Voice of the Gods

by Trudi Canavan

  Raeli closed her mouth, then shook her head. “We believe he is dead.”

  Ella grimaced. “Poor Ranaan.” She sighed. “I know my suggestion angers you, but I ask you: what is more important, the lives of your people or your loyalty to a man who abandoned you for a hundred years and now cannot be here to help you fight the violence his return has…Excuse me a moment.” Her eyes widened and she rose and turned to the window in one movement, then whirled about, strode to the door and left the room.

  The two Dreamweavers looked at Danjin questioningly. He shrugged to indicate he hadn’t any idea what she was up to, then hurried after her.

  She was already at the base of the stairs. As he started down she paused and looked up at him.

  “Stay here, Danjin.”

  Then she was gone. He returned to the room reluctantly. Raeli had moved to the window and was peering down at the street.

  “I see nothing unusual,” she said.

  As Danjin moved to her side she glanced at him and stepped away. Looking outside, he drew in a quick breath. Ella had emerged on the street. People were stopping and staring at her in surprise, but she ignored them. She walked up to a bread-seller lounging against his cart. As he realized she was approaching him he straightened and glanced to either side as if looking for an escape. Then he turned to face her, keeping his eyes to the ground.

  Whatever she said to him brought a look of terror to his face. She turned and walked away. The young man hesitated, again glancing around. Ella looked over her shoulder and spoke again. The bread-seller’s shoulders slumped and he shuffled after her.

  As the pair moved out of sight, Danjin stepped back. She must have caught some of his thoughts and seen in them something important. Something very important. Nothing else would make her risk revealing that she has been secretly spying on people outside the hospice.

  The silence in the room was rapidly growing awkward. Danjin began to make polite enquiries of the two Dreamweavers. How had Raeli been since the war? Where was Kyn born? The male Dreamweaver was from Dunway, as his name suggested, but his mother was Genrian. It was an unusual heritage, and Danjin guessed that becoming a Dreamweaver had earned the man an acceptance and respect that his half-breed status would never have in Dunway or Genria.

  When the sound of a door closing echoed through the house, Danjin paused to listen. He heard distant voices but could not discern what was said. Then a single set of footsteps drew closer.

  The door opened and Ella stepped inside.

  “Please excuse my abrupt departure,” she said. “I just found someone I’ve been looking for and couldn’t risk that he might move on before I had a chance to talk to him.” She sat down and adjusted her circ. “Now…well, I asked you to come here so I could tell you the results of my research.” Her expression became earnest. “I hope you’ll take my advice, but I’ll understand if you don’t. It is no easy thing to do. You can contact Mirar, if you choose to take my advice, and explain that it is necessary—and temporary.”

  She smiled and regarded the two Dreamweavers expectantly. The pair glanced at each other, then Raeli looked at Ella.

  “Thank you for giving us this information. It is reassuring to know the White are so concerned for our welfare. I will communicate your advice to Dreamweaver Elder Arleej and let you know what she decides.”

  Ella nodded. She stood up. “Let me know if you need anything from us.”

  The Dreamweavers rose and Danjin ushered them out. When he returned, Ella was standing at the top of the stairs.

  “Someone you were looking for?” he prompted.

  She smiled grimly. “Yes.” Crossing her arms, she drummed her fingers against her sleeve. “In a moment our guests will be out of the alley…there they go. Come on, Danjin. We’re going back to the White Tower.”

  He followed her down the stairs and out into the alley, to the tired old covered platten they always arrived in. As she reached out to the door flap she paused and held a finger to his lips, before gesturing for him to enter.

  Someone was in there, he realized. Two people. He climbed in slowly and cautiously. One of the men was the driver. The other was the bread-seller, bound, gagged, and looking terrified.

  There was something disturbing about that. Danjin found himself imagining what had happened after Ella and the bread-seller had moved out of sight. Had she forced the man into the platten? Had she bound him? No, the driver must have done that for her.

  Ella climbed in after Danjin. Her expression was grim as she regarded the prisoner. She gave the driver a nod, and he got out. The platten swayed as he stepped up onto the driver’s seat and urged the arem into motion.

  “Bagem here has been paid to watch the hospice,” Ella told Danjin. “He was to note the movements of Dreamweavers in particular, and follow them if he could.”

  And kill them? Danjin thought, giving the young man a speculative look. Though the bread-seller looked completely intimidated, that might simply be because he’d been caught by one of the White.

  “He wasn’t to harm them himself,” Ella said. “But he knew it was likely his information would lead to more Dreamweaver murders. He can identify his employer, and others involved in the game. I think the other White need to see what I’ve seen in his mind, too.” She turned to look at Danjin, her eyes wide with distress. “Because if the men who paid Bagem weren’t in disguise, they must be priests.”

  11

  If Reivan’s assistant, Kikarn, had been puzzled by her behavior this morning he hadn’t given any sign. She had asked him to list all of the possible matters she could attend to until he came up with one that would take her away from the Sanctuary for the day. The way he had taken her break of routine in his stride had been almost unnerving.

  Perhaps he simply understands that a person has to get away from the Sanctuary now and then to preserve their sanity, she mused.

  Reivan had managed to keep her mind occupied on her chosen task for most of the day. Only occasionally did she find herself thinking back to the previous night, and then it felt more like a dream than a memory. Those moments of distraction were pleasant, but were soon spoiled when she found herself worrying about what Imenja would think. Or say. Or do.

  Like dismiss me, Reivan thought. Send me away to be an unSkilled Servant in some remote place, spending the rest of my days translating scrolls. No, translating scrolls would be too enjoyable. More likely I’d end up doing unpleasant menial work or some boring administration job.

  Avoiding Imenja all day had been a futile, childish thing to do, and had only gained her a few extra, anxiety-filled hours before the inevitable confrontation. When her task had been complete, and shadows had begun to envelop the city, she had dragged herself back to the Sanctuary.

  All was quiet as she reached the stairway that would take her up to her rooms. She paused and looked through an archway to the courtyard outside. Everything was blue with the twilight, except where lamps cast orange pools on the pavement.

  Will Nekaun visit me again tonight? she wondered. Her heartbeat quickened. I hope so but…I’m tired. Moving to the archway, she leaned against one side. It was so peaceful here. She felt the knots of tension inside her loosen.

  Maybe Imenja won’t mind, she thought. Maybe this will prompt her and Nekaun to reconcile their differences. I could be the one who, inadvertently, makes peace between the First and Second Voice.

  She snorted softly.

  Not likely! What do I know of reconciling differences or making peace? I had a hard enough time convincing the Thinkers to even notice I existed, and they kicked me out at the first opportunity. The way the Servants reacted to me when I first came here made it clear they didn’t think I belonged. I still don’t even have any friends, so what chance is there that I can mend rifts between others?

  “You have one friend,” a familiar voice said from behind Reivan.

  Looking back, she grimaced apologetically at Imenja.

  “Second Voice. I…ah…I…I’m sorry for—
”

  Imenja put two fingers to her lips, then beckoned and moved out into the courtyard. She turned to regard one of the pools. The water rippled, then a spout formed and droplets arched through the air. The courtyard echoed with the sound. Imenja sat on one of the benches nearby.

  “There. A small measure of privacy. I would advise against raising your voice, however.”

  Reivan nodded. Imenja patted the bench.

  “Sit. As you know, we need to talk.” When Reivan obeyed, Imenja smiled. “What are you sorry for?”

  “For…for hiding from you.”

  “It was silly of you, but I see you know that. You don’t need to feel guilty about taking Nekaun to bed, Reivan. It’s hardly something to be ashamed of.”

  “I know, but…”

  “But?”

  “You and he…”

  Imenja’s nose wrinkled. “We haven’t been agreeing on much lately.” Her shoulders lifted. “That is between us, and shouldn’t stop you taking pleasure whenever you find it. Pleasure doesn’t happen along as often as it should.

  “There’s a ‘however’ coming,” Reivan found herself saying. “I can hear it in your voice.”

  Imenja laughed, low and quiet. “Yes, there is.” She drew in a deep breath, and all humor vanished from her face. “It is possible that Nekaun does regard you affectionately. I don’t want to dash your hopes there. There is also the possibility that he is simply using you.”

  “Well, it’s not like we can get married. I don’t expect that.”

  Imenja shook her head. “Think politically, Reivan. You didn’t avoid me all day just because you thought I wouldn’t approve of you having a little fun.”

  “Do you think he’s using me to hurt you?”

  “I have to consider it a possibility. So do you.”

  Reivan looked at the pavement. If Nekaun thought Imenja would object to him bedding her Companion, it would be a way to strike at her. It was a low and petty thing to do, with no purpose other than to annoy someone who was supposed to be one of his closest allies.

  “Surely not. It wouldn’t gain him anything.”

  Imenja sighed. “Nothing but to weaken me a little more.”

  Looking at the Second Voice, Reivan saw a resignation in the woman’s face that had never been there before. She felt a pang of concern. What had happened to make her mistress distrustful of Nekaun? How could such a powerful woman look so defeated?

  Imenja straightened and turned to regard Reivan. “If his intentions are harmful, he’ll find me tougher than he expects,” she said. “It is you I worry about, Reivan. Could you stand being humiliated and manipulated? Are you strong enough to endure a broken heart? It could be unpleasant for you, if Nekaun’s intentions are ill.”

  Reivan stared at her.

  “Do you think he could be that cruel?”

  Imenja sighed. “Do I think he is capable of low, immoral tactics? Yes. I know it to be so. Do I think he truly regards you with the deepest of affection?” She smiled and shrugged. “You’re an attractive woman. Not beautiful, but you have a sharp wit and a good sense of humor that more than makes up for that. There’s much to love. So maybe he does.”

  Reivan felt her mouth stretching into a smile, and tried unsuccessfully to stop it.

  “I would never want to rob you of any chance of love or pleasure,” Imenja said. “But if it turns sour, remember I am your friend. If you need to talk to someone, I will listen. If you need to get away from him, I will send you wherever you wish to go. I will do all I can to prevent you from coming to harm, but I can’t save you from hurt feelings. You must be strong, too.”

  “I will be,” Reivan promised.

  “Good.

  Imenja stood up. “Now, I have a meeting to attend, so I’d best move on.”

  “Need my help?”

  “No. I’ll speak to you tomorrow. Sleep well.”

  Reivan smiled. “You too.”

  As the Second Voice disappeared into the archway, the fountain dwindled to a stop. Reivan drew in a deep breath, yawned, and headed for her rooms, feeling better than she had all day.

  The sun hung just above the top of the trees, as if preparing itself to dive within them. Auraya looked up at the rope. She had strung it from the top of the cliff to the branches of the trees below, then made a sliding seat out of wood and more rope. It was a rough copy of the system Mirar had used to get from platform to platform of the tree-bound Siyee village she had found him in months before. She felt a sudden anger and clenched her fists.

  What did he get in return for helping the Siyee fight the plague? she thought. An executioner. And now Huan wants to send one to me. She took a deep breath and slowly let it out, while pushing anger aside. For the last few days she had found herself brooding over Huan and Saru’s conversation often. Too often. She lay awake at night, alternately furious at the gods’ distrust and betrayal and fighting a lurking, will-sapping fear that one of the White—probably Rian—would step into the cave and kill her and Jade.

  “Here.”

  Auraya roused herself from her thoughts and accepted the steaming cup of maita from Jade. Taking a sip, she sighed in appreciation as the hot liquid warmed her.

  Jade sat down beside her and looked up at the swing. It had carried her swiftly and safely to the ground many times, but she still hadn’t succeeded in sensing her position in the world around her. Still, it wasn’t a particularly high cliff.

  “We could probably find a higher cliff and make a longer rope,” Auraya began.

  Jade shook her head. “No. I think it’s pretty clear I haven’t got this ability to sense the world that you have. I need to be on my way, as well.”

  “You’re just going to give up? After only one day?”

  The woman chuckled. “Yes, I am. Maybe I’ll have the misfortune of falling off a cliff some day. If that happens, I’ll remember your instructions and try again. For now I’m happy to have my feet firmly on the ground.”

  Auraya smiled. “We could still try the cliff jump. It might work.”

  “And it might not.”

  “I’d catch you.”

  “It’s not that I don’t trust you…”

  Auraya lifted her eyebrows.

  “Well, yes, you’re right,” Jade admitted. “I don’t trust you enough for that. Even so, all my good sense tells me jumping off a cliff is a bad idea. Logic tells me that if I need to move in order to learn to sense my position in the world, moving horizontally should be just as effective as vertically. If I was capable of learning this, I would have discovered this sense of the world you describe by now.”

  “You’re probably right.” Auraya sighed. “Or else I’m a terrible teacher. Or maybe Mirar is right. He keeps insisting this is my innate Gift.”

  Jade looked at Auraya closely. “How often do you speak to him?”

  “We’ve talked a few times in dream-links.”

  “You talk to him? I thought you didn’t like him.”

  Auraya smiled. “I never said I didn’t like him.”

  Jade frowned, then looked away. All was subdued, as if the creatures of the forest must wait for darkness before they could gain the courage to make their calls. Auraya listened with her other senses, paying attention to what she usually ignored unless she was flying: the magic around her, the feeling of where she was placed in the world. Her senses had grown clearer since she had come here.

  A faint whisper or vibration caught her attention. She focused on it and realized it was a mind. A Siyee was flying toward them. It was Tyve.

  I’ll just make a quick visit before it gets too dark, he thought.

  “You may as well take that down,” Jade said, apparently unaware of the approaching Siyee.

  The rope! Tyve might fly into it. Auraya set her cup aside and jumped up. Drawing magic, she sent a thread of heat out to the end fastened at the top of the cliff. Fibers burst into flame as the heat quickly scorched through them. The rope fell to the ground, some of it sinking into the stream.r />
  “It’s good to know you agree with me so heartily,” Jade said wryly.

  “Tyve is coming. He might not see it.”

  “Tyve? How do you know?”

  “I saw his…” Auraya felt a shock as she realized what she was about to say. She concentrated on Tyve’s mind. To her surprise, his thoughts were clear. She looked at Jade.

  “I can read minds again.”

  The woman stared at her, then turned to look in the direction of the approaching Siyee. “I can sense anticipation and haste. Why has he come here?”

  “Just to check on us.”

  Auraya frowned. A feeling of anticipation and suspicion overlapped Tyve’s weariness and wish to be home. This duality of thought was strange.

  :She’s emerged at last. Finally we’ll know what she’s been up to in there and if that woman with the hidden mind is who I suspect…

  The thought ended abruptly and suddenly all she sensed of Tyve was tiredness. Something else came toward her. Something without form, rushing at her at incredible speed.

  Huan.

  The goddess rushed past her, followed by another. Auraya rocked back on her heels. The second god was Saru. They were behind her, searching…

  :Where is she? I can’t see her!

  “What is it?” she heard Jade ask.

  I ought to let the shield around my mind drop to prove that I’m trustworthy, Auraya thought. But I don’t trust them.

  Huan flashed back toward Tyve. The boy didn’t notice as the god’s mind connected with his. He was concentrating on descending and choosing a place to land.

  :I cannot see her! Her mind is hidden!

  Then the gods were gone, shooting away faster than Auraya could follow.

  That’s done it, she thought. They know now. I wonder if this is the excuse Huan needs to kill me.

  “What is wrong, Auraya?” Jade hissed.

  Auraya shook her head, trying to think how she could possibly explain what had just happened. “Tyve wasn’t alone for a moment. Huan was with him, watching us through Tyve’s eyes.”