The knot in her stomach tightened as she considered the risk she was taking. If this didn’t work - if the priest who could read minds was watching at the city gates, noticed that he couldn’t read the mind of one of the whores, decided to investigate, thought it suspicious that she had drugged herself into unconsciousness, and held them back until she woke up - then her unnaturally long life was about to end.
To make her taking of the drug less suspicious, she had prepared several nuggets of formtane. These she would give to the other girls. They were a weaker dose, so they would only experience the delicious calming effects. A tarn full of unconscious women was bound to raise suspicion rather than avoid it.
Emerahl was the last to climb into the tarn. They were all dressed in heavy tawls and carrying blankets. The tarn covers would protect them from rain, but not from cold. Winter was far from over, and would grow harsher as they travelled northward.
It was cramped inside, with six women squeezed onto the hard bench seats.
“They looked roomier from the outside,” Brand muttered. “Watch where you put your shoes, Star.”
“It smells like smoked ner,” Charity complained.
“I doubt Rozea bought them new.” Bird kicked her heels backward, making a solid thud. “There’s something under the seat.”
Emerahl peered under the seat opposite. “Boxes. I think some of our supplies are in here. Our seats are closer together than they need to be. I wouldn’t be surprised if there are compartments behind them.”
“Why would there be?” Tide asked. “Is Rozea too stingy to buy enough tarns?”
“No,” Brand said. “I bet they’re secret compartments to store things, just in case we get robbed.”
The others stilled and looked at her.
“Anyone who robs us will think the supply carts are all we have,” Brand explained. “If they look in here they’ll see us, and nothing else.”
“Nobody’s going to rob us,” Star declared. “We’ll be with the army.”
“But we might fall behind,” Bird said in a small voice. “Or even be separated.”
“We won’t,” Star assured her. “Rozea won’t let us.”
A high-pitched whistle sounded outside. The girls exchanged nervous glances, and all remained silent until the tarn jerked into movement.
“Too late to change your minds now,” Tide murmured.
“We could all jump out and run back inside,” Charity suggested half-heartedly.
Emerahl snorted. “Rozea would send someone in to drag you back. I thought everyone but me was eager to set out on this glorious adventure.”
The other girls shrugged.
“You don’t want to go, Jade?” Star asked. “Why not?”
Emerahl looked away. “I think robbers will be the least of our problems. It’s the soldiers we’ll have to watch out for. They’ll think fighting earns them a free roll with us whenever they want, and we don’t have enough of our own guards to prevent them. This is going to be rough, dirty work.”
Charity grimaced. “Let’s not talk about it any more. I’d rather delude myself that we’re going on a great adventure, during which we’ll witness great events. Events I can tell my grandchildren about.”
“Just as well grandmothers are allowed to edit out the bad parts,” Brand said, chuckling. “And embellish the good parts. The soldiers will be brave, the generals handsome, and the priests virtuous and even more handsome...”
At the mention of priests, Emerahl felt the knot in her stomach clench. She leaned past Tide and lifted the door flap. They were halfway to the gates. Her mouth went dry. She resisted the urge to reach for the formtane. Soon.
“Have you ever bedded a priest?” Tide asked Brand.
“A few.”
“I haven’t. What about you, Star? Charity?”
Star shrugged. “Once. And he wasn’t handsome. He was fat. And fast, thank Yranna.”
“Quite a few,” Charity admitted with a grin. “I think they like me for my name. They can go back to their wives and say they spent the evening in Charity work and be telling the truth.”
Brand burst out laughing. “Rozea certainly knows how to pick names. What about you, Jade?”
“Me?”
“Have you ever bedded a priest?”
Emerahl shook her head. “Never.”
“Perhaps you’ll bed your first one on this trip.”
“Perhaps.”
Brand wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. “They’re supposed to be quite good at it.”
“About as good as any nationality or creed that is supposed to be good at it, I’m guessing.”
“You’re too serious, Jade - and why do you keep looking outside?”
Emerahl let the flap go. She sighed and shook her head. “Travelling makes me sick.”
Star groaned unsympathetically. “You’re not going to throw up, are you?”
Emerahl made a face. “If I do, I’ll be sure to lean in your direction.”
“You’re cranky. Here.” Tide stood up, bracing herself against the flexible cover. “Sit by the window. If you feel sick you can open the flap for some fresh air.”
“Thank you.” Emerahl managed a smile and slid across the seat. Tide sat down in the middle and patted Emerahl’s knee sympathetically.
Looking outside again, Emerahl judged they were not far from the city gates. She let the flap fall and turned to the other girls.
“I brought something,” she told them. “Something for the nausea. It wouldn’t be fair if I didn’t share it.”
Brand smiled knowingly. “The formtane?”
“Formtane!” Star exclaimed. “Where’d you get that?”
“I took a little side trip to the market on the way to visit my family,” Brand told them.
Emerahl held out her left arm and eased the first of the nuggets out of her sleeve hem. She popped it into her mouth and swallowed, then began to push the next one free.
“So who wants some?”
The other girls leaned forward eagerly.
“I’ve never tried it before,” Tide admitted.
“It’s wonderful,” Charity whispered. “Time seems to slow down and you feel all light and floaty.” She accepted a nugget of formtane. “Thank you, Jade.”
A wave of dizziness swept over Emerahl. She worked another nugget out of her sleeve and gave it to Brand. She had to concentrate hard on removing three more nuggets for Tide, Bird and Star. Then she let herself relax against the seat back. Waves of delicious dizziness were rolling over her now.
“Have you got any more?” Star asked dreamily.
Emerahl shook her head, not trusting herself to speak. She thought about checking how close they were to the gate, but could not rouse herself to do so.
The other girls were smiling blissfully now. Such silly expressions. Emerahl felt a laugh bubble up and out of her. They grinned at her in surprise.
“What’s so funny?”
“You’ll look s’ happy,” she slurred.
Tide giggled, then they all burst into lazy-sounding, breathless laughter.
“Feeling better now, Jade?” Brand asked. “Not so Jaded?”
Emerahl laughed, then leaned forward. She swayed. Her vision blurred.
“Ma‘ mine li’l strong’r,” she managed.
Then she slipped into a comfortable, delirious blackness.
Time stopped, but she felt too lazy to care. She let her mind relax into the safe, warm darkness. Out of it a tower appeared. The sight of it disturbed her. She felt a flash of annoyance.
Oh no. Not again.
The tower stretched impossibly high. It tore clouds as they drifted past. She couldn’t stop herself looking at it. It captured her attention.
Where is this place?
The tower flashed out of existence. She looked down. A different building stood in its place. The old Dreamweaver House in Jarime. The one that Mirar had been buried under after Juran, high priest of the circle of gods, had killed him.
> I’m dreaming. I shouldn’t be. I should be unconscious. This isn’t good...
She tried to break free, but the dream tightened its grip. Suddenly the high white tower loomed over her again, even more menacing than before. She wanted to flee, but couldn’t move. Once again she knew she would be seen if she stayed. She couldn’t stop herself looking. They had only to see her and...
“What’s wrong with her?”
... know who she was...
“She took formtane. She gets sick when she travels. I think she made it a bit too strong.”
... and when they saw...
“She certainly has. She should be unconscious, but instead she’s been caught in a dream.”
... they would kill her...
“Caught? You can see that?”
“Yes, I’m a priest.”
“In a guard’s uniform?”
“Yes.”
“Will she wake up?”
... the tower loomed over her. It seemed to flex. She felt a stab of terror as cracks ran down the surface...
“Yes. She will break free of the dream when the drug wears off.”
... and the tower began to fall...
“Thank you, Priest... ?”
“Ikaro.”
The voices barely registered in Emerahl’s mind. The dream was too real. Perhaps the voices were a dream and the dream was reality. She heard the roar of the collapsing tower, felt the pain of her limbs being crushed, of her lungs burning as she slowly suffocated. It went on and on, an eternity of pain.
“Jade?”
I don’t like this reality, Emerahl thought. I want the dream. Perhaps if I convince myself the dream is real, I will escape this pain. She struggled to hear the voice better, concentrated on the words. The pain faded.
“Jade. Wake up.”
Someone forced her eyes open. She recognized faces. Felt the radiating concern from familiar minds. Held onto that and pulled herself clear of the dream.
She gasped in a lungful of wonderfully clean air and stared at the five girls leaning over her. Their names ran through her mind. She could feel the movement of the tarn. She was lying down. The Tower dream, she thought. I had it again. There were voices this time. Another dream inside the dream.
“What happened?”
The relief on the girls’ faces was touching. They had good hearts, she decided. She would miss them, when she left.
“You took too much formtane,” Brand told her. “You fell unconscious.”
“A priest at the gates came over to see,” Charity added. “I don’t know how he knew.”
Emerahl felt a stab of alarm. She sat up. A priest! So the dream within the dream had been reality? “What did he say?”
Tide smiled. “He had a look at you and said you were fine, just dreaming.”
“I think he could read minds,” Star added.
He could see me dreaming? She frowned. I must have let my guard down.
“We were worried you’d made a mistake with the dose,” Brand told her. “Or that you had tried to kill yourself.”
“You weren’t trying to kill yourself, were you?” Tide asked anxiously.
“No.” Emerahl shrugged. “Just thought it would last longer if I took more.”
“Silly girl,” Brand scolded. “You won’t make that mistake again.”
Emerahl shook her head ruefully. She swung her legs over the end of the seat. Brand sat down beside her.
“You look a bit dreamy still,” Brand said. “Lean on me and have a nap - if you can sleep with all this rocking.”
Emerahl smiled in gratitude. She rested her head on the shoulder of the taller girl and closed her eyes.
So the priest read my mind, she thought. And dismissed everything he saw there as a dream. She thought of the fear of being seen that always lurked in the tower dream. A fear similar to her own fear of discovery. She silently thanked the Dreamweaver who was projecting these dreams. He or she had probably saved her life.
As Auraya woke she realized she had not dreamed of Leiard, and she sighed in disappointment.
He hadn’t visited her dreams since she had left Si. She had nursed a faint hope that the reason had something to do with her travelling and being hard to find, and that he would link with her again when she came back to the Open, but her sleep hadn’t been interrupted last night.
That’s only one night, she thought. He won’t know I’ve returned yet, and now I’m leaving again.
She rose and began to wash. Surely he checks to see if I’ve returned each night. Perhaps he is too busy - or maybe dream-linking is too tiring to spend each night at it.
I shouldn’t be thinking about this. I should be thinking about taking the Siyee to war.
There had been a lot to arrange. She had spoken to the Speakers until late last night, discussing what they would need to bring, and what they would have to rely on the landwalker army to supply. The Siyee could not carry a lot of weight. They would bring their weapons, small transportable bowers and enough food to get them to the Plains of Gold, but no more. Auraya had spoken to Juran and received assurances that food would be provided for the Siyee once they’d joined the army.
Auraya examined her clothing closely and used magic to remove as many stains as she could. She combed out the knots in her hair, which she’d gained while flying yesterday. The Siyee definitely have the right idea keeping their hair short, she mused. I wonder what I’d look like with short hair...
She braided her hair into a long tail then moved into the main room of her bower. A Siyee woman had brought her a small basket of food the night before. Auraya drank some water then began to eat.
This may be my last night here for many months. After the war, Juran will want me to come back to Jarime. The thought brought a pang of sadness. She did not want to leave. But she also felt a stirring of curiosity. What will my next challenge be, I wonder? Another alliance to negotiate? Will I return to Borra to appeal to the Elai king again?
It would take more than words to persuade King Ais to consider an alliance. She had seen much suspicion and hate of landwalkers in the Elai’s minds. Dealing with the raiders might help gain the sea people’s trust. If not, it would at least remove the main reason the Elai hated landwalkers. In a few generations their hatred might diminish to the point where they wouldn’t consider contact with the outside world to be so dangerous. She had told Juran as much and he had agreed.
If her next task was not the Elai, then what? She considered the possible consequences of the war. Sennon was backing the Pentadrians. If the gods still wanted Sennon to ally peacefully with the rest of Northern Ithania, there would be work to do there after the war, not least encouraging forgiveness from the White’s allies. By uniting with the enemy, Sennon would cause the deaths of many Northern Ithanians. Many would want to see Sennon punished, but that would only cause ongoing resentment and more hatred.
She frowned. Persuading the Sennons to sign an alliance would be best handled by Juran. She and the other White would probably work at convincing Circlians to accept it, but that wouldn’t keep her completely occupied.
There’s always the Dreamweavers.
Her stomach sank at the thought. For months she had barely thought about her ideas for improving Circlian healing knowledge in order to prevent people being lured into becoming Dreamweavers.
It’s not as if my intention is to harm Dreamweavers, she told herself. I only want to save the souls of those who have not yet become Dreamweavers.
“Auraya of the White. May I come in?”
She looked up at the door eagerly, grateful for the distraction.
“Yes, Speaker Sirri. Come in.”
The hanging over the door moved aside and the Siyee woman stepped in. Sirri was dressed in clothing that Auraya had never seen Siyee wear before. A hard leather vest and apron, crisscrossed with straps, covered her chest and thighs. One of the new dart-throwing contraptions was bound to her chest, and a bow and a quiver of arrows were strapped to her back. A
t her hip she wore a pouch and two knives.
“Don’t you look prepared for a fight,” Auraya exclaimed.
Sirri smiled. “That’s good. My people need to think their leader is prepared to fight beside them.”
“You certainly are,” Auraya said. “I’d flee if I were a Pentadrian.”
Sirri’s smile became grim. “More likely you’d laugh. In truth, I think we’re going to learn a lot from this war.”
Auraya felt her grin fade. “I won’t pretend there isn’t going to be a cost,” she said. “I do hope that it will not be a high one. I promise I will try to ensure it isn’t.”
The Speaker acknowledged Auraya’s promise with a nod. “We know what we face. Are you ready?”
Auraya nodded. “Are your people already assembled?”
“All loaded up and ready to fly. They just need a speech or two.”
Putting her empty mug down, Auraya stood and glanced around the room one last time, then picked up the small pack she had brought with her to Si and followed Sirri outside. She could hear the gathered Siyee long before she saw them. The chatter of so many voices combined was like the sound of water cascading over rocks. As she and Sirri approached the outcrop above the crowd, whistles filled the air. Auraya smiled down at the largest crowd of Siyee she had seen so far.
The tribes ranged in size from a few dozen families to over a thousand individuals. Of the thousands of Siyee, more than half formed this army. Not all were warriors, though. For every two Siyee dressed as fighters she could see one that was not. Each tribe was bringing their own healers and domestic helpers, who would also carry portable bowers and as much spare food as possible.
Sirri’s appearance was the cue for the other Speakers to come forward and form a line. Auraya took her place - a few steps from the end of this line - and watched as Sirri stepped onto Speakers’ Rock and spread her arms wide.
“People of the mountains. Tribes of the Siyee. Look at yourselves!” Sirri grinned. “What a fierce sight we make!”
The Siyee shouted and whistled in reply. Sirri nodded, then raised her arms higher.
“Today we are leaving our homes and flying to war. We do so in order to keep a promise. What was that promise? It was a promise to help a friend. Our allies among the landwalkers need our help. They need us, the Siyee, to help them defend themselves against invaders.
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