Voice of the Gods

by Trudi Canavan

  She set a shield of magic about her bag and lay down on her bed. It didn’t take long before she was sliding into sleep—it was more of a struggle stopping herself lapsing into full unconsciousness. She had been travelling continually for months and craved a good long rest.

  No time for that yet, she thought. But I don’t think I’ll bother mind-skimming. The Twins should be able to tell me what I need to know.

  :Surim. Tamun.

  :Emerahl, they replied.

  :I’ve arrived. I’m in Hannaya. Are the Thinkers still here?

  :Yes. They are in the library, deep within the palace, Surim told her. Are you going there next?

  :No. I’m tired. I’ll need a fresh mind if I’m to convince them to let me join them. I hope they don’t realize the parchment is a fake.

  With The Twins’ help she had located some old parchment and made a fake fragment of a scroll. It had the same pronouncement written in two languages, one in the script the Thinkers were trying to decode and another in a slightly younger language that they understood. It didn’t give them the entire key to the unknown language, however.

  Once the Thinkers knew she could read the older script they would want her to translate the artifacts they had been studying. She had wondered, at first, why The Twins needed her to translate them.

  :We can only see what is in the minds we read, they had said. Since the Thinkers do not understand it, neither do we. Only when they study the shapes of the script are we able to identify them. But they rarely do that, so it is slow work. It will be much faster if you read them for us.

  :Why don’t we send them a fake parchment with the complete key to the language and let them work it out for themselves? We can read the location of the Scroll of the Gods from their minds and I can go fetch it.

  :If the gods are watching and learn of the Scroll’s location through the Thinkers, they may send someone to destroy it.

  It was logical to assume that both Circlian and Pentadrian gods wouldn’t want any scroll containing their secrets to be found.

  :You followed our instructions on making the parchment appear genuine, Surim now said. Without looking at it ourselves, we can’t tell you how convincing it is, but we trust you’ve done a good job. Still, it would be wise for you to avoid leaving it with them.

  :We have other news, Tamun said. One of the Thinkers has been offered a large sum of money for the Scroll. The other Thinkers won’t want to sell it, so he knows he would have to betray them. He’s not sure he wants to.

  :Which of the Thinkers is it?

  :Raynora. You will like him, I think. He is good-looking and devious.

  :I’m not sure which to be most disturbed by—that you think I’ll like him because he’s good-looking or because he’s devious. Do you think he’ll take the offer?

  :Perhaps if the price is raised. We will watch him closely.

  :Good. I’ve been too busy for much mind-skimming, and I doubt that’s going to change. For now, the Scroll and the Thinkers can wait until tomorrow, she told them. I need a good long sleep.

  :Good night, they both chimed, then their minds faded from her senses.

  To the left hunkered the mountains of southwestern Sennon that the Siyee had flown over the previous day. Their lower slopes folded into root-like shapes that sank into a wide, sandy strip of land caught between mountains and sea. On the other side, across the water, the dusty shadow of the southern continent could be seen. A haze obscured the land and made it impossible to tell if the distant shapes were hills or mountains.

  In front was a thin strip of land linking the two continents.

  The Isthmus of Grya, Auraya recalled. It looks so fragile, as if the sea ought to have washed it away centuries ago. Maybe it was wider once and the tide has slowly worn it into this narrow land bridge.

  Danjin had once said, just before the war, that the Isthmus would have been an effective defensive position to hold against the Pentadrian invaders, if only the Sennons hadn’t agreed to help the enemy. Auraya wasn’t sure she agreed with him now. The lack of water or food in the Sennon desert would make holding such a position difficult. Supplies could be transported to the Isthmus, but only with great effort.

  Which meant it might be a better defensive position for the Pentadrians, if they had a supply of food and water on the other side. She knew their main city, Glymma, was not far from the Isthmus, so both resources must be available in large enough quantities to keep a big city thriving.

  Sreil turned toward the southern continent and the rest of the Siyee followed. They were flying high, hoping that any human that chanced to look up would dismiss them as a flight of birds. The haze of dust ahead would also hide them.

  Sennon slowly retreated behind them and Auraya began to make out details of the land ahead. A road extended from the Isthmus into the haze. The darker shapes proved to be low hills in the distance. The sun glinted off water at the turns of a wide, ropey river.

  Then slowly the lines and structures of a city began to appear.

  The road curved to meet it, turning into a paved street wider than any Auraya had seen. On either side, smaller streets spread in an ordered grid. Houses were sturdy structures of brick with tiled roofs. They stretched in all directions, from the wharves at the sea’s edge out to where green fields began. Here and there gardens of green vegetation and pools of reflected sky caught the eye like jewels in a fantastic necklace.

  It was a city as large as Jarime. Perhaps larger. It had none of the labyrinthine disorder of the Hanian capital, however. Signs of intelligent pre-planning continued to the city edge and beyond. Impressively large aqueducts carried water far out from the mountains, and canals from the river were spanned by bridges of strange and beautiful shapes.

  At the center of the city, where the wide main road ended, a hill broke the urban order. On this was built a complicated series of structures: a muddle of roofs and courtyards. Auraya wondered why this place was so chaotic when the rest of the city was not.

  If this is Glymma, is that the Temple of the Pentadrians?

  There was no other building or set of buildings so grand. She decided it must be. Looking around the city, she wondered what it was like to live there. To her surprise she found herself thinking of Mirar. Had he visited Glymma? He could have passed through on the way to the town Jade had said he was in. A town in Mur, in the north, if Jade hadn’t lied to protect him. In fact, Mirar could be down there right now.

  Her musings were interrupted by a whistle from Sreil. He changed course again, heading away from the city.

  Auraya sensed the mood of the Siyee shift. They had been even more impressed by Glymma than she, most of them having never seen a landwalker city. Now that their fascination had been broken, a gloom was settling over them. If the enemy was this powerful, how could the Siyee ever hope to fight them?

  She wished she could reassure them. None of the whistles of the Siyee could communicate her confidence in them and any words she spoke would be difficult to hear over the wind. And I have no idea if this place they’re going to attack is well defended, she thought. I can’t promise them that they’ll succeed. Sometimes it was better to remain silent.

  The aqueducts and fields stretched a long way from the city. Weariness began to nag at the Siyee. Sreil was leading them toward the low hills, where he hoped they could find a safe place to rest for the night. The sun dropped until all was stained the color of gold.

  They reached the hills as the sun touched the horizon. All were relieved to see the dry valleys and ridges were uninhabited. Sreil gave the signal to descend and circled down into a gully.

  A dim light still remained as they landed, but within moments it had died and left them in impenetrable darkness. Auraya felt the Siyee standing around her, uncertain and a little frightened.

  “Shall I create a light?” she suggested.

  “Yes,” Sreil replied quietly. “It is worth the risk, I think. The hills around us should hide it.”

  She drew magic a
nd channelled it into a tiny spark that barely lit the faces around her. The Siyee crowded around anxiously.

  “Snack?” a small voice at Auraya’s shoulder said hopefully.

  Chuckles broke out all around. Auraya smiled as the Siyee relaxed a little. She reached back to scratch Mischief’s head.

  “Yes, I think it’s time for a snack.”

  The Siyee began to settle in for the night. Food was unpacked and Auraya’s burden as water carrier lessened. Watchers were chosen and patches of ground were swept free of stones. Although the Siyee were used to sleeping in hammocks, not the hard ground, their exhaustion would ensure they got some rest.

  As quiet settled over the camp, Auraya’s stomach sank as she felt a familiar approaching presence. She knew it was Huan by the way the hairs rose on the back of her neck.

  Huan moved to priest Teel and spoke into his mind. First she asked how the Siyee had fared, then, as always, she asked what Auraya had done. Teel reported Auraya’s every movement faithfully.

  :She is not to fight in this battle, Huan told him.

  :Even if we are losing? Teel asked.

  :Even then. This is to be a warning to the Pentadrians that every time they strike at Circlians there will be retribution. It needs to be delivered by Circlian fighters. If Auraya fights, it will appear to come from her.

  :But she is a Circlian, too.

  :But not our chosen weapon of retribution. How will the Pentadrians learn to respect ordinary Circlians if ordinary Circlians do not stand up and fight?

  :I see.

  :Yes. You are a good example for your people, Teel. You are loyal and obedient.

  Auraya felt Teel’s pride swell.

  :I will do whatever you want me to.

  :I know you will, Teel. Your heart is true. Of the Siyee priests, you show the most promise. I know you will not fail me.

  Auraya rolled her eyes. The young man was already stuffed full of his own importance. He did not need Huan boosting his confidence and pride any further. As the flattery and declarations of loyalty continued, she found herself feeling faintly nauseous.

  This is one of the gods I used to love unreservedly? she asked herself. It was terrible discovering that Huan hates me and wants me dead, but this is sickening. She’s turning him into a blind fanatic. He’ll probably be so sure she will protect her little favorite that he’ll rush into the battle and get himself killed.

  Sighing, she rolled over. I don’t love the gods equally any more. When I die Chaia had better be the one to take my soul. I think if it was a choice of being taken by Huan or fading out of existence, I’d choose the latter.

  This was a terrible blasphemy, she knew, but for once it didn’t send a shiver of fear down her spine.

  19

  Ella’s circ lay beside her, neatly folded. On top of her white dress she wore the travelling wrap local women favored. She wore it in the usual fashion: slung around the shoulders. It could also be lifted to cover the head during rain, or wrapped about the torso for warmth, but Danjin hadn’t seen her try either yet. They’d had only dry summer days since leaving Chon.

  Sitting opposite Ella in the platten was Yem, the eldest son of the Dregger clan leader. The young man was as lean and muscular as most warriors were, and he was intelligent and politically astute. Danjin had also noticed that Yem was unusually sympathetic toward servants and for that reason he was a strange choice of guide for them.

  Dunwayan warriors expected loyalty from their servants. There was no law preventing a servant leaving a household; he or she could even try to find employment elsewhere, though doing so was difficult since most clans had plenty of servants and few warriors would accept a servant who had already proven disloyal by leaving the service of another.

  What the Pentadrians had done by arranging the “escape” of servants could rouse a general rebellion of servants against the warriors. Danjin had expected I-Portak to choose someone less sympathetic to the servants to be Ella’s guide. Someone more like Gim, their last dinner host.

  The other occupant of the covered platten was Gillen Shieldarm, the Hanian ambassador. During the long hours that Danjin and Ella had spent waiting in Chon, Gillen had visited at least once a day, keeping them entertained with stories or games of counters. Now, on the road, he did the same using the small set that Silava had packed for Danjin. Sometimes it seemed the only conversation in the platten was between Danjin and Gillen, and about counters.

  Danjin suspected Gillen had offered to accompany them because he was bored in Chon. Ella had accepted Gillen’s offer because he had a deeper understanding of Dunwayan customs and recent politics than Danjin. Ella spent most of her time staring into the distance, listening to the minds of the men they were tracking. Yem remained quiet, only speaking when addressed. Danjin was sure Yem’s silence had nothing to do with snobbery, but was either a sign the young man was unsure of himself, intimidated by Ella, or was simply the sort who preferred to listen rather than talk.

  Yem and Gillen didn’t know as much as Danjin did about the reason for this journey. During the dinner at Gim’s household, Ella had caught the nervous thoughts of Ton, a servant planning to leave his master’s service. For some time now the man had been meeting a Sennonian spice seller. The seller had told him that Dunwayan servants were little more than slaves, and spoke of a place where all people were equal and all work was shared. A place in the south of Dunway.

  A visit to the market confirmed Ella’s suspicions. One of the spice sellers was a Sennonian Pentadrian with orders to send potential Dunwayan converts out of Chon. He did not know where he was sending them, unfortunately, but through him Ella found the mind of the escaping servant, Ton.

  As she’d hoped, Ton had just begun the journey to the haven for servants. From that day he passed in and out of the care of various men and women—none of whom knew where this haven was or more than one other guide. It was a carefully planned system designed to make tracing the Pentadrians difficult.

  Difficult, but not impossible, Ella had said. All she had to do was follow the servant. Though he did not know where he was most of the time, she was able to learn his location from the people around him.

  Looking out of the open door flap, Danjin found himself looking into the tops of tall trees. The road had been hewn out of the steep sides of the mountains south of Chon. If he looked down, which he preferred not to do, he would see the edge of the road and a slope that was too close to vertical for comfort.

  Ella made a small, frustrated sound, drawing his attention away. She was shaking her head.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “They’ve sent him on alone. He has no idea where he’s going.” She frowned and looked at Yem. “Let’s consult the map.”

  The young man drew out a wooden cylinder and unstoppered it. From it he took a roll of thin leather covered in tattooed pictures and lines. He had told them it was human skin. The warrior who had created it had travelled around Dunway for years, carefully etching his map into the back of his most devoted servant. Since hearing the tale, Danjin had done all he could to avoid touching the map.

  Small blurred pictures of fortresses were spread evenly across the country. The roads were inaccurately straight, showing none of the winding turns the platten had taken. Lines in a faded red showed the boundaries of land owned by different clans.

  “He’s here,” Ella said, pointing to a group of symbols that indicated the houses of land servants. “His instructions are to walk along this road until he sees a big rock shaped like an arem, then take the next left turn. Then he’s to look for a large tree and cut across fields.”

  Danjin suddenly understood her frustration. These instructions couldn’t be followed on a map. The man had no idea where he was, or where he was going, and had no companions or guides who did.

  These Pentadrians are clever, Danjin thought. But they won’t evade us. It’s just a matter of time.

  “Eventually he will see a landmark I know,” Yem assured her.


  “And by then we will have fallen behind,” Ella said, clearly not happy.

  “We could travel to the place he just left,” Gillen suggested. “Then follow the instructions.” Their platten was taking a parallel route to the servant’s along roads to his east, in case the Pentadrians and helpers on the route saw them and suspected pursuit.

  “No,” she said. “It is better we wait than take the risk they will discover us.”

  Yem rolled up the map and slid it back in its case. As Ella’s gaze shifted to the distance again, Gillen raised his eyebrows at Danjin. Smiling, Danjin brought out his counters set. It was a finely crafted set for travellers. Each piece had a peg at the base which slotted into holes in the board—but the drawer in which the pieces were stored had warped and would no longer open fully.

  “Care for a game?”

  Gillen nodded. “I thought you’d never ask.”

  The town of the bird breeders was nestled high in a steep-sided valley and was surrounded by caves. It was called Klaff. Auraya had read the name from the mind of an inhabitant, but she couldn’t tell the Siyee without risking the gods guessing how she had learned it.

  It was getting close to the hottest part of the day and the Siyee scouts that had watched the town yesterday had noticed that the inhabitants were quietest at this time. Locals were inclined to retreat inside their houses or nap in a shady place. The birds were safely caged. Hours had passed since their morning flight and more would pass before their late afternoon one.

  Mischief was huddled in the shade of a boulder, panting. Auraya’s pack was not a pleasant place to be in the heat of the day. She poured water into a small depression in a rock and he lapped it up thirstily.

  The Siyee were waiting just over the ridge on one side of the valley. A few were keeping watch on the town while Sreil addressed the others.

  “The birds are kept inside caves,” Sreil told them, “with only iron bars holding them there, so we can shoot them with arrows and darts without even going inside or letting them out. There’s an empty space in front, surrounded by buildings, where we’ll land. There weren’t any guards there yesterday, but they may have been inside. If we are quiet we may get out of there without anyone noticing, though I doubt the birds will stay silent.