get there, he told Arleej.
:Will she? On her own? Her skills must be greater than I thought.
:I taught her all I know of healing with magic, he assured her.
:That was generous of you, what with her being one of the White!
:I know she will use it well.
:Yes. You are right. The hospice in Jarime is proof of that.
:There have been no protests? No trouble?
:Of course there has. But there’s been a rumor going around that she did it to prove that the priests and priestesses are better healers, so people won’t be tempted to join us.
:Which can’t be true. She knows we’re superior healers.
:But she can’t have meant the opposite to happen, either.
:No, he agreed. She would not encourage people to join us. Juran would not approve of this unless there was something in it for the Circlians to gain. He felt a chill. Knowledge. They will gain healing knowledge from us.
:Yes, but not everything. I doubt they’ll seek to learn any dream or mind-link methods.
:Wouldn’t they?
She hesitated.
:What do you think?
He considered.
:In the long term, attitudes can be changed, he said. In a few decades, after she has encouraged the careers of healer priests who have open minds, the general attitude toward mind links will soften. It gives her
time to work at changing the minds of other White, too. She is thinking like an immortal.
:I thought only that it was a chance to improve our standing among the people and…
:And?
:Sometimes I feel it is more important that our knowledge survive than that we survive. We have never held back from helping others, even if doing so was to our detriment.
Her admission disturbed him. That the current leader of the Dreamweavers felt this way about her people ought to appall him, but before he could think of the words to reassure her realized that he had taught Auraya for similar reasons. He was not free to roam the world performing healing miracles, so he had given her the ability.
Perhaps it would be better if Dreamweaver knowledge was given to the world, then the cult allowed to fade out of existence. In this age Dreamweavers could only live a life of persecution and division. The gods, through the White, were too powerful.
The way of life of Dreamweavers, of refusing to make war, of tolerance and generosity, might be lost, but what would rise in its place? While Dreamweavers represented that philosophy people would reject it. If Dreamweavers didn’t exist, some Circlians could take a similar philosophy to themselves without being accused of thinking like Dreamweavers.
:Now that you are here we will grow stronger again, Arleej said, perhaps interpreting his silence as dismay.
:Not if I don’t survive the next few weeks. When I taught Auraya I unintentionally revealed my identity to the gods. I am fleeing toward the Sennon coast.
:You can’t return only to perish so soon! Is there anything I can do to help?
:Perhaps. The Siyee are tracking me, and keeping my location known to the gods and the White. When I get to the coast I mean to take a boat and sail out into the sea. The Siyee can’t follow me far. It is my only chance to escape. But there is sure to be a White waiting for me at the coast.
:What can I do?
:Send Dreamweavers to the coast. Lots of them. Fill the streets of several villages with them. Hopefully I’ll be able to slip through one of the villages unnoticed.
:It will take some time for them to get there.
:I know. We must time this carefully. The Circlians may work out what we are doing and drive the Dreamweavers away. There is a danger they may retaliate if I am successful, too.
:We are used to evading danger. And once Dreamweavers hear about you, I’ll have too many volunteers to handle.
:No. They can’t know about me, Arleej. If they do the White will read our intentions from their minds.
:You’re right. I will create another reason for them to be there, she said.
:Thank you.
:If you do survive this, will we meet again?
:I hope so.
:Perhaps I will visit the southern continent. The Dreamweavers there lead a freer life than even those of us who live in Somrey.
:I won’t be letting anyone know who I am, he told her. The Pentadrians might tolerate Dreamweavers in their lands, but they may not tolerate me. I will link with you again when I know which village I intend to pass through.
:Take care of yourself.
:I will. Goodbye.
Drawing himself out of the dream trance, Mirar opened his eyes. The sky beyond the entrance of the crevasse he had sheltered in was dark and close, promising bad weather. There was no sign of the Siyee. He stood up, surveyed the ominous clouds, and cursed.
Looks like a blizzard coming.
He wouldn’t be travelling far today, but at least it would keep the Siyee out of the sky. For once he wouldn’t spend the day with the nagging sensation of Siyee minds watching him.
Emerging from below deck, Reivan saw that Imenja was standing at the stern. The Voice was leaning against the rail, her head bowed. Reivan had found her like this several times in the last two days. She moved to stand beside her mistress and wasn’t surprised to see that the woman was gazing down at the water.
“It’s amazing how quiet the ship is now that Imi has left us,” she said. “I think the crew miss her.”
“Yes,” Reivan agreed. “Or it might just be your moping.”
Imenja turned to regard Reivan. “Moping?”
“Yes. You’re always gazing off into the distance, or down at the water.”
“Am I?”
“Yes. I’m guessing you’re disappointed that we left without an alliance.”
“You’re guessing wrong,” Imenja told her, smiling. “This is not over yet, Reivan. The king may have sent us on our way, but his people haven’t seen the last of us.” She glanced down at the water. “We are being followed.”
Reivan felt a thrill of excitement and searched the waves, but could see no sign of Elai.
“Do they know you know they’re there?”
Imenja laughed. “That’s quite a mouthful. They suspect I have seen them, but they are not sure.”
“Is this why only the main sail is unfurled?”
“Yes. I don’t want us to outpace them.”
“And why is that?”
“Just hoping fate will favor us with an opportunity. Well, to be truthful, research has as much to do with my plans as fate. Before we left I read the minds of several Elai who’d seen raiders. I learned the most common places where trade ships are attacked.”
“And we’re headed for them?”
“We’re in one already. There is a raider ship to the south, beyond the horizon. I’ve caught the faint thoughts of its crew.”
“You’re hoping we’ll be attacked?”
“No. I doubt raiders would attack us. This isn’t a trading ship. Even if I ordered the sail changed to a plain one, raiders know how to recognize the shape of a hull.”
“So you intend to find and attack them? Is that wise? What if the White heard we had destroyed a ship? They might not learn or care that it was a raider ship.”
Imenja narrowed her eyes. “They would not hear of it, if there were no survivors.”
“But there will be witnesses, if the Elai are still with us.”
“I want them to be. I want to give them the opportunity to take part, if that is possible.” Imenja frowned. “But I’m not sure how. What would you do to harm a raider ship, if you were an Elai warrior?”
“I’m not sure. What advantages do they have over their enemies? They can hold their breath a long time, so they could easily drown their enemy.”
“If they can get to the raiders themselves. I want to know what they could do to harm a ship.”
Reivan shrugged. “Elai can easily reach a ship’s hull, and there’s nothing stopping them from trying to damage it. Could they break through it?”
“Not with their bare hands.”
“Nor with their spears, either. They need a weapon designed for the purpose. Or magic.”
“Neither of which we can give them.”
“Can’t we?” Reivan grinned. “There must be woodworking tools on board this ship.”
“Would they work fast enough, in a battle?”
“Maybe. Maybe not. It would depend how long the battle lasted, and how many tools were employed.”
“How else could they fight raiders?”
They had reached the prow of the boat now. “Luring them onto reefs, perhaps?” Reivan suggested. “But I doubt that would work. The raiders must know these waters well. I’m sure I could think of something better, given time and—”
Imenja abruptly lifted a hand to silence her. Eyes half closed, the Second Voice stared at the horizon.
“I think our raiders have found themselves a victim. Yes, a merchant ship sailing west. You had better come up with some ideas quickly, Reivan.”
“I thought you didn’t want the White to hear of this. Or are you planning to sink the merchant ship too.”
“No, I think it might be useful to us if a few merchants are grateful to have been rescued from their attackers by a Pentadrian ship.”
Reivan chuckled. “We can impress two peoples in one fight. But will it come to a fight? Once the r
aiders see we are approaching they’ll flee.”
“And we will give chase. I will make sure we catch them.”
A thrill of anticipation ran through Reivan. But I must not let the prospect of a bit of magic and justice blind me to possible ill consequences. “It’s possible that, if the merchants hate us enough, they will claim we were the attackers.”
“The White can read minds,” Imenja reminded her. “They’d soon learn the truth. Look.” She pointed to the south, where sails were just visible on the horizon. “The raiders.” Turning to the east she narrowed her eyes. “The merchant is ahead of us.”
She turned to the helmsman and ordered him to turn out of the wind. As he obeyed, the sails slumped and the ship slowed to a halt. Reivan looked at Imenja questioningly.
“The merchants haven’t noticed their pursuers yet,” Imenja explained. “And we don’t want to put the raiders off yet. The Elai need some time to prepare.”
“They do?”
“Yes. We’re going to show them how to use woodworking tools.”
“We are?”
“Yes.”
“I’m sure they already know how. There are some impressive carvings among the gifts the king gave you.”
“Yes, but just because they have talented crafters doesn’t mean their warriors know how to use a mallet and chisel.”
Imenja called to the captain, telling him to be prepared for chase and a battle. At the stern she stopped and called out to the Elai by name. After several minutes two heads appeared several strides from the ship.
“How much do you hate raiders?” she asked them, her voice full of challenge.
The pair exchanged glances, but said nothing.
“There is a raider ship ahead, about to attack a merchant vessel. I intend to stop it. Will you help me?”
“How?” one of the warriors asked.
“Let me show you.” Imenja beckoned to one of the crew. “Bring us carpentry tools. Chisels and mallets. Anything that might be used to put a hole in the hull of a ship.”
“Is that wise, Second Voice?” he asked. “What if they decide to sink us as well?”
“They won’t,” she assured him.
As the man hurried away, Reivan looked at the Elai. They look more suspicious of us than enthusiastic, she thought. They’re going to take a lot of convincing.
Last of the Wilds Page 48
