Priestess of the White

  The others nodded. Mairae and Rian strode away. Dyara paused, then headed toward the Genrian army camp. Seeing that Juran hadn’t moved, Auraya approached him. He looked at her.

  “What is it?”

  “I was surprised you didn’t call me,” she said.

  He looked relieved. “No. Mairae said you were doing an aerial patrol. That you have been doing so for the last few nights and I should leave you to it. Actually, I’m surprised you hadn’t told me.”

  Auraya shrugged. “It’s just my way of pacing when I can’t sleep.”

  He smiled, then suddenly became serious. “Well, just remember that effects from lack of sleep have a way of sneaking up on you when you least need them to. I don’t imagine an unintentional nap would be beneficial if you happened to be airborne.”

  “No,” Auraya grimaced. “Not very. But…don’t hesitate to call me if you do need me here.”

  He nodded. “I will.”

  “I’d best be off to bed then.” She paused. “You too.”

  He sighed. “Yes. You’re right.”

  She moved away. Hearing a quiet yawn, she glanced back to see Juran cover his mouth with a hand. She nodded to herself. Perhaps he would rest a little easier now that the Torens had arrived.

  Emerahl jolted awake. For a moment she felt panic rising. Was the caravan being attacked? Then a lingering feeling of suffocation sparked her memory and the dream came flooding back.

  The tower dream. She felt a flash of irritation. Had the Dreamweavers become so unskilled they could not teach one of their own to stop projecting his or her dreams?

  “Are you all right, Jade?”

  Emerahl looked at Star. A mattress had been brought into Rozea’s tarn for the girl. Star was managing to pretend her injury had been bad, but not potentially fatal. Unfortunately, being mostly healed meant she easily grew bored with lying about all day. Sometimes Emerahl pretended to fall asleep to escape the girl’s chatter. Right now, Star was looking up at Emerahl in concern.

  “A dream, that’s all,” Emerahl replied.

  “What were you dreaming? It wasn’t about a tower falling down, was it?”

  Emerahl blinked in surprise. “Why do you ask?”

  Star shrugged. “A few of my customers have told me about it. Said they had the same dream many times.”

  “How many?”

  “I don’t know. They didn’t say.”

  Emerahl shook her head. “I mean, how many customers told you they had the dream?”

  Star considered. “Three or four.” She looked at Emerahl. “So did you have it?”

  Emerahl nodded. “Yes.”

  “Is it the first time?”

  “No, I’ve had it a few times.”

  “What’s it all about then?”

  “There’s a tower. It falls down.”

  Star grinned. “I mean, why are people having the same dream? What does it mean?”

  “‘A dream’s meaning depends on the dreamer,’” Emerahl quoted. She frowned, considering her theory that the dream was about the death of Mirar. Something about this didn’t quite fit.

  “To be crushed under a building…” Star shuddered. “Nasty way to die.”

  Emerahl nodded absently. If the dreamer was dreaming about the death of Mirar, they couldn’t be reliving their own experiences. They were reliving Mirar’s. To do that they must have link memories of his death, which meant that someone must have linked with him as he died.

  That was extraordinary. The thought of it sent a shiver of cold down her spine. No wonder the dreamer could not stop experiencing the dream over and over.

  “Maybe it means the White will fail.”

  “Dreams aren’t predictions, Star,” Emerahl said.

  Not this one. This one was historical. Mirar’s experience of death must have passed from Dreamweaver to Dreamweaver for the last century. Now, in the mind of a powerful Dreamweaver, it was being projected to every man or woman Gifted enough to receive dreams.

  I wonder if that’s deliberate. Is somebody trying to remind the world who killed Mirar?

  “Jade?”

  Emerahl raised a hand to stall Star. The gods made Mirar a martyr. This dream is no doubt touching the minds of priests and priestesses, too. Surely the gods are trying to put a stop to it.

  “I have to tell you something,” Star said in a quiet voice. “I told…”

  Maybe they can’t. Maybe this dreamer is protected. By whom? Someone powerful. An enemy of the gods. The Pentadrians! Maybe—

  “…I told Rozea you healed me with magic.”

  Emerahl turned to stare at Star. “You did what?” she snapped.

  Star flinched away. “I’m sorry,” she whimpered. “She tricked it out of me.”

  The girl looked frightened. Emerahl began to regret her harsh response. She softened her expression.

  “Of course. Rozea’s cunning enough to talk a merchant out of his ship. I was wondering why she’s being so nice to me all of a sudden.”

  “I’ve never been much good at keeping secrets,” Star admitted.

  Emerahl looked at Star closely. She sensed enough to guess that “tricking” the girl hadn’t been difficult. What should I do now?

  I should leave.

  Emerahl smiled. Now that Rozea knew she was a sorcerer there was no reason to hide the fact. She was free to take the money Rozea owed her, by force if necessary. Yet once the caravan did join the army, Rozea was bound to tell of the sorceress who’d robbed her. Her story might attract priestly attention. No, I should just leave. The money isn’t worth the risk.

  Yet Emerahl still felt a foolish obligation to protect the girls for as long as possible. Once the caravan drew close to the army and Rozea hired new guards, the girls would be safe enough.

  And then? Emerahl considered her idea about the dreamer being protected by Pentadrians. She had made no plans beyond escaping the priest, then Porin, and now the brothel. Perhaps she would seek out this dreamer. Perhaps he or she could offer Emerahl protection from the gods and their servants.

  If that meant joining the Pentadrians, so be it. For all she knew, they might actually win this war.

  39

  During the afternoon the east–west road met a wide, stony river. It continued along the banks, the constant din of water rushing over rocks drowning out all but raised voices and the occasional honk of an arem or the call of a reyer. The road entered a wide valley. It passed small villages where the army was greeted by smiling adults and excited children. Then, as the last rays of the sun disappeared over the horizon, they arrived at the end of the valley and Juran called a halt.

  I guess this means we’ve left the plains and entered the mountains, Danjin thought as he stepped into the war-council tent. From here it’s all uphill. He looked around, noting the haughty expression on King Berro’s face, the stiff posture of Speaker Sirri and the concerned and sympathetic looks King Guire was giving the Siyee leader.

  He moved to one side to wait. The tent remained unusually silent until the arrival of Auraya and the Siyee scouts.

  Auraya made the sign of the circle. “Greetings all. This is Sveel of the Snake River tribe and Zeeriz of the Fork River tribe. They are the first of the Siyee scouting expedition to return.”

  Juran stepped forward. As he spoke to the two Siyee in their language, Dyara translated for the rest of the council.

  “I thank you, Sveel of the Snake River tribe and Zeeriz of the Fork River tribe, for undertaking this dangerous journey. Without your help we would know much less about our enemy. It grieves me, however, that this information cost us the life of one of the Siyee.”

  The two Siyee warriors nodded. They looked exhausted, Danjin noted.

  “Auraya has told me you hastened to return in order to report something you suspect may be of importance. What is that?”

  The Siyee named Zeeriz straightened. “After Tireel was captured we tried to stay close enough to see what happened, but the birds came for us and we had to fly farther
away to avoid them. They kept us away from the army until night, when they finally left and we were able to search for Tireel. We found him beside the road. Dead.”

  He paused and swallowed audibly. Danjin noted that Sirri’s head was bowed and her eyes closed. He could not help feeling admiration for her. I can’t imagine the Toren king shedding a tear for a lost scout.

  “I was chosen to lead in his place,” Zeeriz continued. “I left four behind to bury Tireel, and took the rest with me to pursue the army. We could not find them. They were no longer following the road and we could not locate them in the surrounding land.”

  Juran frowned. “No tracks?”

  “None that we could find, but we are people of the air and have little skill at tracking. The land there is stony and hard and feet do not leave much imprint.”

  “Perhaps they travelled faster than you expected,” Dyara suggested.

  Zeeriz shook his head. “We circled a large area. Farther than they could have travelled in a day. When we could not find them I decided we should return here at first light.”

  King Berro leaned forward. “It was night when you were searching, wasn’t it?”

  When this was translated, the Siyee scout looked at the monarch and nodded.

  “Then it’s obvious what happened. They knew there’d be more of you watching, so they travelled without torches. Most likely they were right under your noses, but you didn’t see them.”

  “Large groups of landwalkers make a lot of noise,” Speaker Sirri pointed out. “Even if my scouts did not see them, they would have heard them.”

  “Unless the troops were ordered to keep quiet,” Berro countered.

  Zeeriz straightened his back. “I am confident that I would have heard them if they had been there. An army of that size cannot travel silently.”

  “Oh?” Berro’s eyebrows rose in disbelief. “How would you know? How many armies of that size have you encountered before?”

  “We heard yours coming half a day before it arrived,” Sirri answered tartly. “Even if your men had kept their mouths shut, we’d still have heard them.”

  King Berro opened his mouth to speak, but another voice cut in.

  “It is possible the Pentadrians were sheltering in the old mines for the night,” Jen of Rommel, the Dunwayan ambassador, said mildly.

  Danjin heard someone close by suck in a breath. He turned to see that Lanren Songmaker’s eyes were wide with realization.

  “Mines?” Juran frowned. “You mean the ancient mines of Rejurik?”

  Jen shrugged. “Perhaps. My guess would be the more recent ones. They’re just as extensive as their famous predecessors, but less likely to have collapsed. There are caverns deep inside them that are large enough to hide an army. Why you would want to, however…” He spread his hands. “Bad ventilation, so no fires and no hot food. They had a cold sleep that night.”

  “Could they travel through the mountains into Hania?” Lanren Songmaker asked.

  Jen shook his head. “Impossible. The mines never extended that far.”

  “They have plenty of sorcerers. They could make the mines extend that far.”

  “No,” Juran said. “It would take months, if not years, to carve a tunnel large enough. The rock and debris removed would have to go somewhere. Ventilation shafts would have to be created and sorcerers posted to pull air inside, as natural circulation wouldn’t be enough for that many people.”

  As this was translated for the Siyee, Zeeriz looked relieved. Danjin felt a pang of sympathy for the young man, who’d rushed back only to have his abilities questioned so derisively by the Toren king.

  “It sounds as if they sheltered in the mines for the night,” Berro said, waving a hand at Zeeriz. “Perhaps they feared an attack from our little spies.”

  Little spies. Danjin suppressed a sigh. Berro was known for his habit of antagonizing the Genrians. It looked as if he was set on insulting the Siyee as well.

  “If the army emerged the next day we’ll find out when the rest of the scouts return tomorrow,” Sirri replied.

  “If they saw them.”

  “An army that size is hard to miss from the air,” Auraya pointed out. “Even if they deviate from the road, doing so would slow them down and they would eventually have to return to it to approach the pass. There is only one road through the mountains.”

  Berro nodded respectfully. “That is true, Auraya of the White.”

  His unquestioning acceptance of her words only highlighted his disparaging attitude toward the Siyee, Danjin noted. Auraya looked at Juran, who met her eyes and nodded.

  “Are there any further questions for Sveel of the Snake River tribe and Zeeriz of the Fork River tribe?” Juran asked.

  Silence followed. Auraya turned to the two scouts. “Thank you for coming to us to report. You are tired and hungry. Allow me to escort you back to your people.”

  As Auraya left, Danjin realized that Mairae was watching him. He smiled and inclined his head. The corners of her lips curled up, her expression unmistakably speculative. She turned to watch Auraya leave.

  At once he remembered his conversation with her the day before. As her gaze snapped back to him and her eyebrows rose questioningly he realized she wanted him to. I don’t know if she has a lover, he thought at her. Do you?

  She smiled and nodded.

  He blinked in surprise.

  Who?

  She shrugged.

  He looked away, both disturbed and curious. Imagining someone bedding Auraya was like imagining his daughters engaged in the act with their husbands—not something he was ever comfortable thinking about. Yet he also wanted to know who had caught her attention.

  He glanced around the room, but even as he considered the men there he realized it could not be one of them. Mairae could read their minds, so she would know if any of them was Auraya’s lover. So it could only be someone whose mind she couldn’t read—or someone she hadn’t met.

  As far as he knew, the White couldn’t read each other’s minds. He looked at Mairae. So it was possible…

  Mairae’s eyes widened in horror. She shook her head, a movement akin to a shudder. He smiled. She obviously found the idea of bedding a fellow White appalling, but that did not mean Auraya would. He turned his mind from the possibility anyway, not wanting to cause Mairae discomfort.

  If Auraya’s lover wasn’t one of the White, he would have to be someone Mairae never encountered. If that was so, and she was visiting him regularly, he must be in the army.

  To his surprise, Mairae shook her head. How could she be sure? She smiled. So someone outside the army, he thought. But close enough for Auraya to visit.

  His stomach sank as the possibility he had considered before wormed itself back into his mind.

  The Dreamweavers. Leiard.

  No, he told himself firmly. They are friends. No more than that.

  It made sense that Auraya would visit Leiard. Mairae must be assuming there was more to Auraya’s night excursions than there was. He looked at Mairae. She was frowning, but as he met her eyes she smiled, shrugged and nodded.

  Then Juran announced a break for dinner and Danjin sighed with relief. He’d been half afraid Auraya would return and find him speculating about her private life. Hopefully, by the time she saw him again, his mind would be preoccupied with something else.

  It had been a long day, but now that Auraya had finally escaped the war council she felt her weariness replaced by a growing anticipation. Soon she would be with Leiard again. All that was spoiling her mood was the absence of Mischief. She had found his cage open when she had returned to her tent. No doubt a servant was being led a chase around the campsite.

  She didn’t dare leave without him. He might lead a servant a long way, right up to the Dreamweaver camp. That could prove awkward to explain.

  “Auraya?”

  Recognizing Danjin’s voice, she moved to the tent entrance. In his arms was a squirming, struggling ball of fur. She sighed with relief.

>   “Thank you, Danjin.” She beckoned him inside. “Now, Mischief, where have you been?”

  “Owaya. Owaya. Bad man. Take Msstf away. Bad.”

  She looked at Danjin, alarmed by the words. He grimaced and let the veez squirm from his arms and bound into hers. Mischief curled up around her neck.

  “Not so tight,” she gasped. She looked at Danjin. “What happened?”

  His expression was a mix of concern and guilt. “At dinner a servant came to tell me Mischief was gone. It’s taken me hours to find him. Or rather, he found me.” Danjin sighed. “He’s been saying ‘bad man’ over and over. I fear someone may have taken him.”

  Auraya could feel the veez’s heart racing. Stroking his back, she gently probed his mind. Memories flashed through his thoughts. A human face, the lower half covered with something. The cage opening and a hand grasping the veez’s neck. Scratching, biting, the taste of blood. Being trapped inside something. Chewing through and the relief of freedom.

  Bad man! he said into her mind. She started. He’d never spoken to her telepathically before.

  “I think you’re right, Danjin,” she said. She looked at him and sensed guilt again. Surely he hadn’t…

  She looked closer and was relieved to see the true source of his guilt. Mairae had asked if she had a lover days ago and he had forgotten about it until she had posed the question again tonight. He felt ashamed of himself for speculating about her private life. Then Leiard’s name flashed into his thoughts and she felt her relief evaporate. Danjin believed she was merely visiting Leiard out of friendship, but suspected Mairae thought there was more to it.

  Her whole body went cold. She knew Mairae was inclined to speculate about such things, but she hadn’t thought the woman would go so far as to lure her adviser into considering possible lovers. If Mairae was prepared to do this, how much further would she go to satisfy her curiosity? It would only take a few hours’ riding and a little mind-reading for speculation to become known fact. Her heart began to race. Mairae might already be riding toward the Dreamweaver camp.

  I can’t take that risk. Leiard has to leave now. Tonight.

  Unwinding Mischief from around her neck, Auraya handed him back to Danjin.