Last of the Wilds

  I suppose all those hours I’ve been awake thinking rather than sleeping make it seem longer. Last night she had only managed to fall asleep an hour or so before Mirar had linked with her. Afterward she had woken up fully. Something had nagged at her. Finally, as the light of the dawn filtered through the membrane of the bower, she had realized what it was.

  Seeing into Mirar’s mind had been like seeing someone familiar and yet unknown. Like being reunited with someone she had known as a child, who had grown into an adult she didn’t know. Seeking a hint of Leiard, she had only seen that he was no longer the person she had known. Leiard was in him, but only as a part of a person she didn’t know—or love.

  You’re wrong, Chaia, she thought. You see the remnants of the love I had for Leiard. You haven’t had the chance to see that I’m not attracted to Mirar in the same way—or what Mirar has become.

  If Chaia didn’t see that, then perhaps he didn’t see that Mirar was not the person he had been a century ago. What he had done to survive had changed him—made him into a new person. As a new person he deserved to be judged on his own merits and character.

  Huan had said that the past should be forgotten. That is even more true of Mirar than the gods. The gods haven’t changed. Mirar has. It’s unfair to punish him for the past crimes of another person.

  But Mirar was not a completely new person, so she could understand that part of him was guilty and untrustworthy. However, when she considered what she had been told of his crimes she could not see how he deserved to be executed. Mirar had worked against the gods and the formation of the Circlian priesthood by seeding doubts about the fate of souls in the gods’ hands and spreading stories of terrible acts of cruelty that the gods were guilty of. One of the ways he had communicated to these people was through dreams.

  Looking into his mind, she had seen an acknowledgment that he had done these things. She had also understood that he had done them out of concern that mortals would be ruled by beings he believed were capable of evil. Dream links were not banned then; he had broken no law. The Circlians had spread lies about Dreamweavers and he had used dreams, as he always had, to reassure mortals of Dreamweavers’ good intentions.

  He hadn’t encouraged anyone to kill priests and priestesses, yet she knew that some Circlians had preached a hatred of Dreamweavers that had led to thousands of Dreamweaver deaths.

  Yet she was disturbed by his conviction that the gods had done terrible deeds in the past. He had not revealed exactly what they had done, however. His fear that the gods would harm mortals through forming the Circlian priesthood proved unfounded, she told herself. They have done much good. Perhaps these evil deeds he accuses them of were only other ways in which the gods encouraged mortals to worship them—an aim he seems to think is wrong.

  She sighed. Discouraging people from worshipping the gods was wrong because it cost them an eternal soul after death. Mirar hadn’t forced anyone to turn from the gods. He had given them an alternative. That was not a crime worthy of death. If it was, thousands of people would die every day. People resisted the gods’ will in many small ways.

  How much easier is it to believe that resisting the will of the gods isn’t a crime when you’re guilty of it? she found herself thinking.

  The priesthood existed to guide mortals toward a lawful and pious life. The White were the highest priests and priestesses.

  That makes my crime worse than his. Mirar never vowed to serve the gods. If I don’t deserve to die, he doesn’t either. Perhaps that is why he thought the gods might have me executed. Perhaps he is right to worry…

  She shivered. I’m not dead yet. They have offered me a second chance. I can find him and…

  Her stomach twisted and she went cold all over. Frustration rose. Why can’t I do this? Why do I feel such strong resistance to even the thought of killing Mirar?

  She bit her lip gently. How would she feel about herself and the gods if she did kill Mirar? Every time she considered this question she felt a chill of foreboding.

  I would feel like I’d murdered someone. No matter what the gods said. I would feel differently about the gods, too. I would fear what they would have me do next. I would not think of them as benevolent and just any more. I would not feel I was worthy of ruling others if I could be induced to commit murder.

  She frowned. And how would this affect Circlians if they knew of it? I’m not fool enough to believe anyone would openly question the gods or argue with their verdict, but there would be a change. It would be clear to some that it was unfair to kill Mirar without a public trial and clear guilt. It would shake their belief that the gods were just, too. Those that believed the gods were always right would see that unjustified executions were acceptable. They might decide that they could mete out other unjustified executions themselves.

  Yet if people knew that one of the White had disobeyed the gods, their belief in the gods and the White would also be shaken. They would wonder if the gods had chosen badly in selecting her, and perhaps start doubting the other White. They would reason that if a little disobedience now and then was reasonable for a White, it must be reasonable for Circlians, too.

  But there’s no need for the people to know of my disobedience, she thought. Only the White and the gods will know. I have considered how I would feel if I obeyed them. What if I disobeyed them?

  There would be guilt, she knew. There would also be relief. She would respect herself for standing up for what she thought was right even as she disliked herself for failing to obey the gods. Yet it was better to feel disappointment in herself than in the gods.

  I don’t expect the gods to hold a public trial, just let Mirar leave Northern Ithania. If he comes back…well, I will deal with him. If they punish me, so be it.

  She felt a little better at that thought. Is this my decision? she asked herself. Am I prepared to accept any punishment?

  What punishment would they choose? She didn’t believe they would kill her, as Mirar feared. They would not take away her position as White, either. That would shock the people as badly as if they executed her. No, every time she considered the worst punishment they could deal out she came up with only one: removing her ability to fly.

  Just contemplating the possibility made her feel like her heart was being torn into pieces.

  If they do, you’d better appreciate my sacrifice, Mirar, she thought. You had better get yourself out of Northern Ithania and never return, because if you come back I will kill you.

  She closed her eyes and sighed. I think that means I’ve made up my mind. What next? Should I call Chaia and—

  Her thoughts were interrupted by two Siyee landing several steps away. They hurried toward her, both radiating urgency and fear.

  “Auraya of the White,” the taller said, making the sign of the circle.

  “What is it? What has happened?”

  “A Pentadrian ship was sighted off the coast a few days ago,” he said. “Within sight of the Sand tribe village.”

  “Did they land?”

  “No. A ship was seen to the east a few days before that.”

  “Another ship, or the same one?”

  “We don’t know.”

  She rose. “I will fly south and investigate.”

  “Thank you,” the taller Siyee said.

  As they walked away toward the center of the village she hurried to the bower. Tyve nodded and smiled wryly as she told him she was leaving, wondering if he would ever learn what was going on between her and Wilar. Turning away quickly, she stepped outside.

  As she propelled herself into the sky she felt a rush of sadness. This might be my last flight. I had better enjoy it while I can. Then she laughed aloud. If Mirar’s right, and the gods decide to kill me, removing my Gifts while I’m in the air would certainly do the trick.

  Imi had come up onto the deck when the first island had been sighted and remained at the rail despite the rain. So far all that the ship had passed were small outcrops of rock barely large enough to call
islands. Now there were larger shapes ahead, familiar to her from the paintings in the palace.

  “Stony Island,” she said to herself as they passed an island bare of vegetation. In the distance was a low, shapely island covered in trees. “Maiden Island.”

  She heard footsteps behind her and turned to see Imenja and Reivan approaching. They joined her at the rail.

  “Is this your home, Imi?” Imenja asked.

  Imi nodded. “Yes.” As the ship sailed farther past Stony Island it entered a ring of islands. “This is Borra.”

  “Is there anything left of the old settlements on the islands?” Reivan asked.

  Imi shrugged. “I don’t know. We haven’t been able to live outside the city for a long time. Some people tried to, but the raiders killed them.” She smiled. “But the raiders have never been able to settle either, because we burn their houses.”

  “Did your people build defenses around your settlements?”

  “Defenses?”

  “Walls. Perhaps something on the beach to stop boats landing.”

  “I don’t know.” Imi smiled. “That sounds like something you should tell my father about. Maybe if we could defend ourselves we would then find a way to get rid of the raiders.”

  To her surprise, Reivan shook her head. “So long as there is trade between Northern and Southern Ithania there will be thieves in these waters. The wind blows in favor of ships sailing past these islands but there are no major ports along the Si coast from which to base a force of ships capable of dealing with the raiders.”

  “It is a pity we can’t negotiate an agreement with the Siyee to deal with these raiders,” Imenja said.

  Imi frowned. “Why haven’t my people done that?”

  Reivan shrugged. “I’ve heard the Siyee were a peaceful people before they allied with the White.”

  “They had their own problems with landwalkers,” Imi said, remembering what Teiti had told her. “Are those problems gone now?”

  “I don’t know,” Reivan said. She looked at Imenja, but the woman said nothing.

  Imi decided she would ask her father. Looking toward the peak where she knew the lookout was, she felt a pang of longing. She wouldn’t feel like she had truly reached home until she felt her father’s strong arms around her.

  “Will they come out to meet us, Imi?” Imenja asked.

  “I don’t know,” Imi confessed. “They’re scared of landwalkers. Maybe they will if they see me.”

  “We’re a bit far away for that.” Imenja drummed her fingers on the rail. “We should take you to shore.”

  “No.” Imi shook her head. “I know how I’d feel if I saw landwalkers walking on our islands. It will make people angry and frightened. If I saw an Elai with them I’d think she was a prisoner.”

  “Then we’ll row you closer to shore and wait.”

  Imi shook her head again. “No. I think I’m going to have to swim into the city.” She looked at Imenja and smiled apologetically. “I’m sorry, but my people are suspicious of landwalkers. I’ll talk to them; tell them what you did for me.”

  “Will they believe you?” Reivan asked.

  “I’ll make them.” Imi frowned. “Though it could take some time.”

  “We’ll wait,” Imenja assured her. “You know your people best. If you must swim, then you must.”

  Imi smiled, then stepped forward and hugged the woman. Imenja chuckled and patted her back.

  “Take care, princess. I will be sad if I never see you again.”

  “I will be too,” Imi told her, pulling away. She turned to Reivan. “And you, Reivan. I will try to talk father into meeting you both. I’m sure he’ll like you as much as I do.”

  Reivan smiled in the self-conscious way she had. “We’ll see.”

  “Go,” Imenja said. “The sooner you do, the sooner we get to meet him.”

  Imi grinned. She ducked under the rail and squinted at the water below. It was deep here, in the center of the islands, but she had learned since coming onto the ship that it was always a good idea to check for large sea creatures inspecting the hull before diving into the water.

  Letting go of the rail, she felt herself fall forward. The drop was short but exhilarating and she relished the plunge into cool water. Surfacing, she waved at Imenja and Reivan before taking a deep breath and starting toward the city.

  She was not entirely sure where the entrance of the city was, so she decided to swim along the rock wall around the area she thought it was in. Soon she saw a shadow swimming below and felt her heart lift as she realized it was another Elai. Keeping at a distance, knowing she would attract a lot of attention once she was recognized, she followed.

  The shadowy figure vanished and she felt her heart sink, but then another pair of Elai appeared. Following them, she saw a great blackness appear in the wall ahead. The light-fish were gone, perhaps a precaution against the landwalkers finding the city entrance. She realized it was possible, having seen landwalker divers. But landwalkers couldn’t hold their breath long enough to get into the city.

  Swimming into the darkness, she was relieved to see light ahead. It led her to the pockets of air in the tunnel. She managed to swim the entire length without coming up for air at the same time as anyone else, so nobody recognized her. Then a larger, brighter glow drew her upward, and she surfaced in the Mouth.

  For several minutes she floated there, gazing at the caves and lights and people. It was a sight too good to be real. She was afraid to swim forward in case…

  As another arrival splashed up nearby she shied away.

  What am I afraid of? she asked herself. Am I still afraid that Teiti or father will punish me for slipping away? Even if I knew they would, would I swim away now?

  She shook her head and swam toward the edge of the water.

  As she emerged she began to attract attention. Ordinary Elai glanced at her, then turned back to stare. Guards frowned, then blinked in surprise. One, the captain, stepped forward.

  “Princess? Princess Imi?”

  She smiled crookedly. “Yes.”

  “Where have you…” He paused, then straightened. “May I escort you to the palace?”

  Amused by his sudden formality, she nodded. “Please.”

  At once he began to bark orders. Three more guards took their places with the captain, in front and behind her. Others ran down the main stream toward the palace.

  They’ll tell father. He’ll know I’m coming.

  She felt her stomach flutter but forced her legs to move. A crowd of onlookers had stopped to watch and now they began to keep pace with her on either side. Stares had changed to smiles. Voices called a welcome to her. Abruptly she felt tears coming and blinked them away.

  The distance to the palace seemed endless. She quickened her pace, then slowed as she saw the palace gates. They stood open.

  A man stood between them.

  Her father.

  The guards stepped aside as she started forward again. She barely noticed. All she saw was her father hurrying forward, then she felt her hold on her tears slip as she saw his own eyes glittering.

  Finally, she threw her arms around him and felt his around her, familiar and strong. She realized she was apologizing, then laughed aloud as she realized he was too.

  “What are you apologizing for, Father?” she blurted out. “I’m the one who gave Teiti the slip and left the city.”

  He pulled away to regard her. “I should have let you out more often. You would not have been so curious, and you would have had guards to protect you.”

  She smiled and wiped at her eyes. “I would have given them the slip, too.”

  He looked at her searchingly. “Where have you been? That rascal trader’s son told us you’d been taken by raiders.”

  “That’s true.” She paused. “You weren’t too mean to him, were you? I talked him into it.”

  He frowned. “Teiti had me lock him up.”

  Imi gasped. “Poor Rissi! She must have been so angry!” br />
  Her father winced. “She was, but I was much angrier with her. You must tell me everything.” He turned her toward the palace. “Does your return have anything to do with the ship outside?”

  “It has, Father. The people on that ship rescued me and brought me home. I owe them my life.”

  He frowned, clearly unhappy to hear it.

  “Not all landwalkers are bad,” she told him.

  His frown turned into a scowl. “You think so, do you? What do they want in return?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Nothing!” He shook his head. “They always want something. They won’t get anything from me!”

  “Father,” she said firmly. “They saved my life.”

  He paused, then sighed. “I should give them something in return.”

  She shrugged. “At least your thanks.”

  He stopped and looked at her strangely.

  “What has happened to you, to make you so wise and brave?”

  She grimaced. “A lot, Father. Let’s go in, and I’ll tell you everything.”

  He nodded, put an arm around her shoulders, and guided her through the palace gates.

  41

  There was little point in going over it again. He’d considered everything he’d done and what the consequences might be. He had spent fruitless hours considering how he could have done things differently.

  But while travelling in Si took much of Mirar’s concentration, it didn’t occupy his mind completely. The part not concerned with endless climbing and walking insisted on circling around and around, and every time he tried to think of something else he soon found himself dwelling on Auraya, himself, the White and the gods.

  And Emerahl. Why did I have to go and think of Emerahl when I opened my mind to Auraya?

  He had only thought of her briefly, as a helper and friend. He had not thought of Emerahl’s quest to find other immortals. If the gods had recognized her—and it was possible they hadn’t—they would alert the White to her existence. They did not know where she was, however. So long as Emerahl didn’t do something to attract their attention, or bump into one of the White, she was safe. The gods might search for her by looking into the minds of mortals, seeking someone visible to a human but invisible to them, but that would take time and they had a more pressing matter to occupy them—Auraya.