“It won’t. Unless he can rejuvenate his body from ashes.” The corner of her mouth twitched. “But we have to find him first, so we’d best not mention killing him just yet.”
8
Outside the cave the tops of the trees glowed with the last rays of the sun. Emerahl set her back to the rock wall, far enough away from the waterfall that her clothes wouldn’t end up saturated from the spray.
It was the same place she and Mirar had once rested and discussed their futures. At the time she had been full of optimism at the idea of searching out other immortals. Mirar had been struggling to acknowledge the part of him that was Leiard. The part that loved Auraya.
A good thing he hadn’t known then that she doesn’t return that love, Emerahl thought. It would have made it much more difficult for him to accept the fragment of his personality he’d created. Why accept Leiard if it meant suffering a broken heart?
He was whole now. Stronger. He could cope with the bad news that Chaia had been Auraya’s lover. At least she hoped he could. There was a small danger he’d fragment into a split persona again.
Auraya probably hadn’t considered that. Or maybe she had. Maybe this was why she was reluctant to tell Mirar.
Emerahl sighed. She had meant what she had said to Auraya. Put in the same situation, Emerahl would probably feel the same way about Mirar. She’d feel distrustful of any lingering feelings she had for someone who had turned out to not be who she thought he was. Even the prospect of meeting that man would make her wary. What else would prove to be untrue?
While Leiard was a part of Mirar, he would never again exist as the man Auraya had known. What had she said? “I can’t turn from the little I have left of my life for a made-up piece of a person buried somewhere within a man I don’t know.”
Beneath the defensiveness there had been something raw. Emerahl drew in a sharp breath as she realized what it was.
She’s actually grieving for Leiard. To her he is dead. And she feels tricked and cheated for having fallen in love with an illusion. Why didn’t I see that before?
It had turned into a big mess that did neither Auraya nor Mirar any good. Even without all this complication, the chances of Auraya and Mirar being happy together weren’t great. Auraya was still loyal to the gods (and while Emerahl thought little of this, she had to allow the woman had the right to follow the gods if it pleased her). Mirar hated them and the feeling was mutual.
The sooner those two were relieved of the source of their misery, the better. It would hurt Mirar more, but he’d got over unrequited love plenty of times before. Auraya would recover from her grief for Leiard more easily without him reminding her of what she’d lost.
Emerahl sighed. I was hoping Auraya felt something for Mirar so we immortals could feel a little safer. She chuckled. Making her hate me certainly isn’t going to do us any good. I should be more sympathetic.
She shifted into a more comfortable position. Closing her eyes, she let herself sink toward sleep. The pull toward full unconsciousness was strong, but she resisted.
:Mirar, she called.
There was no answer. It was early evening where he was and he probably hadn’t retired to bed yet. She turned her thoughts toward other minds.
:Tamun. Surim.
:Yes, Emerahl?
Sometimes The Twins spoke as one during links. It was disconcerting. The pair were so different in nature. The impression they gave when united like this was of a personality more complicated than an ordinary human. Something greater than human. Something inhuman.
At times like these she knew why they had been so revered in their time.
:How are you two faring?
:As well as always, Tamun replied. Surim is getting all moon-eyed over a swamp girl again and I am endeavoring to put up with it.
:Tamun expects me to gather food and materials for her weaving, but she won’t let me have some fun in the process, Surim complained. It’s not fair an—
:How is Auraya doing? Tamun asked.
Emerahl felt a wave of amusement at Tamun’s sudden change of subject.
:She’s only let the shield around her mind slip once or twice since discovering how to raise it.
:Mirar did say she was a fast learner, Tamun said. Maybe it is because of her youth. She hasn’t had time to become set in her ways of thinking.
:Maybe, Surim agreed.
:Something happened tonight, Emerahl told them. She saw something while mind-skimming that bothered her.
:She didn’t tell you what it was?
:No. I don’t think I should stay here much longer.
:But you have not taught her immortality.
:I will offer to, but I’m sure she’ll refuse - and if she is as smart as Mirar says, she will work it out for herself.
:You’re right, Tamun said, but that was what Mirar sent you there for. He may be disappointed.
:He will have to live with that. I won’t force her to learn it if she doesn’t want to.
:If she does, will you teach her to change her age?
:Mirar says it is my innate Gift, and no other can learn it.
:Mirar may be wrong about innate Gifts. His is supposed to be magical healing, but he has taught it to others.
:But no other can use it as well as he. I wouldn’t have been able to survive being crushed, as he did.
:You don’t know that. But if an innate Gift is one that an immortal can do better than others perhaps Auraya will be able to change her age but not as well as you can. Perhaps you can learn to fly, but not as well as she.
:Flying is not a Gift you’d want to have less ability for. Failing could be painful or fatal. I’ll hardly be able to take up the Quest for the Scroll again if I’m stuck in Si, healing from multiple bone fractures.
:True. What do you think Auraya will do once you leave?
:Return to the Open. Carry on as if nothing has happened.
:If she can do so will be up to the gods to decide, Surim said, suddenly serious. They will not be able to kill her easily, but they may use her trust in them to trap her.
:When they fail, Tamun continued, she will have only us to turn to for help.
:She will be a powerful ally, Surim finished.
:For all your claims the future can’t be predicted, you two certainly like sounding as if you can do just that, Emerahl observed.
:I don’t, Tamun said. But when Surim gets all dramatic I feel I must support him.
:You love it as much as I do, Surim told his sister. Go on. Admit it.
:I get no pleasure from unwarranted exaggeration or theatrics, Tamun declared. But it would b—
:Are you certain the gods will turn on Auraya? Emerahl interrupted. No doubt in your minds?
:There are always doubts, Surim admitted. The future can’t be predicted, only guessed. The gods have a habit of killing immortals, but there is always a chance they’ll stay their hand for one of their followers.
:Especially when that follower is one of Chaia’s lovers, Emerahl pointed out.
:Ex-lover, Tamun corrected.
:I think it’s time Mirar knew about that, Emerahl told them. I think it’s time he learned how Auraya regards him.
The Twins were silent a moment.
:Yes. Tell him. He is among good people. They will support him, Tamun said.
:And one there is quite willing to provide comfort if he asks for it, Surim added.
Comfort? Emerahl thought, amused. The Twins regularly skimmed the minds of anyone near Emerahl and Mirar, keeping a watch for anyone intending harm. It hadn’t occurred to Emerahl what else they might notice. So Mirar has an admirer in the Dreamweaver House. How well timed, she mused.
:I will tell him tonight, she said.
:Gently, Tamun advised.
:Of course. What do you think I am?
:Someone who has known him a long time. You have known him when he was made of tougher stuff. He is not the same person now. Remember that.
:I will, Emerahl assured her.
:Good.
Good night. Travel well.
As The Twins’ minds faded from Emerahl’s perception, she turned her thoughts to that of an old friend.
:Mirar, she called.
There was no reply. She roused herself enough to open an eye. The sky was dark, but still glowed where the sun had set. It was still too early.
Go to sleep, Mirar, she thought. Don’t you know how annoyingly suspenseful it is when you’re waiting to deliver bad news?
The dining hall of the Dreamweaver House had been full this night. Mirar had allowed himself to be recruited as a helper in the kitchen. He had listened to the constant chatter of the Dreamweavers there and during the meal, enjoying the relaxed, unworried mood of the house - and concentrating on trying to pick up more of the local language.
Being able to pick up emotions made it easier to understand these people, but it was a barrier as well as a boon when it came to learning the languages they spoke. It was easy, sometimes, to guess what they were saying from what he sensed rather than from the actual words they spoke. He must make himself note the words and work out what they meant.
It also helped that a fellow Northern Ithanian Dreamweaver with some knowledge of the southern languages had arrived the night before. Dreamweaver Moore was in Dekkar to collect or buy cures.
“Genrians have a crazy idea that the more exotic and distant the origin of a cure, the better it must be,” he had told Mirar. “They’ll pay us a lot of money for them, which we then put to good use providing perfectly adequate local cures for less affluent patients. There are many cures unique to Dekkar’s jungle, though the last time I came here there was more of it. These people seem set on cutting the whole jungle down.”
There was a mood of anticipation among the Dreamweavers. Mirar had guessed that a ritual or celebration was going to take place. After the meal he helped clear the table and clean up. When all was in order, the Dreamweavers followed Tintel down a corridor and out onto a balcony. Tintel had shown Mirar this place the morning after he had arrived. It was like a wooden courtyard, but was raised above the ground. Potted plants and low walls were arranged in a large circle in the center, and the curved triangular spaces left by this formed small gardens with limited privacy.
The scent of flowers filled the humid air and the whir and creak of insect calls was so constant and powerful he could almost feel the heavy air vibrating. Mirar hadn’t grown used to the heat: it made him sleepy during the day and unable to sleep during the night. The local Dreamweavers were affected by it, too, but not as much as he.
They formed a circle. Recognizing the beginning of a link ceremony, Mirar felt a twinge of anxiety. He considered again the possibility that his mind shield might allow him to join a link without revealing his own thoughts. He wouldn’t know until he tried, but if he failed his identity might be revealed.
The Dreamweavers linked hands and bowed their heads. Mirar felt a pang of frustration and longing. Except for the link he had joined in Somrey, it had been a long time since he had experienced the sense of belonging a link could bring.
It is a cruel irony that I, the man who invented this ritual, who founded these people’s way of life, should now hesitate to join them, he thought. But there is much I can learn from them, and about the people of Southern Ithania. It is worth the risk.
He felt the grip of the man holding his right hand tighten, then the hand on his left twitched. Carefully, keeping the shield about his own mind strong, he sought the minds of those around him. Soon he could hear voices and see snatches of memories.
He saw the memory of a Dreamweaver who had examined a sick baby. The infant had underdeveloped and deformed organs, and could not be cured by any ordinary Dreamweaver. The father was a Pentadrian Servant, Mirar saw with a shock. The Dreamweaver had given the man the bad news. The Pentadrian had accepted it, saying that if a Dreamweaver could not cure the child, nobody could...
... taxes were raised this year, probably to pay for the construction of the bridge. A Servant of the Gods had examined the House’s records and was satisfied, and only asked for a small bribe. He was still grateful for the advice given to him and his wife about their marital troubles. Doesn’t realize how common that...
... water lapped at the edges of the platform the Dreamweaver House was built upon. The flood had threatened to spill into the building last year. What would it be like this year...
... where there had been enormous trees there were now charred trunks surrounded by crops. Memories of the former forest and of the new fields overlaid each other. Shocking, but the locals need to eat. Trouble is, he hadn’t been able to find that little plant with the pink flowers again. Hope that wasn’t the only place it...
... she is so beautiful. Glimpse of naked body hastily pushed aside...
... then where would he go? North up the gulf? Not likely. Back to the west? Doubt it. What if he went south? What if he’s here somewhere? He could be in this very courtyard now...
... thinking about these stories that Mirar has returned. Not even sure I believe them. If Mirar’s back, why haven’t any of us seen him? No...
Mirar suppressed the urge to laugh out loud. Even during a mind link, the Dreamweavers were still gossiping about his return. But then he sobered. They were watching for him. He must be careful.
Or must he? Would it be so bad if he allowed his identity to be known?
He listened and watched as the link continued. As always, one person’s memories attracted the attention of the others. Advice was bestowed, or assurance given. At one point a Dreamweaver delved into memories of a recent festival in the city, and the others watched with interest. Nobody appeared to react to his own thoughts, and then he heard Tintel noting that he hadn’t joined the link. It worked, he thought with relief.
Then Tintel called for the end of the link. Minds withdrew as Dreamweavers brought their awareness back to themselves, asserting their own identity as they did. Mirar opened his eyes and let go of the hands he had been holding. Dreamweavers around him did the same. He noticed one watching him.
Dardel. She smiled and winked at him, as subtle as ever. He smiled in reply. Something plucked at his thoughts. He sought it, but it was gone.
I think someone is trying to dream-link with me.
Some Dreamweavers were lingering, talking in small groups. Others were saying their farewells. Mirar slipped away, made his way to his room and closed the door. In the relative silence, he felt the tug at his mind again.
Lying down on his bed, he guided his mind into a dream trance. There he drifted for several minutes. Just when he began to wonder if he had been wrong, a familiar voice spoke at the edge of his thoughts.
:Mirar?
:Emerahl.
:At last! What’s keeping you up so late?
There was a hint of slyness to her tone. He found himself thinking of Dardel, then felt a twinge of guilt.
:A link ceremony, he told her.
:A link ceremony? I thought you were going to avoid them?
:Only joining in. I was able to listen to their thoughts.
:Learn anything useful?
:Perhaps. How is Auraya?
:A good friend would ask how I was first.
:I’m not a good friend. How are you?
:Better. I will be leaving soon.
:You’ve taught her the secret of immortality?
:Yes and no. I’ve told her, not taught her. I can’t make her learn it if she doesn’t want to. And she doesn’t.
:I suppose not. He felt a nagging disappointment.
:I think she’ll work it out for herself, if she ever changes her mind.
:She will. And she’ll manage it easily.
:I’m sure she will, Emerahl agreed.
:So you’ve changed your mind about her?
:I never said she wasn’t smart.
:But you like her better now.
:What makes you think that?
:You’ve stopped calling her “god-loving” and “self-pitying.”
:Ha
ve I? Maybe I’m sick of repeating myself. I should come up with some better insults.
:You should.
:Or maybe it’s your turn. I have some bad news for you. I promised The Twins I’d break it to you gently, but I’m not sure how to do that.
He paused. It was hard to tell whether she was setting him up for some joke, or was serious.
:I’m used to your bluntness, Emerahl. What news do you have that is so terrible?
She didn’t speak for a moment, then when she did it was quietly.
:Auraya doesn’t love you, Mirar. She loved Leiard. Though she knows he is a part of you, that’s not enough. You’re a stranger to her and she doesn’t trust you. I can’t blame her. I’d feel the same.
He said nothing. There was no lie in Emerahl’s words. No way he could have confused what she’d said. He felt suddenly empty. There was a hollow place now where there had been something wonderful and bright. A curl of smoke where a fire had been smothered...
Oh, listen to yourself! he thought. So your heart is broken once more. Are you going to try your hand at poetry again? I’m not sure the world could survive that. Though it might be a fine way to torment the gods.
But sarcasm and self-mockery didn’t help. It never had in the past. This was something he would just have to endure for now. Eventually he would forget Auraya.
Though that might be a little hard if she’s immortal. If every time I saw or heard about her I went through all the hope and pain again. And if—
:Mirar?
:Oh. Emerahl. Sorry.
:Are you all right?
:Of course not. But I’m not about to throw myself out of the window either. Do you think there’s a chance, in the future, if Auraya and I somehow spend some time getting to know each other again, she might—
:I wouldn’t put your hopes on it. There is something else you need to know. She’s had another lover.
:I know. I read that from her mind when I was teaching her to heal.
:Did you find out who it was?
:No. A feeling of dread began to close in around Mirar. Was it Juran? That would be understandable. I could accept that.
:It wasn’t Juran. She paused. As the silence lengthened Mirar grew impatient. Was she being theatrical, or was she truly reluctant to tell him?
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