Priestess of the White

by Trudi Canavan

  Many of the room’s occupants looked relieved. Lanren suppressed a wry smile. While none had walked more than a few steps of the journey from Jarime, they were all tired. They had had little sleep each night, since discussions usually continued long past midnight. Lanren was not the only one who had adapted to sleeping while sitting upright in a rocking, jolting tarn.

  As always, Lanren hung back and noted who left the tent with whom. He saw Auraya catch Danjin Spear’s eye. The man already looked a little less lost. Then something small dashed into the tent and launched itself at Auraya.

  “Owaya! Owaya!”

  All turned to see a small gray creature run up Auraya’s circ and onto her back. He began to race from one shoulder to another, panting with excitement.

  “Hello, Mischief,” Auraya said, her eyes bright with amusement. “I’m happy to see you, too. Here, let me—I’ll just—will you stay still for a moment?”

  He dodged her hand, then paused to lick her ears.

  “Argh! Mischief! Stop that!” she exclaimed. She winced and lifted him down, then held him firmly against her chest with one hand, while scratching his head with the other. The creature gazed up at her adoringly.

  “Owaya home.”

  “Yes, and hungry,” she told him. She looked up at Danjin. “You?”

  “Yes,” Danjin replied.

  Her smile widened. “Then let’s see what we can rustle up. You can tell me what Mischief has been up to while I’ve been gone.”

  “Plenty,” Danjin told her wryly.

  As they walked out of the tent, Lanren felt a familiar nagging feeling. It was a feeling he had when he had just seen something that might prove to be important. Something about the exchange he’d witnessed.

  Or was it simply the possibilities inherent in the veez itself that nagged at his thoughts. The creatures could be useful as scouts or couriers.

  His stomach grumbled. Shaking his head, Lanren put the thought aside and left in search of dinner.

  Long past midnight, Auraya paced her tent. The war discussion had lasted hours. At first the time had flown by, but as the night lengthened, the presence of the new Dreamweaver adviser had reminded Auraya of the questions she wanted to ask Leiard.

  She knew from reading Raeli’s mind that the woman had no idea why Leiard had resigned from the position. Auraya could easily guess the answer to that. Any of her fellow White could learn of their affair just by seeing into his mind. He must have resigned to prevent that.

  She felt a pang of guilt. If she’d realized the consequences of taking him to bed that night…but one wasn’t meant to think twice in moments of passion. That’s how it was in folktales of love and heroism. Even in those tales there was a cost to forbidden love. Obviously it hadn’t occurred to Leiard how much trouble they would cause, either. Even if they had restrained themselves that night, there would still have been the revelation of their love for each other. The White would have read that from his mind anyway.

  Is there a chance they might accept my choice of lover? I doubt they’d be happy about it, but they may come to support us in time. We could become a symbol of unity between Circlians and Dreamweavers.

  It was all very fine dreaming of becoming a symbol of unity when she didn’t know where he was or—she felt her stomach twist—if he still felt the same way about her. During dinner she had asked Danjin if he had seen Leiard. He had no idea where Leiard or any of the Dreamweavers were. She knew they preferred not to travel with armies or to show preference for any side in a battle, but they could not be too far away. Their destination was the same as both armies: the battlefield.

  She ought to be sleeping, but she knew she would not. Tomorrow Juran would expect her to join the other White leading the army to war. The only time she had free to seek Leiard was these few spare hours of night.

  As she reached the tent entrance she heard a small, muffled voice.

  “Owaya go?”

  She looked back at the basket Mischief had taken to as his bed. A small head and two bright eyes appeared among the blankets.

  “Yes,” she said. “Mischief stay.”

  “Msstf Owaya go.”

  Auraya paused, not sure of the veez’s meaning. The creature jumped out of the basket and bounded past her. He stopped a few strides away and looked back at her.

  “Msstf Owaya go,” he repeated.

  He wanted to come with her. She smiled, then shook her head.

  “Auraya fly,” she told him.

  He looked up at her.

  “Msstf Owaya fly.”

  Did he truly understand what she was saying? She focused on his mind and saw a bright mix of adoration and eagerness. She tried to communicate a sense of rising above the ground. He quivered all over with excitement, then squeaked and rushed up her body to her shoulder.

  If he truly understood, she didn’t know. Perhaps if she lifted herself into the air a little he would take fright and jump off. Then he would understand the meaning of the word “fly” and know he couldn’t come with her.

  She moved outside and slowly lifted herself upward. The veez’s claws tightened on her shoulder, but she sensed no fear from him. Of course not, she mused. He climbs up walls and across ceilings all the time.

  She moved higher, testing his confidence. The only change in his mood was a growing anticipation. When she was looking down at the tops of the tents, she began to move forward. Mischief settled against her back, enjoying the breeze ruffling his fur.

  He likes it, she marvelled. Who would have thought? I’ll hope his understanding of heights includes knowing when he’s too high to jump off safely…

  She had reached the edge of the camp now. Flying on, she followed the curve of a hill upward. At the top she paused to look around.

  Then she began to search for Leiard.

  34

  Tryss looked down at the hundreds of campfires below, and smiled. From a distance it was easy to feel superior to these landwalkers. He and Drilli had talked about it last night. For a start, these people hardly ever looked up. He supposed they had rarely needed to before now. If the Pentadrians had the same weakness, it would be easy to exploit in the coming battle.

  Another landwalker weakness was their slowness. The Siyee could travel in an hour or two the distance the rest of the army walked in a day. It had quickly become clear that the Siyee would not be following the Circlian army to the battlefield. There was no point in flying around in circles while the landwalkers made their slow but tireless way across the plains, so Sirri had offered to take the Siyee ahead to find a good place for the army to camp the next night. Juran had agreed.

  There had been no need to hurry, so they had had plenty of time to inspect the territory. The plains were a different kind of terrain than they were familiar with. Flying low, they stirred up flocks of birds or herds of small, fine-boned animals the landwalkers called lyrim. These creatures provided an excellent opportunity for harness and blowpipe practice. Tryss and Drilli had led one of the many teams of hunters. So many of these animals were brought down that by the end of the day they had killed more than enough to feed themselves. The excess meat was cooked and presented to the landwalker army when it arrived that evening.

  It made them popular with the army. The landwalkers had lifted their cups and dedicated their ration of drink to the Siyee after the meal. It was another amusing custom of theirs.

  However, the hunt made the Siyee unpopular with a small group of landwalkers who appeared early the next morning. It appeared that these herds of lyrim had belonged to them. Juran had given these men bags of the metal coins the landwalkers used for money, and the lyrim herders had left looking grim, but no longer angry.

  All feelings of superiority Tryss enjoyed soon disappeared whenever he was among the landwalkers. Their size was enough to intimidate any Siyee, but watching them at weapons training was truly sobering. Many of these fighters were quite arrogant. Once one sneered openly at Tryss and a group of Siyee. Later, Auraya heard of the incident a
nd was angry. She explained that some landwalkers felt that killing a man at a distance, rather than face-to-face, was a dishonorable and cowardly act. They disdained landwalker archers for that reason. It was all right for them, Auraya had said. They were born large and strong. If only large and strong people fought in wars, armies would be small indeed.

  “Tryss!”

  Startled out of his thoughts, Tryss looked around. Speaker Sirri was riding an updraft toward him. She landed on the hill beside him.

  “The war council is about to begin,” she called. “I want you to come with me.”

  “Me?” he exclaimed.

  “Yes. I can probably take a few companions, but I doubt I could get away with bringing all fourteen Speakers with me. I’d rather not choose between them, so I’ll take someone else instead.”

  His heart was racing. “I don’t know anything about planning a war!”

  She laughed. “Neither do I! I know one thing though. You’re clever. You think differently to me. There’s no point bringing someone who thinks like me, because they’ll probably only see the same problems and have the same ideas that I will. I need a companion who’ll understand what I don’t understand.”

  “I might not understand anything.”

  “I doubt that. So, are you coming?”

  He grinned. “Yes!”

  “Good!”

  She swooped downward and he followed. They glided toward the white tent, where a small crowd of landwalkers had gathered. Only one of the group glanced upward and saw Tryss and Sirri approaching. As they landed the rest exclaimed in surprise and turned to stare at them. The one who had noticed them stepped forward and placed a hand on his chest.

  “Lanren Songmaker,” he said. Opening his hand, he gestured to Sirri. “Hed Speekr Seerree?”

  Sirri nodded. She looked at Tryss and spoke his name. The landwalker’s eyebrows rose. He waved a finger across his chest, then mimed shooting an arrow. Sirri nodded again. The landwalker pointed to his head and made a signal with his thumb that looked vaguely silly, but seemed to imply approval.

  Tryss smiled and nodded to indicate he understood. Being praised so publicly ought to have embarrassed him, but instead he felt a growing dismay. These landwalkers didn’t know the Siyee language, and he didn’t know theirs. How was he going to help Sirri if he couldn’t understand a word spoken at the war council?

  The man named Songmaker turned and introduced the others. He managed to make himself clear, despite the language difficulties. By saying “Hed Speekr” and pointing to one of the others, he told them that the person was a leader. Pointing to his head and mouth and then another person told them that the man or woman was present to provide thoughts and words to the leaders.

  Advisers, Tryss thought. Like me.

  A quiet woman in a multicolored vest smiled faintly as she was introduced. Sirri murmured to Tryss that this was one of the legendary Dreamweavers. Songmaker made the head and mouth gesture. Another adviser, Tryss concluded.

  Songmaker then pointed at himself, patted the scabbard at his hip, then tapped his head.

  So he is a warrior and adviser. A good man to be friends with during a war…if only there wasn’t this language problem. I wonder how long it would take to learn their tongue. The Siyee language had evolved from a landwalker one, so it might not be that difficult. Some words might be the same, or at least similar.

  The attention of the landwalkers had shifted now. Tryss could not see past them to the source of their distraction, however. Then leaders and advisers alike stepped back and the White appeared.

  They were impressive figures. Five handsome men and women, all dressed in white. The man who began to address the crowd—Juran—greeted the group in sober but warm tones. Auraya caught Tryss’s eye and smiled.

  Juran turned to Sirri. “Welcome, Speaker Sirri—and this is Tryss the inventor, isn’t it?” he said in the Siyee language.

  Tryss felt his face warm. He wasn’t sure what to say to this powerful, formidable man. Auraya chuckled.

  “Yes, this is Hunter Tryss.” She said something else in the landwalker tongue, and Tryss realized she was translating. He sighed with relief when he knew his fears were unfounded. If Juran or Auraya translated everything, the war council would not be incomprehensible.

  He watched as the White ushered the leaders and their advisers into the tent. The man named Moderator Meeran paused just before the entrance. Auraya beckoned to Sirri. Tryss followed as Sirri stepped forward to join the landwalker as he entered. Tryss guessed there was some significance in this. He would ask Auraya about it later, if he had the opportunity.

  Inside the tent was a large table too high for Tryss to see what was on top. All but the White moved to chairs arranged in a circle around the walls of the tent. Two of these chairs were empty. Tryss frowned as Auraya gestured to them. They were landwalker-sized chairs. The seats were as high as Tryss’s chest.

  They could have brought some smaller chairs for us, he grumbled. It seems a bit rude…

  Sirri didn’t complain, however. She moved to one and sprang easily up onto the seat. Tryss was conscious of the many eyes on him as he leapt up onto the second chair. He turned to face the room and saw that he could now see the top of the table.

  Ah, that’s the reason they didn’t.

  A large sheet of thin material lay on the table. On it had been painted a colorful shape surrounded by blue. Looking closer, Tryss felt a thrill of amazement. This was a map—and he had never seen a map of such detail or scope. It was a map of the entire continent of Northern Ithania.

  He stared at it, trying to work out where Si was. Eventually he realized the lines of scribbly upside-down “v” shapes were mountain ranges. The great mass of “v’s near the bottom must be Si—it was the most mountainous part of Northern Ithania. He could not make sense of the placement of the individual mountains, however. Since no landwalker had ever charted Si, as far as he knew, the mapmaker had probably guessed their placement.

  The White’s leader, Juran, began to speak. As he did, Auraya moved away from the table and slipped between Sirri’s and Tryss’s chairs.

  “He says that we will begin by discussing how the Siyee can assist us before and during the battle,” she murmured. “Since he’ll be mainly talking to you, he’ll speak your language as best he can, and Dyara will translate to the others.”

  Sirri nodded. Juran turned to face her.

  “Welcome to the war Gathering, Head Speaker Sirri,” he said, forming the words slowly and carefully. The woman, Dyara, translated for the others in a murmur.

  “Thank you, Juran, leader of the White,” Sirri replied. “I am eager to help in any way I can.”

  He smiled. “How you may help us is what we will discuss tonight. What do you wish your people’s role to be?”

  Sirri paused. “As archers of the air,” she said. “As eyes in the sky.”

  “Indeed, that is how I imagine they would be best employed,” Juran agreed. “I do not think it wise to send you out to randomly attack our enemy during the battle. That would be risky and a waste of your potential. We should use every opportunity to surprise the enemy and work together on land and in the air to our best advantage.”

  “How might that be done?” Sirri asked.

  “Our war adviser, Lanren Songmaker, has many suggestions on this matter.”

  Sirri looked at the man who had greeted them. “I am eager to hear them.”

  “Then he will describe them now. Lanren?”

  The friendly landwalker rose from his seat. At a nod from Juran he began to speak. Auraya translated. Tryss listened in fascination as possible encounters with the enemy were described, and how they might be resolved with the Siyee’s help. He had imagined the two armies clashing in one great confrontation, not in these carefully planned complex stages and layers of attack.

  The man’s understanding of the Siyee’s limitations in flight was surprisingly good. It seemed Tryss had not been the only person watching and asses
sing the strengths and weaknesses of his allies. Then the man made a blunder, an assumption that the wind conditions in the mountains would be the same as on the plains. Tryss found himself interrupting. Too late, he realized what he had done and fell silent, his face burning.

  “Don’t stop, Tryss,” Auraya murmured. “Speak up. This is what we are here for: to correct each other’s mistakes. Better now, than after they have caused deaths on the battlefield.”

  He looked up at her, then at Sirri. The Speaker nodded encouragingly. Tryss swallowed hard.

  “Air moves differently in the mountains,” he said. “Sometimes to our advantage, sometimes not.”

  Auraya translated. The man spoke.

  “Can you predict how these winds will move?”

  “Only in a general way. We won’t know until we get there if the air will flow as we expect it to.”

  From there, the discussion became more detailed. Sirri joined in, but often looked to Tryss when the scenarios Songmaker described became complex. The war adviser was full of enthusiasm, but after a while he stopped and spoke to Juran. Auraya translated.

  “We could talk about this for hours, even days. May I suggest that we continue in my tent? All interested in the fine details would be welcome to join us.”

  “Yes,” Juran agreed. “First I would like to consider how the Siyee might be of use before the battle as our ‘eyes in the sky.’” He looked at Sirri and returned to the Siyee language. “We have no spies in the Pentadrian army. The sorcerers who lead it are able to read minds and discovered our spies who had infiltrated their forces. The only reports of their position we are receiving are from scouts observing from afar, and their last report was to tell us that the army has entered the forests of the foothills. Would you be willing to send some of your people over the mountains to learn more?”

  Sirri nodded. “Of course.”

  “How long would they take to cross the mountains and return?”