Voice of the Gods aotft-3

by Trudi Canavan

  “Do you think...?”

  :I don’t know what to think, she told him. I won’t speculate until Juran examines it.

  Leaning forward, she looked meaningfully at the tile game.

  “It’s been a while, but I used to play a mean game of counters.”

  He managed a smile, then held up the box and started arranging the pieces again.

  43

  Diamyane was still the same dry and ugly place Emerahl remembered from her previous visit, on the way to the Red Caves. Panic had set in since the news of the advancing Circlian army had arrived. The previous day, Pentadrians had taken control of every ship in the area in order to prevent the Circlians using them. Now people were fleeing the city by any means - mostly on foot and carrying their possessions.

  In their place came Dreamweavers. Today it seemed as if every third or fourth person she walked past was a Dreamweaver. Little wonder they were called harbingers of war, Emerahl thought. It was said when a battle was imminent Dreamweavers and carrion birds were sure to appear. The former healed the wounded, the latter dealt with the dead.

  She had always kept away from battlefields in the past, until the previous battle between the Circlians and Pentadrians. Battles were dangerous places to be. Now she felt a strange reluctance to leave. Was it curiosity that tempted her to stay and witness the battle?

  No, she decided. It is more than that. It is this nagging thought that an opportunity might present itself for us immortals to use the information in the diamond. No matter how unlikely that is, if we’re not here to take advantage of it we will wait a long time for another chance.

  Where the Circlians and Pentadrians clashed, and the White and Voices fought, the gods were sure to be. All ten of them. In one place. That didn’t happen very often. In fact, it would probably only ever happen during a war.

  We need six immortals. It all hinges on Auraya. If she were free, do I think she would help us kill them?

  She shook her head. No, but if Mirar believes there is a chance maybe we should be here in case he is right.

  She turned to regard her room. The furniture was old and there were few comforts, but it had a view of the main road into the town. The occupants had departed hastily, leaving most of their belongings behind. She felt only a little guilt at taking them as her own, since she had chased off looters every night. With the markets closed she had little choice but to start eating the small store of food. I suppose I could buy supplies from the Dreamweavers, but they’ll need all they have and what’s here will spoil if someone doesn’t eat it.

  Looking back out of the window, she watched another pair of Dreamweavers passing. Her mind returned to the problem of how to kill the gods.

  Six attackers, she thought. One above. One below. One on each side. How are we to do that?

  Unlike gods, immortals were subject to gravity. They could take positions on all sides, but that relied upon the gods being near the ground. The places above and below still presented a problem.

  Except to Auraya, she reminded herself. She can fly. The place above is obviously hers, if she decides to take it. So what of the one below?

  Gods, as non-physical beings, could pass through solid objects. Immortals obviously couldn’t. Whoever took the place below would have to hope there was a handy cave or tunnel in the right position.

  And where is the right position likely to be? She pursed her lips. The White and the Voices will probably face each other before the battle and exchange the usual threats and bluster. She smiled as she realized where this meeting would probably take place. On the Isthmus.

  Thinking back to her last visit to Diamyane, she considered the tunnel she had passed through with the family travelling north to hear the Wise Man of Karienne preach. It had been controlled by thieves, but that could be remedied.

  They might have fled, along with the locals. Or more likely they’re looting houses, which is probably a more lucrative activity now. Her smile broadened as she recalled them fleeing from her magic as she melted the gate they had used to control travellers passing through the tunnel.

  The only trouble with this tunnel was that it cut through the Isthmus, not along it. And it was positioned close to the Diamyane shore. That meant she and her fellow immortals had to hope the meeting would take place right on top of the tunnel, which was unlikely. More likely it would happen in the center.

  Then she remembered what the father of the family had told her. He said there had been several tunnels through the Isthmus in the past, but they had been filled in. Perhaps some could be opened again.

  But which ones? Ah, it’s all a nice daydream, she thought wryly. And it’ll probably stay that way. Standing up, she moved to the bed and lay down. I had better find out what Mirar is up to.

  Closing her eyes, she slowed her breathing and steered her mind toward sleep. When she reached the right state she called Mirar’s name. There was no answer, so she stretched out to skim the minds around her. Most were predictably involved in thoughts relating to the coming conflict. She reached toward the wharves and found a few Pentadrian spies. Then she followed the few traders, travellers and Pentadrians allowed on the Isthmus. Searching along it, she found no thoughts of men or women beneath the land bridge.

  :Emerahl!

  She let her awareness of the minds outside fade.

  :Mirar. How are things in Glymma?

  :The same. Where are you?

  :Diamyane.

  :When are you leaving?

  :I... I don’t know, she admitted. I’m beginning to think we all ought to be here, just in case. If no opportunity comes to kill the gods we lose nothing, but if one does and we aren’t here...

  :We’ll curse ourselves, he finished.

  :Yes. She told him of her ideas about the positioning of the immortals around the gods, and the tunnel.

  :It’s worth investigating. But you do realize that if we are to attack while the White and Pentadrians are meeting, those of us not underground will be in full view.

  :Yes. If you agree to protect the Pentadrians, you’ll be there anyway. As for the rest of us, we’ll have to hope the gods’ attention will be on the meeting. I could disguise myself... actually, there’s an idea. Would you mind if I pretended to be a Dreamweaver?

  She felt his amusement.

  :Why ask me? You didn’t last time.

  :I didn’t know you were around to ask, she retorted.

  :Fair enough. You’re welcome to join my people. Perhaps if I can find some excuse for Dreamweavers to follow the White out onto the Isthmus, you could go out with them.

  :Then Surim and Tamun will have to approach from the sides. In boats.

  :Yes. I just have to free Auraya.

  She caught a hint of desperation.

  :No ideas yet?

  :I’ve skimmed the minds of several Servants, but all I’ve learned is that it would be impossible to sneak in and free her. My plan so far was to insist that I get to tell Auraya of the White’s defeat. That will keep her alive until after the battle. I’ll slip back to Glymma while the Pentadrians celebrate their victory and free her then.

  :A bold plan. She’ll hate you for helping kill the White.

  :And blame herself for it, too. Still, I’d choose for her to live over the White any day. And I get the feeling she already blames the Circlian gods for her predicament. She seems to hate Huan, who she says arranged for the Siyee to be captured and is intent on killing her. Chaia has admitted he could free her only if the other gods would agree to it.

  :So she’d kill Huan, but not the others. I don’t see how we can arrange that.

  :No. And we still need to free her before the battle if your plan is to work.

  :Yes. Hmm. Something just occurred to me. We need Auraya for more than just to be our sixth immortal. She’s the only one of us who can sense if the gods are actually where we need them to be.

  :You really are taking this seriously, aren’t you?

  :Just trying to work out how to make it work in ca
se the opportunity comes.

  :Then you ought to test the theory first. I want to be sure if I can draw enough magic to create a void before I put myself near both the White and the Voices and try to kill their gods.

  :Yes, it would be sensible to confirm that it works. One of us needs to attempt to make a void. One of The Twins, maybe, since using that much magic would attract more attention than you or I need.

  :Yes. So go chat to them. I’ll talk to Arleej. And see if I can find a way to free Auraya before the battle.

  She felt a pang of concern.

  :Be careful.

  :I’m always careful. After all this time I’ve become rather fond of being alive.

  After his presence had faded, Emerahl turned her thoughts to The Twins.

  :Surim. Tamun.

  They responded with their usual promptness.

  :Greetings, Emerahl.

  :I have a few ideas and suggestions for you.

  :Oh?

  :How long would it take for you two, and The Gull, to get to Diamyane?

  :Now, Emerahl, Tamun said sternly. You agreed with us. You didn’t think Auraya would ever turn against the gods.

  :I did. But if there’s a chance she will, I think you should be here. Listen, I have been thinking...

  Since being doused with cold water, Auraya hadn’t been able to stop shivering. She longed for a blanket, or just a tiny bit of magic with which to heat the air around her. Mischief had curled himself around her neck. His breath smelled bad and she didn’t like to imagine what he had caught and eaten for it to be so foul. She was grateful for the little warmth he gave her, but he was too small to make much difference. Her chest hurt and her shoulder ached...

  Think of something else, she told herself.

  It was hard to think. She was tired and her mind seemed to work slower every day. But she had plenty of time. Puzzling over the “secrets” Mirar had told her kept her occupied from time to time. These secrets had apparently been told by a goddess who had killed herself. How did a god commit suicide? She frowned, sure the answer was important. It might be a clue as to how the gods had killed each other.

  “Voids were created when a god was killed.”

  That was another clue. A void was a place lacking in magic. The gods were beings of magic, which was why they couldn’t venture into a void. What would happen if they tried? Would they die? If so, then perhaps that was how this goddess had killed herself.

  Could a god be forced into a void by other gods? Perhaps. But Mirar had said voids were created when a god was killed. That meant voids were made deliberately. Perhaps in order to kill.

  So how was a void made? How did a god create a lack of magic? Well, that is obvious. Draw away all the magic in one place.

  She blinked. Was it really that simple? Did a god draw all the magic away from where another was in order to kill him or her? What prevented the other god from doing the same in return? Why wouldn’t they simply dodge?

  She shook her head. These questions made her head spin. She let her thoughts drift for a while, too tired to bother skimming minds. Her senses had become dull and she hadn’t the energy to concentrate.

  Some time later she heard footsteps, but couldn’t be bothered opening her eyes to see who approached. Only when Mischief uncurled from her neck, letting cold air chill her, did she rouse herself.

  “Auraya.”

  A glowing figure stood at the edge of the dais. Sheyr.

  “Chaia?” she croaked, surprised.

  “Yes. I have come to offer you an escape, Auraya.”

  “The other gods finally agreed, did they?” Speaking brought the need to cough. She resisted it. “How did you convince Huan?”

  He smiled. “I didn’t. They don’t know and wouldn’t approve of what I am about to offer you.”

  She straightened and felt a surge of hope. Would he defy the others for her sake? Then a fit of coughing took hold of her. When it had passed she felt dizzy and her lungs burned.

  “So what’s the offer?” she whispered.

  “I can’t free you,” he said. “The others will not allow it. But they said nothing about teaching you. I could teach you something that would allow you to free yourself.”

  She stared at him. He smiled.

  “Go on. I’m listening.”

  “It has been clear to me for some time that your Gifts surpass those of any sorcerer. You are immortal, but you are more powerful than immortals. You can read minds. You can sense the presence of gods. You can hear us speak to each other. It would take but a little instruction from me for you to join us.”

  “Join... you?”

  “Yes. To become a god yourself.”

  He must be kidding me, she thought. But why would he? It would be a poor joke. Maybe this is Sheyr. He’s come to torment me.

  From somewhere at the back of her mind she heard Mirar’s voice. “All of the gods were born mortal, became immortals like us, then transformed themselves into gods.”

  A thrill of excitement rushed through her, painful in its intensity. I could be a god!

  But Mirar’s voice continued in her memory. “The gods still feel human emotions and yet they can’t perceive or affect the physical world except through mortals.”

  Well, there had to be a price, she thought. And it’s got to be better than being dead.

  “The gods don’t take people’s souls.”

  She frowned and shook her head. The movement made her dizzy. She drew a deep breath to steady herself but only ended up coughing again. When she had her breath back she looked up at Chaia.

  “Why?”

  He smiled.

  “I don’t want to lose you, Auraya. You’re sick. Your body will die if you do not have a chance to heal it. If you were a god, you would never be sick again. We could be together always.”

  “But if I died we would be anyway. You will have my soul.”

  His smile vanished. “It would not be the same, Auraya. The dead cannot touch the living. I want you to rule the world by my side.”

  “And Huan’s?”

  “Not if you do not wish it.”

  “If we were enemies, it would hardly be good for mortals.”

  “You would let her frighten you out of fulfilling your full potential?”

  She looked away. “No.”

  He held out a hand. “Will you join me, Auraya?”

  She sagged against her chains. I don’t know if I want to become a god. To be separated from the physical world. To only know it and other people through their minds... and the other immortals would be invisible to me. Would Mirar consider me his enemy? The implications piled upon one another, too many for her exhausted mind to think about.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “I’m too tired to think about it. I need time to consider.”

  Chaia nodded. “Very well. I will tell you what you must do. You are sick, and I fear by the time I return it will be too late.”

  Auraya nodded. She closed her eyes and concentrated all her strength on listening to Chaia describe what she must do to become a god.

  44

  Mirar had pieced together the route to the underground cavern from the memories and thoughts of the Servants and domestics that guarded or attended to Auraya. There were three gates blocking the route, each guarded by two magically powerful Servants.

  As he approached the first gate, the two Servants guarding it watched him warily. Mirar smiled at them.

  “So this is where the famous Auraya is being held?” he asked casually.

  The two men exchanged glances, then one looked at Mirar and nodded.

  “Can I go in?” Mirar asked.

  “Only in the company of a Voice,” the other said.

  Mirar looked beyond the gate, then shrugged. “Maybe another time, then.” Turning away, he walked back up the corridor.

  He had expected nothing different. The Voices must have a reason to keep her alive, so they wouldn’t want him killing her. Yet.

  The Voices would hea
r of his visit to the gates. That was deliberate, too. He wanted them to know he was thinking about Auraya, and that she might feature in any deal he made with them.

  Turning a corner, he stopped and blinked in surprise. Nekaun was strolling toward him.

  News certainly travels fast in the Sanctuary. He must have concealed people watching all the corridors approaching the underground area.

  “First Voice Nekaun,” Mirar said. “What a coincidence. I was just wondering who I should ask to take me to see Auraya.”

  Nekaun’s eyebrows rose. “You would like to speak to her?”

  Mirar grimaced. “No. I just want to see her. Our conversations were amusing when she was free, but now I fear there’d be no fun in crossing mental swords with her.”

  Stepping past him, Nekaun looked back. “Come on then. Let’s enjoy the view instead.”

  The two guards did not appear surprised when Mirar and Nekaun appeared. They held the gate open in readiness. Beyond, the walls were unplastered stone. Dust covered all surfaces.

  “I get the feeling this place hasn’t been used in a long time.”

  Nekaun smiled. “No. This is the old Shrine.”

  “Shrine?”

  “This hill has been a sacred place for thousands of years. The Sanctuary was built over the ruins of an ancient place of worship: the Shrine of Iedda.”

  “Iedda? One of the dead gods?” Mirar asked in surprise. “I’d have thought your gods would choose a new site. Somewhere that wasn’t associated with old gods.”

  “Why? The evil of the old gods died when they did.”

  Mirar looked up at the ceiling and nodded. “I suppose building over the Shrine is like replacing the old ways. If it still existed, even in ruins, memories would last longer.”

  “It still exists,” Nekaun assured him. “Come in here.”

  They passed through another gate. The corridor descended further, then turned abruptly. Two Servants stood before the third gate. Beyond was a large hall. The first thing that attracted Mirar’s attention was an enormous, oversized throne.

  Then he saw the figure chained to the throne. Naked, streaked with grime, and thinner than he remembered, Auraya sagged against the base. He could see her brow was shiny with sweat, and he could hear the faint sound of labored breathing.