[Age of the Five 01] - Priestess of the White

by Trudi Canavan

  “Perhaps,” Leiard agreed, pleased that Jayim would think of this.

  The boy’s eyes brightened. “Or the same gods as the Circlians follow, known by different names.”

  “That wouldn’t make much sense,” Tanara pointed out. “They’d be sending their own followers to fight their own followers.”

  Leiard looked at her thoughtfully, then shook his head. “No, I can see no profit in it for them.”

  She frowned. “You think they’d do that, if there was profit in it?”

  “Possibly.”

  “But that would be unspeakably cruel.”

  “The gods aren’t as noble and fair as the Circlians would have us believe,” Leiard found himself saying. “We Dreamweavers remember what they have done in the past, before this charade of concern for mortals began. We know what they are capable of.”

  Tanara stared at him in horror.

  Mirar, Leiard thought sternly. I told you not to do that.

  Yes, you did. But what can you do to stop me? the other voice replied.

  Leiard ignored the question. What did you hope to achieve by frightening her?

  Now another knows the truth.

  And how will that benefit Tanara?

  Mirar didn’t reply. Tanara looked away. “Then we’d best hope they continue to want to keep up the charade,” she murmured.

  Jayim was watching Leiard through narrowed eyes. “What do these memories of yours tell you about the Pentadrians?”

  “My memories tell me nothing. I have learned what I have learned from Dreamweavers in Sennon.”

  “Through dream links?”

  “Yes.”

  Jayim frowned. He opened his mouth to speak, then sighed and shook his head. “What do they think of them?”

  “That Dreamweavers have nothing to fear from the Pentadrians. The southern cult regards us with pity, not fear or dislike. Which proves that their gods are not the same as the Circlians’,” he added.

  The boy nodded slowly and thoughtfully. “Will we join this war?”

  “Dreamweavers do not fight,” Leiard replied.

  “I know, but will we go as healers?”

  “Probably.”

  Tanara’s eyes widened. She glanced at her son and bit her lip. Millo frowned.

  “We will be quite safe,” Leiard assured them. “The Pentadrians understand that we tend to all, no matter what race or religion. Our Gifts will protect us from mishaps or misunderstandings.” He looked at Jayim. “It will be a good opportunity for Jayim to hone his healing sk—”

  A knocking interrupted him. They all looked up at each other, then Millo stood and moved to the door.

  Leiard finished his drink, then left the table. Jayim had finished his meal long before. Like most boys his age, he was perpetually hungry. He stood and followed Leiard toward the stairs to the rooftop garden.

  “Wait, you two,” Millo called.

  He stepped back from the doorway. A woman moved past him, and as Leiard took in the Dreamweaver robes and familiar face he blinked in surprise.

  “Dreamweaver Elder Arleej,” he said, touching heart, mouth and forehead.

  She smiled and returned the gesture. “Dreamweaver Adviser Leiard.”

  “It is good to see you again. Are you well?”

  She shrugged. “A little tired. I have only just arrived.”

  “Then you will be wanting some food and a hot drink,” Tanara said. “Sit down.”

  Tanara ushered Arleej to a seat then bustled out. Leiard sat down next to the Dreamweaver elder and gestured for Jayim, who was hovering uncertainly by the stairway, to join them. Millo shuffled away to his room.

  “What brings you to Jarime?” Leiard asked.

  Arleej smiled crookedly. “Haven’t you heard? There is to be a war. You and Auraya talked us into an alliance just in time, it seems.”

  Leiard smiled. There was no resentment in her voice, only irony. “No wonder you are tired. Did you share a ship with hundreds of soldiers, or did the Somreyan Dreamweavers manage to claim one for themselves?”

  She shook her head. “We are travelling in small numbers on merchant ships, arriving before and after the Somreyan army. Memories of the massacres of Dreamweavers on the mainland are still strong. We will attract less attention this way.”

  “I do not think you would have been in any danger, had you arrived with Somreyan troops.”

  “You are probably right. Seeing the troops of another land valuing Dreamweavers might have encouraged Hanians to do the same. Old habits and fears are hard to defeat, however, especially for us.” Arleej looked at him, her direct gaze unsettling. “How are you, Leiard? Has linking with Jayim helped you control your link memories?”

  Leiard sensed Jayim’s surprise and alarm. “I am making some progress on my—”

  “He doesn’t link with me,” Jayim interrupted. “He teaches me everything except mind links or dream links.”

  Arleej looked from Jayim to Leiard, her brows lowering into a frown.

  “And he mumbles to himself all the time,” Jayim added, his voice strained. “Sometimes it’s like he’s not aware of me. Then he says odd things in the voice of a stranger.”

  “Leiard,” Arleej said, her voice quiet but filled with suppressed alarm. “Do you know…? Are you…?” She shook her head. “I know you understand what you risk. Is this secret of yours so great you would sacrifice your identity—your sanity?”

  He shivered. My sanity. Maybe I’ve already lost it. I am hearing voices—one voice, anyway.

  You think you’re going insane? Mirar injected. Living inside your mind is enough to drive anyone mad.

  If you don’t like it, go away.

  “Leiard?”

  He looked up. Arleej was frowning at him. He sighed and shook his head.

  “I can’t link with Jayim.” He turned to regard his student. “I am sorry. You should find another teacher. One of the Somreyans will surely—”

  “No!” Jayim exclaimed. “If what Ar—Dreamweaver Elder Arleej says is true, you’ll go insane without my help.” He paused to catch his breath. “Whatever secret you have, I’ll keep it. I won’t tell anybody.”

  “You don’t understand,” Leiard said gently. “If I tell you this secret you can never link with another Dreamweaver. I would not restrict your future that way.”

  “If that’s what it takes to save you, then I’ll do it.”

  Leiard stared at Jayim in surprise. When, in the last few months, had this boy become so loyal?

  Arleej made a small, strangled sound. She let out her breath in a rush. “I don’t know, Jayim. That is a heavy price for you to pay.” She turned to Leiard, her expression tortured. “How…how long would Jayim have to keep this secret?”

  Forever. Leiard looked away and shook his head. It was unfair, but he could not unlive the past.

  You know this affair can’t last, Mirar whispered. Eventually it will be discovered so you may as well tell Jayim.

  Why do you want me to stop? You seemed to enjoy dream-linking with her.

  She is one of the gods’ pawns. I enjoy the irony. In fact, next time I might have a little play with her myself.

  Leiard felt his stomach turn. Could Mirar interfere with the dream link?

  I might show you a few things you thought you didn’t know.

  You wouldn’t dare. If Auraya knew you had this much control…

  She would do what? Kill me? But that would mean killing you. I suppose that might not be so hard if she knew her lover could turn into the hated Mirar at an inappropriate moment.

  Leiard sighed. What do you want me to do?

  Leave Jarime. Find somewhere remote where Auraya won’t find you. Train Jayim in mind-linking.

  If Arleej is right, it will mean the end of your existence.

  I don’t want to exist. This is the Age of the Five. My time is in the past, when there was a multitude of gods, and immortals roamed freely—what they now call the Age of the Many—and perhaps the far future, but n
ot now.

  Leiard was amazed by this admission. If this shadow of Mirar did not want to exist, why was it so concerned about Leiard’s safety?

  The other voice did not answer.

  Very well, he thought. But I will join the Dreamweavers going to the war first.

  He waited, expecting Mirar to protest, because following the army meant being near the White—and Auraya—but the voice remained silent. Relieved, he looked up at Arleej.

  “I can only do this if Jayim and I leave Jarime,” he told her. “I will join you in tending the wounded after the war, then we will disappear for a while. We will meet with other Dreamweavers in the future, when it is safe to do so.” He turned to Jayim. “You must never allow yourself to come into the presence of the White. They can read minds more thoroughly than any sorcerer has before.”

  Jayim frowned. “If they can read my mind, won’t they read the secret from yours?”

  “Yes.”

  “But you’re the Dreamweaver adviser.”

  “Not for much longer. I will be resigning as soon as I am ready to leave.”

  “Why not now?”

  “They may attempt to meet me in order to learn the reason. I want to be long gone when they receive my message.”

  Jayim’s eyes were wide. “This must be quite a secret.”

  Arleej smiled grimly. “Yes. I hope it is worth all this trouble.”

  “What trouble?”

  They all looked up to see Tanara standing in the doorway, holding a platter of food. As Arleej explained, Leiard felt a pang of guilt. He would be taking Jayim away from his family, probably never to return. Then something else occurred to him and he groaned.

  “What is it?” Arleej asked.

  He looked at her apologetically. “The White could learn from you and the Bakers that I have left because I have a secret I wish to keep from them.”

  She grimaced. “Which would be enough reason to send people out to find you and bring you back.” She shrugged. “I don’t intend to go anywhere near them anyway.” She looked at Tanara. “I doubt the White will seek out you and your husband. They’re too busy organizing a war. Just in case, can you be somewhere else for a few weeks? If you need money for accommodation, we can provide it.”

  “Millo has a brother living in the north,” Tanara said. “We haven’t visited in a while.”

  “Then visit him,” she said. “I think I can keep away from the White so long as they still have a Dreamweaver adviser to consult.” She turned to Leiard. “Do you have anyone in mind to take on the role?”

  He shook his head. “That would be your decision, or Auraya’s.”

  She pursed her lips, then her eyes narrowed. “Since Auraya is absent and the other White are busy with war preparations, the matter will probably be put off until she returns—unless I can offer a few candidates. Hmm, this will take some consideration.” She rapped her finger on the table and paused to think. “My people will be leaving in advance of the army. We will always be more than a day’s ride from the Circlians. The White won’t know you’re with us, and even if they find out they’ll be too busy with their preparations to seek you out. I would like to remain close at hand while you sort this out. You may need my help.”

  Leiard bowed his head. “Thank you. I hope I won’t need it.”

  The eastern horizon brightened steadily, casting a thin, cool light over the sea. As Auraya walked along the beach with Tyrli she considered her first impressions of the Sand tribe’s home. She had come to associate the Siyee with high mountains and forests, but seeing their bowers among the treeless dunes of the coast yesterday had caused her to reassess her assumptions about them. They lived well here on the beaches of Si, which only highlighted what they had lost when Toren settlers had stolen the fertile valleys of their homeland.

  “You have everything you need?” Tyrli asked.

  “Everything except enough time,” she replied. Or Leiard’s recommendations, she added to herself. He hadn’t dream-linked with her in days, which had made it easier to rise before dawn this morning. She had been waking up early, worrying about the reason for his silence, for the previous two mornings.

  “If you had more time I would introduce you to the Elai who trade with us, but they will not meet us for nearly a month.”

  “I would like that, even if just to see more of your tribe,” she told Tyrli truthfully. She had only glimpsed how his people lived and would have liked to learn more about them. “Juran is pressing me to meet with the Elai as soon as possible.”

  “There will be another opportunity,” he replied.

  “I’ll make sure of it.” She turned to face him. “I will return to the Open in about ten days.”

  He nodded. “We will be ready.”

  She smiled at his grim confidence. He had sent messengers back to the Open with her news of the Pentadrian invasion and Juran’s request for help in the coming battle. She sighed and looked across the water.

  “You should be there by midday,” he assured her.

  “How do I find my way?” she asked.

  He turned to face the mountains and pointed. “See the mountain with the double peak?”

  “Yes.”

  “Fly away from it, keeping it aligned with this beach. You’ll see the coast on your right. If you don’t see it after a few hours, keep bearing right until you do. Follow it to the end of the peninsula. Then head directly south. There are a lot of little islets around Elai. If you fly for more than an hour without seeing one, you’ve missed Elai and should head northward again.”

  She nodded. “Thank you, Tyrli.”

  He bowed his head. “Good luck, Auraya of the White. Fly high, fly fast, fly well.”

  “May the gods guide and protect you,” she replied.

  Turning to face the sea again, Auraya drew magic and sent herself directly upward. The beach dropped away from her feet until Tyrli was a small dot in a great arc of sand stained gold by the rising sun. She glanced behind at the mountains and noted the position of the double peak. Turning her back, she sent herself in the opposite direction.

  For the last few months she had become accustomed to flying in imitation of the Siyee. Now that she was alone she did not feel the need to pretend what she could do was limited by physical strength or the pull of the earth. She began to experiment. The Siyee could only fly as quickly as the wind and their stamina allowed. She had no idea how fast she could move so she began to increase her speed.

  Wind was already a problem and she guessed this would be the factor that limited her. As she flew it buffeted her face, dried her eyes and chilled her. She could use magic to generate warmth, but as she flew faster she found that this warmth was quickly stripped away. Curiously, she also began to find it hard to breathe.

  She created a magical shield in front of her. It slowed her abruptly, like an oar dragging in water. The shield acted like an oar because of its shape, she guessed. She didn’t need an oar, she needed…an arrowhead. Inspired, she changed the shape of her shield to a pointed cone. Now it cut through the air easily. It diverted the wind around her and she found she could breathe again.

  By now she was moving quicker than she had ever moved before, on land or in the sky, but the only way she knew this was because of the wind rushing past. The sea was too far below to give her any true feeling of speed, and there were no Siyee or reyer riders to compare herself to.

  Looking ahead she saw that a shadow had appeared on the horizon—the coast Tyrli had described. If she skimmed over land she might get a better idea of how fast she was flying. She watched the coast impatiently as it drew closer. A rocky face appeared. Cliffs. When she finally reached them she curved to the left and began to follow this rocky, vertical road.

  As she did she felt a thrill of excitement. The rock wall rushed past. The air hissed. She was flying faster than she had imagined. Exactly how fast she couldn’t guess. As fast as falling, perhaps?

  It would have been faster to fly in a straight line, but she found
herself following the curves of the wall. It was exhilarating. She swooped into bays and ducked around points. An archway of rock appeared ahead. She flew through it and found herself weaving between several spires of rock that had survived the slow erosion of the cliff face. Ahead, she could see one huge spire standing like a defiant sentinel just beyond the next point. She flew out and circled it.

  Coming back around to face the coast, she felt a wry disappointment. From here the cliffs turned sharply northeast. The sentinel marked the end of the peninsula. Her flirtation with the coastline must come to an end.

  Circling back around the sentinel, she slowly rose until she reached the top, then set herself down on a flat area of rock. The thin whistling of the wind through the cracks and crevices of the spire was unnaturally quiet after the roar of air passing her during flight. She considered the coastline then turned to regard the sea.

  Borra was too far away to be seen from the coast. She had made good time so far. Perhaps if she continued to fly as quickly she would reach it in the next hour. Drawing more magic, she started the final leg of her journey.

  The first of the islets appeared after several minutes. Soon more followed, then she saw bigger islands ahead. By the time she had reached these islands even larger ones had appeared on the horizon.

  Unlike the smaller islands, which looked like the tops of sand dunes that had accumulated vegetation with the tides, the larger islands appeared to be small, half-drowned mountains. The first she passed was a pair of mountains linked by a rocky ridge. To her left she could see a single smaller peak, and to her right a high rocky crescent rose out of the sea. These landmasses, and the smaller islands between them, formed an enormous ring the size of one of the Si mountains.

  Tyrli had told her to look for Elai on the beaches of the largest island. That would be the crescent-shaped island, she decided. She flew toward it, descending slowly. When she was low enough to make out the shrubby vegetation near the coast, she began to search for signs of the sea people.

  She found them moments later. Dark-skinned men and women roamed every beach. They were laying strips of glistening seaweed out on the sand, and she could see human forms swimming underwater around the dark shadows of the vegetation, cutting more.