Priestess of the White aotft-1

by Trudi Canavan

  “The rest of us had time to learn at our own pace. It may be that you, as the last of us, will not,” she had said cryptically.

  Which only made it harder to avoid worrying about the future. Some nights Auraya woke from nightmares in which she was trapped, powerless, within the grip of the Pentadrian sorcerer’s magic. It was not comforting knowing that someone more powerful than her, who appeared to mean her and her people harm, existed.

  She reached the window and stopped. Like any other mortal, she could only put her trust in the gods.

  “Lee-ar.”

  She turned to find Mischief staring at the door, his pointed ears upright and alert. Chuckling, she strode across the room. As she opened the door, Leiard froze, his hand poised ready for knocking.

  “Dreamweaver Leiard.” She smiled. “Come in.”

  “Thank you, Auraya of the White.”

  “Lee-ar!” Mischief bounded off the chair. Leiard laughed as the veez dashed up the front of his clothes onto his shoulders.

  “He likes you.”

  “Lucky me,” he replied dryly. He flinched as Mischief began sniffing at his ear.

  Thinking of the favor she’d asked of Danjin, Auraya sobered. Mischief didn’t dislike Danjin, but he did seem to like Leiard better. Her first thought had been to ask Leiard to visit Mischief, but she knew how uncomfortable he felt when in the Temple. Better to spare him that.

  She suppressed a sigh. How had it come about that both of her advisers had reason to fear visiting her? For Leiard it was being in a place of the gods’ influence; for Danjin it was being so far from the ground.

  Perhaps that was part of the reason she was enjoying the company of the Siyee ambassadors so much. Like her, they loved flying and the gods - or at least Huan. Though they were the first people she had encountered that worshipped one god over the others. That wasn’t surprising, however. Huan had created them.

  “I called you here to assure you I haven’t been ignoring you,” she told Leiard. “I’ve been so busy I’ve had no time for unofficial visits. I regret that, because we’ll have few opportunities in the near future to talk.”

  Leiard looked at her questioningly.

  “I’m going to Si, to negotiate another alliance.”

  His eyebrows rose. “Si?” He smiled. “You’ll enjoy that The Siyee are a gentle and generous people. Honest and practical.”

  “What do you know of them?”

  “A little.” He lifted Mischief from his shoulder and sat down. The veez immediately curled up in his lap. Sitting opposite, Auraya felt a small pang of jealousy that her own pet seemed to prefer her visitor.

  “The Siyee are in my memories,” he told her. “Since you have spoken to them at length, you will know most of what I do. What they may not have mentioned are the taboos of their culture.”

  She leaned forward. “Yes?”

  “Not all Siyee can fly,” he told her. “Some are born incapable and some lose the ability. Accidents are tragically common. Old age is particularly cruel to them. Be careful how you refer to these Siyee. Never describe them as crippled.”

  “How should I refer to them?”

  He shook his head. “They have no commonly used term. If you are to meet with any Siyee, let him or her decide where it should take place. If the one you are to meet is capable of flight, he will come to you. If he is not, you must go to him. In that way, you are not insinuating that the former cannot fly, and treating the latter with respect by not drawing attention to his or her inability.”

  “I understand. I’ve noticed they tire easily when walking.”

  “Yes.” He paused, then chuckled. “They treat landwalkers more like flightless Siyee than not. But you...” He frowned. “You should not allow them to. Otherwise it will seem like you expect favors you do not deserve.”

  This is valuable advice, she realized. I would not have thought it odd if the Siyee always arranged to meet me wherever I am staying.

  “Anything else?”

  He paused, then shrugged. “That is all I can recall now. If I think of anything else before you leave, I will make sure you know of it.”

  She nodded. “Thank you. If you remember something after I have left, tell Danjin. He will be taking care of my affairs here while I’m away.”

  “I will. When will you be leaving?”

  “In a few days.”

  “How long do you expect to be in Si?”

  “As long as it’s necessary, and I am welcome. A few months, most likely.”

  He nodded. “It is unlikely you will need my advice in that time now that the Somreyan alliance is signed.”

  “Yes,” she agreed. “Though I will miss your company.”

  He smiled, his eyes flashing. “And I yours.”

  “How is your new student, Jayim?”

  His expression was a mixture of remorse and determination as he replied. “Not used to working hard,” he said. “But he does have a natural fascination for cures and healing. I have a lot of work in front of me.”

  “At least you’ll have more time for it, with me out of your way.”

  “But no excuse to escape from my responsibilities,” he pointed out.

  She chuckled, then a faint chime drew her attention to a timepiece on the side table. “Ah, I’m afraid I must send you back to them now. I have a lesson with Dyara next.”

  She rose. He gently scooped Mischief up and set him aside, then stood and followed her to the door. As he wished her luck, she shook her head.

  “I’m sure I’ll find time to talk to you again before I go.”

  He nodded, then turned away and started down the stairs. Closing the door, Auraya felt a pang of sadness.

  I’m going to miss him. I wonder if he’ll miss me. She strolled to the window and looked down at the people far below. From his thoughts she knew that Leiard regarded her as more than someone who could help his people. He felt affection. Admiration. Respect.

  At that thought she felt a pang of guilt. The idea that had come to her in the garden of the Somreyan Temple came rushing back. She had struggled with it several times, unable to decide what she should or should not do. All reason told her that dissuading people from joining the Dreamweaver cult was the right thing to do. The gods did not preserve the souls of those who turned from them. By stopping people joining the Dreamweavers she would be preventing the death of many souls.

  Yet she also felt that there was something wrong with causing the demise of the Dreamweavers. Those people chose to become Dreamweavers and knew what they sacrificed.

  Furthering Circlian knowledge of healing was a good aim. Deliberately reading Dreamweavers’ minds in order to gain that knowledge was wrong, however. It was stealing. Although arranging for her own people to discover that knowledge for themselves was not.

  If I think of it as merely increasing the priests’ healing knowledge, then I will be doing nothing wrong. How can I be blamed if it leads to the Dreamweavers’ demise?

  Because I saw the consequences and continued anyway.

  She sighed. It’s not my responsibility to save the Dreamweavers.

  Leiard should fear me, she thought. She shook her head. It always comes back to Leiard. Do I struggle with this simply because I’m afraid I’ll lose his friendship?

  Juran’s warning came back to her. “But be careful, Auraya, that you do not compromise yourself for the sake of friendship.” She turned away from the window. There’s no hurry. A project like this would take years. Its effects wouldn’t be felt for at least a generation. Not until long after Leiard has died.

  Sitting down next to Mischief, she scratched his head. The way things are going I may never have time for it anyway. Between making alliances and avoiding a premature death at the hands of these Pentadrians, I think I’ll be occupied for some time.

  * * *

  “She said she’d always wanted to be buried in a box, like proper people.”

  Rayo looked at his sister, then back at the body of the old woman. “Boxes cost
.”

  “She still has money left,” Tiro said. “Only right we use some for a box.”

  “Don’t have to,” his sister said. “When we were in the pit we saw a box that looked like a coffin. It’s what got us talking ‘bout it. Might still be there.”

  “Then go see,” Rayo tossed at Tiro. The boy and two others hurried away.

  Crouching down, Rayo took the old woman’s hand. It was cold and stiff. “Thank you, Emeria. You fixed m‘ sis, and m’sel’, and were true gen’rous. We’ll get your box, if it’s still there. I hope you don’t mind us taking your money and stuff. It’s not like you’ll be needing it, now you’re with the gods.”

  The others nodded. Rayo drew a circle on the old woman’s forehead, then got to his feet. The boys might need help if the box in the pit was big enough to be used as a coffin. There would be digging to do, too. It would take lots of time and energy. He looked at his sister.

  “Take her stuff,” he said. She nodded and set to work.

  An hour later Emeria’s body lay in the box. His sister and the other girls had slipped up into the hills to pick flowers. All but the woman’s worn-out undershift had been removed from the body, but with the flowers scattered over her everything looked right and respectful.

  They each spoke a quick, tearful farewell, then covered the box with a few charred planks of wood salvaged from the burned house they lived under. Rayo and the other boys dug a hole in the small yard behind the house. The ground was hard, and it was dark by the time they finished. Finally they returned to the house, carried the box out and set it in the hole.

  When all that was left was a mound of earth, they scattered a few more flowers, then returned to their cellar. All were silent and glum.

  “Where’s her stuff?” Rayo asked his sister.

  The others gathered around as she brought a stack of clothes and Emeria’s bag to the center of the room. They all grimaced as she opened the bag and a distinctly fishy smell wafted out.

  She handled the contents carefully.

  “They’re cures. She told me what they were for and how to use them. These ones she said she’d sell, because they weren’t really good for anything, but some people thought they made them good at sex so they were actually worth a lot.”

  “We can sell them,” Rayo said.

  She nodded. Bringing out a small leather wallet, she tipped the contents onto the ground. The others grinned at the pile of coins.

  “She kept this real close, tied round her waist. Her secret stash.”

  “Our secret stash,” Rayo said. “Everyone gets something, to be fair. We start with the clothes. I’m taking the tawl. Who wants the tunic?”

  As they divided Emeria’s belongings, Rayo felt a warm feeling of lightness. She hadn’t been with them long, but so long as they each had something of hers it would be like a bit of her was still with them.

  I hope she’s happy, up there with the gods, he thought. I hope they know they got the best part of her.

  16

  Though the morning air was growing colder each day, Leiard had chosen to hold Jayim’s lessons in the rooftop garden of the Bakers’ home. It had taken some time and persistence to convince Tanara not to interrupt them. She had initially assumed that she could bring them hot drinks without disrupting the lessons, so long as she didn’t speak. Leiard had told her firmly that her presence broke their concentration and she wasn’t to approach at all. After that she kept creeping up the staircase and peering at them every hour or so, and was disbelieving when he told her that this, too, was a distraction.

  He wasn’t sure if he’d convinced her yet. To be sure, he had made a mental note of the average time between interruptions and paced his lessons accordingly. It was essential that they be left alone this morning, as he intended to teach Jayim the finer points of a mind link.

  Opening his eyes, Leiard regarded his new student. Jayim’s chest fell in the slow, regular rhythm of a calming trance. A little of the boy’s former reluctance to learn the mind skills of Dreamweavers still remained, but Leiard didn’t expect all doubts to vanish overnight. Otherwise, Jayim was being attentive and working hard. His enthusiasm was for medicines and healing, and he was progressing well in those areas.

  That was part of the reason Leiard had decided they would perform a mind link today: he wanted to see if they could pinpoint the source of Jayim’s aversion to developing his telepathic abilities. The other reason was so that Leiard could assert control over the link memories that were overlapping his own identity. He wasn’t sure what would happen to him if he didn’t. Would his sense of self continue to erode? Would his thoughts become a muddle of conflicting memories? Or would he begin to believe he was Mirar?

  He did not intend to find out. Closing his eyes again, Leiard held out his hands.

  “We gather tonight in peace and in pursuit of understanding. Our minds will be linked. Our memories shall flow between us. Let none seek or spy, or impose a will upon another. Instead, we shall become one mind. Take my hands, Jayim.”

  He felt the boy’s slim fingers brush his, then grasp his hands. As Jayim sensed Leiard’s mind, he recoiled slightly. Leiard heard him take a deep breath, then reach out again.

  At first there was only a sense of expectation. Leiard felt his companion’s nervousness and waited patiently. Soon, snatches of thought and memory flitted through Jayim’s mind. Previous lessons, Leiard saw. Embarrassment at private matters revealed. He found himself thinking back, to other links with adolescent boys and similar secrets unintentionally revealed.

  :Do not try to block these memories, he advised. Blocking disrupts the link.

  :But I don’t want to reveal them! Jayim protested.

  :Nudge them aside. Try this: whenever you find your mind wandering in that direction, think of something else. Select an image or subject that is neither pleasant nor unpleasant, but which will lead your thoughts away.

  :Like what?

  :I list the medicines useful to babies.

  To his credit, several such medicines sprang to Jayim’s mind. His thoughts soon returned to the former subject, however.

  :Does this distraction work all the time?

  :Most of the time.

  :Do you use the same trick to stop yourself giving away other secrets - like those that Auraya tells you?

  Leiard smiled.

  :What makes you think Auraya tells me secrets?

  :I sense that she has.

  The boy was perceptive. Leiard sensed smugness.

  :Could I trust you with those secrets? he asked.

  Jayim was all curiosity and eagerness now. Of course he would keep whatever he learned to himself. He would never risk losing Leiard’s trust. Besides, if he did, Leiard would learn of it in the next memory link.

  Then doubts crept in. What if he accidentally let something slip? What if someone tricked him into giving secrets away?

  :Secrets are best kept secret, Leiard said. The more who know, the less secret they are. It is not distrust that keeps me from telling you, Jayim.

  :You like Auraya, don’t you?

  The abrupt change of subject made Leiard pause. It also stirred a mixture of emotions.

  :Yes, he replied. She is a friend.

  But he knew she was more than that. She was the child he had once taught, who had grown into a powerful, beautiful woman...

  :You think she’s beautiful, Jayim stated. His amusement deepened. You fancy her!

  :No! Her face came into his thoughts and he felt a familiar admiration suddenly sharpen into longing. Shocked, he pulled away from Jayim’s mind, breaking the link.

  The boy said nothing. Leiard sensed smugness again. He ignored it.

  I don’t desire Auraya, he told himself.

  I’m afraid you do, another voice in his mind disagreed.

  But she is young.

  Not so young anymore.

  She is a White.

  All the more reason to desire her. The attraction of the forbidden is a powerful force.<
br />
  No. Jayim has put the idea into my head. I do not desire her. Next time I meet Auraya I will feel just as I did before.

  We’ll see.

  Opening his eyes, Leiard saw that Jayim was watching him expectantly.

  “Your secret is mine,” the boy said.

  “There is no secret,” Leiard said firmly. “You proposed an idea I hadn’t considered. Now I have, and I believe you are wrong.”

  The boy looked away and nodded, but he was obviously holding back a smile. Leiard sighed.

  “Why don’t you fetch some hot drinks from your mother. We’ll have a rest, then begin again.”

  Jayim nodded, then scrambled to his feet. Leiard watched him hurry away.

  They say to teach a student is to be taught yourself. I only hope Jayim’s lesson proves to be wrong.

  If I had known how soon the next Gathering was going to be, Tryss thought, I would never have made Drilli that promise.

  The day after the trei-trei, the Speakers had announced that a Gathering would be held in four days. Drilli believed that they wanted to warn everyone about the birds, and Tryss figured she was probably right. That had left him little time to ready himself for presenting his harness. Now that the day of the Gathering had arrived, he could think of a thousand things he still needed to do, and another thousand that could go wrong.

  He’d done all he could do in the short time he’d had. He’d practiced using the harness and blowpipe every day, avoiding duties at home and ignoring the scolding he’d received in return. His father’s disapproval lacked conviction, however, since Tryss always brought back meat for their dinner.

  He could not bring back all of the animals he’d killed, however. It would have drawn too much attention to himself too early. Though he had managed to bring down another yern, he hadn’t dared carry back meat from such a large beast. Leaving it to the scavengers was the only option, and that had dampened his elation at his success.

  He could not hunt yern as part of his demonstration.

  The animals were too big to trap and transport to the Open. Drilli had suggested breem. They were small, quick and shy of humans, which meant they would probably stay within the half-circle of gathered Siyee, but they were still challenging enough that killing them with missiles from the air would impress most people.