Voice of the Gods aotft-3

by Trudi Canavan

  But as he reached the first house a powerful reluctance to draw attention to himself or disturb the villagers came over him. He slowed and plodded quietly on. The houses were widely spaced at first, but soon they occurred more often until they sat side by side. A man emerged from a door ahead. As he drew closer to Ton he frowned and stared in an unfriendly fashion. But then a smile sprang to his face.

  “Newcomer, eh? They’ll be waiting for you. Big drinking house a few doors down on the right.”

  Ton mumbled thanks and hurried on. He could not have missed the drinking house. Light and many voices spilled from the windows and door. A tall lanky man sitting on a bench outside smiled as he saw Ton, and stood up.

  “I’m Warwel. Who would you be?” he asked.

  “Ton.”

  “Ah. Welcome to Dram. Come inside. You must be tired. And hungry.”

  “Very,” Ton admitted.

  The man placed a hand on Ton’s shoulder and steered him through the door. It took a few moments for Ton’s eyes to adjust to the bright lamplight, but he heard the pause in conversation. Looking around, he saw that the room was full of men and women. Some regarded him with welcoming smiles, others with curiosity, and a few with guarded expressions.

  “This is Ton,” Warwel announced loudly. “A newcomer from...?” He looked at Ton.

  “Chon,” Ton said quietly.

  “From Chon,” Warwel boomed. “Ton from Chon. He’s come a long way.”

  Murmurs of welcome filled the room. Warwel gestured to a woman. “Kit, would you bring him something to eat?” Ton felt his heart lift at the polite request, and the dignified clothing of the woman. She must be a servant or Warwel wouldn’t ask her to fetch anything, yet he hadn’t treated her like a slave.

  Maybe it’s true what the spice seller said. Of course it’s true. I wouldn’t have left my family and come this far if I hadn’t believed him.

  Still, it was such a relief to know he hadn’t been deceived.

  Warwel guided Ton to a bench before a large table occupied by several other people. They were drinking, but none looked drunk.

  “Chem told me about you,” Warwel said.

  Ton blinked at him in confusion. “He did? I thought he didn’t know where you were?”

  Warwel tapped his forehead. “We talk with our minds. I don’t have to tell him where I am.”

  “Oh.” Magic. Ton looked around at the people. They looked a lot like Chem. Or rather, Chem looked like them.

  As the truth dawned on him, a huge bowl of soup was placed in front of him and a plate of bread.

  They’re all Pentadrians, he thought. He looked down at the soup and his stomach growled. The enemy. There was a utensil of some sort in the bowl. He lifted it. If I join them I’ll be a traitor to my country. It was a small ladle, and there was a piece of meat in it. He stared at it in disbelief. Meat! But the warriors will kill me and my family if they find out. The meat sank out of sight as he let go of the ladle. He looked up at Warwel.

  “My family...” he began, then sought the words to explain.

  “We’ll make every effort to bring them here,” Warwel assured him. “Though I must be honest: it will be more difficult now that the clans are looking for spies.”

  Ton nodded. “Is Chem...?”

  “Alive? Yes, he appears to have escaped notice for now.”

  Then there was a chance. Ton picked up the ladle and brought it to his mouth. The soup was hot and spicy. It smelled of Chem’s shop. The meat was tender and as delicious as he had always suspected it would be. Why else did the warriors hoard it to themselves? He ate steadily until both bread and soup were gone, then he turned to Warwel.

  “So how do I convert?”

  The man blinked in surprise, then laughed.

  “You don’t have to, Ton. But if you want to we’ll teach you about the Five.” He hesitated. “You would so easily turn from the Circle?”

  Ton shrugged. “What has Lore ever done for me or my family? He only cares about warriors.”

  “And the other gods?”

  “Never did me any good either.” Ton yawned. Exhaustion, the warmth in the room and the food were making him sleepy. Gli had always accused him of making hasty decisions when he was tired. He frowned. “I suppose I should wait until Gli gets here, but in the meantime it can’t hurt to learn about your gods.”

  Warwel smiled broadly. “Then we’ll teach you. But for now I think what you need the most is a good night’s sleep. Come with me and I’ll arrange a bed for you.”

  The freed Siyee was now a speck in the hazy morning sky. In the corner of her eye, Auraya saw Nekaun uncross his arms and knew the game was about to begin again.

  “I thought we might explore the city today,” he said lightly. “I would like to introduce you to my people.”

  His people, she mused. As if he is the sole ruler of this continent. I wonder how the other Voices feel about that.

  “That would be interesting,” she replied. “I’m sure I have seen everything and met everyone in the Sanctuary by now - except the other Voices, of course.”

  “They are eager to meet you,” he told her.

  She smiled thinly. “I doubt that.”

  He chuckled. “You must remember that, unlike myself, they once faced you across a battlefield. They may be quite intimidated by you.”

  Intimidated? She frowned. More likely he’s worried that they’ll attack me and break his promise that I won’t be harmed.

  He gestured toward the stairs. “Shall we move on?”

  She followed him into the building then through the Sanctuary. Turaan came after them silently. Servants paused to stare at her briefly before hurrying away. From their minds she read a now familiar mixture of curiosity and dislike for her. The Pentadrians knew her only from the battle. She was an enemy who had killed their former leader. They accepted Nekaun’s judgment, however, and concluded that if he was treating her politely, they would do the same.

  Their regard for Nekaun was high, but not quite the same as the affection they felt for the other Voices. She also picked up thoughts in which he was compared to his predecessor, and from these she guessed that while Nekaun was liked and respected, Kuar had been adored.

  Nekaun wants that adoration, she guessed. What will he do to earn it? She shivered. Invade Northern Ithania again? Yet by introducing her to his people and showing her their ways he was making a small step toward encouraging understanding between Circlians and Pentadrians. Perhaps he hoped that avoiding a war would raise him in the eyes of his people.

  They had arrived at the large hall that was the entrance to the Sanctuary. It was as busy with Servants and non-Servants as it had been when Nekaun had first shown it to her. They paused to watch as Nekaun led her to the arched façade at the front of the building. He stepped out and began descending the wide staircase.

  At the edge of the road below, several muscular, bare-chested men and a Servant stood beside a litter. Looking closer, Auraya picked up thoughts of boredom and resentment as well as resignation. These were the first slaves she had seen. Nekaun had told her of the tradition of enslaving criminals. It was a novel idea - perhaps more merciful than execution - though only useful to the Servants since the system would work only if slave masters were Gifted enough to suppress rebellion.

  Nekaun ushered her onto the litter, where she sat opposite him and his Companion. The Servant barked orders and the slaves bent to pick up the litter. It was a disconcerting sensation being lifted by the men. Though the worst they could do to her was drop the litter she could not help feeling uneasy.

  At Nekaun’s order they set off down the wide main street of the city. Her host began talking, and Turaan translated. He spoke about the houses that had been removed long ago to make this parade, and other changes that had been made a hundred years ago. Auraya barely heard. Her attention was being drawn away by the thoughts of the people around her.

  As they noticed the litter they stopped to stare. Initially it was Nekaun that a
ttracted their interest, as the sight of the First Voice was something that excited them. She caught glimpses of plans to boast to friends and family about sighting him.

  But the excitement was short-lived. All around her, interest was changing to shock and anger, and she was the cause. Those that didn’t recognize her from the war were informed by those who did. Rumors had circulated that she was in the Sanctuary. Few favored her presence, but now they were outraged that she might show herself so openly to the kin of those she and her allies had killed.

  Never mind that this was Nekaun’s idea, she thought wryly.

  As the anger of the crowd increased, Auraya’s skin prickled with warning. She drew a little magic and surrounded herself with a light, invisible barrier. Nekaun’s chatter had slowed. A slight crease appeared between his brows, but he kept talking. Auraya endeavored to look unconcerned, hoping that if they kept moving the crowd would not have the chance to gather and confront them.

  Not that I have anything to fear from them, she told herself. But it would be embarrassing to Nekaun, and that’s never good for a man in his position.

  People had begun to follow the litter. She felt her heartbeat quicken. As the crowd grew, the slaves noticed and began glancing around with worried expressions. Turaan was pale, but he kept translating doggedly. Nekaun ordered the litter into a side street.

  They had travelled only a short way along this when people began to emerge from narrow streets on either side. A noisy crowd formed around the litter, forcing it to stop.

  “Murderer!” someone shouted.

  “Go home. You’re not welcome here!”

  Those and following shouts were spoken in the local tongue, but Auraya knew she could pretend she guessed their meaning from their tone. She looked around at the people. One man met her eyes, scowled, then spat at her face. The spittle splattered against her shield and dropped to the ground.

  She realized her heart was racing. Though she did not fear these people, she could not help reacting to their threatening behavior. Nekaun ordered the litter lowered. As it met the ground he stood up. The crowd drew back a few steps and quietened.

  “People of Glymma, do not shame me,” he implored. “I understand your anger. Here before you sits a sorceress who was once our enemy, and you see no reason to gain her favor. But there is a reason. A very good reason. She does not know or understand you. If she did, she would love you as I do. Like me, she would not bear to see you or your families harmed. I know you are honorable and loyal. Let her see that, not this pointless hatred.”

  The people were not entirely convinced, but Nekaun’s words had subdued them into a dissatisfied and begrudging obedience. They drew back, muttering. Nekaun sat down and nodded to the Servant controlling the slaves. The litter rose again, and the crowd parted to allow it to continue.

  Though Nekaun appeared relaxed, there was a stiffness to the way he braced himself against the swaying of the litter. He did not meet her eyes. It was obvious he had miscalculated his people badly.

  Her heart was still beating quickly, yet she felt only sadness. They hate me, she thought. They hate me and I understand why. I represent their enemy. Nekaun will have a hard time convincing them to ally with Northern Ithania in the future. In fact, it may be impossible.

  As soon as the litter had turned down the next street Nekaun ordered the men to return to the Sanctuary. Auraya looked at him questioningly.

  “We will return and change to a covered platten,” he told her. “Not for your safety,” he assured her. “You are in no danger, but it will be more convenient and prevent delays. I am sorry you had to see that.”

  “Are you? Or was this to show me the effect of my apparent crimes?”

  “No. I did not expect it,” he said. “I forget sometimes that most people are less forgiving than I.”

  “You were not in the war, then?”

  “I was.” He turned back to meet her regard, all signs of weakness gone.

  “Then surely you understand their anger,” she said. “It is never easy to forgive the killing of family and friends, and they have no choice but to believe the invasion of Northern Ithania was justified or else they would lose faith in their gods and leaders. So they blame the people they invaded.”

  “Your people are not innocent of that crime now,” he reminded her. “It is amusing to hear you admonish us when you accompanied those who invaded us.”

  “The Siyee attack on the birds?” She shook her head. “That was no invasion, but a foolish act of vengeance for the actions of your people in Jarime.” Arranged by Huan, she added silently.

  “Interesting that you think so,” he said.

  “What else would it be? Your defenses must be weak indeed if thirty or so Siyee could have threatened Southern Ithania.”

  “Thirty-three Siyee and one sorceress,” he corrected. “Ah, but you were forbidden by your gods to join in any fighting, weren’t you? How strange.”

  She shrugged.

  He smiled. “I suspect your gods have other reasons to send you here. Trouble is, I cannot guess what. Except, perhaps, that you are a spy.”

  “Then why are you giving me the tour of your city?”

  “Because I know you will find no great secrets or weaknesses here. We are not planning another invasion of Northern Ithania. I am serious about forging peace between our peoples.”

  She looked at Nekaun. “But I have discovered a weakness here. You do not truly understand your own people. You may read their thoughts, but you won’t accept that there is too much hatred between our peoples now for peace to come so easily. Either side will resist any attempt to ally with those that killed their kin. They crave revenge, and if they get it vengeance will be dealt out in kind. It may go on and on, year after year, century after century. Why? Because your gods urged your people to invade mine.”

  He stared at her, then slowly smiled.

  “Ah, but have you ever wondered why they did?” he asked. “Because yours won’t tolerate followers of any gods but the Circle. Don’t the peoples of the world deserve the freedom to worship who they wish?”

  The litter was coming alongside the Sanctuary steps. Auraya met Nekaun’s eyes. “Perhaps they do, but if your gods thought invading Northern Ithania would free mortals from Circlian intolerance they made a supremely grand mistake. All they did was kill a lot of people, Circlian and Pentadrian, and ensure many more would continue to die.”

  The litter stopped. Nekaun gave no orders, instead considering her words.

  “To that I can only make two replies. Firstly, that the decision was not the gods’, as they leave such matters to us to decide. Secondly, that we will never find peace if we never look and strive for it. It may take time and much effort.” He smiled. “Unlike you, I have all the time in the world.”

  Since announcing that the servant had reached his destination and ordering Yem, Gillen and Danjin back into the platten, Ella’s attention had been caught in some distant place. The men now spoke in hushed voices to avoid distracting her. When Gillen won a game of counters his comical choked noises and gestures of suppressed glee made Danjin’s loss of coin less painful.

  It helped that Danjin rarely lost to Gillen. Yem, on the other hand, was surprisingly adept at the game. Fortunately Yem was as scornful of wagers and gambling as Gillen was enchanted by them. Losing to him only cost Danjin a little pride.

  Gillen had put away the set now and was sitting with his eyes closed. Slowly the man’s head tilted sideways and his mouth opened. A soft snorting filled the cabin.

  Yem didn’t appear to notice. He was sitting with the relaxed ease of a younger man, his eyes almost closed and his gaze distant. He went into this meditative state whenever conversation lapsed, and Danjin would not have been surprised to find it was a skill all warriors were taught. Whenever there was a loud noise or someone spoke, Yem’s eyes would open and he was instantly alert.

  I could do with that skill, Danjin thought.

  He turned to regard Ella, and was
surprised to find her watching him. She smiled.

  “Have you learned much?” he asked.

  She nodded, then glanced at Yem, who was now regarding her expectantly.

  “I will tell you,” she said. “Then we must sleep as best we can. We will travel through the night to lessen the chances of the villagers learning we are coming. A platten passing at night might attract some curiosity, but if we travel during the day we are sure to be noticed.”

  “The arem will not last,” Yem warned.

  “Then we will purchase more.”

  Yem’s brow furrowed, but he said nothing. Danjin had seen the warrior helping the servants tend to the animals, and had even heard him murmuring into one of the arem’s ears soothingly when a distant howling in the forest had spooked it. Few Dunwayan warriors owned reyna, but those that did all but worshipped the animals. Danjin had never seen a warrior show any regard for the slow, practical arem.

  Danjin looked at Gillen, who was still snoring. He nudged the man’s foot with the toe of his sandal. It took a few taps before he woke up.

  “What? Are we stopping now?” Gillen asked, blinking at them.

  “No. Ellareen is going to tell us what she has discovered,” Danjin replied.

  Gillen rubbed his eyes. “Oh.”

  “Take a moment to wake up properly,” Ella said gently.

  The ambassador slapped his cheeks. “I’m fine. Go ahead.”

  Ella smiled and shrugged. “The story I’ve pieced together from the villagers’ minds is this: almost a year ago a Pentadrian ship was wrecked near a village named Dram. The villagers rescued as many as they could and welcomed them into their homes. The survivors repaid them by working in the fields or with domestic chores. When they expressed a wish to stay, the villagers helped them build homes and find work, with the permission of the clan that owns this land.

  “What they don’t know was that the ship had been deliberately wrecked, and that those on board had not struggled to live in their infertile homeland, as they’d claimed. They were Pentadrian priests and their families, sent to befriend and then convert Dunwayans.”