Auraya gave a gasp of disbelief.
:Do you really expect me to let them die if they are attacked? she asked silently.
:The gods do, Juran replied. This strike is as much a symbolic act as it is an attempt to hurt the enemy. If you cannot obey the gods in this you should not accompany the Siyee.
:Can I heal them if they’re injured?
Juran paused.
:I suppose that would not negate the symbolism of the attack.
Auraya scowled.
:I suppose it would be an even better symbolic gesture if the Siyee all died in the attack. A noble sacrifice, and all that.
:Of course it wouldn’t be better. To strike and escape would be much stronger proof of our ability to retaliate.
“Well?” Sirri asked.
Realizing she hadn’t relayed Juran’s words since he had revealed that she was forbidden to use her Gifts, Auraya grimaced in apology. “Sorry. The gods have decided I can heal the Siyee, but do nothing else. I can’t fight the Pentadrians.”
“Well,” Sirri said grimly, “that is better than nothing.”
:Will the Siyee go? Juran asked.
“As always I must consult the Speakers of the tribes,” Sirri replied. “Though I doubt they would refuse something we agreed to in our alliance. When will this attack take place?”
:Not for some months. We must get the maps and instructions to you first.
“I will let you know as soon as a decision is made,” Sirri promised.
:Thank you. Goodbye, Speaker Sirri, Auraya.
As his mind faded away, Auraya felt anger seething inside. Clearly the gods wanted her to stay behind. She felt a light touch and looked down to find Sirri’s small hand resting on her own.
“I’m sure you’ll find a way around their restrictions,” the Speaker said.
Auraya met Sirri’s eyes and nodded, though she could see the questions in the woman’s mind and longed to answer them.
Why are the gods testing her like this? Sirri wondered.
Because some of them hate me, Auraya replied silently, though she knew the woman couldn’t hear her. Then she smothered a curse. When Chaia said Huan might try to hurt those I loved, I never thought of the Siyee.
But surely the goddess wouldn’t harm the people she had created?
Sunlight filtered through the trees. Emerahl’s bag was full and heavy and she was fighting the temptation to lighten it by removing a few cures. She hadn’t been to Southern Ithania before, however, and wasn’t familiar with local ingredients. If she was going to pay her way she would need to bring her own supplies.
The distance between herself and her destination seemed immense. It would take her a month to get out of the mountains, then she had to cross the Plains of Gold to another range. Once through the pass she must cross the northern edge of the Sennon desert. At the coast she would buy passage on a ship sailing to the Murian capital, Hannaya. It would be a long journey.
According to The Twins, the Thinkers in search of the Scroll of the Gods based themselves there. She had two choices: try to find the Scroll on her own or attempt to join them. Both choices presented her with difficulties.
If she chose to search for the Scroll herself, The Twins would skim the Thinkers’ minds and pass on everything they learned. The Twins had more than just the Thinkers to watch. They were keeping an eye on people around Mirar as well as keeping up their usual skimming of minds in Ithania. Added to that, Emerahl couldn’t stay in a constant trance linked to The Twins. She would only find out what they had learned whenever she found time to communicate with them, so she might receive important information up to a day later.
If she joined the Thinkers she would find out what they discovered as they discovered it. The only problem was, they were notoriously jealous of their knowledge and disdainful of women.
The Twins doubted she would ever gain their trust. Instead, she would have to prove herself useful to them. She could read most ancient scripts. She knew a lot about history. She spoke ancient languages.
Coming around a curve of the steep mountain slope she was traversing, she stopped and cursed. The narrow fold in the rock she had been following abruptly ended a few steps ahead under a loose covering of boulders and stones. There had been a landslide further up the mountain.
Crossing that would be foolish, she thought. It’s likely to start sliding down the mountain all over again. She would have to go back and find a new route.
She cursed Auraya and Mirar under her breath. I might have already found this Scroll by now, if Mirar hadn’t insisted I come here and teach Auraya.
But he owed Emerahl a big favor now. She smiled at the thought. And it wasn’t so bad, anyway, teaching Auraya. The girl is likeable enough—if one ignores her loyalty to the gods. It would be a pity if that loyalty proves her downfall.
She had to admit The Twins were right. If Auraya did join the rest of the immortals, she would be a powerful ally. With the ability to sense and hear the gods, and read the minds of mortals, she could help them all survive.
It doesn’t hurt to have someone that powerful owe you a favor, either.
Thinking back, she considered how Auraya’s manner had changed once she was able to leave the cave. The woman appeared to relish being in the forest. She was relaxed in that way people are when they feel at home, Emerahl thought.
How could an ex-White feel at home in the Si mountains, with no luxuries, no servants, nothing to rule over?
Suddenly she saw Auraya in a different light. She likes wild places, Emerahl thought. Places untouched by humans. Oh, she is happy enough to be around people, and the Siyee clearly have a place in her heart, but I think it is more than just the Siyee that calls her to the mountains. Emerahl laughed quietly to herself. She might not be so comfortable if she had to climb up and down cliffs, tramp through mud and cut her way through dense undergrowth, however.
Was Mirar aware of this? He had always been attracted to cities—to the bustle of crowds. A memory rose of a conversation she’d had with Auraya.
“I thought you didn’t like him.”
Auraya had smiled. “I never said I didn’t like him.”
Emerahl sighed. She knew there was always a chance that like could become love. She’d seen it happen often enough. Not that it would, but Emerahl was always going to wonder if she had ruined that chance for Mirar by telling him about Auraya’s affair with Chaia. And now that I’ve met Auraya I’m no longer opposed to the idea of Mirar and her together.
What was done was done. Mirar was resilient. Better for him to know the quick pain of truth than the ongoing pain of a long-held false hope. Turning around, she retraced her steps and began searching for a safer route.
PART TWO
16
When the horizon had taken on the form of an undulating shadow the previous day, Auraya had assumed she and the Siyee were headed toward low hills. Now it appeared the smooth, gentle lines of these landforms were much larger than she had first thought. Used to the jagged peaks of Si, she did not realize these were the mountains of western Sennon until their scale became apparent.
She could feel the excitement of the Siyee. They were looking forward to leaving the desert and just as their water carrier was burdened with a heavy load, so was she. Extra skins were tied to her back and, with Mischief safely curled up in her pack, she felt as if she was covered by a heavy, lumpy blanket.
The desert had served up more difficulties than they had imagined it could. At first they had flown directly across it, but a dust storm had blown them back toward the coast. Since the Siyee could not carry much, they relied on finding water along the way. Mischief had shown them where to dig for water a few times and they encountered a lonely well once, but these had not been enough.
They dared not land at any landwalker settlements. The Sennon emperor’s policy of allowing the practice of any religion in his country meant that Pentadrians could be living in the desert villages. If they were, a group of Siyee warriors seen h
eading south was sure to be noted and reported to the Pentadrian leaders. Even if there were no Pentadrians in the villages, it was still possible that an ordinary Sennon villager would decide there was profit to be gained in delivering the news to the nearest Pentadrian.
Most settlements were on the coast, so the Siyee kept inland. They had expected to find the occasional river but had encountered only one thread of muddy, near-undrinkable water. It probably flowed cleanly at other times, but in the middle of summer it had dwindled to a sluggish stream. Auraya hadn’t visited Sennon before, so she could not advise them. All she could do was fly back to the closest water source each morning to refill their skins.
The mountains ahead gave the Siyee hope, but Auraya wasn’t so optimistic. They associated mountains with water, but that was not always true. These peaks were well eroded, yet it looked as if rain hadn’t fallen here in centuries. The sparse vegetation was bleached a pale yellow. There wasn’t a hint of green anywhere.
The group had begun to descend, though no order had been given, toward the closest of these sprawling mountains. At the base was the winding indentation of a dead river, heading toward the ocean to their right. Between it and the mountain, the land had eroded into terraces.
Then Auraya felt amazement from one of the Siyee. Seeking his mind, she read that he thought the terraces were not natural. She looked closer and realized that he was right. There were roads as well, and tiny shapes that might be the remains of ruined buildings. The spread of them across the side of the mountain suggested a city. A long-dead city.
Other Siyee noticed the ancient metropolis and pointed it out to fellow warriors. To her amusement, the sight made them intensely curious. They wanted to land and explore. She watched Sreil consider.
Exploration of ruins isn’t the purpose of our journey, he thought, but if a city once stood here then there must have been water about. Perhaps only the river, but those terraces look like they might have been fields and how would they have brought water up to them? Perhaps there once was a spring up higher…well, there’s just as much chance of finding water here as anywhere else….
At his order to head for the city, the mood of the other Siyee brightened. While the desert tested their bodies, it offered little to occupy their minds. The whistling games they had played at the beginning of the journey had been abandoned when their mouths had dried out with thirst.
Auraya looked at the Siyee priest, Teel. He did not wear the circ as it hampered flying, but instead wore a smaller circle of white material tied closely about his throat. In her opinion, he had been prematurely ordained. He was inexperienced and had less grasp of magic than an initiate. Yet the gods had given him the task of reporting to Juran every day, not Auraya. She felt vaguely irritated by that. She was a former White and the Siyee’s protector. But he was a Siyee and she a landwalker, and that must matter more.
Of course it doesn’t, she thought. It’s just another way the gods are demonstrating their distrust of me.
Searching the magic around her, she was relieved to see none of the gods were present. Though Teel hadn’t been given specific orders, she suspected the only reason this young man had been ordained early was so that a priest could keep an eye on her during this mission.
Yesterday Auraya had heard a Siyee wonder aloud why the gods hadn’t ensured there would be clean water for them. Another had muttered annoyance that the gods didn’t at least guide them to sources. A third had observed that they probably would have died here if Auraya hadn’t accompanied them.
Teel had overheard and quietly told them the gods were not their servants. Auraya had smiled at that, but she suspected the gods simply couldn’t do either. They weren’t aware of anything in the world that wasn’t observed by a human or an animal, so if no human or animal was aware of sources of water nearby, or how to get to them, then neither were the gods.
The only humans who could have given the Siyee guidance, Sennon guides, couldn’t fly. Even if the White had trusted one enough to send him or her to meet and advise the Siyee, he would not have arrived in time to help them. The distance was too great.
One of the Siyee whistled their signal for “Tracks!” and Auraya followed the direction of his gaze. A line of stirred sand led from the city to the river then along the dry watercourse toward the sea. Or in the other direction. Perhaps the city was already host to passing visitors.
It was a good sign, though. No traveller would ascend into those terraces unless there was a good reason, and water was a likely good reason.
She caught up with Sreil.
“Shall I check if they’re still there?”
He whistled an assent. Auraya propelled herself into a dive, heading through the dry air toward the tracks. She felt Mischief stir awake.
The footprints wound along the river through strange pinnacles of rock that turned out to be buried towers, then up to the beginning of a road. There they grew difficult to follow, as the roads were not always covered in sand. She flew about slowly as if searching.
Which was all for show. She could sense no minds in the city, but she couldn’t tell the Siyee that without revealing to the gods that she had developed the telepathic Gift they had previously given to her when she was a White.
Flying back to the Siyee, she whistled the signal that all was safe. The Siyee circled around the city before landing, a cautious habit rather than any distrust of her assessment. Once on the ground, Sreil ordered them to set out in pairs to explore and search for water. Auraya shrugged off her pack and opened it. Mischief blinked in the sudden bright light.
She hadn’t wanted to take him on this journey, but couldn’t bring herself to force him to stay behind. Since she had returned to the Open he was constantly by her side, and had grown distressed whenever she made him stay behind in the bower. No longer able to sense her mind, being near her was the only way he could reassure himself that she was still alive. Fortunately he was content to remain curled up in the pack during flight, and he had proved himself both useful and entertaining to the Siyee.
Whispering in his ear, she sent him a mental impression of water. His nose twitched and when she set him down he trotted away. She followed.
The sunlight beat down relentlessly and reflected off stone to assail her with heat from all directions. She realized after a few turns that Teel had chosen to follow her, and she resigned herself to the inevitability of being followed everywhere by the priest.
“How old do you think this place is?” he asked after a while.
She shrugged. “I have no idea.”
“Look.” He walked up to a large stone in a wall and pointed to markings. “Can you read this?”
“No.”
“You understand many languages, don’t you?”
“Yes. That doesn’t mean I can read them, though.”
“I should copy this,” he said. “If the priests in the Open don’t know what it says they might know someone who does.”
As he drew a scrap of leather out of a pouch she smiled, but her amusement quickly faded. He was a scholar at heart, not a warrior. She would not find it easy to forgive herself if he died in this attack, though she couldn’t be completely sure he was only here because of her.
Mischief had disappeared, not caring whether the priest followed or not. Auraya hurried around a corner and came upon a large archway that looked as if it had been carved into solid rock. The sound of her footsteps in the entrance echoed in a way that suggested a large space inside.
“Owaya?
“I’m coming, Mischief,” she replied.
As she stepped out of the sunlight her eyes began to adjust. A short corridor led to a huge hall. At the far end an enormous figure was just visible in the gloom. A statue. She shivered at the size of it.
Drawing magic, she created a spark of light and sent it up toward the ceiling. Brightening it, she felt a thrill of wonder as the statue was illuminated. It had a muscular male body, but the face was a flat disk with one enormous lidless eye. M
ischief stared up at it with wide eyes.
One of the old gods, she thought. Long dead.
She heard a gasp behind her and turned to see Teel gazing at the statue in horror. A look of disgust crossed his face.
“Things like that should be destroyed,” he said.
She stared at him, disturbed. The god was long dead. What threat did the statue hold now? To destroy something so amazing would be spiteful and pointless.
“Perhaps,” she said slowly, “such things should be kept to remind us of the Age of the Many, and of the chaos that enslaved mortal man until the Circle saved us.”
He looked at her blankly, then became thoughtful. “If the gods willed it to remain, I suppose it could be used to shock those with rebellious hearts.”
Auraya suppressed a sigh. There were zealots and fanatics in any race. It looked as if the gods had found one among the Siyee.
The buzz of thoughts at the edge of her mind suddenly grew louder. Other Siyee had found water—a great pool of it deep within another hall like this one. She let her light die and called to Mischief. A little shadow bounded out of the darkness into her arms and climbed up onto her shoulders. Auraya walked past the priest into the sunlight.
“Let’s see how the others have fared, shall we?” she tossed over her shoulder.
Rising from his seat, Danjin walked to the narrow window and looked out at what served as Dunwayan cosmopolitan life. Below him servants and traders hurried to finish their tasks before the night curfew, while warriors strode about with the confidence and arrogance of men who considered their position of power in society as their natural right. The stone houses they lived among were built in an orderly pattern between rings of high walls. Beyond the last wall he could see the Dey River winding away toward the distant ocean.
Chon was a fortress, but as the largest fortress in Dunway it also had the role of administrative capital. To get there, Danjin and Ella had sailed to the mouth of the Dey River where they were transported by barge to the fortress. Reaching Chon, they had been greeted with typical Dunwayan formality—brief and efficient—and were taken to the quarters the White always occupied during visits: a wing of the innermost part of the fortress.
Voice of the Gods Page 18
