Voice of the Gods aotft-3

by Trudi Canavan

  :I have to go, Mirar said abruptly.

  As Mirar’s presence vanished from their link, Surim sighed.

  :I do wish you’d stop encouraging him like that, sister.

  42

  The ache in her shoulders had become a sharp pain, while her hands had lost feeling some time ago. Auraya opened her eyes and forced her legs to straighten. Her knees popped and her thigh muscles began to tremble.

  This isn’t good, she thought. I’m getting weaker. I must exercise. She flexed her muscles, moving her weight from leg to leg. As feeling came back to her hands it seemed as if a thousand needles were piercing her skin. What I wouldn’t do for a chair...

  Suddenly the pain increased tenfold as something touched her arm. She gasped and looked up, then gasped again in surprise as two round eyes stared into hers.

  “Mischief!”

  The veez was on the seat of the throne, leaning over to regard her. He dropped down and she winced as he landed on her sore shoulders.

  “What are you doing here?” she whispered. “I told you to stay with the nice servant.”

  “Owaya,” he said, his whiskers tickling her ear. “Bad man. Chase.”

  He was radiating fear and agitation. Concentrating on his thoughts, she picked up flashes of memory. A man he recognized. One who had been with her a lot. Shouting. Dodging magic. Fleeing.

  “Nekaun,” Auraya hissed. “He tried to kill you.” She sent the veez a feeling of sympathy and pride. Clever Mischief.

  He nudged her ear. “Scratch.”

  “I can’t,” she told him, demonstrating by pulling against the chains. “Auraya caged.”

  “Free Owaya,” he said decisively. Running up her arm, he sniffed the cuffs. She felt a thrill of hope and looked toward the Servant guards. They appeared to be absorbed in conversation. Mischief’s whiskers quivered, then his ears suddenly lay flat. She sensed his confusion, and she suddenly understood.

  “No magic,” she explained. “No magic here. You use magic to undo locks.”

  The veez did not understand. He leapt up onto the throne seat and crouched at the edge. His fur stood on end and she sensed he was deeply unhappy.

  She could say nothing to reassure him, so she said nothing at all. Sighing, she closed her eyes and sent her mind out into the world.

  By habit she brushed the minds of the two Servants guarding her. They were in the midst of discussing the two times Sheyr had possessed mortals and entered the hall. It hadn’t occurred to them that the god might not have been the one he appeared to be. They didn’t know that one of the men had gone mad, and that the other now woke several times each night screaming. She knew this from skimming their minds.

  Moving beyond, she picked up the thoughts of other Servants. Their minds were full of their daily tasks, petty grievances, gossip, friends and family, and war. She skimmed through these looking for anything unusual. Nekaun’s name caught her attention several times. A few women, Servant and domestic, contemplated with unease his visit to their bedchamber. Auraya shied away from these recollections, then stumbled upon the domestic who had been caring for Mischief. She was heartened to see that the woman was upset, both by Nekaun’s attempt to kill the veez and that the creature hadn’t come back.

  Leaving the Sanctuary, Auraya flitted through the mind of Glymma’s citizens. Their thoughts were on the usual concerns: work, family, love, hunger, food, ambition, pain and pleasure. War was on everyone’s mind.

  The previous day she had managed to reach beyond the city limits to some of the riverside villages. Today she stretched her senses out in a different direction. There were fewer minds, which was unsurprising since all appeared to be surrounded by desert sands. Most were focused on using magic and physical skill to control some kind of vehicle. Looking closer, she slowly came to understand these were boats driven by the wind that slid over the desert sand.

  Looks like fun, she thought.

  :Auraya!

  At the call her mind shifted automatically into a dream trance.

  :Mirar?

  :How are you?

  :Tired. Sore. Nekaun tried to kill Mischief. He’s here now.

  :The bastard. It’s a shame these people are ruled by such a man. The rest of them seem a lot nicer.

  :Even Shar, the one who had his vorn kill innocent people in Toren?

  :Well... I haven’t spoken to him much so far. Anyway, I have to tell you something. The other immortals said you should know.

  :The other Wilds?

  :Yes. Emerahl, and a few others who managed to avoid being killed by the White.

  :Emerahl?

  :The woman who taught you to hide your mind.

  :Oh! Jade.

  :Yes. Jade. Emerahl. The Hag. He paused. They’re very concerned about you and have been helping me try to find a way to free you.

  :They have? Even though I’m a White?

  :You’re not a White any more, Auraya.

  :Oh. That’s right. But still. Me, an ally of gods and all that.

  :Are you sure you’re okay?

  :Yes. Just tired. What did these Wilds want to tell me?

  :I can only tell you what the others feel you can be trusted to know, he said.

  She forced herself to concentrate.

  :So there’s more that they don’t trust me to know?

  :Yes.

  :And you agree?

  :Let’s just say I know which secrets you can be burdened with, and which you can’t.

  She considered his words and found herself liking him for them. He wants to tell me something, but he doesn’t want to put me in a difficult position.

  :So what are these secrets you can trust me with?

  :There’s a story to it. I can’t name all involved, but since you’ve met Emerahl I can safely describe her part in it.

  He explained briefly about the rumors of a Scroll containing secrets about the gods, and that Emerahl had found it.

  :This is the task she had to delay in order to teach me?

  :Yes. Now, this Scroll was made by Sorli’s last priest... He went on to relate the story on the Scroll. There were six gods at the end of the war, he told her. Sorli killed herself after having the secrets of the gods preserved for others to find.

  :And you found the secrets?

  :Emerahl did, and she deciphered them. This is what the others agreed I could tell you: all of the gods were born mortal, became immortals like us, then transformed themselves into gods.

  :They were Wilds first?

  :Yes. And they were once ordinary mortals, with powerful Gifts. There’s more. You’re not going to like it. I don’t think anyone’s going to like it. The gods certainly aren’t going to like anyone knowing. I could ch—

  :Get on with it, Mirar.

  :The gods can only exist in one place at any time and no god can exist where there is no magic.

  :I knew that.

  :But I’d wager you didn’t know this: the gods don’t take people’s souls. It’s a lie they’ve been using for millennia to give mortals a reason to obey them.

  Auraya felt her curiosity turn to disbelief.

  :That can’t be true. I don’t believe it.

  :You don’t want to believe it. These are the words of Sorli herself. The sixth god, who helped the Circle kill all the other gods. How did she put it? “No god collects and preserves souls of mortal dead.”

  :She was lying. She was probably mad. After all, she killed herself. She may not have even existed at all, and this is all some trick someone set up centuries ago in revenge against the gods.

  :You don’t believe it because you don’t want to. And I can hardly blame you. I—

  :No, you’re believing it because you want to. It suits your view of the world very well, Mirar. Doesn’t that sound suspicious to you? If I wanted to trick you, this would be how I’d do it. Feed you what you want to hear so you don’t question what comes with it. She paused as an unpleasant possibility occurred to her. What did come with it?

  :I can’t t
ell you that.

  :Then... just be careful. If it is a trick, that other part may be the trap.

  He paused a long time before answering.

  :I will keep that in mind. There is something else I think I can tell you.

  :Oh?

  :Voids were created when a god was killed.

  She felt a thrill of mingled alarm and excitement.

  :Did this Scroll tell you how the gods killed each other?

  He paused.

  :Is there a god you’d like to kill? he asked.

  :Maybe.

  :Who? Ah! The Pentadrian ones, of course. What have they ever done to you?

  :Had me chained up in a void.

  :A reasonable, if personal, grudge, he conceded.

  :And they encouraged their people to invade Northern Ithania, she added.

  :Yes, that wasn’t very polite.

  :I suppose you’re going to tell me the Circlian gods are guilty of worse?

  :I could. But I won’t. So you don’t have any personal grudges against them?

  :Just a small one. It seems fair that if Huan wants me dead then I can wish the same of her.

  :Sound rea—... Wait. Huan wants you dead?

  :Why are you surprised? You warned me the gods would try to kill me.

  :But they didn’t.

  :Chaia keeps coming to my rescue. Well, as much as he can when there are “rules” and such to make it difficult for him. He says he can’t set me free.

  :Does he? I had assumed none of the Circlian gods could venture into the Sanctuary without attracting the attention of the Pentadrian gods.

  :So did I. She briefly told him that Chaia had impersonated Sheyr twice, though she did not mention why. He says Sheyr won’t alert the Pentadrians to it because it means admitting it can happen.

  :And then nobody will know whether they can believe it is him or not when he appears. How frustrating for him. The others... Ah. I must go, Auraya.

  :Whatever you do, don’t endanger yourself or the Dreamweavers on my account.

  But his mind had slipped from her perception and she heard no answer.

  Sighing, she let herself drift for a while, but her mind returned to Mirar.

  He’s so much more confident than Leiard, she thought. Though Leiard was like that when he was in the forest. He was only fearful in Jarime and around the White. Except... he wasn’t fearful when we were lovers. He was more like...

  The recognition was like a jolt of energy. When Leiard was being her lover he had been more like Mirar. Mirar had been with her all the time she had been with Leiard, even if in a diminished, half-forgotten form.

  Perhaps it was only her weakened, vulnerable state that was heightening her feelings, but she was overwhelmed by a longing to be with him. And it was followed by an equally powerful terror.

  I must be careful, she told herself desperately. I think I could fall in love with anyone who got me out of this place, and I would never know if it was real.

  For the last few days the Dunwayan army had marched between the Hollow Mountains on the right and the sea on the left. The road had been all gentle curves, the weather had been mild and the smell of the sea gave the air a clean, fresh tang. The forest of Dunway gave way to rocky land covered in tussocky grasses and wind-twisted bushes and trees.

  The thinner vegetation allowed frequent glimpses of white sand and blue water. Danjin felt a wistful disappointment every time he saw another seemingly idyllic stretch of beach. He could hardly stop to enjoy the beauty of the area; he was part of an army, and that army was hurrying to meet another.

  Traders taking goods to Dunway occasionally used this road, but for most of the year the weather favored ship transportation. I-Portak scanned the horizon from time to time, no doubt looking for his own people’s warships. After several hundred years of peace in Northern Ithania, only the Dunwayans kept a fleet of warships and trained their warriors in the art of sea warfare. According to spies, the Pentadrians had their own small fleet and some skill in using it. During the previous war, Danjin had asked Lanren Songmaker, the White’s war adviser, why the Pentadrians hadn’t sailed into Jarime instead of invading through the mountains. The man had explained that sailing the long way around the west side of the continent would be slow due to unfavorable winds, and the east side was guarded by the Dunwayan warships. The Dunwayans would have relished the chance to practice their skills on an enemy.

  Nothing prevented the Dunwayans sailing south, however. Not when Sennon was supporting the Circlians. The Dunwayan warships were to meet the rest of the army in Karienne, the Sennon capital, then defend ships supplying the army as they travelled south to the Isthmus of Grya.

  But we have to get to Karienne first, Danjin thought. Across the Sennon desert. Relying on Sennon help to supply us with enough water to keep an army from dying of thirst.

  The land was growing steadily drier. Thinking back, Danjin realized it had been at least a day since he’d seen a tree bigger than a man. The tussocks of grass were smaller and thinner. The soil was so dry and dusty it may as well have been sand. Looking past Ella and I-Portak, Danjin noted the water carriers striding up and down the column of warriors, filling cups from large skins whenever a fighter called for a drink. Their services would be in high demand over the next few weeks.

  I-Portak straightened in his seat. Looking at Ella, Danjin saw her expression become intent. They were both gazing over his head. He felt the platten tilt and realized it had just topped a ridge and was descending steeply.

  “The desert begins,” I-Portak murmured.

  Danjin turned around, as did the other advisers. A pale, flat land lay before them, its surface disturbed by the ripples of dunes. At the base of the ridge the road continued on to the horizon, as straight as a Dunwayan spear. At the horizon wisps of sand or dust curled into the sky. A windstorm, perhaps. Danjin had heard about desert storms so ferocious the sand in them flayed the skin from travellers, or buried them alive.

  “That is the army,” he heard Ella say. “They have made good time.”

  Danjin felt a surge of excitement and relief. No storm. Just the Circlians.

  “We should reach them tonight,” I-Portak replied. “Or sooner, if you wish.”

  Turning back, Danjin was relieved to see Ella shake her head.

  “Tonight will be sufficient. Let’s not tax ourselves until we need to.” Her shoulders rose and fell, betraying a sigh. Danjin suppressed a smile.

  This was proving to be a boring journey. Though Ella had spent a good deal of the trip to the Pentadrian village with her attention on the fleeing servant’s mind, she had “surfaced” often enough to make conversation - or to watch Danjin and Gillen play counters. Even Yem had been a more interesting companion than I-Portak and his advisers.

  Ella’s gaze shifted to his and he saw a small smile curve her mouth. She leaned forward.

  “Have you packed that little travel set of counters, Danjin?”

  He nodded.

  “Let’s have a game to pass the time, then.”

  Surprised, he pulled his pack out from under his seat and drew out the game box. Opening the drawer, he began to take the pieces out and slot them into their holes. I-Portak watched with interest.

  So it was with some embarrassment that Danjin found he couldn’t get to the last piece. The drawer, as always, wouldn’t open fully. The piece was somewhere at the back, but he couldn’t tilt the box or shake it without dislodging the pieces already set up. Digging inside with a finger, he found that the piece had wedged itself between the back of the drawer and the inside of the box.

  Sighing, he tipped the pieces into his lap and began to work on the one wedged in the drawer. When he closed the drawer and shook the box he could hear something rattling inside.

  No, he thought suddenly. There are two things inside.

  Opening the drawer again, he found that the game piece had moved to the front. He removed it, then reached inside again.

  Something was still there. Some
thing just a little too wide to allow the drawer to open. Something smooth.

  Taking hold of it, he gently prised the top of the box upward. The object slipped through and the drawer fell out completely. Opening his hand, Danjin stared down at a white ring.

  Ella leaned forward and took it from him. “That’s a priest’s ring.”

  “Yes,” Danjin agreed. “But how did it come to be inside my counters game?”

  She shrugged, then frowned. “Unless...” Her eyes narrowed and she looked at him suspiciously. “What happened to Auraya’s link ring?”

  Danjin felt a rush of realization followed by guilt. He felt his face warming.

  “I, ah, well...”

  “You didn’t return it, did you?”

  He spread his hands. “Nobody asked for it. I put it aside and forgot about it.”

  “You put it in here?” She pointed to the game box.

  “No.” He looked at the box and frowned. “Someone must have. Someone who wanted me to find it, perhaps.”

  She looked at the ring again. “Someone who wanted you to be able to contact Auraya?”

  “I can hardly use it for any other purpose.”

  To his surprise, she handed it back to him. “Put it on.”

  “Now?”

  “Yes. I want to see if it works.”

  To speak to Auraya... he felt mingled eagerness and doubt. He looked up at Ella.

  “What if she...?” He caught himself and managed not to look at I-Portak.

  “You’re also wearing my ring,” she pointed out. “I should hear everything she says to you.”

  Taking a deep breath, he slid the ring onto a finger. Nothing happened. Ella frowned.

  “Call her,” she suggested.

  He pictured Auraya in his mind.

  :Auraya!

  Silence followed. He called again and again, wondering if she was ignoring him, was asleep or - and he started to grow alarmed at the thought - was dead.

  “Danjin.”

  He looked up. Ella was staring at him, an unreadable expression on her face.

  “Give it to me.”

  He took off the ring and dropped it into her outstretched hand. She smiled, then slipped the ring under her circ.

  “I had better keep this for now,” she said.