Priestess of the White

by Trudi Canavan

  Auraya drew away and shook her head. The adoration and unquestioning belief of these people was disturbing. As the Pentadrian leader raised his voice, she reluctantly sought his followers’ minds again. To her surprise, he was calling for his gods to appear. She smiled grimly, wondering what sorcerous effect he would use to dazzle his followers.

  A glowing figure appeared beside him.

  Auraya stared at the apparition. It was an image of a man wearing exotic armor. Her senses vibrated with the power that radiated from this being. But how could this be?

  :Juran.

  :Auraya. Can it wait?

  :No, I think you should see this.

  She let him see what she was witnessing and communicated what she was sensing. The black sorcerers had prostrated themselves before the apparition. So had the entire Pentadrian army. Even the slaves.

  :It is an illusion, Juran assured her.

  :If it is, then it’s the first that ever radiated power. I have never felt this except in the presence of the gods.

  :The circle of five are the only gods that survived their war, Juran said firmly.

  :Then perhaps this is a new god, Dyara suggested.

  The five sorcerers had climbed to their feet. They moved aside as the apparition stepped forward. No sound came from the glowing man, but the people below began to cheer at intervals as if responding to his words.

  :If this is a god then there is reason to fear there are more, Rian said. We know these people worship five gods. Why would this god tolerate them worshipping four additional gods if they were false?

  :Five new gods? Juran said disbelievingly. All undetected by ours?

  :We have to consider the possibility, Mairae said.

  :We know the black sorcerers are strong, Rian pointed out. How else can they rival us in strength without the assistance of gods?

  :Either way, we know this will not be an easy battle, Dyara added.

  :No, Juran agreed. Our people do not need to hear of this. They would become…disheartened. Auraya, get out of there as soon as you can. We must meet and reconsider our own strategy.

  :I will, Auraya told him. I assure you, the last place I want to be right now is here.

  One loud cheer burst from the Pentadrians. The apparition disappeared. Auraya felt a surge of relief.

  :It’s gone, she told them.

  The sorcerers descended the stairs. The lake of black robes stirred and separated into five columns. Auraya murmured a prayer of thanks to Chaia as the Pentadrian leader moved to the head of a column and began to lead the army down the valley.

  43

  Leiard opened his eyes. He was riding an arem and he was alone. Mountains rose before him. The road wound toward them. He felt a flare of panic and reined in the arem.

  I’m heading toward the pass. What’s going on? I should be going in the other direction.

  Yes, Mirar replied, but that fool student of yours ran away and we have to find him.

  Jayim? Why would he run away?

  I don’t know. When I went to find him he was gone.

  Find him? Were you separated?

  I thought he’d appreciate his privacy.

  Leiard felt suspicion growing. Why? What have you done?

  I bought him a gift, to keep him distracted. You wouldn’t have wanted him to witness a confrontation with Auraya, would you?

  What gift?

  A whore. Who’d have thought a young man like Jayim would take fright at that?

  Leiard groaned and pressed his hands to his face. You’re supposed to be wise and skilled in understanding the mind and heart. How could you have made such a mistake?

  Nobody’s perfect.

  If you were wrong about Jayim, you might also be wrong about Auraya.

  No, Mirar replied firmly. Only a lovestruck fool cannot see the danger you were putting our people in. Arleej agreed. So did Juran.

  And Auraya? Leiard felt his heart sink with dread. What did you say to her?

  Nothing. Haven’t seen her. Which is a pity. I was looking forward to it.

  Gazing up at the mountains, Leiard sighed. You may still get your chance. We do have to find Jayim. Juran had made it clear that Leiard must ensure his and Auraya’s affair remained a secret. Jayim could not learn from anyone but Leiard, since he could not link with another Dreamweaver without the risk of passing that knowledge on.

  Except Arleej, he thought. She knows. He nudged the arem into a walk. She could teach him.

  Ah! Of course! Mirar exclaimed. I gave control back to you because I thought you’d find Jayim more easily than me. I didn’t need to. We don’t need to return at all.

  Yes we do. I am Jayim’s teacher. I cannot abandon that obligation to another without his consent—or theirs.

  Of course you can. Juran ordered you to leave. He will be angry if you return. Your duty to avoid bringing trouble onto your people outweighs your obligation to Jayim.

  Leave what? Leiard argued. The tent? The mountains? Northern Ithania? No, he ordered me to leave Auraya. So long as I avoid her company, I am obeying his order. I will return and find Jayim.

  No. I will fight you.

  Leiard smiled. I don’t think you will. I think you agree with me on this.

  How can you be so sure?

  You set down these rules. You’re even more obliged to follow them than I.

  No answer came to that.

  Leiard considered how he might find Jayim. First he should contact Arleej. But if it was daylight she’d be awake and impossible to reach with a dream link. She might sense him seeking her, however. Sometimes powerfully Gifted Dreamweavers could, if there were no other distractions. Leiard dismounted and led the arem to the side of the road where a large, elongated boulder stood on its end. Numbers had been carved into the surface. These markers were a new feature of the east–west road, placed there by the Circlians at intervals of roughly a day’s march.

  Sitting with his back to the rock, he closed his eyes and willed himself into a dream trance. It was not hard, since he felt as if he hadn’t slept in days.

  We haven’t.

  Quiet!

  Leiard slowed his breathing and sought a familiar mind.

  :Arleej?

  He waited, then called again. After the third call he heard a faint reply.

  :Leiard? Is that you?

  :Yes, it is me.

  :You sound different. This is you—not Mirar?

  :Yes, it is me. Is Jayim with you?

  :Yes.

  He sighed with relief.

  :Where are you? he asked.

  :On the east–west road. We’re backtracking. Raeli says the Pentadrians have been seen emerging from mines on this side of the mountains. The Circlian army is hurrying back to confront them. Where are you?

  :The east–west road. I doubt I overtook you, so you’re probably heading toward me. I’ll wait here for you.

  :Good. Jayim will be glad to see you.

  Leiard opened his eyes. He rose and led the arem on to a place where he could see the road ahead, then sat down again. His stomach rumbled with hunger, but he was too tired to get up and see if the arem was carrying any food.

  How long has passed since I let you take control? he asked Mirar.

  A day and a half.

  What did you do in all that time?

  You don’t want to know—though in truth I mostly searched for Jayim.

  Leiard sighed. You’re right. I don’t want to know.

  He let the arem’s lead-rope go. It took the opportunity to graze. Carrying a rider was easier for the beasts than hauling a well-laden tarn. So long as they had plenty of water and a bit of grass to eat by the side of the road each night they could be ridden for days at a steady pace. Leiard examined the beast critically. She wasn’t ill or injured. Mirar had not abused her.

  Though all he wanted to do was lie down and sleep, Leiard stood up and tended to his mount.

  The sun had climbed higher in the sky by the time the Dreamweavers appeared. Arlee
j, as always, was driving the lead tarn. Leiard mounted the arem and waited.

  “Dreamweaver Leiard,” Arleej said as she drew close. “I’m glad you have returned to us. It saves us the trouble of finding you later.”

  “It is good to see you again, Dreamweaver Elder,” he replied. “Surely you would not have come looking for me?”

  As the tarn reached him he directed the arem to walk beside it. Arleej looked at him critically.

  “After what Jayim told me? Definitely.” She frowned. “You look tired. Have you slept? Eaten?”

  He grimaced. “Not for a while, I think. I do not recall anything of the last day and a half.”

  “Then Jayim was right. Mirar did take control of you.”

  “He worked that out?”

  “Yes. He was afraid it might be permanent and came back to us for help. Which put me in a difficult situation. Should I search for you or fulfil my duty as a healer?”

  “You made the right choice.”

  “Jayim did not think so.” She glanced at him. “The Circlian army is racing down the road behind us. We must get out of their way and still manage to remain close enough to be of help. I would never have thought anyone could find their way under the mountains.”

  Leiard shrugged. “It has been done before. The way is not all underground. Mines lead to limestone caves, which lead to hidden valleys used for grazing by gowt-herders. There is another old mine on this side of the mountains, though last I heard the entrance had caved in. Nothing a powerful sorcerer couldn’t unblock, however.”

  Arleej stared at him, then shook her head. “If you had not resigned from your position, you would have been part of the war council. They discussed the possibility that the Pentadrians might follow the old mines under the mountains. You could have warned them of this.”

  “If I’d warned them, would they have believed me?”

  The corners of her mouth twitched upward. “Auraya would have.”

  “You haven’t mentioned them discussing this before.”

  Arleej frowned. “Raeli told us of it two nights ago. The night you left.”

  “So if Juran had not sent me away, I would have told you it was possible, and you would have warned Raeli, and the White could have disbelieved her instead.”

  Arleej threw back her head and laughed. “I will have to point this out to Juran one day.” She looked thoughtful. “That is what I will do if Juran learns you returned to us and protests.”

  “I can’t stay, Arleej.”

  She gave him a serious, determined look. “You must stay with us, Leiard. What is happening to you is unnatural and dangerous. Only we can help you. I intend to take you back to Somrey with me when this foolish war is over. I doubt Juran will object to having a large stretch of sea between you and Auraya.” She lifted an eyebrow. “Will you agree to that?”

  Leiard looked away. What she wanted was much more sensible than running blindly with no destination in mind. Surely Mirar would see that. He felt a sudden rush of gratitude to Arleej and turned to meet her gaze.

  “It seems the more I try to leave, the more reasons I find to stay. Thank you, Dreamweaver Elder. I will remain with you.”

  She looked relieved. “Good. Now go back and see to your student. He’s been worried about you.”

  “Jade.”

  The voice brought Emerahl out of a deep sleep. A sleep her body surfaced from reluctantly. She scowled with annoyance, drew in a breath and opened her eyes.

  Rozea was leaning over her, smiling.

  “Quickly. Sit up. I’ve sent the servants for some things. We’ve got to get you presentable.”

  Emerahl sat up and rubbed her eyes. The tarn was motionless. “Presentable? Why?”

  “The army is coming. It’ll pass us at any moment. It’s the perfect opportunity to show you girls off. Come on. Wake yourself up. You look terrible.”

  The flap of the tarn opened and a servant passed Rozea a bowl of water, a towel and Emerahl’s box of grooming tools, paints and ointments. Emerahl could see that the caravan had pulled over to the side of the road. Then she noticed a rhythmic sound in the distance. The sound of many, many feet marching to the pace of drums.

  “The army? Coming back?” Emerahl’s heart skipped as the full meaning of Rozea’s words came to her. The army was returning from the pass. For Rozea this was an opportunity to put her wares on display that was too good to miss. For Emerahl, being put into the sight of hundreds of priests could be disastrous.

  “Yes,” Rozea said. “They’re coming back down the road. I don’t know why. We’ll find out when they get here, which will be in a matter of moments. Tidy yourself up. I’m going to see to the other girls. I’ll send a servant back to you.”

  Emerahl took the bowl and towel. As Rozea left she began to wash her face. I have to find a way to avoid this—and quickly. She looked down at the box and pushed off the lid with a toe. If she was less than presentable, Rozea might let her remain unseen. The reason would have to be convincing, but then Emerahl had seen enough sick people in her long life to know how to pretend to be unwell, and healing powers could be used for other purposes.

  Picking up the water bowl, she closed her eyes and began to concentrate on her stomach.

  When the door flap opened again, Emerahl was lying across the seat, this time with her head by the door. As bright light streamed in, she cringed away and buried her head in her arms. The servant stared at her, then at the contents of the bowl, and hurried away. A moment later Rozea appeared.

  “What’s this?” she asked, her voice strained.

  Emerahl shifted her head slightly so Rozea could see the paint-darkened skin under her eyes. “I tried,” she said weakly. “I thought I could pretend…I’m sorry.”

  Rozea called back the servant and had the girl take the bowl away. She climbed inside the tarn.

  “What’s…what’s wrong with you?”

  Emerahl swallowed and rubbed her stomach. “Bad food, I think. When I sat up before…Urgh. I feel sick.”

  “You look a sight.” Rozea scowled in frustration. “I can’t have you scaring customers off, now can I?” She drummed her fingers on her sleeve. “That’s fine. You’re my favorite, not to be seen by just any common soldier. Only by those who can afford to pay for a glimpse of rare beauty.”

  Emerahl made a small noise of resignation. The madam smiled, then patted her on the shoulder. “Get some rest. These things don’t last long. I’m sure you’ll be well by tonight.”

  When she had left, Emerahl raised her head and lifted the door flap a little. She could see nothing, but the sound of marching was louder now. The faint giggle of the other whores close by made her smile. This would be exciting for them. Then a male voice—one of the guards—called out, “Here they come!”

  A rider came into view and her heart all but stopped.

  Juran.

  At first glance he looked no different to the man she had seen a hundred years before. She looked closer and realized this was not true. The years showed in his eyes—in the hard, determined expression on his face. He still looked handsome and confident, but time had changed the man. She could not say exactly how, and did not care to find out.

  As he moved out of sight, two more riders came into view. A woman and a man, both good-looking. They wore the same undecorated white robes. Two more of the White. The woman also wore a hard expression. She looked about forty. The man beside her, in contrast, appeared to be much younger. He had a disturbingly intense gaze. As his attention fell on the brothel’s caravan, he frowned with disapproval, then lifted his chin and looked away.

  A tarn followed. Within this sat two young women. Again, both wore white and both were attractive. The blonde’s expression was more open than the other. When she saw the caravan her lips twitched into a faint, wry smile that made her look older and wiser than her physical appearance suggested.

  Immortals, Emerahl thought. You can tell, once you’ve met a few. I wonder if I’m so easy to read.

&n
bsp; The other woman wore her hair unbound. She had large eyes and a triangular face. She stared at the caravan, then quickly looked away. Not out of disdain, Emerahl saw. The woman looked pained.

  The pair passed out of sight. Another tarn followed. It was highly decorated and surrounded by elaborately uniformed soldiers. Emerahl recognized the current Toren king’s colors and symbols. Several more fancy tarns followed. Genrian. Somreyan. Hanian. Then the priests and priestesses began to file past. She let the door flap fall and rolled onto her back, heart pounding.

  So those are the ones they call the White, she thought. The ones the gods chose to do their dirty work among mortals.

  She listened to the sound of the army passing and the calls of the girls. It was disturbing knowing so many of the gods’ followers were filing past her, separated only by the tarn cover. I should not have stayed with the brothel after the ambush, she decided. I should have taken my money and left.

  She would have felt bad about leaving the girls unprotected, however; she could not have known that they would be safe. And if I’d left, I would never have been in this unique position to see the Gods’ Chosen without being seen myself. She smiled at the thought. I do believe I’m gaining an adventurous spirit, she mused. What next?

  She sighed. The caravan had caught up with the army, though in an unexpected way. Rozea could find herself new guards now. There was no reason for Emerahl to stay. I can leave…or can I?

  The caravan would probably follow at the rear of the army and camp beside it tonight. She faced the same danger she had before—that the news Rozea’s favorite had run away would inspire an entire army to search for her.

  Yet there was a new danger if she stayed. Rozea might mention her favorite’s amazing powers of healing to the wrong person. Emerahl might find herself facing curious priestly visitors.

  She cursed.

  The door flap opened. She looked up to see Rozea regarding her. The woman moved to the opposite seat, her expression serious.

  “It seems the enemy has found another way through the mountains. The Circlians are rushing to stop them.”