Voice of the Gods aotft-3

by Trudi Canavan

  He really means to do this...

  No. Stay calm. He wouldn’t dare. It’s just intimidation.

  His hand left her breast. Her relief was brief. She felt knuckles dig into her belly as he pulled at his robes. His breathing was fast. Despite herself she looked up. He bared his teeth.

  “Yes. That’s right. Where are your gods now, Auraya? They can’t help you.”

  Her mind spun in increasingly frantic circles, then abruptly she saw, with awful clarity, that he did mean to do what he threatened. This is going to be revolting and humiliating and painful but I can bear it. I will have to... But she had glimpsed the wounds and scars in the minds of women who had been used by men. He has, too. He knows he’ll leave me with more than his... oh, gods. She had no magical means to prevent conception. But he won’t want to sire a child, she reasoned. But he’s in the void too. His magic won’t work either. Gods, no! She bit back a scream as she saw herself, chained and bloated with his child, in this place. Imprisoned without and within. But if he’s in the void he’s vulnerable too. I can hurt him. I can kill him. She felt her jaw tense. I will bite out his throat. I will...

  “Nekaun.”

  The voice was unearthly. It echoed and whispered around the room like wind. Nekaun whirled around. Looking over his shoulder, Auraya saw a being of light. She felt her mouth go dry. She had seen this god before.

  “Sheyr!” Nekaun gasped.

  “Come here.”

  Nekaun hurried off the dais and threw himself to the floor before the feet of the glowing figure.

  “Do not harm Auraya,” the god said. “Revenge will come, but not in this way. What you wish to do may disadvantage us.”

  “But...” The word was barely audible.

  The being straightened. “Do you dare to question me?” he boomed.

  “No, Sheyr!” Nekaun shook his head, his whole body quivering at the movement.

  “You would take unnecessary risks for a moment of gratification.” The god’s head rose and he stared at Auraya. “Be satisfied that she is alone and friendless, with only her shadow for company.” His head snapped back to Nekaun. “Do you understand?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then go.”

  Nekaun scrambled to his feet and fled. The glowing figure looked at Auraya again.

  He winked, then faded away.

  In his place stood a Servant. The man blinked and glanced around the hall, then backed away from her. She looked into his mind and realized that he had given his will over to the god. Otherwise Sheyr would not have been able to see her, or speak with a real voice.

  He saved me. She shook her head. How could she feel such gratitude toward one of the Pentadrian gods when they had ordered Nekaun to break his vow and trap her here? “... with only her shadow for company.”

  And the significance of his last words came to her. Shadow! She quietly began to laugh, not caring that there was a hysterical edge to her voice.

  It was Chaia! And Nekaun fell for it!

  40

  At the first opportunity, Reivan slid out of bed. Her legs were shaking and for a moment she didn’t know what to do. Seeing her robes on the floor, she decided she would feel better dressed. Those were torn now. She moved to a chest and drew out another set.

  “What’s wrong?”

  She looked back at Nekaun. Lounging naked on the bed he was so beautiful it was painful. It took her breath away, but she made herself straighten her back. Stand up to him.

  “That was unpleasant,” she told him.

  His eyebrows rose. “Oh? You didn’t like it?”

  “No.”

  “You usually like it. Aren’t I welcome here any more?”

  “Not if it’s going to be like that. You... you nearly choked me.”

  “Some women like that. They say a little fear makes it more thrilling.”

  She turned away and drew the robe around herself. “I don’t.”

  “Don’t be angry. How could we know that until we tried it?”

  She felt her anger weakening. “You should have asked me first.”

  “Then you would be expecting it. Surprise is part of the pleasure.”

  “It wasn’t. And the rest wasn’t much fun either. It was like...” She grimaced. Her insides felt bruised.

  “Like what?”

  She frowned. There was something in his voice. Almost a smugness. Almost as if he liked seeing her discomforted.

  Turning to face him, she held his gaze. “It was like you were punching me with your... Surely, with your background in the arts of lovemaking, you would know that is not pleasant for a woman?”

  He laughed. “You’re hardly the goddess of love. You’ve got a lot to learn. I think you could come to like a bit of rough play.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  He grinned. “Oh, I think you found what we just did more than a little exciting.”

  She stared at him. “You can’t be serious. It was nice at first, but later... what part of ‘Stop, you’re hurting me’ didn’t make sense to you?”

  He laughed. “You didn’t mean it.”

  “You know I did.” She shook her head. “I think you enjoyed hurting me. You had that same look in your eye you’ve had since you chained Auraya up. I almost expected you to call out her name.”

  His smile faded, then his eyes narrowed. Rolling to the edge of the bed, he stood up. She watched as his robes rose from the floor to his hands and he began to dress, his movements quick and angry.

  She felt her anger ebb, leaving her numb. “You’re leaving.”

  “Yes. If my efforts aren’t appreciated,” he said, “I’ll go where they are.”

  Stung, she felt tears spring into her eyes. Stop it, she told herself. Stop being a fool. He meant to hurt you, so don’t let him see he succeeded.

  He marched out of the bedroom. The sound of the door slamming echoed through her rooms. The silence afterward thundered in her ears. His words repeated over and over in her head. “You’re hardly the goddess of love.”

  I’m not good enough for him. That’s why he was rough. He got impatient with me.

  She moved to the bed, thinking only to curl up and give in to her misery. Then she saw the bloodstains. Her blood. A few drops only, but enough to remind her of his body slamming against hers, the manic look in his eyes, the hand about her throat and the way he had laughed when she had protested. Anger flared again. She rose and stalked to the bathing room.

  I will scrub every last bit of him away, she told herself. He can bed every woman in Glymma. He can bed Auraya for all I care. If that’s what it takes to satisfy him he can find it elsewhere. I’m done with him.

  If it weren’t for the constant nagging thought that Auraya was suffering in her prison under the Sanctuary, Mirar would have considered the day to have been particularly satisfying and enjoyable.

  He had met with over a hundred of Glymma’s Dreamweavers to discuss their role as healers after the coming battle. Dreamweavers were travelling to the city from all over the continent, and Arleej had asked him to oversee all accommodation, food and travel arrangements. Though most of this work was organized by Dreamweaver House leaders, they all needed someone to make decisions where there was disagreement, and mediate with the Voices and Servants.

  The Dreamweavers had joined together in one large mind link, and he had learned much from them. He let his mind shield slip only long enough to confirm his identity. He wanted to tell them of his “death” and survival, but Auraya featured too much in the story and he couldn’t afford chancing that the Voices would read their minds and discover that he didn’t dislike her as much as they believed.

  From the Dreamweavers he had learned that they had suspected that he wasn’t really Mirar, that the Voices had recruited a Dreamweaver willing to pose as Mirar in order to influence Northern Ithania. Arleej had assured them this wasn’t true, but some were still shocked to discover, through the link, that he was their legendary, immortal founder.

  After din
ing with Glymma’s Dreamweaver House leader, Mirar had returned to the Sanctuary late and immediately received an invitation to meet with Second Voice Imenja. A Servant escorted him to a balcony overlooking a courtyard, where a fountain glittered in the light of several lamps. Imenja was sitting in a reed chair and rose to greet him.

  “Dreamweaver Mirar,” she said. “How did your meeting with your people go?”

  “Very well,” he told her. “I still can’t get used to seeing Dreamweavers living without the constant fear of persecution. I’m heartened to see that they can exist in harmony with a religion of dominant power.”

  She smiled. “Just like old times?”

  He shook his head. “Yes and no. In the past there were so many gods that few dominated as completely as yours do. A single god might rule in small nations like Dunway, but never an entire continent. And never united with other gods.”

  “I would like to hear more about those times. What do the Circlians call them?”

  “The Age of the Many.”

  “Yes, and now we live in the Age of the Five. Or should that be the Age of the Ten?”

  Mirar shrugged. “At least when I tell you tales of the past, it won’t be your gods’ evil deeds I tell of.”

  She chuckled. “No. I gather Circlians aren’t aware of their gods’ past, then?”

  “No. Only Dreamweavers know, passing down experiences and stories through mind links.”

  “So perhaps that is the reason your people are badly treated there and well treated here. Our gods have no need to fear the stories Dreamweavers might tell.”

  Mirar looked at her, impressed. It made sense, though he was sure he would have come to the same conclusion eventually.

  Imenja looked out at the courtyard. “I have to warn you, the closer war comes the more we will want you to commit to helping us in some way.”

  As she turned to look at him he met her gaze steadily.

  “Dreamweavers do not fight.”

  “No, but there may be other ways you can assist us.”

  “We heal the wounded. What else can we offer?”

  She shifted in her seat to face him. “If someone attacks a patient you are healing, what do you do? Allow them to be harmed, or protect them?”

  “Protect them,” he answered.

  “If someone attacks a friend - or a stranger - what do you do? Allow them to be harmed, or protect them?”

  He frowned, suspecting he knew where this was leading. “Protect them.”

  She smiled and turned back to regard the courtyard. “Nekaun might be satisfied with a compromise.” Her smile faded and she sighed. “I can’t promise that he won’t punish you or your people if you don’t offer him something. That something doesn’t have to involve your people. He wants it to appear that we have you, the legendary Mirar, on our side.”

  Mirar shook his head. “That may endanger Dreamweavers in the north.”

  She looked at him, her expression sad. “I know. It is a choice I don’t envy you for.” She stood up and smiled. “But if you join us, there’s a good chance we’ll win, and that will probably be a better result for Dreamweavers than the alternative.”

  He nodded. “You have a point.”

  “Consider what I’ve proposed,” she told him. “But it is late, and even Voices need to sleep now and then.”

  “And immortals,” he said, rising. “Good night, Second Voice Imenja.”

  “Good night.”

  The Servant who had escorted him to the meeting appeared and guided him back to his rooms. Mirar stared out of the window for a while, thinking about what Imenja had suggested.

  A compromise. One that doesn’t involve my people, just me. I protect the Pentadrians with magic. That frees the Voices to put more of their magic into fighting. With Auraya locked up below the Sanctuary, surely the Pentadrians will win this time.

  How would his people feel about that? Would they lose respect for him for choosing a side? They might, but the southern Dreamweavers would feel betrayed if they knew he could have prevented the Circlians conquering the southern continent and subjecting them to their habitual prejudice.

  Sighing, he retired to bed. As soon as he reached a dream trance he sought Auraya’s mind, but the only response he got was disjointed and reluctant, and he decided to let her sleep. He called another name.

  :Emerahl.

  :Mirar, she responded without hesitation. I was just talking to The Twins. How is life in Glymma?

  :Good for me; no different for Auraya.

  :Poor woman. Have you found a way to free her?

  :No. She is too well guarded, as am I, but I am hoping that may change as the war begins to distract everyone. If I show any interest in her Nekaun starts asking if I want to be present when he kills her. When I ask why he’s delaying he just says “when the gods decide.” Imenja made a suggestion to me tonight. He told her what the Second Voice had proposed. What do you think I should do?

  :Don’t get involved. But since you’re already involved then don’t take sides. But since these Voices probably won’t let you, then do what she suggests. But not straightaway. If you give in now they will start asking for more. Wait until the last moment. And if you can, make Auraya’s fate part of the deal, even if it only means delaying her execution.

  As always, she was a source of good advice.

  :That sounds like a good plan. How is the Quest for the Scroll of the Gods progressing?

  :We haven’t figured out what the symbols mean yet. I haven’t had much time to work on it. The Twins want me out of Southern Ithania, in case the Thinkers track me down. I’ll be coming through Glymma. She paused. Could we meet safely? I’d like you to look at the diamond.

  :I’d like to see it, but I think it would be too dangerous. Though I’m free to come and go from the Sanctuary, I don’t know where we could meet safely and I’m certain they have someone following me when I do go out.

  :The Twins probably wouldn’t like it. Not only would we risk the Voices finding us, and then taking and destroying the diamond, but the last thing we need is the Pentadrians blackmailing me into joining them, too.

  :No, Mirar agreed. The Circlian gods would just love that. According to Auraya, they’ve been hanging around the Sanctuary quite a bit.

  :The Pentadrian gods don’t chase them off?

  :She hasn’t said anything about sensing them.

  :That’s odd. Maybe they fear the Circlian gods.

  :Maybe they are so different in nature that Auraya can’t sense them, Mirar suggested.

  :Maybe they know she can overhear gods, and are avoiding her. I guess we’ll never know.

  :Not unless they decide to tell us.

  :I can’t see that happening any time soon. Any other news?

  :No.

  :Good luck, then. I will let you know when I’ve reached Northern Ithania.

  :Good luck.

  Her mind faded from his senses. Fighting off a niggling weariness, he embarked on his last task for the night: sending his mind out to skim the thoughts of the people around him.

  41

  Three days had passed and Nekaun had not returned. The domestics continued their routine of dousing Auraya with cold water and feeding her the grainy sludge. The cold water left her shivering and she almost wished they would leave her grimy. It was bad enough that she was cold all the time, but the chill that came after her dousing seemed to drain all strength from her.

  She craved real food and sometimes found herself dreaming about it. When she skimmed the minds of people eating, her own body ached for sustenance. She longed to lie down. Her arms hurt. Her legs sometimes cramped painfully despite her efforts to flex and stretch them. Most of the time she was so tired she slumped against the wall.

  Exploring the minds of the world kept her consciousness away from cold, hunger and pain. Through other people she saw the sun rise and set, felt happiness, love and contentment. She began to avoid the minds of those in pain or misery. The thoughts of those preparing for
war no longer seemed so important to watch.

  What difference does it make if I know what they’re planning? I can’t do anything to stop them. I can’t even reach the White and tell them what I’ve learned. Danjin doesn’t trust me. Chaia...

  Chaia had saved her. But questions had been forming in the back of her mind. If Chaia could impersonate another god, then could other gods do so too? Could Pentadrian gods impersonate Circlian ones? That must be why he had given her the code word “shadow.”

  But thinking about Chaia’s visit was too close to thinking about what Nekaun had been about to do to her, so she turned her mind away.

  Which did not work all of the time. Sometimes something would jolt her back into a memory of smothering black robes and exploring, unwanted hands. Her skin crawled and her heart raced.

  She hated that she had been so affected by the incident. It’s this weariness making me feel so weak, she told herself. If I were stronger I would feel less affected. She grimaced. If Chaia hadn’t interrupted I’d be in an even worse state.

  “Auraya.”

  For a moment she thought the voice was a memory, but when it repeated her name she opened her eyes and found herself staring at a glowing figure. The Pentadrian god, Sheyr, smiled at her.

  “Come out of the shadows, Auraya,” he said.

  “Chaia,” she breathed.

  “Yes.”

  Remembering the Servant that had been revealed when he had vanished last time, she looked closer.

  “Who is...?”

  “Another loyal mortal,” he replied. “He will not remember this conversation. He has put aside his will for me.”

  “For Sheyr.”

  He shrugged. “Some mortals are easily deceived.”

  She glanced at the Servant guards. The pair were watching intently, their expressions awed. They must have opened the gate to allow the god-possessed man into the room.

  “But what of the Pentadrian gods?” she asked.