Last of the Wilds

  That was something she wasn’t supposed to know about. On the day the landwalker sorceress came to the city, Imi had been locked away in her room. She had sent Teiti to find out what was going on—but also so Imi could do something without being seen.

  Behind an old carved panel in her room was a narrow tunnel just big enough for her to slither through. It had been blocked originally, but she had cleared it long ago. At the end of this was a secret room, lined with pipes. If she put her ear to a pipe, she could hear what was being said at the other end. Her father had told her about it once, and explained that it was how he knew about people’s secrets.

  The day the landwalker had come to the city, Imi had crawled through the tunnel to see if she could find out what had stirred up the guards. She’d heard this woman asking her father if landwalkers and Elai might become friends. Her people would get rid of the raiders that had killed and robbed the Elai for so long, forcing them to live in the underground city. In return the Elai would help her people if they ever needed it. They would also exchange other things. Her people would buy from the Elai, and Elai could buy from her people. It sounded like a good arrangement, but her father had refused. He thought all landwalkers were untrustworthy liars, thieves and murderers.

  They can’t all be like that, Imi thought. Can they?

  If they were, then the mainland must be a horrible place where everybody stole from each other and people were murdered all the time. Maybe it was, because they had lots of valuable things to fight over.

  Imi shook her head. “Let’s go back.”

  Her aunt nodded. “Maybe there’ll be something special next time.”

  “Maybe,” Imi replied doubtfully.

  “You still have over a month to find him a present.”

  The market was near the Mouth, the big lake that was the entrance to the underwater city. As they came in sight of the great dark cave filled with water, Imi felt a wistful longing. She had ventured beyond the city only a few times in her life, but always with many guards. That was the trouble with being a princess. You couldn’t go anywhere without an escort.

  She had learned long ago to forget about the armed guards that followed her and Teiti about. They were good at being inconspicuous and didn’t get in her way.

  Inconspicuous. Imi smiled. It was a new word she had learned recently. She said it under her breath.

  They stepped out of the market into Main River. It wasn’t really a river, since it carried no water, but all of the ways in the city were named rivers, streams, creeks or trickles. The larger public caves were called pools—sometimes puddles if someone was mocking the neighborhood.

  Main River was the widest thoroughfare in the city. It led straight to the palace. She had never known Main River to be empty, not even late at night. There was always someone on it, even if it was just a courier hurrying to or from the palace, or the night guards patrolling the palace gates.

  Today the River was crowded. Two of the guards following her stepped forward to ensure people moved out of her way. The noise created by so many voices, slapping feet, music and singing of entertainers was deafening.

  She caught a thread of melody and paused. It was a new song, called “The White Lady,” and she was certain it was about the landwalker visitor. Her father had banned anyone from playing it in the palace. Teiti caught Imi’s arm and pulled her forward.

  “Don’t make the guards’ job any harder,” she said in a low voice.

  Imi did not argue. Can’t show too much interest in the song anyway, in case they guess I know about the landwalker.

  They reached the end of Main River. Teiti let out a sigh of relief as they stepped out of the crowd, through the gates and into the quiet of the Palace Pool. A guard stepped forward and bowed to Imi.

  “The king wishes to see you, Princess,” the man said formally. “In the Main Room.”

  “Thank you,” Imi replied, managing to suppress her excitement. Her father wanted to talk to her in the middle of the day! He never had time to see her during the day. It must be important.

  Teiti smiled approvingly at Imi’s restraint. They walked down the main stream of the palace at a dignified but frustratingly slow pace. Guards nodded politely as she passed them. The stream was full of men and women waiting to see the king. They bowed as Teiti and Imi walked past to the open double doors of the Main Room.

  As Imi stepped into the huge room she saw her father leaning on the arm of his throne, talking to one of four men sitting on stools arranged before him. She recognized her father’s counsellor, the palace steward and the head clothes-maker. Her father looked up, smiled broadly and opened his arms.

  “Imi! Come give your father a hug.”

  She grinned, tossed all decorum aside and ran across the room. As she leapt into his arms, she felt them wrap around her and the vibration of his laugh deep within his chest.

  He released her and she settled on his knee.

  “I have an important question for you to answer,” he told her.

  She nodded, making her expression serious. “Yes, Father?”

  “What entertainments would you like to see at our party?”

  She grinned. “Dancing! Jugglers and acrobats!”

  “Of course,” he said. “What else? Can you think of something particularly special?”

  She thought hard. “Flying people!”

  His eyebrows rose and he looked at his counsellor. “Do you think a few Siyee would agree to attend?”

  She bounced up and down with excitement. “Would they? Would they?”

  The counsellor smiled. “I will ask, but I can’t make any promises. They might not like being underground where they can’t see the sky, and they can’t fly in small places. There isn’t enough room.”

  “We could put them in our biggest, tallest cave,” Imi suggested. “And paint the roof blue like the sky.”

  Her father’s eyes lit with interest. “That would be a sight.” He smiled at her and she searched for more ideas that might please him.

  “Fire-eaters!” she exclaimed.

  He winced, probably remembering the accident that had happened a few years before, when an overly nervous new fire-eater had spilled burning oil over himself.

  “Yes,” he said. “Is that all?”

  She considered, then smiled. “A treasure hunt for the children.”

  “You’re not getting too old for that?”

  “Not yet…Not if we have it outside.”

  His expression changed to disapproval. “No, Imi. It’s too dangerous.”

  “But we could bring guards and hold it somewhere—”

  “No.”

  She pouted and looked away. Surely it wasn’t that dangerous outside. From what she had overheard in the pipe room, raiders weren’t circling the islands all the time. People went out every day to collect food or objects to trade. Whenever someone was killed, it was on one of the outer islands, or away from the islands altogether.

  “Anything else?” he asked. She could hear the false brightness in his voice. She could tell when his smile was forced because the wrinkles around his eyes didn’t deepen.

  “No,” she replied. “Just lots of presents.”

  The wrinkles appeared. “Of course,” he replied. “Now, with all these suggestions to take care of, I have a lot of work to do. Go back to Teiti now.”

  She leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek, then slipped off his knee and walked back to Teiti. Her aunt smiled, took her hand, and led her out of the room.

  In the stream outside stood a large group of traders. She heard them muttering among themselves as she passed.

  “…waiting for three days!”

  “It has been in my family for three generations. They can’t…”

  “…never seen such large sea bells. Big as fists!”

  Sea bells? Imi slowed and pretended to brush something from her clothes.

  “The landwalkers have discovered them, though. They guard them well.”

  “C
ould we arrange a distraction? Then we…”

  The conversation became too quiet to hear as she moved away. Her heart was beating fast. Sea bells as big as fists? Her father loved sea bells. Could she ask one of these traders to get one for her? She frowned. It sounded like they were planning one big trip to gather lots of bells. When they did, bells the size of fists would be on sale everywhere. They’d be common and boring.

  Unless I get someone to sneak in and grab one for me before the traders get there. She smiled. Yes! I just need to find out where these sea bells are.

  Which would be easy. Tonight she would make a trip to the pipe room.

  :Auraya, are you coming? Juran asked.

  Auraya jumped at the voice in her mind. She dropped the scroll she had been reading—a fascinating account of a sailor who had been rescued from drowning by one of the sea people—and leapt out of her seat. Her sudden movement startled her veez. He gave a squawk, ran up the back of the chair he’d been sleeping on and scampered up the wall.

  “I’m sorry, Mischief,” she said, moving to the wall and stretching a hand out to him. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

  He stared at her accusingly, feet splayed firmly against the wall. “Owaya scare. Owaya bad.”

  “I’m sorry. Come down so I can scratch you.”

  He remained just out of reach, his whiskers now quivering in the way they did when he was living up to his name.

  :Owaya chase Msstf, a tiny voice said in her mind. She shook her head.

  “No, Mischief. I—”

  :Auraya? Juran called.

  :Yes. I’m coming. Where are you?

  :At the base of the Tower.

  :I’ll be right there.

  She sighed and left Mischief clinging to the wall. Setting a goblet on the edge of the scroll to stop it blowing off the table, she moved to the window, unlatched the pane and pushed it open.

  An awareness of the world came to her as she concentrated. She somehow knew where she was in relation to the ground below, and the land and sky around her. Drawing magic to herself, she willed herself to change position slightly. A little higher, then outward. In a moment she was floating beside the window, nothing but air below her feet. Shifting her position again, she turned around and shut the window.

  Below her lay the grounds of the Temple. Floating as she was, it almost looked as though one of her feet was standing on the round roof of the Dome, and the other on the hexagonal building known as the Five Houses where the priesthood was housed. Aside from the White Tower behind her, the rest of the Temple grounds were carefully tended gardens shaped into a pattern of circles—the circle being the symbol of the gods. Ahead and to her right she could see a thread of reflected sky where one of the many rivers of Jarime made its way toward the sea.

  She willed herself to descend. When she moved like this, it did not resemble flying at all. She called it flying only because she could not think of another simple term to sum up what she was doing. “Moving in relation to the world” was a bit long-winded.

  In addition to her awareness of the world was a new awareness of the magic in it. During the last moments of the battle, when she had gathered more magic to herself than ever before, she had become aware of magic in a way she had never been before. If she concentrated, she could sense it all around her.

  Both Circlians and Dreamweavers agreed that the world was imbued with magic. All living things could draw in some of that magic and channel it out into the physical world. The uses it was put to were called Gifts and had to be learned, just as any physical skill must be learned. Most living things, including people, could draw only a little magic, and so had limited Gifts. Some, however, were stronger and more talented. If human, they were known as sorcerers.

  I was an unusually powerful sorceress even before the gods enhanced my powers to make me a White, she reminded herself, looking down at the ring on her finger. I wonder what sort of life I’d have lived in the days before Circlian priests and priestesses.

  She liked to think that she would have used her Gifts to help people, that she would not have become corrupt and cruel, like so many powerful sorcerers in the past. Sorcerers like the Wilds, who while powerful enough to achieve immortality had been more inclined to abuse their power and positions of authority.

  Perhaps humans were not meant to wield that much power. Perhaps having physical form made them vulnerable. The true gods were not corrupt. They had no physical form, but were beings of pure magic that existed in the magic that imbued everything.

  Auraya jolted to a halt.

  I can sense that magic. Does that mean I will be able to sense them?

  The possibility was both exciting and disturbing. She looked down. The ground was not far away. Descending again, she dropped until she was level with the top of the Tower entrance, then slowed to make a gentle landing.

  Looking through the arches, she found the other White standing in the hall. Mairae saw her and smiled. At once the other White followed Mairae’s gaze. Juran’s expression softened as he saw Auraya. He started toward her and the others followed.

  “Have you been taking a little early morning jaunt around the Tower?” he asked, indicating she should walk beside him as they started toward the Dome.

  “No,” Auraya replied. “I must confess, I forgot the time.”

  “You forgot?” Mairae exclaimed. “Your one-year anniversary?”

  “Not that,” Auraya said, chuckling. “Just the time. Danjin brought me a fascinating scroll to read on the Elai.” She looked at Juran. “Will I be going back there to make a second offer of alliance?”

  Juran smiled. “We’ll discuss it at the Altar.”

  The priests and priestesses standing or walking about the Tower and Dome paused to watch them. Auraya had grown used to their stares of curiosity and admiration. She had learned to accept them as part of her role and was no longer embarrassed.

  Does that make me vain and spoiled? she wondered. This is no easy task. I work hard, and not for my benefit. I serve the gods, like them, but I happen to be more Gifted and good at what I do. And I am still capable of mistakes. Leiard’s face flashed into her mind and the usual pang of hurt followed. She pushed both away firmly.

  They walked under one of the wide arches of the Dome, out of the gentle morning sunlight. The darkness inside took form as Auraya’s eyes adjusted. In the center of the huge structure, upon a dais, stood the Altar.

  The five triangular walls of the structure were folding down to the floor like an opening flower. Juran stepped onto one and strode up to the center, where a table and five chairs waited. The others followed. As they took their seats, the walls slowly hinged upward to meet above them, sealing them in what was now a five-sided room.

  Auraya looked at each of her fellow White. Juran was taking a deep breath, preparing to speak the ritual words. Dyara sat calmly. Rian was frowning; he hadn’t looked happy since the war. Mairae’s arms were crossed and her fingers on one hand drummed silently against her arm.

  “Chaia, Huan, Lore, Yranna, Saru,” Juran began. “Once again, we thank you for the peace you brought to Ithania and the Gifts that have allowed us to keep it. We thank you for your wisdom and guidance.”

  “We thank you,” Auraya murmured along with the others. She concentrated on the magic around them. If the gods were close she was not sensing them.

  “Today it is a year since Auraya’s Choosing, and a year more that the rest of us have served you. We will review the events of that year and consider how we shall proceed from here. If our plans divert from yours, please let your wishes be known to us.”

  “Guide us,” the others murmured.

  Juran looked around the table.

  “Many small, peaceful alliances and one big war,” he said. “That is one way to sum up the year.” Auraya could not help a wry smile. “First let us deal with matters close to home.” He turned to Dyara. “How are matters in Genria and Toren?”

  She shrugged. “Very good, actually. King Berro has
been remarkably well-behaved recently. King Guire is as sensible as ever. They’re being gracious, acknowledging each other’s part in the war and exchanging praise for the skills of their fighters.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m waiting for all this male strutting about to turn into bickering again.”

  Juran chuckled and turned to Auraya. “How are the Siyee?”

  She grimaced. “I have not heard from them since they left the battlefield.” She paused. “It would be much easier to communicate with them if we had priests there. I did promise them that we would send some, as healers and teachers.”

  Juran frowned. “It is a difficult journey.”

  “Yes,” Auraya agreed. “I’m sure we will find some young priests willing to make the effort for the chance to live in a place few landwalkers see. We could hire that explorer who delivered our first proposal of alliance as a guide.”

  “Yes. Arrange it, Auraya. And ask if any of the Si are interested in coming here to join the priesthood.” He turned to Rian. “What of the Dunwayans?”

  “A happy lot at the moment,” he said. “Nothing pleases a warrior culture more than the chance to participate in such a grand battle. They’re almost disappointed it’s over.”

  Juran smiled crookedly. “What of the traps in the pass?”

  “They’re still in the process of removing them.”

  “How much longer will it take?”

  “A few more weeks.”

  Mairae smiled as Juran turned to her.

  “No complaints from the Somreyans. They left a week ago, as you know, and should reach Arbeem today or tomorrow.”

  Juran nodded. “Then that leaves the Sennons.” To Auraya’s surprise, he looked at Dyara. The woman was taking care of matters relating to two countries already, Toren and Genria. Surely she would not be taking on a third—especially when that country had sided with the Pentadrians and was likely to be difficult and time-consuming to work with.

  “The emperor himself has sent messages proposing a ‘new era of friendship,’” Dyara said, her disapproving expression telling them what she thought of this. “Rumor says he has torn up the alliance he signed with the Pentadrians.”