Priestess of the White

  “With the Pentadrians.”

  She paused. He had been astonished that she didn’t know who the White were. Should she admit that she didn’t know who these Pentadrians were either?

  “You’re wondering who they are, aren’t you?” he asked. “Well, I can’t tell you exactly. All I know is that they’re a cult based on the southern continent. They’ve managed to persuade Sennon to ally with them.”

  “They plan to invade Toren?” she asked.

  “They plan to invade all of Northern Ithania. To get rid of all Circlians. They hate Circlians.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t think anyone does.”

  I could think of a few reasons, Emerahl thought. They’ve given plenty of so-called “heathens’ reason to hate them. Who knows what they did to these Pentadrians.

  “So it looks like I’ll be marching to war in a few weeks,” Panilo continued. “With my own men to command. What do I know about war? Nothing.”

  All that anyone ought to know, she thought sadly. Poor Panilo. Looks like my best customer won’t be around for a while—and might never return.

  “You probably won’t have to do anything more than relay commands to your men,” Emerahl said soothingly. “The king will be making all the decisions for Torens.”

  He nodded. “And he’ll be following the directions of the White.”

  The White. Of course. All the priests and priestesses will be called forth to fight. The watch over the gates will be called off. I’ll be free to leave the city. Just a few weeks.

  Panilo straightened. “How can we fail when we have the gods on our side. These Pentadrians are only heathens, after all.”

  “That’s true.” She smiled, leaned against his back and wrapped her arms around his chest. “When you get back you can tell me all about it.”

  26

  Since demonstrating his harness, Tryss had been waking up early. Sometimes he rose quietly and slipped out to hunt; at other times he stayed in bed, listening for the sounds of his family starting their daily routine. Today he had decided to stay in bed. He’d stayed up late and all he felt like doing was dozing.

  His thoughts strayed to conversations of the previous evening. Sreil, Speaker Sirri’s son, had told Tryss that the young men of other tribes were all eager to try out his invention, but their Speakers had ordered them to leave Tryss alone. They wanted to ensure no tribe was seen to be given favor over the others. Speaker Sirri had suggested that one man from each tribe be chosen to form the first group Tryss would teach. Those men would pass on what they learned to their tribe.

  Tryss wasn’t sure if that was a good idea. It certainly wasn’t the fastest way to teach others and it might not be the most reliable. If one of those men didn’t understand him, mistakes might be passed on.

  Nothing would happen until the alliance with the White had been signed, anyway. Last night the Siyee had held a second Gathering. This time all the tribes had agreed to an alliance with the White. The mood had been grim rather than celebratory. While most Siyee were happy with the decision, some clearly felt they were being forced to make a choice between the White and the White’s enemy in order to save themselves from the settlers. As if the priestess was to blame for the Siyee’s situation.

  She isn’t, Tryss had decided. The White are as much to blame for having an enemy as the Siyee are for having their land stolen by invaders. It felt right that White and Siyee could now help each other out.

  A faint noise drew Tryss’s attention. He listened carefully and decided that what he was hearing was his mother in the main room, probably preparing the morning meal.

  I could go out and help her, he thought. Doesn’t look like I’m going to go back to sleep.

  He swung out of bed and washed himself before dressing. Stepping out into the main room, he grinned as his mother looked up at him. She smiled, then turned her attention back to a stone bowl.

  “You’re up late.”

  He shrugged. “It was a long night.”

  “I saw you talking with Sreil,” she said approvingly. “He’s a smart boy, that one.”

  “Yes.”

  The water in the bowl began to steam, then bubble. She dropped nutmeal and dried fruit into it and the liquid stopped simmering. Tryss watched as she stared at the porridge until the liquid began to boil again. If Siyee were more Gifted, we might never have needed the harness, he thought. Most Siyee could manage this heating his mother was doing, but little more. From what he’d heard, most landwalkers had small Gifts too.

  “I haven’t seen much of Ziss and Trinn lately.”

  “Me neither,” he agreed. “Thank Huan.”

  She glanced at him. “You shouldn’t let that little prank of theirs ruin your friendship.”

  “It wasn’t a little prank,” he retorted. “And they were never my friends.”

  One of her eyebrows rose. “Just be careful how you treat them now. You’re going to be getting a lot of attention, and they’ll resent you for that. It’s always better to avoid making enemies out of—”

  “Hello? Anybody awake?”

  The words were spoken quietly and came from beyond the bower entrance. Tryss recognized Speaker Sirri’s voice, and exchanged a glance with his mother.

  “Yes. Come in, Speaker Sirri,” his mother called.

  The door flap opened and the older woman stepped inside. She nodded respectfully at Tryss’s mother, then smiled at Tryss.

  “The Speakers will be meeting to witness the signing of the alliance this morning. I would like Tryss to attend.”

  His mother’s eyebrows rose. “You would? Well, I can’t see why not. Does he have time enough to eat?”

  Sirri shrugged. “Yes, if he does not take too long.”

  “And you?”

  The older woman blinked in surprise. “Me?”

  “Would you like some nut mash? It is ready and I have plenty.”

  Sirri eyed the bowl. “Well, if it is no trouble…”

  Tryss’s mother smiled and spooned out the hot mash into four bowls. Sirri sat down to eat. From the look of relief on her face, Tryss guessed the Speaker had not found the time to eat anything this morning. The hanging across the door to his parents’ room opened and his father stepped out, his hair sticking up in all directions. He looked at Sirri in surprise.

  “Speaker,” he said.

  “Tiss,” she replied.

  “Is that breakfast I can smell?” he said, turning to Tryss’s mother.

  “It is,” she replied, handing him a bowl.

  “You must be proud of Tryss,” Sirri said.

  Tryss felt his heart swell with pleasure as his parents nodded. “He’s always been a clever boy,” his mother said. “I thought he would do well, perhaps become a bowermaker or arrowforger. I never guessed he would help bring about such changes for our people.”

  “We couldn’t stay as we were,” his father added. “My grandfather always said adapting to and embracing change was the Siyee’s greatest strength.”

  “Your grandfather was a wise man,” Sirri said.

  Tryss’s mother nodded in agreement, then glanced at Tryss. “I only fear what any mother fears: that such changes will have a terrible price.”

  Sirri grimaced. “I know that fear well. If we go to war with the White, as I suspect we will, I doubt I could keep Sreil here. Nor should I. It will be a difficult time.”

  Tryss’s parents nodded again. They all ate in silence, then Sirri set her empty bowl aside and looked at Tryss.

  “Change awaits no one, but alliance signings can’t happen without the Head Speaker. We must go. Thank you for the meal, Trilli. It is much appreciated.”

  Tryss’s mother gathered the empty bowls and ushered them out. As Tryss and Sirri emerged into the sunlight he caught a movement from the next bower. His heart leapt as Drilli emerged. She saw him and grinned, but the smile faded as her father stepped out. He gave Tryss a warning look then strode away, Drilli following.

 
Tryss sighed, then turned to find Sirri regarding him.

  “Your neighbors have been spending a lot of time with the Fork River tribe’s representatives. I did not think much of it until I remembered that a family from their own tribe had settled with the Fork River folk. I suspect Zyll hopes to persuade his daughter to marry into this other Snake River family. He’s keen to prevent the Snake River tribe becoming absorbed into other tribes.”

  Tryss felt as though his heart was shrivelling up. When Sirri looked at him he shrugged, afraid that if he spoke his voice would betray his feelings.

  “Of course, he can’t force her to if she is already pledged to another.” She shook her head. “I always thought that law a foolish one. It forces young people to choose who they marry too early. I don’t like the idea of fathers marrying their daughters off to young men they hardly know, either.”

  She glanced at Tryss. “Come on.” Together they broke into a run, leapt and spread their arms wide. As Sirri’s wings caught the wind and she swooped upward, Tryss followed. Her words repeated over and over in his mind as they flew toward the top of the Open.

  “…he can’t force her to if she is already pledged to another.”

  Was she aware that he and Drilli had been seeing a lot of each other until Drilli’s father intervened? She obviously disapproved of what Zyll was doing. Was she suggesting he and Drilli exchange a pledge of marriage?

  It might be the only way he would see Drilli again.

  But…marriage. It was such a grown-up thing to do. He would have to move out of his parents’ bower. The tribe would build them their own. He considered what it might be like to live with Drilli.

  He smiled. It would be nice. A bower all of their own. Time together. Privacy.

  Was she the right girl for him? He thought of the other girls he knew. The ones in his tribe, who he had grown up with, were like family members. A few were friendly, but they weren’t anything like Drilli. She was…special.

  Ahead, Sirri landed and paused to wait for him. He dropped down beside her, then followed her along one of the trails to the Speakers’ Bower. Thoughts of Drilli were chased away as he realized he was about to participate in an event that was likely to become part of Siyee history.

  “Wha—what will I have to do?” he asked.

  “Nothing. Just sit at the back and stay silent unless you’re spoken to,” Sirri told him.

  Suddenly his mouth was dry. His stomach began to flutter disconcertingly. Sirri strode up to the entrance and pulled the hanging aside. As she stepped through, Tryss swallowed hard and followed.

  The room was crowded with Siyee. All had looked up at Sirri when she entered, and were now regarding him with interest. The priestess was present, looking larger than ever in the close room. She met his eyes and smiled, and he felt blood rush to his face.

  Sirri moved to an unoccupied stool. As she sat down, Tryss glanced around the room. There were no other stools. He sat on the floor, where he could see Sirri between two of the Speakers.

  “Last night every tribe considered again the White’s proposal for an alliance,” Sirri said. “Last night all tribes made a decision, and all decided the same. We, the Siyee, will make this pact with the White. We will become allies of the Circlians.

  “We debated long into the night the exact words of this commitment between us.” She looked at Auraya. “This morning Auraya of the White has scribed these words onto parchment in the languages of both Si and Hania. These two scrolls have been inspected by all.”

  The White priestess held up two scrolls. Tryss noted that the wooden rods attached to the parchment were carved with Siyee patterns.

  “All that remains is for each of us to sign it on behalf of our tribe,” Sirri finished.

  She reached behind her stool and lifted a flat board into view. A small container of black paint sat within a recess of the board and a brush lay in another. Sirri placed the board across her knees.

  The White priestess held the scrolls before her. She closed her eyes.

  “Chaia, Huan, Lore, Yranna, Saru. Today your wish to see Northern Ithania united in peace comes a step closer to realization. Know that the people Huan created, the Siyee, have chosen to ally with the people you chose to represent you in this world, the White. We do so with joy and great hopes for the future.”

  Tryss felt his skin prickle. He had no time to wonder at this as Auraya opened her eyes and handed Sirri one of the scrolls. The Speaker unrolled the parchment, picked up the brush and loaded it with paint.

  As the brush-tip moved across the scroll, the bower was utterly silent. A shiver ran down his spine. He watched Sirri paint her name sign and tribe sign on the second scroll, then pass the board to the next Speaker.

  Tryss realized this was no ritual refined by centuries of repetition. The Siyee didn’t have a ceremony for an event like this: they had never signed an alliance before. This was a new ritual, begun today.

  The silence continued as the scroll passed from Speaker to Speaker. The White priestess watched all patiently. Tryss noticed that her gaze occasionally grew distant, as if she was listening to something beyond his hearing. Once she smiled faintly, but he saw nothing in the room to explain her amusement.

  Finally the scrolls were returned to her. She signed slowly, obviously not used to using a brush to write with. When she was done, she handed the board and one of the scrolls to Sirri. The Speaker put the board aside, but kept hold of the scroll.

  “Today our peoples have joined hands and hearts in friendship and support,” Sirri said. “May all Siyee, and our descendants, honor this alliance.” She looked at Auraya.

  “Today the White have gained an ally we will value for all eternity,” Auraya replied. “In accordance with the agreement we have just made, our first act will be to effect the return of Toren settlers to their homeland. This will take time if it is to be achieved without bloodshed, but we are determined it will be done within the next two years.”

  This brought triumphant smiles to the faces of the Speakers. The air of formality dissolved as one asked her how this might be done without spoiling future prospects of trade with Toren. The Speakers began talking with each other, and some rose and moved to Sirri’s side to inspect the scroll.

  Tryss watched it all silently, but it did not take long before one of the Speakers noticed him. As the old man began to ask him questions about his harness, others joined in, and soon Tryss found himself unable to answer one query before another was thrown at him. He felt overwhelmed.

  “Fellow Speakers, have some pity on the poor boy.” Sirri’s voice cut across the questions. She shouldered her way into the circle of men and women surrounding Tryss. “What you all want to know is when your tribes will get their own harnesses and when they will be trained to use them.” She looked at Tryss. “What do you think, Tryss?”

  He glanced at the Speakers, then drew in a deep breath and considered.

  “The harnesses have to be made first. I can teach two makers from each tribe, so one can correct the other if mistakes are made. I’ll start teaching them as soon as they arrive.”

  “How does that sound?” Sirri turned to regard the Speakers.

  The men and women nodded.

  “Good.” Sirri patted Tryss on the shoulder. “Now, tell us what they’ll need to bring.”

  As Tryss listed the tools and materials that he’d used to make his harness, a feeling of wonder began to grow. He’d done it. He’d convinced them, thanks to Sirri. She had listened to him when he had first wanted to demonstrate the harness. She’d seen the potential of his invention. She’d given him a chance. He glanced at the Speaker and felt a surge of gratitude. She even sympathized with him about Drilli—and had told him of a way they could be together again.

  He owed her a lot. One day he hoped he might repay her. For now, the best he could do was train his fellow Siyee to hunt and fight.

  Though now that he thought of it, he had never used the harness in battle. He had only his imagination to te
ll him it would be an effective weapon.

  It’s not over yet, he thought. Even I have more to learn.

  Since hearing how she had flown right over the Pentadrian sorceress weeks before, Auraya had paid more attention to the forest below her whenever she was flying. She had seen no black-clad landwalkers, thankfully, just an abundance of wildlife and a lot of trees.

  The sorceress was long gone—or so the Siyee believed. She looked up and around at the mountains. Great spires of rock and snow rose on all sides. Forests clung to their steep slopes. In the valleys and ravines below, glittering threads of water wound down toward the sea.

  Magnificent, she thought.

  She felt buoyant. Lighter than air. It was not just her peculiar Gift, it was a mood that had stolen over her since she had first arrived, reaching its peak this morning when she had succeeded in her task of uniting Siyee and White.

  That was not all. This morning she had woken from dreams of Leiard so full of love and passion that she had not wanted to wake at all. She longed to return to Jarime, yet sometimes she wondered if reality would prove to be disappointing in comparison to their shared dreams.

  No, it will be better, she told herself.

  Sirri changed direction slightly, so Auraya altered her course to match. The Speaker had been gradually gaining altitude for the last hour and the air had grown icy. Auraya drew magic constantly in order to keep herself warm. The Siyee seemed unaffected by the chill.

  They had been flying for most of the day and the sun was dropping toward the horizon. Looking ahead, Auraya saw that they were heading toward a mountain peak slightly lower than the others. She had seen glimpses of their destination in the woman’s mind, and from them knew that they were heading for this peak and that she would find a Temple there.

  Auraya had been intrigued to learn that the Siyee had their own Temple. Though they worshipped Huan, they were not true Circlians. They did not follow—or even know of—the rituals and traditions landwalkers had invented in order to express their worship of the five gods.

  She had wanted to visit the Temple, but Siyee law forbade anyone to approach unless invited by the goddess or accompanied by a Watcher, the closest thing to a priest or priestess the Siyee had. This morning, Sirri had passed on one such invitation. Since then Auraya’s stomach had been fluttering with excitement. Did this mean they were finally going to speak to her?