Voice of the Gods

by Trudi Canavan

  “Yes,” Emerahl replied.

  Surim laughed. “I wonder if this poor creature realizes it spoiled any chances you had that Auraya would fall into your arms in gratitude.”

  Emerahl snorted. “For the sake of women everywhere, tell me you wouldn’t have done that, Auraya.”

  The corner of Auraya’s mouth twitched upward. “I might have. I might not.” She looked at Mirar. “I guess we’ll never know.”

  He shrugged. “The past can’t be changed. But the future looks good. Full of endless possibilities.”

  Looking away, he saw that the others were exchanging smug grins before they quickly smoothed their expressions.

  “And no gods,” Emerahl added.

  “But still plenty of mortals,” The Gull said. “Don’t underestimate them. They can be as dangerous as gods. More dangerous, as the gods were limited by the need for willing followers to do their work.”

  The others considered this silently.

  “We should stay in contact,” Emerahl said, looking around. “Visit each other—and perhaps meet once a year.”

  “Yes,” Surim agreed. “Perhaps at Tamun’s new empire of artists.”

  Mirar was pleased to see Auraya nodding.

  “I’ll visit you all, so long as you let me know where you are, as I travel around the continents,” he said. He looked at Auraya. “Will I be welcome in Si?”

  She almost smiled. “Of course.”

  Mirar felt his heart stir with hope. Careful, he told himself. Don’t jump to any conclusions. You mustn’t rush her. She needs time to recover from everything that’s happened.

  Emerahl rose to her feet. “If we’re going to get this treasure, we’d better do it before we drink too much.” She looked at Auraya. “Would you help me carry it?”

  Auraya shrugged, then rose and followed Emerahl into the sand dunes. Looking at her wasted body, Mirar felt a pang of concern. Help her carry it? I don’t think so. He got to his feet and followed.

  He caught up with Auraya soon after. She was out of breath, and had stopped. Emerahl’s tracks led away, over the top of a dune. Auraya turned to smile ruefully at him.

  “Your healing method does have its limitations,” she told him.

  He nodded. “You can only draw upon the resources you have. But a few meals should help fix that.”

  Auraya nodded and looked at the ground, frowning. Concerned, he moved closer.

  “Are you all right?”

  She looked up, then smiled and, without warning, stepped close and kissed him on the mouth. It was more than a mere friendly kiss, but it was brief.

  It left him frozen in surprise, heart pounding.

  “What was that for?” he managed eventually.

  “A thank you,” she said. “All through my…my captivity you kept me company. You gave me hope and courage.” She paused. “And as you said, the future is full of endless possibilities.”

  She smiled and, not waiting for him to say anything in return, turned away to determinedly follow Emerahl’s footsteps up the sand dune.

  Mirar watched her disappear over the top, then followed, knowing he was grinning like a fool, and not caring.

  EPILOGUE

  The man that walked hesitantly through the door was thin and lean. His clothes were simple but the cloth was not poor quality, and his sandals were new. Despite his nervousness, he walked with the ease of a man confident of his place in the world. His hair was gray and his skin wrinkled, but his gaze was direct and sharp.

  Propped up on pillows, the Emperor of Sennon assessed the man out of old habit and with skill learned over his long life. Though he saw intelligence and confidence in this man, he also noted with relief the absence of a certain hardness of demeanor he had come to recognize in men who were ambitious, greedy or cruel.

  But the man is a fanatic, he decided. I can spot them a hundred paces off.

  The man took in the bed, the emperor and his companion in one quick glance, then dropped to his knees and pressed his forehead to the floor.

  Not too proud, the emperor noted. Those god-cursed priests and Servants hate bowing to me. This man is smart.

  “Rise.” The visitor obeyed, but kept his eyes downcast. “So you are the Wise Man of Karienne,” the emperor stated. “Do you have a name as well as a title?”

  The Wise Man nodded. “My name is Eralayo Scribe. Or Ero.”

  “You’ve been preaching for some time. If I was not so…” the emperor gestured at the bed “…so indisposed I would come to listen to you.”

  “I am honored you say so.”

  “Which is why I have brought you here. Tell me about this Maker you speak of.”

  The Wise Man looked up in surprise. He glanced at the emperor’s companion, then met the emperor’s eyes again. His shoulders rose and fell as he gathered his courage. Then he straightened.

  “We are all creations of the Maker,” he said. “Everything was made by him. Every animal, every plant, every man and woman. Even the dust beneath your feet. Even the gods.”

  He paused and swallowed audibly. “The Maker made the world, and his purpose is a mystery to us. We wonder why he made such a flawed world. The Maker made creatures that we consider evil. But why do we consider them evil? Because they kill?” He spread his hands. “A reyna eats plants. Plants are living things as well. The reyna kills the plant it eats. We fear the leramars and the vorns because they can kill us, but they do not do so out of malice, but hunger. We dislike them because they eat our stock. That is not evil, just costly.”

  The emperor smiled at that.

  “We wonder why the Maker made mortals capable of evil,” the Wise Man continued. “There is much about the Maker that we do not understand. We have only just begun to perceive him. Perhaps in time he will allow us to understand more.”

  The Wise Man fell silent, but his expression was expectant. He has preached so many times, he knows how to spur people into asking the right questions, the emperor thought.

  “How do you know this Maker is not some figment of your imagination?”

  “For some, they only need look inside themselves. To close their eyes and search. The knowledge is there. It has always been there. We have simply never stopped to look for it before, because the evidence for the existence of the old gods was so obvious we never looked beyond it. The Maker does not make his existence known through magic. As the gods were beings of magic, the Maker is a being of all. Of everything. Of the world.”

  “You say the Maker created the gods. How is it that they were destroyed, then?”

  The Wise Man shrugged. “He has given all things a weakness, perhaps to ensure that nothing can dominate forever. Eventually the gods’ weaknesses had led to their destruction.”

  “And will the weaknesses of mortals lead to their destruction?”

  “Perhaps. But not for a long time, I’d guess. We are a resilient creation, despite our weaknesses.”

  The emperor smiled. He paused as his breathing became more difficult. His companion brought the burner of cleansing herbs closer. When his lungs had cleared a little, the emperor looked at the Wise Man again. “Does the Maker preserve souls?”

  Again, the Wise Man shrugged. “I do not know. But the Maker does not waste anything. When we reap the ograsi, we kill the plant, but the stalk rots and feeds the soil, and the seeds feed and nourish us. Our bodies may return to the world in the same way, enriching it and becoming new life. It may be that our souls are the same.”

  The emperor considered this. He nodded. “That is all for now,” he croaked, feeling constriction returning. “Leave me.”

  The Wise Man abased himself again, then, wearing a thoughtful expression, left the room. Sagging against the pillows, the emperor breathed the fumes of the herbs once more, then looked up at his one remaining son.

  “I like this man and his Maker,” he said. “What did you think?”

  Herayla nodded. “I can see no threat in it and plenty of potential.”

  “So you appro
ve?”

  “Yes.” Herayla’s brow furrowed. “We have had fifty years of lies and disorder since the gods died. We need something to unite the people. This idea of a Maker, who created all, has many appealing qualities. Especially the idea that we all have a few weaknesses. It can’t hurt for the people to expect and forgive a few bad traits.”

  “Don’t push them too far,” the emperor warned.

  Herayla smiled. “You know I won’t.”

  “No, you are too clever for that,” the emperor agreed. “I have to admit, I’m glad it’s over. I just have to live long enough to declare that I, the Emperor of Sennon, who has traditionally never favored one religion over another, have converted to the cult of the Maker. It will be a powerful gesture. After that, the world is yours to rule.” He drew in a shallow breath and sighed. “I hope, for your sake, it works.”

  Herayla smiled. “Don’t worry, Father. Whether this Maker exists or not, he can’t possibly make as great a mess as the gods did.”

  The emperor chuckled. “I hope you are right, my son. I hope you are right.”

  GLOSSARY

  VEHICLES

  platten - two-wheeled vehicle

  tarn - four-wheeled vehicle

  windboat - a boat that uses windpower to travel across the desert

  windsailers - the boat’s operator

  PLANTS

  dembar - tree with magic sensitive sap

  drimma - fruit of Southern Ithania

  felfea - tree of Si

  florrim - tranquilizing drug

  formtane - soporific drug

  fronden - fern/bracken-like plants

  garpa - tree; seeds are a stimulant

  heybrin - cure believed to protect against sexually transmitted diseases

  hroomya - coral that produces a blue dye

  kwee bulbs - the edible fruit of a seaweed

  mallin - herb that promotes circulation

  mytten - tree with wood that burns slowly

  ograssi - grain crop of Sennon

  rebi - fruit found in Si

  saltwood - wood that is resistant to decay

  sea tube - ink-producing coral

  shendle - plant on forest floor

  sleepvine - uses telepathic compulsion to trap prey

  smokewood - bark with stimulating qualities

  velweed - cure for haemorrhoids

  wemmin - fleshy flower

  winnet - tree that grows along rivers

  yan - tubers on forest floor

  ANIMALS

  aggen - mythical monster that lives in mines

  amma - believed to be giantfish tears

  arem - domestic, for pulling plattens and tarns

  ark - predatory bird

  breem - small animal hunted by Siyee for food

  bulfish - shellfish that lives on rocky outcrops

  carmook - small pet native to Sennon

  dartfly - stinging insect of northeast mountains

  doi - playful sea creature

  fanrin - predator that hunts gowts

  flarke - sea predator

  garr - giant sea creature

  giantfish - enormous sea creature

  girri - wingless birds, domesticated by Siyee

  glitterworm - insect that glows in the dark

  gowt - domestic animal bred for meat and milk, resides in mountains

  kiri - large predatory bird

  leramar - predator with telepathic ability

  lightfish - fish that glows in dark waters

  lyrim - domestic herd animals

  moohook - small pet

  ner - domesticated animal bred for meat

  reyna - animal for riding and pulling plattens

  roale - large sea creature

  roro - carnivore of the Dekkan jungle

  shem - domestic animal bred for milk

  shrimmi - freshwater shellfish

  spikemat - spiney creature of reefs

  spinerake - landwalker name for flarke

  starfan - fish with deadly spines

  takker - large snake

  tiwi - insects that make a hive

  veez - cute, telepathic pet that can speak

  vorn - wolf-like animals

  woodfish - tasteless fish

  yern - deer-like, limited telepathy

  yeryer - venomous sea creature

  zapper - stinging insect

  CLOTHING

  circ - circular overgarment worn by Circlian priests and priestesses

  octavestim - garb of the Priests of Gareilem

  tawl - overgarment worn draped over shoulders fastened at throat

  tunic - dress for women, shirt for men

  undershift - undergarment for women

  FOOD

  coopa - Dunwayan drink

  firespice - spice from Toren

  flatloaf - dense bread

  nutmeal - paste made from nuts, Si

  rootcakes - patties of boiled and fried roots

  wafercakes - fried, flaky pastry

  DRINK

  ahm - drink of Somrey, usually warmed and spiced

  drai - Elai drink

  fwa - Dunwayan drink

  jamya - ceremonial drink of Pentadrians

  kahr - Sennon drink

  maita - stimulating non-alcoholic drink

  teepi - Siyee drink

  teho - drink of Sennon

  tintra - Hanian drink

  tipli - Toren drink

  DISEASES

  hearteater - disease that attacks lungs

  lungrot - disease that, funnily enough, rots the lungs

  woundrot - the festering of a wound

  BUILDINGS

  blackstone - stone that is dark-colored

  safehouse - place where Dreamweavers can stay

  wayhouse - place for travellers to stay in

  whitestone - stone that is pale-colored

  OTHER

  canar - Sennon coin

  sleepease - sleeping drug

  smokewood - recreational drug

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Many thanks:

  “The Two Pauls” and Fran Bryson who read the roughest of the rough drafts. Also to Jennifer Fallon, Russell Kirkpatrick, Glenda Larke, Fiona McLennan, Kaaren Sutcliffe, Tessa Kum for their feedback. To all the readers, especially all my friends on Voyager Online. And, finally, to Diana Gill and the Eos team, and to Matt Stawicki for the fabulous cover illustrations.

  About the Author

  TRUDI CANAVAN is the author of the bestselling Black Magician trilogy—The Magician’s Guild, The Novice, and The High Lord—as well as Priestess of the White and Last of the Wilds, Books One and Two of her Age of the Five trilogy. She lives in a little house on a hillside, near a forest, in the Melbourne suburb of Ferntree Gully in Australia. She has been making up stories about things that don’t exist for as long as she can remember, and was amazed when her first published story received an Aurealis Award for Best Fantasy Short Story in 1999. A freelance illustrator and designer, she also works as the designer and Art Director of Aurealis, a magazine of Australian Fantasy & Science Fiction. You can visit her website at www.trudicanavan.com.

  Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins author.

  Books by Trudi Canavan

  Age of the Five Trilogy

  VOICE OF THE GODS

  LAST OF THE WILDS

  PRIESTESS OF THE WHITE

  The Black Magician Trilogy

  THE HIGH LORD

  THE NOVICE

  THE MAGICIAN’S GUILD

  Copyright

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  VOICE OF THE GODS. Copyright © 2006 by Trudi Canavan. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of th
e required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

  EPub Edition © JANUARY 2007 ISBN: 9780061804076

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