The Last of the Wilds aotft-2 Read online

  “Yes.” Auraya thought of the hospice, and felt a nagging worry return. “It won’t be as difficult a job as you might expect. Dreamweavers and healers alike are being as cooperative as possible. I have another task for you. The Siyee ambassadors have asked for someone to teach them our language and we need people here who can speak theirs. Would you like to be one of those people?”

  He smiled. “Of course. I managed to pick up a few words during the weeks before the battle.”

  “Mairae is translating for them,” she told him. “Which is keeping her busy. You’ll be her favorite person in all Jarime if you learn fast.”

  “I consider myself warned.”

  Auraya laughed. “Don’t set your hopes too high.”

  “Me? I’m not nearly pretty enough for Mairae. Besides, my wife would kill me.”

  “She would. How is she?”

  He nodded. “Well.” His smile widened. “You know your life is good when it wouldn’t make a thrilling tale. I’ve come to relish that.”

  “I hope it stays that way. Now, is there anything you think I need to do before I go? Anything that can be done in an hour, that is.”

  As Danjin considered he turned the ring around and around. Auraya felt a twinge of guilt. She had not told him the entire truth about it. The ring would blanket his mind from all minds but Auraya’s, which was not exactly what had been intended. It wasn’t supposed to shield the wearer’s mind from the other White, but it did. The White and the welcome-tree tenders had never tried to make a ring like this before, and by the time they had realized the error it had been too late to grow another one. The decision had been made for Auraya to leave for Si and she needed the ring now.

  Juran had told her to keep the flaw from Danjin. He might still work it out, Auraya thought. Circumstances might make him realize the other White can’t read his mind.

  :I doubt he would take advantage of the situation, Chaia said. He can be trusted.

  :Yes.

  :Even so, the ring should be destroyed when you return.

  She smothered a sigh. Once again she would have to visit the grove every day, no matter the weather or how busy she was, to encourage the growth of another replacement link ring.

  “The only matter we haven’t dealt with is Mischief,” Danjin said suddenly. He looked down at the veez. “Would you like me to visit every day, as before?”

  She grinned and shook her head. “He’s coming with me.”

  “Really? That will be a treat for the Siyee.” His voice was heavy with irony.

  “And for him.” She picked up Mischief and put him on the seat, then stood up. “Thank you for your help these last few days, Danjin. If there’s anything else, speak to me via the ring.”

  “I will,” he replied. They moved to the door. “Have a safe journey and be careful in Si.”

  She opened the door. “Of course.”

  He smiled and stepped outside. Closing the door, Auraya turned to regard the room. She didn’t know how long it would be before she returned to it. At least this time she would not have to worry about poor Mischief pining away on his own - or tormenting Danjin.

  He looked up at her, whiskers twitching.

  :Fly?

  “Yes, Mischief,” she said. “We have a long way to travel and it’s time we began.”

  Whenever Reivan had the chance she explored a part of the Sanctuary she was not familiar with in the hopes that she would eventually know all its corners and routes. She was glad that she had this morning. A fast route from the Baths to the Star Room obviously hadn’t been a priority for anyone involved in constructing the Sanctuary buildings. There were two choices: a long but less convoluted route down to the Servants’ quarters then back up to the Middle Sanctuary, or a twisting route through storerooms, the kitchens, a minor library and what smelled like a tannery.

  Why she was headed to the Star Room was a mystery. The messenger hadn’t explained. There was probably another ritual about to take place that Imenja needed her to attend.

  As she drew closer to her destination she felt her stomach flutter. Though she had been in the Star Room many times she always felt a thrill when entering it. Turning a corner, she saw the narrow entrance to the room ahead and paused to take three slow breaths. Straightening her back, she smoothed her robes and moved through the entrance.

  Standing within the silver star set into the floor was a handsome black-robed figure. Reivan’s heart lurched as Nekaun looked at her and smiled. He motioned toward a group of Servant-novices. As she moved to join them she looked around the room, noting the Servants and Dedicated Servants lining the walls. Seeing Imenja standing among them, she felt a moment’s relief.

  Then it evaporated as Nekaun began to address the room.

  “Today eight men and women are to be ordained as Servants of the Gods. These Servant-novices have worked hard, each earning the right to serve the gods to the best of their abilities. They have passed the required tests and satisfied their teachers. Today they will take the vow we have all spoken. Today they will wear the symbol of the gods over their hearts. Today they join us as sisters and brothers.”

  He turned to the novices and spoke a name. A man stepped forward. Reivan realized her mourn was open and closed it quickly. She had been gaping at him in surprise. Now she felt her stomach flip over.

  They’re making me a full Servant!

  But it took years to become a full Servant. She looked at the Servant-novices around her. They were all in their early twenties - closer to her age. The entrants that had begun their training with her were all in their mid to late teens.

  Magic is the reason, she thought. Or my lack of it. Drevva did seem to be running out of other things to teach me. I guess all the years of training must be mostly in Skills.

  “Servant-novice Reivan.”

  Her heart skipped a beat and she looked up to find Nekaun beckoning. Taking a deep breath, she stepped forward into the center of the star.

  “You have been a novice for only a few short months,” he said, “but your knowledge of Pentadrian laws and history has proven to be exemplary. We have decided you are ready to take on the full responsibility of a Servant of the Gods.”

  Why didn’t Imenja warn me that they were planning this? She glanced in the Second Voice’s direction and saw the woman’s lips twitch into a smile.

  “Servant-novice Reivan,” Nekaun repeated. “Do you wish to dedicate your life to the service of the gods?”

  She met his eyes. “With all my heart.”

  “Are you willing to sacrifice all for the Five?”

  “I am.”

  “Would you forfeit love, wealth and even your life for them?”

  “I would.”

  “Then take this symbol of their power and unity. Wear it always, as it is your link to the gods and their Servants.”

  He opened his hand. On his palm lay a silver five-pointed star. A chain ran through one of the points and was now spilling through his fingers.

  Reivan reached out and picked up the star. It was lighter than she had expected. Taking the chain, she lifted it up and draped it over her head.

  “My eyes, my voice, my heart and my soul are for the Five,” she said.

  “May you serve them gladly and truly,” Nekaun finished.

  The young man who had been ordained before her now stood on the other side of the star in the floor. Reivan moved to join him. As she watched the next Servant-novice come forward to face Nekaun she felt a strange sensation. Something was tickling her brow. She scratched her forehead, but the sensation was coming from somewhere within her head. Closing her eyes, she concentrated on the sensation. At once it became something she understood.

  :Welcome, Reivan.

  She opened her eyes and turned to stare at Imenja. The voice was definitely that of the Second Voice, but she knew she hadn’t heard it with her ears. The Second Voice smiled.

  :Yes, we can speak to your mind now.

  Imenja’s mouth had not moved.

>   :I... I can talk to you in return?

  :Yes.

  :So this is what using magic is like?

  Imenja’s smile widened.

  :It is, and it isn’t. Nobody is truly devoid of Skills, Reivan. The pendant relies on you having some magical ability to work. Everyone has magical ability, even those we consider unskilled. You are not consciously drawing magic or willing it to fulfil this task, and you have not needed to practice a Skill in order to do this, so in that way it is not like using magic at all.

  Reivan nodded.

  :You could have warned me.

  :About the ceremony? Then you would have had a sleepless night. I need you to be awake and alert this afternoon.

  :You do? What do you have planned?

  :Oh, just another boring meeting with a Murian diplomat.

  The last of the Servant-novices had received her star pendant. As she joined the group around Reivan, Nekaun spoke again, welcoming all the new Servants. When he had finished those standing around the room came forward to offer congratulations. Though Reivan was welcomed by all the teachers she’d worked with, she noted there wasn’t the warmth they offered to the other new Servants.

  There just hasn’t been time to win them over, she thought wistfully. Even if they didn’t resent me, I haven’t had the chance to make friends.

  Then Imenja approached and she was amused to watch the change in their manner. Some became quiet while others gushed. The Second Voice thanked them for their hard work in teaching the Servant-novices.

  Why aren’t I intimidated by Imenja? she wondered.

  :Because fawning isn’t part of your nature, Imenja’s voice said in her mind. You’re much too clever for all this nonsense.

  :If everyone was the same you’d never get anyone to follow your orders.

  :No. So why do you follow my orders?

  :I don’t know. You’re a Voice. You‘re wise and, er, sensible. You’d burn me to a pile of ashes if I didn’t?

  Imenja chuckled, mystifying the other Servants. She said something about needing Reivan’s help and somehow neatly extracted them from the crowd. As they left the Star Room Imenja chuckled again.

  “I think you follow my orders because I am the closest thing to the gods you have,” Imenja said quietly. “You are drawn to the gods not just out of a wish to serve, but because you are - or were - a Thinker. Mysteries fascinate you.”

  Reivan nodded. “I guess it’s a good thing that I can’t solve this mystery or I might get bored and look for something else to wonder about.”

  Imenja’s eyebrows rose. “Indeed.”

  “But I’d still...” Reivan stopped. Something stirred at the edge of her mind, distracting her. She wondered if she imagined it even as it resolved into a distinct feeling of another presence. A presence that she did not recognize.

  :Welcome, Servant Reivan.

  In the next moment the presence was gone.

  “Wh... what was that?”

  She looked around the room, then at Imenja. The Second Voice was staring at her in surprise. Surprise was not an expression Reivan had often seen on Imenja’s face.

  “I believe Sheyr just indicated his approval of your elevation to Servant,” the Second Voice murmured.

  Sheyr? One of the gods spoke to me? The corridor seemed to tilt, then right itself. Reivan looked at Imenja. She felt utterly overwhelmed. What does this mean?

  Imenja smiled. “I think you may need a little celebratory drink. Let’s find ourselves a domestic and send for a bottle of Jamya.”

  “Jamya? I thought that was only served during ceremonies?”

  “And sometimes after ceremonies.” With one hand still resting on Reivan’s shoulder, Imenja steered her toward the Upper Sanctuary.

  20

  For a long time now Imi was sure that something had changed. The ship no longer rocked as much and she had bailed all but a shallow puddle of water out of the hull. The muffled shouts of the raiders were different. They held a note of anticipation.

  Wondering and listening had taken her mind from the ache in her arms and shoulders. Yet she feared what the change meant, and instead of boredom and exhaustion making the hours turn gradually, fear and anxiety now made their passing unbearably slow.

  Suddenly the ship lurched. She dropped the bucket and fell to the floor. The seawater was warm, but welcome. Closing her eyes, she gave in to weariness.

  She must have fallen asleep. When she woke again the piles of boxes and large pottery jugs stored in the hull were gone. She listened to rapid footsteps and shouted orders above. By the time the sounds subsided the patch of sky she could see had changed from blue to orange to black. It was quieter than it had been in weeks. She felt herself drifting toward sleep again...

  ...then she jerked awake as light filled the hull. Dragging herself up, she grasped the bucket and stooped to fill it. A pair of legs appeared, moving down the ladder into the hull. She felt her mouth go dry as she saw this was the man who led the raiders. The hull was empty except for her. What did he want?

  When his feet reached the hull he stepped back. He looked at her, then back up at the deck. Another pair of legs were descending. These were covered in cloth as black as seatube ink and belonged to a man she had never seen before. As this stranger stepped off the ladder onto the uneven floor he swayed unsteadily, obviously unused to even the gentle movement of the ship.

  He looked at her and his eyes widened in surprise, then he grinned at the raider. The pair began to talk as they made their way toward her.

  They stopped a few steps away. She averted her gaze, disturbed by the way the stranger stared at her. His eyes moved from her feet to her head and back again. The conversation grew more animated. Suddenly the pair grasped each other’s wrists. They turned their backs and walked away.

  As they disappeared onto the deck, Imi let the bucket go. She sighed and collapsed into the puddle again.

  Sounds came from the ladder again. Two of the raiders entered the hull and came toward her. She scrambled to her feet, heart thundering as they loomed over her. One held a bundle of roughly woven cloth.

  The other grabbed her arm and dragged her forward. As the first held out the cloth in both hands she realized it was a sack and that they intended to put her in it.

  She tried to wriggle out of the first man’s grasp, but his hands were large and strong and she was too weak. Dizziness overcame her and she lost her balance. The sack went over her head. Strong hands held her as it was pulled down to her ankles. She was lifted in the air and felt the bag drawn closed below her feet.

  They carried her between them. She had no energy left to struggle.

  Where are they taking me? Do I care? Somewhere different to here. Perhaps somewhere better. Couldn’t be much worse than this.

  Blood rushed to her head as they turned her upside down, probably to carry her up to the deck. Cooler air reached her through the sacking. She heard the sounds of footsteps on wood change to footsteps on a harder surface.

  The sound of many, many voices came to her, growing louder until they were all around her.

  A musty stink followed. She was dropped onto a hard surface and a door was closed, muffling the voices. Someone close by said something tersely. There was a mumbled reply then footsteps moved away.

  A voice barked a word. The surface below her shifted abruptly, then she felt motion. Whatever she lay upon began to sway gently. It was nothing like the ship’s movement. She drifted into a half-conscious state, too tired to pay attention to the strange noises around her. So many voices could only mean she was among many, many landwalkers. She ought to be frightened, but she had no energy left for fear.

  The voices slowly died away. For a long time there was only the sound of rhythmic steps close by. The sound of doors opening and closing eventually roused her. She felt hands lift her up, then lower her to the ground again.

  Silence followed. She was vaguely aware of something fussing about near her feet. The cloth around her pulled tight, lifted
her up, and she gave a yelp of surprise as she slid out of the bag.

  She plunged into cool, welcome water. It helped to clear her head. Surfacing, she took in her surroundings. She was in a round pool in the middle of a round room with a domed ceiling. In the center of the pool was an odd little sculpture of a woman with a fish tail instead of legs. Like landwalkers, she had hair growing from her head.

  A fish woman. Is this supposed to be an Elai? She snorted with disgust.

  The man the lead raider had brought down into the hull to see her was standing nearby, smiling. Raising his arms, he gestured to her surroundings. She couldn’t guess what he meant.

  He gazed at her for a while, then backed away through an arched entrance. Reaching to one side, he grasped a gate made of metal bars and swung it closed. Still smiling, he walked away.

  Imi waited until his footsteps had faded away completely, then she hauled herself out of the pool. It was not easy - the level of the water was an arm’s length below the floor and she was so tired. The effort exhausted her and she lay on the floor, panting, until her head stopped spinning.

  Eventually she dragged herself to her feet and walked to the metal gate. Grabbing it, she pushed. It did not move. She examined the latch. It was held closed by some kind of metal lock. All was dark beyond it.

  Of course, she thought. Sinking to her knees, she turned to regard the pool and its ridiculous sculpture. This is my prison now. I’m a decoration, like that statue. The staring man will probably come to look at me all the time.

  She crawled to the edge of the pool. There was nowhere shallow to lie. If she tried to sleep in there, she would drown. She would have to wake every few hours and wet her skin, or risk drying out and... She reached down and cupped some water in her hand. Bringing it to her mouth, she sipped.

  Plain water, she thought. I wonder how long it will be before I start to sicken.

  She shook her head. I’m too tired to think about it. Lying down on the cool stone floor, she fell into an exhausted sleep.

  Looking up from her work, Emerahl squinted into the fine rain. A dismal day, she thought. But the captain is happy. We netted a fine catch.