Last of the Wilds

  “Yes.” He looked away. “I will not say who. It is not up to me to reveal that.”

  She nodded. “Of course.”

  “So why have you revealed yourself to me?”

  Drawing in a deep breath, she let it out slowly while considering where to begin. “I spent most of the last century living as a hermit. I’d still be there if a priest hadn’t decided to visit me. I slipped away and haven’t stopped travelling since.”

  “The Circlians chased you,” The Gull said.

  She looked at him in surprise. “Yes. How did you know that?”

  “The gossip of sailors spreads faster than the plague,” he quoted.

  “Ah. So you know I evaded them.”

  “Yes. They lost you in Porin about the time the news came that the Pentadrians were invading. Where did you go then?”

  “I…ah…I followed the Toren army.”

  His eyebrows rose. “Why?”

  “I joined a brothel. It was the best hiding place at the time.” She noted that there was no dismay or disapproval in his expression. “The brothel travelled behind the Toren army and I figured it was a good way to escape the city unnoticed.”

  His eyes brightened. “Did you see the battle?” He sounded eager, like an ordinary boy excited by the idea of watching real warfare.

  “Most of it. I left at the end after I met…an old friend. I spent some time in Si before deciding to seek you out.”

  “Old friend, eh?” His eyes narrowed. “If you’ve been a hermit for the last century, this friend must be old indeed.”

  “Perhaps.” She smiled. “Perhaps it is not up to me to reveal that.”

  He chuckled. “Interesting. How ironic it would be if this friend turned out to be the same friend as mine.”

  “Yes, but that’s not possible.”

  “No? So more than a few of us evaded the gods.”

  Emerahl nodded. “By different means.”

  “Yes. For me it was easy. I have been hard to find for a long time. I simply became harder to find.”

  She looked at the boy. “Yet you sought me out.”

  “That’s true.”

  “Why?”

  “Why did you seek me?”

  “To know if other immortals survived, and how. To offer help if you ever needed it. To see if I could ever ask for help in return.”

  “If you have survived this long, I doubt you need my help,” The Gull said quietly.

  She shook her head. “I cannot live like a hermit for the rest of eternity.”

  “So you seek company.”

  “Yes, as well as the possible benefits of powerful friends.”

  He grinned. “You are not alone in that. I would like to count you as one of my powerful friends.”

  She smiled, more pleased and relieved than she had thought she would be. Perhaps I am lonely, after all those years living by myself.

  “However,” he continued, his expression suddenly grave. “I cannot say whether my friend would agree. If my friend disagrees, I will follow their advice. I value it greatly. You must gain their approval. Otherwise…” he grimaced apologetically “…we cannot speak to each other again.”

  “How do I gain their approval?”

  The boy pursed his lips. “You must go to the Red Caves in Sennon. If a day passes and you have not met anyone, approval has not been granted.”

  “And if it is?”

  He smiled. “You will meet my friend.”

  She nodded. Sennon was on the other side of the continent. It would take months to get there.

  “You don’t meet your friend often, do you?” she asked wryly.

  “Not in person.”

  “If they approve, how will I contact you again?”

  “They will tell you how.”

  She laughed. “Ah, this is all wonderfully mysterious. I shall do as you say.” She looked at him and sighed. “I don’t have to leave straight away, do I? We can chat for a bit?”

  He smiled and nodded, his gaze somewhere in the distance. “Sure. In just a—”

  His words were drowned out as water once again shot out of the ground. When it crashed down he chuckled.

  “The locals tell visitors this is called Lore’s Spitbowl, but they have an even cruder name for the spouts of water.”

  Emerahl snorted. “I can imagine.”

  “They take it for granted that it will always be here. Eventually the water will wear away the rock, and there won’t be enough constriction in the cave below to force the water up. There was a spout in Genria once that dwarfed this.”

  “Ah, I remember that.” Emerahl frowned. “What happened to it?”

  “A sorcerer thought that by making the hole larger he’d create a bigger spout.” He shook his head. “Sometimes the greatest Gifts come to the greatest fools.”

  Emerahl thought of Mirar and the antics he was famous for, and nodded. “Yes, they certainly do.”

  Auraya climbed into the hanging bed and lay still until it stopped swinging. It was early evening, but signs that the Siyee village was stirring into life still reached her. Those that had recovered enough were resuming their old routines. Washed clothes snapped in the wind. The smell of cooking wafted to her nose. The laughter of children reached her ears.

  She closed her eyes and drifted toward sleep.

  :Auraya.

  At once her eyes were wide open, and her longing for sleep forgotten.

  :Chaia! You’ve been gone for days.

  :I was busy. So were you.

  :Yes. I think the worst is over. We’ve isolated those whose bodies can’t fight the disease. Once everyone is cured, we’ll allow them to rejoin the tribe. They will still be in danger of falling ill again if anyone carrying the disease visits the tribe.

  :You cannot stay here just in case they do, Chaia warned.

  :I know. Leiard might stay, however.

  :He was here when you arrived?

  :Yes. She paused. I cannot read his mind. Why is that?

  :He is blocking you. It is a rare Gift.

  :His ability to heal is extraordinary.

  :Yes. He is more than he first appeared to be. Such powers of healing are also rare.

  :It is a pity he did not become a priest. Auraya closed her eyes. A powerful healer priest. He could have helped many more people. I have asked him to teach me this healing Gift. Do you approve?

  Chaia did not answer straight away, then he spoke quietly.

  :I must think on it. How do you feel about him now?

  She frowned.

  :Different. I’m not angry any more. He apologized. That changed more than I would have expected.

  :How so?

  :I don’t know. I like him better for it. I think…I think I would like us to be friends—or at least remain in contact.

  :You are still attracted to him.

  :No!

  :You are. You cannot hide that from me.

  Auraya grimaced.

  :Then you must be right. Are you…do you mind that?

  :Of course, but you are human. So long as you have eyes you will admire other men. That does not mean you will pursue them.

  :No. I definitely won’t be pursuing Leiard. That is a mistake I will not make again.

  :Good. I do not want to see you hurt. Now sleep, Auraya, Chaia whispered. Sleep, and dream of me.

  32

  As the tent collapsed, Imi felt a fluttering inside her stomach. She drew in a deep breath, then let it out in a rush.

  I’m going home!

  As her excitement subsided she was surprised to feel a little regret. The Pentadrians had been so nice to her. If all of her time away had been like this she would not have wanted to go home immediately. She had discovered so many wonderful new things: delicious food, pretty things she’d never seen before, wonderful musicians and entertainers. The Elai palace was going to seem ordinary and boring in comparison, but she missed her father, Teiti, and the guards and children she played with.

  Imenja moved away from the
servants, who were now carefully folding the tent, and crossed the courtyard to Imi’s side.

  “Are you ready?”

  Imi nodded. “Yes.”

  “You have all your belongings?”

  Looking down, Imi pointed at the small box near her feet. Inside were the presents Imenja and Nekaun had given her. “I put them in there.” She bent to pick it up, but Imenja put out a hand to stop her.

  “No, you are a princess. You should not have to carry your own luggage.” She looked up at Reivan, who smiled and bent to pick up the box. How Reivan understood what Imenja wanted, Imi could not guess. Sometimes she wondered if they had some silent code of gestures that they communicated with.

  Imenja turned to a nearby door. “Let us depart.”

  Many corridors and staircases followed. Most led downhill, to Imi’s relief. Though she was much stronger now, she still tired easily. They passed through a large courtyard and entered a hall full of black-robed men and women. Through the arches of the far wall she could see many landwalker houses beyond. She could hear voices—many, many voices. There must be a large crowd outside.

  She dragged her attention away. A familiar man in black robes stepped forward to meet her.

  “Princess Imi,” Nekaun said. “It has been an honor to have you in our Sanctuary.”

  She swallowed and thought quickly. “First Voice of the Gods, Nekaun. I thank you for your hospitality and for rescuing me.”

  He smiled, his eyes sparkling, and without looking away beckoned to the people behind him. Two men stepped forward carrying a large chest between them. They set it down beside her, then stepped back.

  “This is a gift for your father,” Nekaun told her. “Will you accept it on his behalf?”

  “I will,” she said, looking at the chest and wondering what was inside. “I will make sure he gets it.”

  Nekaun gestured at the chest. Imi blinked as the lid opened by itself. No, by magic, she corrected. He can use magic, like Imenja.

  She forgot all else as she saw what was inside. Gold cups and pitchers; fine, brightly colored cloth; jars of the sweet dried fruits she had grown to love; and beautiful glass bottles that, judging from the smells coming from the chest, were full of perfume.

  “Thank you!” she breathed. She turned back to Nekaun and straightened her back. “I accept and thank you on behalf of King Ais of Elai.”

  He nodded formally. “May your journey home be swift, the seas gentle and the weather fine. May the gods guard and protect you.” He moved his hands over his chest, tracing the pattern Imenja called a “star,” and the rest of the Pentadrians followed suit. “Farewell, Princess Imi. I hope to meet you again.”

  “And I you,” she replied.

  He gestured to the two men, who picked up the chest. “I will escort you to the litters.”

  With Nekaun walking on one side and Imenja on the other, she moved toward the arched openings. As they stepped out of the building she caught her breath.

  A wide staircase led down to a mass of people. They crowded between the houses, an endless sea of faces. As Nekaun, Imenja and Imi emerged, the people shouted and waved their arms, their combined voices a roar that was both thrilling and frightening. She had never seen so many people in one place before.

  Imi hesitated, then made herself continue down the stairs. At the bottom, bare-chested landwalkers stood beside a glittering platform covered with cushions. Imenja smiled at Imi and ushered her onto the platform. As she lowered herself onto the cushions, Imi followed suit. Nekaun remained on the stairs.

  The bare-chested men bent to take hold of poles jutting out from the sides of the platform. Another man barked an order and the platform rose. Imi clutched at the sides. Though the men moved smoothly and steadily she could not help feeling uneasy about being carried so far off the ground.

  Now two columns of black-robed men and women descended the stairs and walked past the platform on either side. The crowd parted to allow the men to carry Imenja and Imi down the road. Imi looked back at Nekaun, who raised a hand in farewell.

  As she began to lift her hand in reply a flurry of bright objects burst around her. She flinched, then laughed in delight as a shower of flower petals landed on the platform.

  “Do they always do this?” she asked as more petals fluttered around her.

  “It depends on the event,” Imenja replied. “People tend to gather here when they know there’s a chance of seeing one of the Voices, especially Nekaun. We don’t get flowers, however. They are in your honor.”

  “Why?” Imi asked, flattered and amazed.

  “You are a princess. It is a tradition to make a fuss of royalty. In times past, a monarch and his family were expected to throw coin in return, but that tradition ended when the last Avven king died almost a century ago.”

  “You do not have a king?”

  Imenja shook her head. “Not since then. That king had no heirs, and the people chose to be ruled by the Voices instead. We also rule Mur, to the north, through a Dedicated Servant that the local Servants elect. In Dekkar, which lies south of here, the people still follow a High Chieftain—though his successor is chosen by the gods, not by direct lineage.”

  “How do the gods tell the people which man they’ve chosen?”

  “The candidates must undergo tests of skill, education and leadership. The one who passes all the tests becomes High Chieftain.”

  “So the gods make sure the one they like passes.”

  Imenja nodded. “Yes.”

  “I wonder why I never thought to ask about this before,” Imi said. “They seem like things a princess should know. I guess I’m not a good princess.”

  “You are a wonderful princess,” Imenja told her, smiling. “You haven’t been taught to ask these sorts of questions because your father never expected you to need to.”

  Imi grimaced as she thought of her father. “He’s going to be so angry with me.”

  Imenja’s smile widened. “Why?”

  “Because I broke rules and got myself into trouble.”

  “I don’t think he’ll care about that at all. When he sees you he’ll just be happy to have you back.”

  Imi sighed. “I’ll be happy to be home. I don’t care if I have to stay in my room or take extra lessons for a year, I’ll never break a rule again.”

  The platform turned. Imi saw that they were being carried into a different street. In the distance she could see the sea and the tiny shapes of ships. Another shower of petals fluttered around her and she felt her heart lighten.

  I wish father could see this, she thought. He might change his mind about landwalkers. They’re not all bad. Then she smiled. When he meets Imenja, he’ll find that out for himself.

  Speaker Veece walked out of the bower as Auraya landed.

  “Thank you, Auraya of the White,” he said, as she handed him skins of water and baskets filled with fruit, cold meat and bread.

  She smiled. “We can’t have you dying of starvation after all the work we put in.” Bright, dappled sunlight covered the platform and bower, making it hard to see inside the dim interior. “How is everyone?”

  “Well. Wilar says we are all cured. We must wait until the rest of the village has recovered before we venture out, and we must stay in the village and avoid all visitors until the disease is gone from Si.”

  “He’s right.” She grimaced. “It is hard to be patient, but you can be sure that if any of you catch this disease again it will kill you. You have to be cautious, especially of visitors.”

  He sighed and nodded. “We will be. We do not want your efforts to go to waste, as you said earlier.” Moving to the edge of the platform, he looked out at the other bowers. “You have saved us, you and Wilar. We owe you a great debt.”

  She shook her head. “You owe me nothing. I—”

  :Auraya?

  :Priest Magen?

  :It is I. How fares the North River tribe?

  :They are recovering well.

  :I have just received
bad news. The Siyee have brought three sick children to me. All have Hearteater. It seems they visited their sick friends, the ones we isolated just outside the Open, and caught the disease. I fear they have spread it further.

  Auraya sighed.

  :Then I had best return.

  :You may wish to take a detour, he added. A Siyee from the North Forest tribe arrived just now. He reported that his people are sickening, too. I haven’t been able to discern whether it is the same disease or not.

  :This is what I feared. Very well. I will visit this tribe on the way back. Will you and Danien be able to deal with the outbreak in the Open?

  :We will try.

  :Thank you, Magen.

  Turning back to Speaker Veece, she managed a grim smile. “I have to leave,” she told him. “The disease has emerged in the Open again and the North Forest tribe is also sickening.”

  The old man paled. “What will you do?”

  “Talk to Leiard—I mean Wilar. I will return.”

  Moving to the edge of the platform, she leapt off. As she searched for Leiard she sent out a mental communication.

  :Juran?

  :Auraya. How do the Siyee fare?

  :The North River tribe has almost recovered, but I have just received news of two new outbreaks. I’m hoping Leiard will agree to deal with one.

  :It is fortunate, then, that you are both there—though I still wonder at his reasons for entering Si. Have you considered that he might have gone there in the hopes of meeting you secretly?

  She felt her face warm. She had avoided mentioning Leiard to Juran for as long as possible, not wanting to face questions like this.

  :He did not greet me warmly, and he has not attempted to renew…anything.

  :Good. I must go.

  Leiard had just emerged from a bower. She dropped down to land beside him and he jumped with surprise.

  “I just received some bad news,” she told him.

  “What is it?”

  “The North Forest tribe has a sickness. They don’t know if it’s Hearteater or not.”

  His expression was grim. “And you want me to go there.”

  “Yes. It has also reappeared in the Open, despite the best efforts of Sirri and the priests.”

  He frowned. “So you want me to teach you to heal magically.”