Voice of the Gods aotft-3

by Trudi Canavan

  :It was Chaia.

  He felt his whole being go cold. A memory rose of helpless parents and a thin, wasted girl. It had been possible to see hints of the beauty that had once been in that young woman’s face, but there was madness in her eyes. She had been bound to her bed, because if freed she constantly rubbed and clawed at herself, most often at her breasts and between her legs.

  In those times there were no laws against dream-healing. He had linked with her mind. He had expected to be confronted by something unpleasant. But what he saw had multiplied his hatred for the gods tenfold.

  Chaia.

  The god had chosen this girl as his lover, using magic in a way that generated exquisite pleasure. What he got from her in return Mirar had never been able to discover. When Chaia had tired of her he had left her like this, craving a pleasure she could never gain naturally from her own body.

  Mirar had only been able to restore her sanity by blocking some of her memories. From then on she ate begrudgingly and never regained any sexual interest, and she was in a constant state of boredom. She became incapable of feeling any sort of pleasure. He had almost wished he’d let her die.

  :It’s in the past, Emerahl assured him. She doesn’t appear to have suffered any of the usual consequences.

  He had not detected any sign of madness when he had taught Auraya to heal back in Si. But then, not all Chaia’s victims had lost their minds - just their ability to enjoy life, and sex.

  Little wonder Auraya feels nothing...

  :Mirar? Are you all right?

  :Of course I’m not, he said, a little too sharply. Sorry, Emerahl. I will talk to you later.

  He drew away from her mind, opened his eyes and stared at the wall before him.

  Chaia. Of all the lovers she could have chosen... if she’d had any choice at all...

  There was a light tap at the door.

  He slowly looked up. The same hopeful tap had come every night. Quiet so as not to wake him. Never repeated, as if it was only to tell him she was still interested.

  Dardel.

  He should ignore it. But what alternative was there except to lie awake all night thinking? What good would that do?

  He rose from the bed. When his hand touched the door handle he paused, but his conscience remained silent. Instead he found his thoughts returning where he didn’t want them to go.

  Chaia.

  He opened the door and drew a smiling, pleasantly surprised Dardel into his room.

  9

  It was so easy.

  Auraya paced the void. For the last hour she had walked in circles, slowly making her way around the edge of the magic-deficient boundary. Though her mind shield had become a constant habit she rarely thought about any more, she did not want to leave the void until Jade confirmed it was safe for her to do so.

  So easy. I can’t believe it was that easy. And it hardly takes any magic at all.

  After Jade had left for the morning, Auraya had done what the older woman had suggested: she had spent some time thinking about magical healing and how it might be applied to herself. Curiosity had led her to focus on her body, then cautiously experiment. Within moments the logic of what Jade had told her came to her.

  A different reasoning had led her to take the next step and apply the knowledge. If she was damned in the eyes of the gods for just knowing how to become immortal, then she may as well become immortal.

  It had been unexpectedly easy.

  The realization that the same Gift could be used to heal herself from almost any injury had helped her make that decision. That Gift had enabled Mirar to survive being crushed under a building. If she was going to resist Huan, Chaia willing, she might need to do something similar.

  The thought of ending up like Mirar, a hunted enemy of the gods, dismayed her, but she clung to the hope that she would remain Chaia’s follower.

  He will forgive me when he learns that Huan allowed me to learn to heal magically in order to persuade the others to let her kill me.

  “Getting some exercise, are we?”

  Auraya turned to see Jade striding into the cave carrying two buckets. She shrugged, then followed Jade to the beds, curious to see what the woman had found this time. Jade set the buckets down beside the cooking stone.

  “You’ll be happy to know you can leave the void now,” she said. “I haven’t sensed your emotions or been able to skim your thoughts in days.”

  “I guessed it would be soon,” Auraya said. Both the buckets were full of clear water, but one had strange creatures swimming within it. “What are they?”

  “Shrimmi. They’re hard to catch, but delicious. I thought we’d have a nice farewell dinner before I left.”

  “When are you leaving?”

  “Tomorrow.”

  Auraya moved to her bed and sat down. She itched to tell Jade she had achieved immortality. There wasn’t anyone else except Mirar who might congratulate her rather than be horrified. And Jade had wanted her to discover it.

  Yet that was what made Auraya hesitate. What if Jade had a secret, malicious reason to lure Auraya into learning the Gift?

  I don’t know how much I can trust this woman. She says she has been helping me at Mirar’s request, but there could be another reason I can’t see.

  It wasn’t difficult to see that by helping one of the gods’ followers learn Gifts they disapproved of, Jade was striking a small blow against them. But if causing strife between the gods and a follower was Jade’s intention, she had added little to a conflict that had already existed. Still, if that was Jade’s purpose, it would be better to know it than suspect it.

  And Auraya couldn’t see any other way that immortality could be used against her. If there was, it would be better to know about it sooner rather than later.

  “I had that long think you suggested I have,” Auraya told the woman.

  Jade looked up, her eyebrows raised. “You did? What did you discover?”

  “You were right. It was easy.”

  “Easy, eh?” Jade shook her head. “One attempt. I’ve never known of anyone who learned so fast.” Her eyes narrowed. “Are you sure?”

  Auraya smiled, amused by the other woman’s suspicion. “Quite sure. But then, I already knew how to heal.”

  Jade nodded and looked away. Picking up the bucket, she poured clear water into the hollow of the cooking stone.

  “Are there other ways this Gift can be used?” Auraya asked.

  The woman looked at her sharply. “Like what?”

  “It occurred to me that it could be used to change a person’s appearance.”

  Jade regarded Auraya thoughtfully. “Do you want to change your appearance?”

  “Me?” Auraya chuckled. “One thing I learned from being able to read minds is that people are never satisfied with how they look. I’d like to fix a few things. I even considered trying it, but I didn’t have a mirror and I thought I should ask you in case I did something permanent.”

  “That’s wise.”

  “Then I thought, would I feel different if I changed how I looked?” Auraya continued. “If I felt different, would that mean I was a different person? And once I’d started, would it be tempting to keep changing things? Could I even turn myself into a Siyee?” She shook her head. “More possibilities kept occurring to me then. Could a person change their physical age or their gender? Could they make themself smarter? So is it possible to make such changes?”

  Jade smiled. “You can change your appearance, but the rest... I don’t know. You are wise to hesitate. Appearance does affect a person’s identity, and Mirar is a good example of what can happen if you meddle with your own identity.”

  Auraya nodded. “Can I teach you something in return for what you’ve taught me?”

  The woman looked amused. “I ask only that you do not betray us to the gods.”

  “That is reasonable. By ‘us’ you mean yourself and Mirar?”

  Jade hesitated. “Yes.”

  “So you wouldn’t be inter
ested in learning how to fly?”

  The woman regarded Auraya with an unreadable expression. “You would teach me that?”

  “Yes. I’m curious to know if anyone else can do it.”

  Jade looked down at the shrimmi, then back at Auraya.

  “I suppose I could stay one more day.”

  Dardel opened her eyes and experienced a moment of disorientation. The furniture in her room had been arranged differently. Things were missing. Then she saw the man sitting on the chair by the window and she smiled as she remembered she was in Dreamweaver Wilar’s room.

  Wilar was watching her. He still had that haunted look about his eyes, but as he noticed she was awake his mouth twitched into a crooked smile.

  “Tintel was looking for you before,” he told her.

  She looked toward the window. From the angle of the sunlight, she guessed it was late morning. She stretched, enjoying the feeling of cloth against her bare skin. “I was wondering if I was going to get any sleep at all last night.”

  “You didn’t seem to mind.”

  “Not at all.” She sat up, drawing the bedding up around herself, and looked for her clothes. They were on the floor next to the bed. “In fact,” she found herself saying, “I’ve never encountered a man with such stamina. And I’m surprised at my own. I ought to feel worn out, literally, but I don’t.” She picked up her clothes, then paused and looked up at him. “Was this a once-only thing?”

  His mouth twitched with amusement. “It is temporary, but how temporary depends on how long I stay here, and if we grow bored with each other.”

  She chuckled. “I don’t think I’ll tire of you. In fact, I think I’ll be fussy who I bed from now on. You’ve given me higher expectations.” She shot him a mock glare. “You’ve probably ruined me for any other man.”

  All amusement fled from his face and he actually winced. She immediately regretted her words. There was no doubt a reason for that haunted look, and she had obviously reminded him of it. A past lover, perhaps? It would explain his initial hesitation.

  She let the bedding fall. His eyes dropped to her breasts and the strained look in his eyes disappeared. “Of course, if I found someone willing to learn, I’m sure I could teach him some of what you showed me,” she said as she began to dress.

  That brought a smile. Good.

  She lost herself in memories as she dressed. How could a man come to be such a good lover? At times he had almost seemed to read her mind. He obviously understood women’s bodies. Better than the average Dreamweaver male, who needed to understand more than the average male because he must treat women’s illnesses. Maybe better than she did, which had been disconcerting.

  Obviously he had known many women. There could be no other explanation. Who would have thought this reserved, quiet Dreamweaver had such a past?

  She glanced at him. He was looking out the window again, his expression distant. Now he looked old and sad. Sometimes he looked a little lost, but that was understandable. He was far from home.

  Had he ever explained why he was here? She couldn’t remember. There was definitely something mysterious about him. But to her, having spent all her life in this city, every foreigner seemed exciting and mysterious.

  He is also strangely familiar. Like a friend I haven’t seen since I was a child. There’s something about him...

  As she slipped her Dreamweaver vest on over her tunic, she looked at him again.

  “Shall I come by tonight?”

  He smiled. “Let’s wait and see how we feel tonight. You may prefer to catch up on sleep.”

  “Unlikely.” Winking, she turned and walked to the door. When she looked back before closing the door, he was looking out of the window again, smiling faintly. A strange, secretive smile.

  Humming as she made her way to her room, she passed Nirnel and Teiwen, a young Dreamweaver couple. Both looked at her crumpled clothes and she gave them a smug smile.

  “So the new Dreamweaver finally gave in, did he?” Nirnel asked.

  “That took longer than usual,” Teiwen said. “You’re losing your touch, Dardel.”

  “You’re quite right,” she replied. “It did take longer than usual. He lasted all night, in fact.”

  The pair rolled their eyes. Dardel continued on, chuckling to herself. Wilar was exactly what she had always imagined Mirar to have been like. Knowledgeable, powerfully Gifted (she knew Wilar was - she’d heard Tintel’s stories), not too young, not too old and a good lover. Everything that had attracted her to Dreamweavers in the first place.

  Halfway to her room she slowed as a possibility suddenly occurred to her.

  What if he is Mirar? The younger Dreamweavers have been saying Mirar might have come south. What if he had, and is here pretending to be a traveller?

  The idea set her pulse racing. Even if it wasn’t true, what harm was there in indulging a little fantasy?

  Formal dinners of the Voices had an undercurrent of tension that never eased, though their guest, the Sennonian ambassador and nephew of the Sennonian emperor, appeared not to have noticed. Reivan took another piece of crystallized spice root and chewed slowly, listening to the idle chatter. Genza was relating an amusing piece of town gossip, with occasional injections of dry humor from her Companion, Vilvan.

  When the others laughed, Imenja only smiled. If the ambassador had noticed that she and Nekaun had not exchanged a word, he didn’t show it. Imenja did occasionally join in conversations, but Reivan knew her mistress was participating only enough to show she was listening. She was the image of a polite guest, when she ought to be behaving like a host. Or matriarch. Or at least like someone who had a say in matters.

  Nekaun laughed at the conclusion of the story and Reivan felt a shiver run down her spine at the sound of his voice. She resolutely forced her mind from considering why. Taking her glass, she drained the last of her water.

  It’s late, she thought. And it doesn’t look like we’ll be turning in soon. Sometimes these dinners feel like they’ll never end.

  Abruptly, Nekaun stood. “It is late,” he said, “and our guest has travelled far. He must be tired, and I know we,” he looked at Imenja and then the other Voices, “have much to do tomorrow. Let us retire for the night.”

  Is that relief on Imenja’s face? Reivan wondered. She moved her chair back and stood, then waited her turn to bid the ambassador good night. When the young man had left, Reivan followed Imenja out of the room.

  “Is there anything you need from me tonight?” she asked.

  Imenja looked at Reivan and smiled, and this time it was a warm, genuine smile.

  “No. There’s one small matter I have to attend to, but I shouldn’t need you for that. Go to bed, Reivan. You look tired.”

  Reivan made the sign of the star. “Good night.”

  “Good night.”

  Reivan turned back and walked to her rooms. Warm nights had made her sleep restless. Though she was eager to get to bed, she doubted she would rest any easier tonight.

  Her doubts proved well founded. As soon as she lay down on her bed she knew sleep wasn’t going to come soon or easily. Sighing, she let her mind run over the work of the day and list the tasks for tomorrow.

  Then a voice called her name.

  It was a male voice. A little louder than a whisper, and coming from the direction of the balcony. She knew at once who it was.

  I should ignore it, she thought. If I do he’ll go away.

  But she didn’t want him to go away. And besides, he was the First Voice. You didn’t ignore the leader of the Pentadrians and the gods’ highest servant.

  Standing up, she moved to the balcony and looked down. A figure stood in the shadows, barely visible.

  Nekaun.

  “Good evening, Reivan.”

  “First Voice.”

  “There is no need for formality now.”

  “Isn’t there?”

  “No. There is nobody here but the two of us. I’d prefer for you to call me Nekaun in private.
Will you, for me?”

  “If you wish.”

  “I do.”

  “Then I will, Nekaun.”

  He tilted his head to one side. “You are so beautiful, Reivan.”

  Her heart did something she knew to be physically impossible. She found she had pressed a hand over it unconsciously.

  “Do you find me attractive, Reivan?”

  What a ridiculous question, she thought. Anyone that good-looking knows that everyone finds them attractive, whether they can read minds or not. And he can read minds.

  So why did he want her to say it?

  “Sometimes, from the right person, hearing them say such a thing is...” He sighed. “... more real. Somehow it means more.”

  She felt her heart twist. “I do, Nekaun. I find you attractive. Too attractive.”

  His eyebrows rose. “Why ‘too’?”

  “It is... it is awkward. I am Imenja’s Companion.”

  “So you are. That does not mean we cannot be... friends.”

  “No. But it is still awkward.”

  “Let it be. There is nothing wrong with us being together. As friends. Or even something more.”

  Something more. She found she could not speak.

  “Reivan?”

  “Yes?” Her voice was thin and breathless.

  “Would you welcome me in, if I came to your door?”

  She took several deep breaths.

  “I would not turn you away.”

  He moved away. Her breath caught in her throat, and her heart was racing. What am I doing? I just invited him in. There was nothing subtle about what he just said. I’m no fool. I know it’s not just my room he wants me to invite him into.

  Footsteps were fading away. She backed into her room and stopped. He’s coming to the door. Now.

  This is a bad idea. What about Imenja? She won’t be happy about this. I know it. She cast about, then hurried out of the bedroom. The main door of her suite was a few strides away. She stared at it, heart hammering.

  I have to turn him away. I’ll... I’ll tell him I changed my mind. Surely he’ll understand. I can’t do this.