Priestess of the White

by Trudi Canavan

  The day after the trei-trei, the Speakers had announced that a Gathering would be held in four days. Drilli believed that they wanted to warn everyone about the birds, and Tryss figured she was probably right. That had left him little time to ready himself for presenting his harness. Now that the day of the Gathering had arrived, he could think of a thousand things he still needed to do, and another thousand that could go wrong.

  He’d done all he could do in the short time he’d had. He’d practiced using the harness and blowpipe every day, avoiding duties at home and ignoring the scolding he’d received in return. His father’s disapproval lacked conviction, however, since Tryss always brought back meat for their dinner.

  He could not bring back all of the animals he’d killed, however. It would have drawn too much attention to himself too early. Though he had managed to bring down another yern, he hadn’t dared carry back meat from such a large beast. Leaving it to the scavengers was the only option, and that had dampened his elation at his success.

  He could not hunt yern as part of his demonstration. The animals were too big to trap and transport to the Open. Drilli had suggested breem. They were small, quick and shy of humans, which meant they would probably stay within the half-circle of gathered Siyee, but they were still challenging enough that killing them with missiles from the air would impress most people.

  Drilli had trapped several every day so Tryss could practice hunting them. She had also decorated the harness, painting it in bright colors so it would be more visible at a distance. He was finding he was not too comfortable with the idea of being the sole object of everyone’s attention at a Gathering, but when she pointed out that the paint actually drew more attention to the harness than to him he felt a little better.

  He had moved the harness from the cave in which he’d been hiding it to his family bower this morning, keeping it concealed in a large string-reed sack. At Drilli’s urging he had explained to his parents what it was, and that he was going to show it to the Gathering that night. His parents’ reaction had been mixed. His mother couldn’t see why ordinary hunting methods weren’t good enough, but was excited by the thought of him presenting his ideas to the Gathering. His father, on the other hand, appeared impressed by the invention, but was worried about Tryss making a fool of himself—and his family.

  As am I, Tryss thought wryly.

  He was prepared to take that risk. Almost everything was in place, so he couldn’t back out now. He didn’t want to, anyway. Though the thought of the demonstration filled him with trepidation, Drilli’s confidence in him was infectious. Whenever he doubted, she was full of reassurances. He was ready. All that remained was to ask the Speakers for time to address the Siyee.

  He’d left this to the last moment. Once he did, word would spread that he was going to demonstrate a hunting invention. He’d be plagued by questions and probably taunted by more than just his cousins.

  The sun was low in the sky when he approached the Speakers’ Bower. The Siyee leaders were standing around the entrance and several regarded him suspiciously as he drew near them.

  He hesitated, aware that his heart was racing and his stomach was fluttering with nervousness.

  “May I talk to Speaker Sirri?” Tryss forced himself to ask. He looked through the bower entrance but could not see anything in the dark interior. A shadow moved into the opening and Speaker Sirri stepped out.

  “Tryss. We have many important matters to discuss before the Gathering begins. Can this wait until tomorrow?”

  “Not really,” he said, aware that other Speakers were staring at him disapprovingly. “I’ll be quick.”

  She nodded, then shrugged. “Come in, then.”

  Tryss’s heart skipped. He had never been inside the Speakers’ Bower before. With shaking legs he walked past her. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the light. The interior was plain and unadorned. A ring of stools stood at the center. He was pleased to see the room was empty of other Siyee.

  “What is it, then, Tryss?”

  He turned to face Speaker Sirri. For a moment he could not find his voice. She smiled, the skin around her eyes creasing, and he remembered that she was only one of his own tribe, selected by his own people, and he had no reason to be intimidated by her.

  “I’ve made something,” he told her. “I want to show it to everyone tonight.”

  “Your hunting harness?”

  He stared at her in surprise. Her smile widened.

  “Sreil told me about it. He said it had potential.”

  “He did?” Tryss blurted out. He thought back to the day he’d brought down a yern with drug-tipped spikes months earlier. Sreil had said something…“Good try.” Tryss had assumed the boy had been mocking him. Perhaps he’d meant what he’d said.

  “Yes,” Sirri replied. Her smile faded. “I have to warn you. It will take a lot to convince people. Nobody likes the idea of carrying anything heavy or—”

  “It’s not heavy,” Tryss interrupted.

  “—or being encumbered by something,” she continued. “You are sure this invention of yours works?”

  He swallowed hard, then nodded.

  “Then I’ll give you time to show it to us at the beginning of the Gathering. That gives you an hour to get ready. Is that enough?”

  He nodded again.

  “Then go.” She indicated the doorway.

  Tryss hurried out. As the other Speakers turned to regard him, he realized he was grinning foolishly. He schooled his expression and walked away.

  An hour! he thought. I thought I’d have to wait until the end of the Gathering. I had better tell Drilli, then get the harness.

  Once he was clear of the dense forest around the Speakers’ Bower he leapt into the air. He flew down the Open to Drilli’s family bower. Landing outside her home, he called her name. At once he heard voices arguing inside. After a moment she pushed through the door-hanging, grabbed his arm and drew him quickly away. He looked back to see her mother frowning at them from the entrance.

  “Well? Did they say you could show the harness?” Drilli asked.

  Tryss grinned. “Yes. But at the start, not the end like we thought. We’ve got less than an hour.”

  Her eyes widened. “That soon?”

  “Yes. You better get the breem ready while I get the harness.”

  “No, I’ll need your help to carry them. We’ll get the harness first.”

  They hurried to his family bower. Tryss was surprised to find it empty.

  “My parents must have left early,” he told her. “They said they—”

  The words he had been about to speak fled his mind as he saw what lay in the center of the bower.

  Brightly colored pieces of wood were scattered across the floor. The strips of leather and gut that had bound the harness together lay in pieces. The blowpipe, so carefully painted by Drilli, had been crushed. The bag that had held the darts had been shredded, and even the darts had been broken, each one snapped in two.

  Tryss stared at the fragments of his invention and felt as if his heart, too, was breaking into pieces.

  “Who did this?” he heard himself saying in a wounded, incredulous voice. “Who would do something like this?”

  “Your cousins,” Drilli said in a low voice. She shook her head. “It’s all my fault. They’re jealous of you. Because of me.”

  She made a little choking sound, and he realized she was crying. Amazed that she could be so upset about something he had made—though with her help—he took a step toward her, then hesitantly put an arm around her shoulders. She turned toward him, her eyes shining with tears.

  “I’m sorry.”

  He drew her close. “It’s not your fault,” he told her, stroking her hair. “If you believe that, they win.”

  She sniffed, then straightened and nodded. “They haven’t won yet,” she said firmly, wiping the tears from her eyes. “We’ll show them. We’ll show all of them. Just…not tonight.”

  He looked at the rema
ins of his harness and felt hurt and disappointment harden into a knot of anger deep inside. “Next time I’ll make two harnesses. Maybe three.”

  “And I’ll get my cousins to keep an eye on Ziss and Trinn.”

  “Better still, tie them up somewhere for the night.”

  Drilli managed a smile. “Hang them by their ankles.”

  “Next to a tiwi hive.”

  “Covered in rebi juice.”

  “After removing their clothes.”

  “And their skin. With a seeding knife.”

  “You’re scaring me now.”

  Drilli’s smile was feral. She bent and picked up the splintered blowpipe. “Do you need any of this, to make another?”

  “No.”

  “Good.” She took a basket from a hanger, squatted and began gathering up the pieces.

  “What are you going to do with them?”

  She grimaced. “One of us has to tell the Speakers you won’t be demonstrating your harness. If I go, they’ll know someone else believes in you. And showing them this will convince them you weren’t messing them around.”

  Tryss felt a heavy weight settle around him as the full effect of his cousins’ act became clear. The Speakers knew what he was working on. People would suspect he had blamed others for the failure of his invention—or lacked the courage to demonstrate it. He would be—

  “You’d better find your parents and tell them.” Drilli straightened. “Be quiet about it and pretend everything’s normal.”

  She hesitated, then stepped up to him. Her lips quirked into a smile, then she leaned forward and kissed him. He blinked in surprise, but as he began to kiss her back she moved away. She winked and pushed aside the door-hanging.

  “I’ll see you there.”

  And then she was hurrying away.

  17

  Watching the Siyee ambassadors closely, Auraya recognized the telltale signs of weariness. Being small in stature, they did not have a great tolerance for intoxicating drink, and, like children, they were energetic in their movements but tired quickly.

  Dyara was talking quietly to Tireel. Auraya heard snatches of their conversation.

  “…courage to cross so much landwalker territory, when your people have had good reason to fear us.”

  “We flew high and mostly at night,” he replied. “Landwalkers do not look up often. When they did, they probably thought they were seeing large birds.”

  Dyara nodded. “You will not need to take such precautions on your return. Auraya will not allow you to be harmed.”

  “For that we are grateful. It seems to me that the gods must be in favor of this alliance, or they would not have given one of you this power to resist the pull of the earth.”

  Auraya smiled. The Siyee ambassadors did not call her Gift flight. They saw no similarity between using magic, as she did, and riding the winds. Even so, they believed that she, of all landwalkers, might truly understand their people. The ability to fly was at the core of what they were, both physically and culturally.

  As Zeeriz yawned she looked pointedly at Juran.

  :Our guests have reached their limits, Auraya told the White leader.

  :I think you’re right.

  Juran straightened, then cleared his throat. All eyes turned to him.

  “I would like to offer a prayer,” he said. “And wish our guests a good journey one last time before we retire.” He paused, then closed his eyes. “Chaia, Huan, Lore, Yranna, Saru. We thank you for all you have done to bring us together tonight, in order that we may bring peace and understanding to the lands of Ithania. We ask that you watch over Tireel of the Green Lake tribe, Zeeriz of the Fork River tribe and Auraya of the White as they journey to the land of Si. May you guide and protect them.”

  He opened his eyes, then picked up his glass. At once servants hurried forward to add a dash more tintra to their glasses. Auraya smothered a smile as she saw Zeeriz’s look of dismay.

  “I wish you a safe and pleasant journey.” Juran looked over the rim of his glass at one ambassador, then the other. His grave expression softened into a smile. He raised his glass to his lips and sipped. As all followed suit, Auraya noted how Zeeriz gulped almost all of the tintra in his glass, as if to get rid of it faster.

  Tireel grinned. “We’ll look after Auraya,” he assured Juran.

  “She’ll be treated like…like…” Zeeriz began.

  “Like an honored guest,” Tireel finished.

  “Thank you,” Juran said. “Then we’d best let you both get some sleep in preparation for your long flight.”

  He pushed back his chair and rose. Auraya turned to face Zeeriz and, finding him gone, looked down. She had ordered high chairs to be made so the Siyee would sit at an equal height to any other occupants of the dining table. It was always a surprise to find herself suddenly towering over them again at the end of a meal.

  Zeeriz’s eyes were closed. He swayed a little, then opened them and blinked up at her.

  “It’s just not fair how much you landwalkers can drink,” he muttered.

  She chuckled. “Let me take you back to your room.”

  He nodded and let her guide him out into the corridor. She heard Dyara and Tireel following, still talking. The ambassadors were staying on one of the middle floors of the Tower, close to the dining hall. Auraya and Dyara bade their guests good night, then started toward their rooms. As they reached the great staircase, Dyara gave Auraya a speculative look.

  “You seem more worried about this journey than the last,” she observed.

  Auraya glanced at Dyara. “I am,” she admitted.

  “Why do you think that is?”

  “I must do it alone.”

  “You can still consult with Juran or me,” Dyara pointed out. “It is more than that, I think.”

  Auraya nodded. “Perhaps I didn’t care quite as much whether I succeeded with the Somreyans or not. It’s not that I didn’t care at all,” she hurried to explain, “but the possibility of failing with the Siyee, of giving them reason to dislike us, bothers me. They are, I guess, more trusting of us. The Somreyans weren’t. So, if I fail, it will be akin to betraying their trust.”

  “You didn’t feel the same obligation to avoid betraying the trust of the Dreamweavers?”

  Auraya shrugged. “They never trusted us in the first place.”

  “No,” Dyara replied. She looked thoughtful. “But your friend trusts you. It was a bold move, making him your adviser. I thought it unwise, but it has proved to be quite beneficial.”

  Auraya stared at Dyara in amazement, then looked away. Was this approval? From Dyara? Over befriending a Dreamweaver?

  Dyara halted at the door to Auraya’s rooms. “Good night, Auraya. I will see you at the farewell tomorrow.”

  “Good night,” Auraya replied. “And…thank you.”

  Dyara smiled, then turned away to continue up the stairs. As Auraya entered her rooms, she considered Dyara’s words.

  “But your friend trusts you.”

  She hadn’t had a chance to speak to Leiard in the last few days. Tomorrow she would be leaving early. No chance to see him one last time.

  Then tonight is my only chance to say goodbye.

  She frowned. It was late. Too late to send for him. She couldn’t send someone to wake him up and bring him to the Tower only to spend five minutes with him before sending him home again.

  Would he really mind? She pursed her lips. What was worse: dragging him up here in the middle of the night, or not saying goodbye?

  Smiling to herself, she closed her eyes and sought the mind of the priest on night duty below. After giving him her instructions, she sat down to wait.

  This time tomorrow I’ll be sleeping in a village Temple somewhere. She glanced around the room. Everything looked as it always did. There was no trunk of belongings, just a small pack containing spare white clothing and some gifts for the Siyee. Everything she needed would be given to her by the priests and priestesses of the Temples she stayed in.r />
  Once she entered the mountains there would be no more Temples. The Siyee had assured her that all her needs could be met in their land. They would supply her with all the objects of a civilized culture, such as paper and ink, which they made themselves. She would be given a “bower” of her own to stay in.

  Standing up, she walked to the window and looked down. The Dome was a shadowed expanse, ringed by lanterns. A few priests and servants hurried about their business. The city below was a scattering of lights in a sea of black.

  A tarn entered the Temple loaded with healer priests. Auraya watched two platten arrive, then felt her heartbeat quicken as she saw another pass under the arch bearing a single occupant. Even from so far above, she recognized Leiard. His white hair and beard stood out despite the distance. As the platten approached, he looked up. She found herself smiling, even though she knew he could not see her.

  Moving away from the window, she began pacing the room. Would he mind that she’d called him here? Suddenly her purpose for doing so—just to say goodbye—seemed silly. She could have sent a note instead. She could have visited him…No, that would have disturbed the whole household of the people he was staying with.

  Well, there’s nothing to be done about it now, she decided. I’ll apologize, say goodbye, then send him home. By the time I return to Jarime he’ll have forgiven me.

  She paced the room. What was taking him so long? Perhaps she had been mistaken. She moved to the window.

  I could question the priest on duty…

  She froze as a light tapping came from the door, then let her breath out in a rush.

  He’s here.

  Smoothing her circ, she strode to the door and opened it. Leiard regarded her with wary expectation.

  “Leiard. Come in.” She ushered him inside. “Sorry about the late hour. I haven’t had a moment to myself, and no time to see you as I promised. I’m leaving tomorrow. I couldn’t go without saying goodbye.”

  He nodded slowly, and she was pleased to see he was not annoyed, only relieved. It dawned on her, then, that by calling him here so late she had caused him to wonder if something was wrong. Why hadn’t she foreseen that?