[Age of the Five 03] - Voice of the Gods Read online

  “Greetings. I am Dreamweaver Tintel,” the woman said, smiling and opening the door wider. What she said afterward was incomprehensible to him, but he sensed friendliness and her gesture told him she was welcoming him inside.

  “Thank you. I am Dreamweaver Wilar.” He stepped into a small room. Pairs of sandals sat neatly at the edges. Removing shoes while indoors was a local custom. He could hear the sound of many voices somewhere beyond the walls.

  Reaching into his bag, he took out the pouch of coins Rikken’s assistant, Yuri, had given him. When Mirar had refused to take the large payment for his services, Yuri had told him to give the money to the Dreamweaver House instead.

  “For the House,” Mirar said in the Avven tongue as he handed it to Tintel, hoping she understood.

  The woman took the bag and looked inside. Her eyebrows rose. She said something he did not understand. When he frowned and shook his head, she stopped to consider him, and he saw comprehension dawn in her eyes.

  “You are a foreigner?” she asked in Avven.

  “Yes. From the north.”

  “We do not often get visitors from there.”

  That does not surprise me, he thought. He bent to remove his shoes. When he was done the hostess opened another door, revealing a much larger room. Tables ran the length of it and many of the chairs were occupied by Dreamweavers.

  “We are near to eating dinner. Join us.”

  He followed her in. Tintel spoke loudly and the Dreamweavers turned to regard her and Mirar. He guessed she was introducing them and made the formal gesture of touching heart, mouth and forehead. All smiled and a few spoke a greeting, but none returned the gesture. After Tintel had led him to a chair the Dreamweavers returned to their conversation.

  The atmosphere was relaxed and though Mirar couldn’t understand them he was reassured by their laughter. Servants brought a meal of flat toasted bread laid on top of bowls full of a spicy stew, and a milky drink that, to Mirar’s relief, eased the burning of the spice. Most of the Dreamweavers were young, he noted. Their talk quietened and grew more serious as their bellies filled. Tintel had joined them when the food had been served, and now she looked at Mirar.

  “What do you know of the trouble in Jarime, Wilar?” she asked in Avvenan.

  He frowned. “I know crowds of Circlians have gathered to speak out against the…the hospice.” He used the Hanian word, unable to think of an Avvenan equivalent.

  Tintel grimaced. “It is worse. Dreamweavers have been beaten. Killed. A Dreamweaver House was burned.”

  “There is no…” Mirar stopped as he realized what she must mean. There were no Dreamweaver Houses in Jarime, but there were a few safehouses—homes of people who were sympathetic to Dreamweavers and offered them accommodation.

  People like Millo and Tanara Baker. He felt a chill as he thought of the couple he had stayed with while in Jarime. Only locals and friends had known their home was a safehouse—until I came along. Then I became Dreamweaver Adviser to the White and a lot more people would have known about the Bakers’ safehouse. I hope it wasn’t their house that was burned.

  “I had not heard about this,” he said. “I will link with Northern Dreamweavers tonight to find out what I can of my friends there.”

  “What brings you to Dekkar?” a young man asked.

  Mirar shrugged. “I like travelling. I wanted to see the south.”

  “Not to escape the killings?”

  Tintel made a warning sound and gave the man a disapproving look. Mirar smiled.

  “It is a fair question,” he said. “I did not know it would get so bad there so quickly. I am happy it is good here, but I wish I could help my friends.”

  The men and women around the table nodded in sympathy.

  “It is good here for Dreamweavers,” one of the young men said.

  Mirar nodded. “I found the Servants…” He searched for the right word. “…friendly.”

  “They don’t know healing like we do,” a young woman said. “They pay well, too.”

  “The Servants let you heal them?” he asked, surprised.

  The Dreamweavers nodded.

  “I heard linking is forbidden in the north. Is that true?” the young woman asked.

  “It is.” As Mirar looked at her, she smiled. Something about the smile made him look closer. As he recognized the subtle messages in her posture and expression he felt his pulse quicken.

  Ah. This one knows what she likes in a man and isn’t afraid to seek it, he thought. He wouldn’t be surprised if she sought him out later. The question was, what would he do if she did?

  “Dreamweavers don’t link at all?” someone asked.

  He turned to nod at the young woman. “We do, but we don’t tell Circlians about it.”

  A murmur of amusement came from the Dreamweavers. The young woman continued to smile at him.

  “You must not have many chances to link, if you travel a lot. We could link tonight.”

  It’s not mind linking she means, he found himself thinking. But mind linking would be a great risk. I have too much to hide…though now that Emerahl has helped me regain the ability to shield my mind I should be able to listen to them without revealing myself. But not tonight.

  “Thank you, but I need sleep more,” he told her.

  The others did not look offended. Instead, Tintel frowned at the young woman then grimaced apologetically at him, as if she was worried he might have taken offense.

  “Forgive Dardel, she speaks too soon. You may join a link if you wish, but if you don’t we will not question it. The north and south are enemies, and it may be that you know something that, should it spread through a link and reach the wrong people, could bring about conflict or war.”

  Surprised by her perceptiveness, Mirar thanked her for her consideration. Attention moved from him and he tried to follow the conversation as the Dreamweavers talked of other things, slipping back into the local language. Finally they rose from the table and began to clear the plates.

  “I will take you to your room,” Tintel offered. She led him into a corridor then up a steep flight of stairs. “Tomorrow night, if you are still here, you are welcome to join us after dinner.”

  “Thank you. I may not have much to say. There is still much of the Avven language I don’t understand, and I am new to Dekkan.”

  “How long are you planning to stay in Kave?”

  “I don’t know. How long should I allow to explore the city?”

  She smiled. “Some people say you need to stay a full year to know Kave well, others say an hour. If you have the time, stay as long as you want.” She stopped before an open door. “This is for you. Sleep well.”

  He thanked her again, then moved inside and closed the door. The room was narrow, containing only a bed, some shelving and a small table. He set his bag beside the shelves then sat down at the bottom of the bed. It was still early to be sleeping, but he wanted desperately to contact Arleej. She would know what was happening in Jarime.

  Standing up again, he began to undress. He had removed only the vest when a knock came from the door.

  Opening it, he smiled as he found Dardel standing outside.

  She was not beautiful, yet she wasn’t unattractive either. Some women were simply appealing. It was a combination of an honest and bold interest in sex and a curvaceous, womanly body that invited enjoyment. You’ve got to like a woman who knows what she wants and knows how to ask for it.

  She was carrying a large bowl and a jug of water. “For you,” she said. “To wash off the travelling dirt.”

  “Thank you.” He took them from her and turned to take them inside.

  “If you need help…?”

  Help to wash myself? He smothered a laugh and turned to regard her. She was leaning against the door-frame now, arms crossed under ample breasts. A sly smile curled her lips.

  I must talk to Arleej, he reminded himself. I must find out if Tanara and Millo Baker are alive and unhurt.

  “I will be fi
ne,” he told her.

  Her smile faded, but only a little. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” she said, stepping away from the door. Somehow she made it sound like a promise. “Sleep well.”

  As the door clicked shut he drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. How can I be interested in this woman when…? No. How can I be asking myself such a stupid question? I’m alive. I like women. Leiard is gone and can’t stop me. Why should I turn this woman away because of Auraya?

  Yet he had. He wasn’t that tired and he could have contacted Arleej later.

  This is stupid. I love Auraya and I could ignore all other women for her, but I can’t have her. I’m not even sure she loves me in return. She’s had at least one other lover, too. So why shouldn’t I?

  He shook his head. Because of the whore she saw me with after the battle. At the time it seemed justified, but I know it hurt her badly. I don’t want to risk that in the future. If we ever manage to be together without the gods killing one or both of us, it would be ironic and annoying to find I’ve gone and spoiled it all again.

  Emerahl had expected Auraya to be difficult to teach. A former White ought to be full of her own importance, too proud to take orders from another—especially a Wild. But Auraya had followed every instruction without complaint, and her only questions had been sensible and reasonable.

  I should be relieved, but instead I’m finding it irritating. The temptation to test Auraya’s tolerance by asking her to do something ridiculous and humiliating was strong. It also disturbed Emerahl. She didn’t like the thought that she might be capable of being such a tyrant.

  Auraya sat cross-legged on the bed Mirar had once occupied. Her eyes were closed and her hands sat loosely in her lap, resting on the fabric of her white tunic. A priest ring encircled her finger; a priestess’s circ hung from a screen nearby. Emerahl had never expected to find herself teaching a Circlian priestess, let alone a former White. The irony that she was teaching a priestess to hide her mind from the gods wasn’t lost on her either.

  Watching Auraya, she couldn’t deny that the woman was attractive. Physically, Auraya could not have been more different to Emerahl. Her face was narrow and angular, whereas Emerahl’s was broad. She was tall and slim; Emerahl was short and curvaceous. Her hair was straight and glossy brown; Emerahl’s was red and curly.

  If this is what Mirar likes…she began to think, then nearly laughed out loud. Am I jealous? Is that why I find her so irritating? She suppressed a sigh. I’ve had good times with Mirar, we’ve been lovers, but I’ve never been in love with him. Not in the way normal people fall in love, become a “couple” and all that. I’ve never been jealous of the women he sleeps with. Mirar and I are just friends.

  So why the resentment? Maybe it was simple protectiveness. Mirar had saved her, from others and herself, more than once. Would he do it again, if it came to a choice between her and Auraya?

  He’d probably choose Auraya, she thought. And then she’d kill him. She’s still a follower of the gods. This is crazy! Why am I here, taking such risks?

  Because Mirar had asked her to, and The Twins had backed him up. Auraya was capable of becoming immortal. She might never take that step for fear the gods would reject her, but there was a chance something—or someone—would change her mind. If she became an ally the risks and gamble would pay off.

  So I had better not make an enemy of her, Emerahl thought.

  Auraya’s breathing had been slow and regular for some time. She had surprised Emerahl by revealing that she knew how to enter a dream trance—to deliberately put herself into the mental state required to link with another via dreams—though she admitted she found it difficult sometimes. All mental links were forbidden to Circlians, but Auraya thought it an impractical law that few took seriously. She and Leiard had used dream-links to communicate during their affair.

  Closing her eyes, Emerahl slowed her breathing and gradually guided her mind into the dream state. When she was ready she called out Auraya’s name.

  :Jade? Auraya replied.

  :Yes, it’s me.

  Emerahl sensed relief from the other woman and guessed it was at achieving the dream trance.

  :In a dream-link we can communicate with each other, she told Auraya, but only if we’re both in a trance or have slipped into a dream state from sleep. I am going to teach you to reach out to conscious minds. You won’t be able to communicate with them, but you can see what they are thinking.

  :So Wilds can read minds?

  :Yes, but only when in a trance. It requires concentration and practice and can be exhausting. The thoughts you detect are often incomprehensible at first, but you learn to interpret them. We call this “mind-skimming.”

  :So this isn’t a lesson in hiding my mind?

  :No, but it will help you comprehend the same concepts. Reach out with your mind to the left. It is both an advantage and disadvantage being in Si. There are fewer minds to skim, but those that exist stand out because of their isolation.

  It took Auraya several long minutes to sense anything.

  :I am sensing something…Ah. It’s a Siyee. He’s hunting.

  :Good. I see him too. You can see that his thoughts aren’t ordered like speech. They come in snatches, as much image as thought.

  :Yes. This is just like mind-reading.

  Emerahl felt a flash of irritation. How could I have forgotten that she used to be able to read minds? She already knows how thoughts work.

  :Seek another mind.

  Auraya paused only a moment before she responded again.

  :I see Tyve. He’s approaching the waterfall—he’s carrying a message for me. I….

  The link broke as Auraya’s concentration faltered. Emerahl woke from the dream trance and wasn’t surprised to find Auraya rising from the bed.

  “Stay there,” Emerahl warned in a murmur. “You must remain in the void. Tyve will have to come in and talk to you.”

  Auraya sat back down. She looked at Emerahl. “You had best pretend to be sick,” she replied.

  Another flash of irritation went through Emerahl. She lay down and pulled a blanket over herself. Footsteps echoed from the passage and she turned to see a young Siyee step into the entrance of the cave.

  “Tyve,” Auraya said, standing up and beckoning. “Come in. What brings you here?”

  His gaze shifted from her to Emerahl. “I have a message for you.”

  Auraya beckoned again and the boy approached. He smiled at Emerahl. “How are you, Jade? Feeling better?”

  “Yes,” she said. “Thanks to Auraya.”

  The boy moved closer to Auraya and murmured something. Auraya looked down at her priest ring then shrugged, and her reply was quiet. What were those two discussing that they didn’t want Emerahl to hear?

  Auraya’s voice rose again as she thanked Tyve.

  “Tell Speaker Sirri that I must stay and watch over Jade, but I will return soon. Fly safe, fly fast.”

  The boy nodded, then said goodbye and hurried away. When his footsteps had faded Emerahl looked up at Auraya, who was frowning.

  “What did he have to say?”

  Auraya sighed and sat down. “I think Sirri is surprised that I didn’t just heal you and return.”

  “How long until they grow suspicious?”

  Auraya shrugged. “A week. We can put them off for a while, but if something happens that they need me to attend to and I refuse to leave here…”

  “Our cover will be as done as a whore with an empty purse,” Emerahl finished.

  Both of Auraya’s eyebrows rose in amusement, then she grew serious.

  “If the gods were watching through Tyve, they will have seen us both when he entered the cave. They will also have been forced to leave him when he entered the void.”

  Emerahl nodded. “Yes. I suppose you could have prevented them discovering the void by speaking to him from the edge of it, but the gods would have still seen us both and not been able to read our minds and grown suspicious because of that.�
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  “Or they might not have been watching at all.”

  “Do you think they were?”

  “I don’t know. They haven’t visited me in months, but that doesn’t mean they’re not watching.” She looked at Emerahl, her mouth set. “Shall we return to the dream trance?”

  Emerahl chuckled at her determination. “Let’s have some lunch first.”

  5

  Ella was standing by the window when Danjin entered. He suppressed a shudder and tried not to think of the dizzying drop to the ground far, far below. The newest of the White took a step backward from the window and turned to face him. There was something in her expression, a wildness about her eyes as she met his gaze. She smiled crookedly, and suddenly he understood what it was. He felt a wry pang of fellow feeling.

  She, too, wasn’t that fond of heights. Probably not as utterly terrified by them as he was, but still unsettled by them.

  “Thank you for coming to visit me on such short notice,” she said, gesturing to a chair.

  He sat down. “No need to thank me. It’s part of my job.”

  She smiled again. “That’s no reason for me to be ungrateful.”

  “How can I be of assistance?”

  The smile faded. “My fellow White and I met at the Altar today. Juran gave me my first task. It’s a small one, but not an easy one, and I’d like your advice on how to approach it.” She frowned. “He wants me to stop people attacking the hospice and Dreamweavers.”

  Danjin nodded slowly. “It makes sense that he gave you this task. You have worked at the hospice. You have dealt with Dreamweavers and protesters before.”

  “Juran says the attacks on the hospice have lessened since I was Chosen,” she told him. “But the attacks on Dreamweavers have increased.”

  Danjin nodded. “By choosing a healer from the hospice the gods suggest that they approve of it.”

  “I doubt that is the only reason they chose me, or my usefulness would expire once the threat to the hospice ended.”

  “Of course it isn’t.” He smiled. “But these are the sorts of conclusions the average mortal comes to about such matters.”