Voice of the Gods aotft-3

by Trudi Canavan

  “Not all Sennons are like that.”

  “Which ones aren’t?”

  Amli smiled. “The Sennonian Dreamweavers. And the Sennonian Pentadrians.” Amli refilled Ranaan’s mug. “We both know what it is like to be persecuted for our beliefs.”

  “But you’re not persecuted in your own land.”

  Amli smiled. “No.”

  So he is a Pentadrian, Ranaan thought. He realized he was not bothered by that at all. Surprised, but not dismayed.

  Amli handed Ranaan the refilled mug. “When we first came here, jealous traders put about the rumor that we were Pentadrians so that people wouldn’t buy from us. It convinced us we were right in claiming we were from Sennon.” He shook his head. “That is nothing to what they do to Dreamweavers. The Circlians are an evil lot.”

  “And Pentadrians aren’t? Isn’t invading another country an evil thing to do?”

  “Yes,” Amli agreed. He looked away and sighed. “It was wrong. Our gods had seen the evils of the Circlians and ordered us to stop them. We assumed war was the most effective way to achieve that, but we only ended up killing those we wished to save. And we paid the price for it with our own deaths.”

  He looked terribly sad. Ranaan’s thoughts turned to Fareeh and he felt his heart wrench painfully. His teacher hadn’t been killed by Pentadrians, just thugs. Circlian thugs. Truly the Circlians were an evil lot.

  “Tell me more about the Pentadrians. What are your gods like?”

  Amli looked up and his gaze cleared. He smiled.

  “What would you like to know?”

  The roots Auraya was peeling were dyeing her skin orange. Jade hadn’t asked Auraya to do the task, she had simply handed her the roots and said “peel” in the tone of one who expected obedience. Auraya could see no point refusing; it kept her hands occupied while she tried to discover how to shield her mind.

  At least Jade was willing to explain what the root was for. It was both a dye and a treatment for scalp disorders, though the latter worked best when the juice was applied fresh rather than as a powder mixed with water.

  Other “cures” that Jade had prepared included a potion to liven a lazy heart made from insect poison, bark which produced a stimulant similar to but more powerful than those Leiard had once taught Auraya about, and mushrooms that Jade admitted were useful only for “recreational purposes.”

  It was strangely logical to find that Mirar’s friend was as learned in cures and healing as he was. Preparing the different substances brought back memories of Auraya’s childhood, of helping and learning from Leiard. She felt a pang of regret. Things had been so much simpler then.

  “Do you realize how much time you spend dwelling on regrets and worries?” Jade said suddenly. “I don’t know whether you’re chewing over leaving the White, agonizing over offending the gods or getting sentimental over your great lost love - or all three - but you certainly do a lot of it.”

  Auraya looked up and managed a wry smile. Jade was constantly telling Auraya what she was feeling in order to let her know her attempts at hiding her mind were failing. “There’s not much else to do while peeling roots.”

  “I must admit, self-pity wasn’t something I expected to sense so much of from a former White.”

  “No? What were you expecting?”

  The woman pursed her lips. “Arrogance. A self-righteous god-loving young woman with puffed-up notions of her own worth.”

  “And that’s not what you found?”

  “No. I could have lived with that. Instead I get to put up with ingratitude and self-pity.”

  Auraya blinked in surprise. “Ingratitude?”

  “Yes. I can sense your emotions, remember. There’s been little gratitude.”

  “Gratitude can’t be forced. And it’s hard to maintain when your teacher is trying to be as unpleasant a companion as possible.”

  “You haven’t done much to endear yourself to me so far either,” Jade retorted.

  “Just proves your expectations were wrong. Though I think one was correct.”

  “Oh?”

  “I do love the gods.”

  Jade stopped working and stared at Auraya, her expression unreadable.

  “So I was wrong. Nice of you to point that out.” Her voice was flat, but Auraya could hear the suppressed anger and fear behind it.

  “And you hate them,” she stated. “Why?”

  Jade scowled and the cuts of her knife became more aggressive. “I could spend the whole day listing the reasons. I’ve had a thousand years to tally them up. But what point would there be in telling you? You won’t believe me, and even if you did, you would still love the gods. Love is blind, whether it be for a lover, family or the gods.”

  “I know there was much to hate about the gods in the Age of the Many. That’s why the Circle fought the rest. You must have been pleased when so many were killed.”

  Jade shrugged. “Mostly. Not all the gods were bad, though.”

  “The Circle?”

  “Baddest of them all.”

  “Before or after the war?”

  “Both.”

  “What did they do after the war that was bad?”

  “They executed Mirar.”

  “Is that all?”

  “No.” Jade’s expression darkened. “They killed other immortals. They persecuted Dreamweavers.”

  “Does knowing that Mirar survived diminish your hatred at all?”

  The woman’s eyes narrowed. “No. They ordered him killed. That they failed doesn’t change that. In fact, it makes it worse knowing the torment he went through afterward, as he recovered.”

  Auraya nodded. “Why do you think they ordered him, and the other Wilds, killed?”

  Looking at her knife, Jade ran her finger along the blade. “Mirar actively worked against their control of mortals, as did some other immortals. The rest of us... they knew we hated them. We know what they were like before the war. If we told the world of their true natures, mortals might not be so willing to follow them.”

  “What did the gods do that was so terrible?”

  Jade stared at the cutting board, her eyes focused far beyond it.

  “Enslaved people and nations, or wiped them out completely in revenge for a small slight in the distant past. They made whores out of their followers and sacrificed children. They changed mortals into monsters just to see if they could make them fly or breathe fire or grow to abnormal sizes.”

  Auraya felt a shock. “The Siyee? But they willingly allowed themselves to be changed by Huan.”

  “Huan took advantage of them,” Jade said. “She took the most gullible of her followers, those willing to do anything for her, to work on. They could not have known what it was going to do to them.” She made a noise of disgust. “But when it came to seducing innocents, Chaia was the most gifted. He would select beautiful young women to be his lovers, and when they grew too old or they no longer adored him utterly, he would cast them aside. It was said the pleasure he gave them ruined them, as no mortal man could match it.”

  Auraya stared at Jade. The pleasure he gave... no mortal man could match... She shivered. She thought of the nights she craved Chaia’s touch. She hadn’t attempted to lie with another man since. Was that because none interested her, or because she knew no man could? Have I been ruined as well?

  Jade was watching her closely. Auraya made herself nod. “You’re right; I do find it hard to believe you.”

  “Give it time,” Jade said. She put down her knife. “I just need to... take care of something. I’ll be back soon.”

  As the woman rose and left the cave, Auraya picked up another root and began to peel it. She barely noticed what she was doing. Instead her mind returned to what Jade had told her of the gods.

  When she had confronted Mirar, intending to kill him, he had argued that the gods had done terrible things. He hadn’t described those deeds, but Huan had all but admitted that the gods had been guilty of something.

  “The Age of the Many end
ed long ago,” Huan had said. “The excesses of that time are forgotten.”

  She did not know what Huan had done to her followers in order to make the Siyee. It was hard to see their creation as a terrible thing, when the result was hardly a race of abominations.

  But breathe fire? Abnormal sizes? Did Huan try to make races other than the Siyee and the Elai?

  She shook her head. How could she judge the gods for things they had done so long ago? She hadn’t witnessed them. She could not know the truth... unless Jade or Mirar agreed to show her their memories.

  Mirar would, she guessed, but he was far away. Would Jade agree to it? I don’t think so. She likes to keep her thoughts to herself. Can’t blame her, really. I wouldn’t want to let anyone see my mind without good reason, either. I certainly wouldn’t want her finding out about Chaia and me, for a start.

  Jade’s story about Chaia had disturbed Auraya deeply. Had the nights she had shared with him damaged her in some way? Had he been trying to bind her to him through pleasure? Perhaps she had been wise to end the affair when she had.

  :My, my. That took courage.

  Auraya started and dropped the peeling knife. The voice in her mind had been faint, but familiar.

  How can I be hearing Jade’s thoughts? As the answer came she felt both anger and embarrassment. She is mind-skimming! Is that what she wanted to take care of? Looking into my mind? She felt herself mentally recoil, wishing there was a fog, or a haze of some kind, that could at least blur her mind.

  Auraya stood up. She wanted to storm out of the cave, but she couldn’t leave the void. Instead she paced around the beds.

  “I was projecting.”

  Spinning around, Auraya glared at Jade as the woman entered the cave.

  “How dare y—”

  “I wondered at first if you saw past my mind shield, but then I realized I was projecting my words as one automatically does in the dream trance. I didn’t expect you to hear, because nobody can hear the thoughts of a mind-skimmer. Nobody but you. You’ve done it, by the way.”

  “Done what?”

  “Your mind is veiled. Can you sense what you have done?”

  She stared at Jade, caught between wanting to voice her anger and the knowledge that she might be able to escape the void and Jade. Taking a deep breath, she concentrated and slowly came to see that she had created the haze she had wished for. Not a veil, a fog.

  “Yes,” she said.

  “Good. Well, that was an unexpected bonus. I was only looking for something I could use to persuade you to try harder. Now you just have to learn to keep your mind shield there, all the time, until you’re not even aware of it - like breathing. I will provide distractions to test your concentration.” She sat down, wiped the knife clean and picked up a stone. Spitting on the stone, she began to sharpen the blade. “You haven’t finished,” she pointed out, nodding at the bucket of roots.

  “I can’t leave?”

  “Not yet.”

  Taking another deep breath, Auraya quelled her anger. She sat down, picked up the peeling knife and continued with her work.

  “So Chaia was your other lover,” Jade said in a conversational tone.

  As anger rose, Auraya felt the haze around her mind thin. She concentrated and was relieved when it thickened again.

  Jade smiled slyly. “You did say you loved the gods. I didn’t realize you meant it so literally. I’m impressed - and I’m not easily impressed. So tell me: are the gods as good at lovemaking as the legends say?”

  “I don’t know,” Auraya replied. “I couldn’t say.”

  Jade’s eyebrows rose. “I saw it all quite clearly, Auraya. You can’t lie to me.”

  “I didn’t lie,” Auraya said. There’s no point denying it, so I may as well make the best of it.

  “Oh yes you did.”

  “No, I didn’t,” Auraya told her. “I have no idea what the legends say.”

  Jade looked at her questioningly, then threw back her head and laughed.

  The night was warm, heralding the coming summer. Reivan could smell it in the air. Though she rose early to attend to her duties, she found it hard to sleep on nights like these. There was a tension in the air, a feeling of expectation and dread. Soon the sun would blaze down and the nights would be too hot for comfort.

  Tonight she had tossed and turned until restlessness sent her from her bed out onto the balcony. There the night breeze cooled her. She looked down at a city bathed in moonlight. Bright points of light outlined the main thoroughfares crisscrossing the city. Sanctuary lamps marked the edges of courtyards.

  And in the courtyard directly below her room, a figure was strolling unhurriedly past. A familiar masculine figure. She held her breath, wondering if he had seen her, hoping he hadn’t sensed the thrill that had run through her at the sight of him.

  Her heart lurched as he looked up at her and smiled. She raised a hand in reply.

  Gods, I hope he doesn’t think I was watching him. Then she snorted quietly. Well, of course he does. He can read my mind. Oh, no.

  He had changed direction and was now walking toward her. She forced herself to keep smiling, and to ignore the pounding of her heart. Stopping below her balcony, he looked up at her.

  “The moonlight favors you, Reivan,” he said softly.

  Her heart leapt into her throat, making it impossible to reply. He’s just being nice, she told herself. Flippant. Flirtatious.

  His smile faded a little.

  “I hope you aren’t allowing Imenja’s and my differences of opinion to spoil our friendship.”

  Friendship? What friendship? I lust after him and he rightly ignores it. Reivan’s wry amusement eased the constriction around her throat.

  “Of course not,” she replied, then impulsively added: “I’m just not used to flattery.”

  His smile broadened again. “Then we shall have to amend that.”

  She crossed her arms. “And what impression would that give people?”

  “The right impression. You are an admirable woman.”

  Heat rushed to her cheeks, and hope sent her heart racing again.

  “Don’t tease me,” she said, then winced at the desperation in her voice. Embarrassed, she stepped back to hide her face.

  “Forgive me.” His voice drifted up. “I did not mean to anger you.”

  Angry? I’m not angry, I’m ashamed. Surely he sees that. Of course he does! She peered warily over the balcony again, but he had moved. Where is he now? She moved to the railing and searched the courtyard.

  He had gone.

  Feeling as if she had said something wrong, she returned to her bed to toss and turn some more.

  7

  Tyve had visited the cave twice more in the past week, apparently only to see if Auraya and Jade needed any food or help. Jade had thanked him politely and sent him away with a few of the cures she had made for people in his village.

  We made, Auraya corrected as she continued grinding up the dried leaves Jade had left for her. Though Jade gathered the ingredients, venturing out for hours each day to find them, Auraya had spent much of her time preparing them. The woman was out foraging for cure ingredients now. Sometimes Auraya wondered if there was some special purpose for the growing supply of cures at the back of the room, or if Jade simply hated to be idle.

  I wonder if she hesitates whenever she returns to the cave, trying not to imagine that I’ve betrayed her and one of the White is here waiting for her?

  Auraya smiled, then sobered. Perhaps that was why Jade had skimmed her thoughts. Perhaps she had done it every time she was about to re-enter the cave, to ensure her student hadn’t betrayed her.

  It was impossible not to worry about what Jade might have read from her mind. Having failed to extract a promise from Jade that she would not spy on Auraya’s thoughts again, Auraya was determined to achieve a strong, stable mind shield as soon as possible. She was finding it easier to hold it in place now, sometimes even forgetting that it was there. Soon she wou
ld be able to leave.

  Before she did, however, she wanted to ask Jade some questions.

  The jar of ground leaves was nearly full by the time Jade returned. The woman said nothing as she set her buckets beside the bed and sat down. She took a lump of what looked like rock from one bucket and began to break off and scratch out areas of a whitish substance into a jar.

  “What is that?”

  “Poison,” Jade replied. “At least in anything but the tiniest dose.”

  “Do you often have a use for poison?”

  “Surprisingly rarely. I’ve used poison only three times in the last thousand years. It’s the kind of death you reserve for truly unpleasant people.”

  The other woman spoke so lightly, Auraya wasn’t sure if she was joking or not. She paused, then decided she didn’t want to know.

  “So you’ve lived a thousand years,” she asked instead.

  “At least.”

  “You don’t know for certain?”

  “No. I used to keep count, but after a while it became painfully obvious that the calendars people used to count the years were wrong, and then they made a great mess of recalculating. I moved around so much I lost count, but by then it didn’t seem to matter any more.”

  “What is it like, living that long?”

  Jade looked up at Auraya and shrugged. “Not as thrilling as you might think,” she said. “Most of the time you don’t think about it. Your thoughts are taken up with immediate concerns: what you will eat today, where you will sleep. You take the knowledge you’ve gathered over the years for granted. When you need it, it’s there, and you don’t often think back to when you learned it.

  “Now and then something makes you stop and consider the past, and that’s when you are most conscious of your age. You are aware of changes that no one else notices, not even historians. You also see that some things never change. People will always fall in and out of love. Ambitious men and women will always crave power. Greedy men and women will always hoard wealth. Mortals will be mortals.”