[Age of the Five 01] - Priestess of the White Page 3

  What had brought them to the Temple of Hania was a desire to witness the gods choose the fifth and final White. Now that the ceremony had taken place, they all wanted to meet the new member of the Gods’ Chosen.

  Danjin forced himself to continue on his way, walking between two rows of columns. They radiated toward the center of the building, drawing him ever inward to a thick circular wall. It encompassed a spiralling staircase that curved upward to the highest level. The climb to the top of the Tower was a strenuous one, and the creators of this place had come up with a startling solution. A heavy chain hung in the stairwell, descending into the hole in the floor. A priest stood at the base of the stairs. Danjin approached the man and made the formal sign of the circle: holding forefingers and thumbs of both hands together.

  “Danjin Spear,” he said. “I am here to see Dyara of the White.”

  The priest nodded. “Welcome, Danjin Spear,” he replied in a deep voice.

  Danjin watched for some indication of the mental signal the priest was communicating to others, but the man did not even blink. The chain in the stairwell began to move. Danjin held his breath. He was still a little frightened of this contraption in the center of the White Tower. Looking up, he saw a large metal disc descending toward them.

  The disc was the base of a metal enclosure as wide as the stairwell. Everyone referred to this contraption as “the cage,” and the reason was obvious. It looked just like the bent-reed cages used to hold animals in the market—and probably inspired a similar feeling of vulnerability in its occupants. Danjin was grateful that this was not his first ride in the contraption. While he did not think he would ever feel comfortable using it, he wasn’t as terrified as he had once been. He did not need terror added to the anxiety of beginning an important job.

  When the metal enclosure had settled at the bottom of the stairwell, the priest opened the door and ushered Danjin inside. As the cage rose Danjin soon lost sight of the man. The stairwell appeared to spiral around him as the cage gained height. Men and women dressed in circs, servant uniforms or the sumptuous clothes of the rich and important populated the treads. The lower levels contained accommodation and meeting rooms for visiting dignitaries. The higher the cage rose, however, the fewer people Danjin saw. Finally he reached the highest levels, where the White lived. The cage slowed, then came to a halt.

  Opening the door, Danjin stepped out. Two steps away, in the wall opposite, was a door. He hesitated before moving to it. Though he had spoken to Dyara, the second most powerful White, several times now, he was still a little overwhelmed in her presence. He wiped his sweaty hands against his sides, took a deep breath and lifted a hand to knock.

  His knuckles met with nothing as the door swung open. A tall, middle-aged woman smiled at him.

  “Right on time, as usual, Danjin Spear. Come in.”

  “Dyara of the White,” he said respectfully, making the sign of the circle. “How could I be late when you so kindly sent me a platten?”

  Her eyebrows rose. “If all it took to guarantee punctuality was sending a platten then there are more than a few people I’ve summoned in the past who have a lot to explain. Come in and sit down.”

  She turned and strode back into the room. Her height, coupled with the garb of a Circlian priestess, would have made her an imposing figure even if she hadn’t been one of the immortal White. As he followed her into the room he saw that another of the White was present. He made the sign of the circle again. “Mairae of the White.”

  The woman smiled and Danjin felt his heart lighten. Mairae’s beauty was renowned throughout Northern Ithania. In songs of tribute her hair was described as sunlight on gold and her eyes were compared to sapphires. It was said she could charm a king out of his kingdom with a smile. He doubted any of the current kings could be made cooperative with a mere smile, but there was an appealing sparkle in Mairae’s eyes and warmth in her manner that always put him at ease.

  She was not as tall as Dyara and she did not exude stern confidence in the way the older woman did. Of the five White, Dyara had been chosen second. Her Choosing had occurred seventy-five years ago, when she was forty-two years of age, so she had more than a century’s knowledge of the world. Mairae, chosen at twenty-three a quarter of a century ago, had less than half Dyara’s experience.

  “Don’t let King Berro take up all your time today,” Dyara said to Mairae.

  “I’ll find something to distract him,” Mairae replied. “Do you need help with the preparations for tonight’s celebrations?”

  “Not yet. There’s a whole day in which disasters could develop, however.” She paused as if something had just occurred to her, then glanced at Danjin. “Mairae, would you keep Danjin Spear company while I check something?”

  Mairae smiled. “Of course.”

  As the door to the room closed behind Dyara, Mairae smiled. “Our newest recruit is finding it all a bit overwhelming,” she said in a conspiratorial tone. “I still remember what it was like. Dyara kept me so busy I didn’t have time to think.”

  Danjin felt a twinge of apprehension. What would he do if the newest White was incapable of performing her duties?

  “Don’t be alarmed, Danjin Spear.” Mairae smiled and he remembered that all of the White could read minds. “She’s fine. She’s just a bit surprised to find herself where she is.”

  Danjin nodded, relieved. He considered Mairae. This might be an opportunity to gain a little insight into the newest White.

  “What is she like?” he asked.

  Mairae pursed her lips as she considered her answer. “Smart. Powerful. Loyal to the gods. Compassionate.”

  “I mean, how is she different to the rest of the White?” he amended.

  She laughed. “Ah! Dyara didn’t tell me you were a flatterer. I like that in a man. Hmm.” Her eyes narrowed. “She tries to see all sides of an argument, and naturally looks for what people want or need. I think she will be a good peacemaker.”

  “Or negotiator? I heard she had something to do with that incident with the Dunwayans ten years ago.”

  “Yes. It was her village they took hostage.”

  “Ah.” Interesting.

  Mairae abruptly straightened and looked at the wall behind him. No, he corrected, she’s not looking at the wall. Her attention is elsewhere. He was beginning to recognize mannerisms that hinted at mental communication passing between the White. Her gaze shifted to him again.

  “You’re right, Danjin Spear. I have just received notice that King Berro has asked to see me. I’m afraid I must leave you. Will you be fine here on your own?”

  “Yes, of course,” he said.

  Mairae rose. “I’m sure we will meet many times again, Danjin Spear. And I am sure you will make a fine adviser.”

  “Thank you, Mairae of the White.”

  When she had gone, the silence was unusually intense. That’s because there is no noise from the outside, he thought. He looked toward the window. It was large and circular, and gave a view of the sky. A shiver of cold ran down his spine.

  Standing up, he forced himself to move closer. Though he had seen it before, the view from the White Tower still unnerved him. The sea appeared. A few steps more and he could see the city below—a toy city of tiny houses and tinier people. Taking another step, he felt his heart begin to race as the Dome came into view, like a massive egg half-buried in the ground.

  The ground. Which was a long, long way below.

  The world tilted and began to revolve. He backed away until all he could see was the sea and sky. At once his head stopped spinning. A few deep breaths later his pulse started to slow.

  Then he heard the sound of the door opening behind him and his heart lurched. He turned to see Dyara entering the room. A priestess accompanied her. As he realized who this must be his apprehension was replaced by curiosity.

  The new White was as tall as her companion but her arms were thinner and her face was all angles. Her hair was a shade lighter than Dyara’s earthy brown. La
rge eyes were tilted upward at the outer edges, giving her a birdlike appearance. Those eyes regarded him with intelligence and her mouth quirked with amusement. She was probably watching him assessing her, reading his every thought.

  Habits were hard to break. He had learned over the years to gauge a person’s character at first glance, and could not stop himself now. As she and Dyara walked toward him he noted that the way the new White held her shoulders betrayed her nervousness. Her unwavering gaze and strong mouth suggested a natural confidence would replace it soon, however. He had been told she was twenty-six, and his eyes confirmed it, but there was a maturity in her expression that hinted at a greater knowledge and experience of the world than the average noblewoman would have at that age.

  She must have studied hard and learned quickly to become a high priestess by this age, he thought. Her Gifts must be strong, too. If she is the one who came from that little village the Dunwayans took hostage, she has come a long way.

  Dyara smiled. “Auraya, this is Danjin Spear,” she said. “He is to be your adviser.”

  Danjin made the formal sign of the circle. Auraya began to raise her hands in reply, then stopped and let them fall to her side again.

  “Greetings, Danjin Spear,” she said.

  “Greetings, Auraya of the White,” he replied. She sounds confident, he noted. At least she keeps her nervousness from her voice. She just needs to work on her bearing. She straightened and lifted her chin. That’s better, he thought. Then he realized that she would have read his thoughts and adjusted herself in response. It is going to take some time to get used to this mind-reading, he mused.

  “I can see you two will work well together,” Dyara said. She ushered them toward the chairs. “Danjin has been useful to us in the past. His assessment of the Toren situation was particularly insightful and helped us achieve an alliance with the king.”

  Auraya looked at him with genuine interest. “Is that so?”

  He shrugged. “I only related what I learned from living in Toren.”

  Dyara chuckled. “He is refreshingly humble, too. You’ll find his knowledge of other peoples as useful. He can speak all the languages of Ithania.”

  “Except those of the peoples of Siyee and Elai,” he added.

  “He is a good judge of character. He knows how to deliver advice to powerful men and women discreetly and without causing offense.”

  Auraya’s attention moved from Dyara to him as they spoke. Her lips twitched at Dyara’s last comment.

  “A useful skill indeed,” she said.

  “He will accompany you whenever you hold an audience. Pay attention to his thoughts. They will guide you in your responses.”

  Auraya nodded and looked at Danjin, her expression apologetic.

  “Danjin is well aware that having his mind read constantly is part of his role,” Dyara assured her. She turned and smiled at Danjin while continuing to speak to Auraya. “Though that doesn’t mean you should ignore the rules of good manners about which I told you.”

  “Of course not.”

  “Now that introductions are over, we must get you to the lower levels. The Toren king is waiting to meet you.”

  “I’m meeting kings already?” Auraya asked.

  “Yes,” Dyara said firmly. “They came to Jarime to witness the Choosing. Now they want to meet the Chosen. I wish I could give you more time, but I can’t.”

  “That’s fine,” Auraya said, shrugging. “I just hoped to have time to familiarize myself with my new adviser before demanding work of him.”

  “You will familiarize yourselves as you work.”

  Auraya nodded. “Very well.” She smiled at Danjin. “But I do hope to get to know you better when I have the chance.”

  He bowed his head. “And I look forward to making your acquaintance too, Auraya of the White.”

  As the two White rose and moved toward the door, Danjin followed. He had met the woman he would be working for, and nothing about her suggested his role would be difficult or unpleasant. His first task, however, was another matter.

  Helping her deal with the Toren king, he thought. Now this will be a challenge.

  Tryss changed his position slightly, his toes curling and uncurling around the rough bark of the branch. Staring down through the tree’s foliage he saw another movement in the undergrowth below and felt a rush of anticipation. But though he longed to lean forward, stretch his wings out and dive, he held himself still.

  His skin itched as sweat ran over him, wetting the woven string-reed cloth of his vest and trousers and making the membrane of his wings itch. Straps about his hips and neck felt restrictive and uncomfortable and the spikes hanging against his belly felt heavy. Too heavy. They would drag him to the ground the moment he tried to fly.

  No, he told himself. Fight your instincts. The harness won’t restrict you. It won’t weigh you down. There’s more danger on the tips of these spikes. If he scratched himself with them…He did not like his chances of surviving if he succumbed to a sleep drug while perched on a thin bough many man-heights above the ground.

  He stiffened at another movement below. As three yern stepped out into the clearing beneath him, he held his breath. From above they were narrow barrels of brown hide, their sharp horns foreshortened to mere stubs. Slowly the creatures approached the glistening creek, snatching mouthfuls of grass as they moved. Tryss ran his hands over the straps and wooden levers of the harness, checking that all was set correctly. Then he took a few deep breaths and let himself fall.

  Yern were herbivorous herd animals with fine senses that allowed them to detect the position and mood of every member of their herd. Those senses could also detect the minds of other animals nearby and know if any were intending to attack. Yern were swift runners. The only predators who succeeded in catching one were those that used the advantage of surprise or had canny mind-deception Gifts of their own—like the dreaded leramer—and even then they could only hope to catch the old and sick animals of the herd.

  As Tryss fell, he saw the yern—sensing the approach of a mind set on attack—tense and cast about, confused and unsure which direction to flee in. They could not comprehend that a predator might attack from above. Halfway to the ground, Tryss spread his arms wide and felt the membranes of his wings collect and resist air. He shot out of the tree and swooped toward his prey.

  Sensing him almost upon them, terror overcame the beasts. They scattered in every direction, hooting loudly. Tryss followed one, ducking under the branches of other trees. He chased it into the open, then, when he judged himself in the right position over the beast, he tugged at the strap wound around his right thumb. One of the spikes at his waist fell.

  At the same time the yern abruptly changed direction. The spike missed and disappeared in the grass. Biting back a curse, Tryss banked and followed the creature. This time he tried not to think about being ready to strike. He cleared his mind of all thought but matching his flight with the yern’s, then jerked his left thumb and felt the small weight of the spike fall.

  It struck the beast’s back just behind the withers. Tryss felt a surge of triumph. As the animal continued running, the spike flicked back and forth against its hide. He watched anxiously, afraid that it hadn’t sunk deep enough for the drug to enter the bloodstream, or that it might fall out again.

  The spike remained lodged in the yern’s back. The beast’s run slowed to a stagger, then it stopped and Tryss found himself circling like a carrion bird. He searched the surrounding area carefully for leramer or other big predators. They would steal his prize if he was not careful.

  The yern below him swayed, then toppled onto its side. Judging it safe to land, Tryss dropped lightly to the ground a few strides from the animal. He waited until he saw the yern’s eyes glaze over before approaching. The animal’s horns were sharp and could easily ruin a Siyee’s wings.

  The animal looked huge up close. Tryss doubted his head would have reached the height of its shoulders, had it been standing up. He ra
n his hand over the yern’s hide. It was warm and had a strong animal smell. He realized he was grinning with excitement.

  I’ve done it! I’ve single-handedly brought down one of the big animals of the forest!

  Siyee did not hunt the large animals. They were a small race, light and fragile with few magical Gifts. Their bones were delicate and easily broken. Their legs were not suited to running long distances, and the movement of their arms—their wings—was limited. Even if they could have hefted a spear or sword, their grip on it would have been too precarious. With all but thumb and forefinger included in the structure of their wings, their hands were useless for tasks that required strength. Whenever Tryss regarded his body, he wondered if the goddess Huan who had created his people out of landwalkers—the humans that occupied the rest of the world—so many hundreds of years ago had forgotten to consider how they would defend or feed themselves.

  It was accepted that, since there was no weapon the Siyee could use while flying, the goddess had never intended them to be a people that hunted or fought. Instead they must gather and grow grain, vegetables, fruit and nuts. They must trap and breed small animals and live where no landwalkers could reach them: in the harsh, impassable mountains of Si.

  There were only a few small pockets of workable land in the mountains, and many of the animals they ate were increasingly hard to trap. Tryss was sure Huan had not intended for the people she had created to starve. That was why, he reasoned, some had been given inventive minds. He looked down at the contraption he had strapped to his body. It was a simple design. The challenge had been to create something that allowed all the movement needed in flight while providing a simple means of releasing the spikes.

  With this we can hunt! We might even be able to defend ourselves—perhaps take back some of the places the landwalkers have stolen from us. He knew they would not be able to fight large groups of invaders this way, but the odd group of landwalker outlaws venturing into Si could easily be dealt with.

  But two spikes aren’t nearly enough, he decided. I’m sure I can carry four. They don’t weigh that much. But how to release them? I’ve only got two thumbs.