Last of the Wilds

29



I mi eyed the platter and decided, regretfully, that she could not eat another mouthful. She looked at the servant standing nearby and gave a little dismissive wave at the food—a gesture she had seen Imenja make. The woman stepped forward, picked up the tray, bowed, and carried it away.

Imi sighed contentedly and sank back into the pool. She was feeling much better now. It wasn’t just the food and the salty water. These black-robed people were so nice to her. It felt much better to not be frightened all the time.

The flap of the tent opened. Golden light from a setting sun silhouetted a familiar female form. Imi sat up and smiled as Imenja walked to the edge of the pool.

“Hello, Princess Imi,” she said. “How are you feeling?”

“Much better.”

“Are you strong enough to walk?”

Imi looked at her in surprise. Walk? Imi flexed her leg muscles. I probably could, if we didn’t go too far.

“I could give it a try,” she said.

“I’d like to take you somewhere. It’s not far,” Imenja told her. “First Voice Nekaun, the leader of my people, wishes to meet you. Would you like that?”

Imi nodded. She was a king’s daughter. It made sense that the leader of this land would want to meet her. But her eagerness withered as she imagined herself meeting this important man. Suddenly she wished she was older and more grown up. What should she say? What shouldn’t she say? Nobody had ever taught her how to behave around other countries’ leaders.

I guess father didn‘t think I’d ever have to.

Slowly she got her feet under her and stood up. Her legs felt a little weak, but no worse than when she had first been in the raiders’ ship. She stepped over the edge of the pool onto the dry pavement, then looked expectantly at Imenja. The woman smiled and offered her hand. Imi took it and they walked out of the tent side by side.

The courtyard looked no different to how it had when she had first arrived, except now it was nearly night. Imenja led her to a balcony on one side and through an open door. The interior was cool. Pools of light from lamps filled a long corridor. They walked down this to some stairs. The climb was short, but Imi found herself breathing hard by the time she reached the top. Imenja paused by an alcove to tell Imi about the special technique used to make the carving inside it. When they moved on, Imi was able to breathe properly again.

Another corridor followed. Stopping at a large, arched doorway, Imenja gestured inside. “The First Voice is waiting in here,” she murmured. “Shall we go in?”

Imi nodded. They stepped through the doorway into a large room with a domed ceiling. Imi drew in a quick breath in amazement.

The roof, floor and ceiling were painted in vibrant colors. The dome was blue with clouds and birds and even some odd-looking Siyee. The walls were different landscapes, and the floor was half garden, half water. Pictures of landwalkers in gardens and houses, travelling in boats or being carried by slaves, were everywhere. Animals both familiar and ordinary, unfamiliar and fantastic, occupied gardens, forests, seas and rivers. Imi looked closer and saw that the pictures and designs were actually made up of countless tiny fragments of a shiny substance.

Hearing a sound, she looked up and jumped as she saw that a man was standing in the center of the room. Dressed in the same black robes as Imenja’s, he was admiring the pictures, but as Imi noticed him he looked up and smiled.

“Greetings, Princess Imi,” he said in a warm, pleasant voice. “I am Nekaun, First Voice of the Gods.”

Not knowing what to say, she copied his manner of speaking. “Greetings, Nekaun, First Voice of the Gods. I am Imi, Princess of the Elai.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Better,” she said.

He nodded and his eyes seemed to twinkle like stars. “I am glad to hear it,” he told her. “I was going to visit you tonight, but I thought it might be more pleasant, if you were strong enough, to show you this place. There is something here I think you may find interesting.” He beckoned.

She walked toward him, concentrating on being dignified and all too conscious of her large feet and hands.

“I’ve only recovered thanks to Imenja and Reivan,” she told him as she reached his side. “And thanks to yourself, for allowing me to stay here.”

He met her eyes and nodded, his expression grave. “I must apologize for the ill treatment you suffered before Imenja found you.”

She frowned. “But that was not your fault.”

“Ah, but I do bear some of the responsibility for what happens to visitors in my lands. When the laws we make to discourage wrong-doings fail, then we have failed too.”

Her father would probably feel the same way if a visitor was harmed by his people for no reason—especially an important visitor. She decided she liked this man. He was kind and treated her with respect, as if she were an adult.

“Then I thank you for your apology,” she said, wondering at how grown-up she was sounding. “What do you want to show me?” she asked.

He pointed at the floor. “Do not be offended; it is the fancy of an artist who had never seen your people.”

She looked down. They were standing on a picture of the sea, shown from above on a day so still the water was perfectly clear. Fish filled the blue space, some swimming on their sides to show off their colors. Corals and weeds grew inaccurately from the edge of the shore. At their feet was a landwalker woman with a fish tail instead of legs. Her hair was a pale yellow color, and it swirled around her body to hide her breasts and groin.

This is what they think we look like? A giggle escaped her and she quickly covered her mouth.

Nekaun chuckled. “Yes, it is very silly. Few landwalkers have ever seen Elai. All they know is that you live in the sea, so they imagine you are half-fish, half-human.” He shook his head. “That is why the man who bought you treated you as something less than human.”

She nodded, though she didn’t understand why this drawing would make a person think another person wasn’t human. Surely if they had fingers, wore clothes and could talk they were human. She had never mistaken a landwalker or Siyee for an animal.

Nekaun took a step to one side. “Come this way. There is something else I want to show you.”

Imi walked beside him as he strolled toward a doorway in one of the walls. Imenja followed a few steps behind.

“People of other lands believe strange things about my people as well,” he told her. “They see that we keep a few slaves so they assume we enslave anyone we wish. We only enslave criminals. To enslave an innocent is a serious crime. The punishment is slavery. The man who bought you was not of this land, but he knew the law.”

“Is that what happened to him? Was he enslaved?”

“Yes.”

She nodded to herself. Her father would approve.

“We have other customs foreigners misunderstand. Some of our rites require that we respect the privacy of the participants. Because we keep these secrets, foreigners think the rites must be of a disgusting or immoral kind.” He looked at her, his expression sad. “Remember this, if you hear such rumors about us from other landwalkers.”

Imi nodded. If any other landwalkers told her Nekaun’s people were bad, she would tell them otherwise.

They passed through the door into a plainer room. The pictures on the walls were of groups of people. Each contained a man, a woman and a child. Each wore slightly different clothing and had different skin and hair coloring. One family had large feathered wings. Suddenly she understood why the Siyee in the other room had looked odd to her. She put a hand to her mouth.

“Yes,” Nekaun said, though she hadn’t made a noise this time. “We only recently learned how wrong that picture is. I’m considering whether to have it fixed or not.” He looked down. “Though that is not what I brought you in here to see. Look down. This floor design is a map of all Ithania.”

She did as he said and drew in a breath of wonder. Large shapes floated in the center of a blue floor. The shapes were filled with pictures of mountains, lakes, strange cities open to the air and dry roads between them. Nekaun pointed at a large shape like a spearhead.

“That is Southern Ithania.” He walked over it to the place where the spearhead shape met a much larger shape and pointed the toe of his sandal at a city. “This is where we are: Glymma.”

“Where is Borra?”

“I don’t know exactly. I was hoping you could tell me.”

She shook her head. “I’ve never seen the world from above. It’s all… I’ve never seen something like this before.”

He frowned. “Then we may not be able to return you to your home as quickly as we hoped.”

“Why don’t you ask the raiders where they found me?”

He chuckled. “If only we could, but we have seen no sign of them in Glymma’s port. Either they left after selling you, or news of your rescue and the trouble it caused your buyer warned them to keep away. We need you to tell us where your home is, Imi.”

She examined the map closely, looking for anything familiar. Pictures of Siyee in an area covered in mountains caught her eye. She moved to the coastline. Si was a few days’ swim from Borra.

“Somewhere in the ocean south of Si,” she told him.

“South is that direction,” he said, indicating.

Looking at the vast area of blue, she felt her heart sink.

There weren’t any islands marked. How was she supposed to tell them where Borra was if it wasn’t on the map? But of course it isn‘t on the map, she thought. If it was they wouldn’t have to ask me to find it!

“Have your people met the Siyee?” Imenja asked.

Imi looked up at the woman and nodded. “We trade with them.”

“Would they know where your home is?”

“Maybe. If they don’t, I could wait with them until the next visit by Elai traders. I… I don’t know how often they travel there.” Imi looked down at the map and felt a pang of longing. She had come so far, and now she was free to go home she wasn’t sure how to get there.

“Then that is what we shall do,” Imenja said.

Imi felt hope returning. “Will we?”

“Yes. We’ll get you home, Imi,” Nekaun assured her. “As soon as we can. Imenja says you’ll be recovered enough to leave in a few days.”

She looked up at him eagerly. “That soon?”

Nekaun smiled. “Yes. Imenja will take you on one of our ships. She will do everything she can to reunite you with your father and your people.”

Blinking back tears, Imi smiled at Imenja and Nekaun, overwhelmed by gratitude.

“Thank you,” she breathed. “Thank you so much.”


The man’s breathing was painfully labored. Auraya sat back on her heels and let out a long breath. She had expected a stronger version of Hearteater, but not one this virulent. Every member of the tribe was or had been seriously ill. Some had overcome the worst of it, but only with help from Leiard.

Wilar, she corrected.

Now that she had recovered from her surprise at finding him in Si she had started to question his presence here. He could not have known about this plague before he entered Si. The Siyee had been sick no more than a week or two, and it would have taken him months to reach the village from outside Si. He must have been here already.

Why? I can understand him staying away from Jarime and Juran, but surely he didn’t need to change his name and appearance and live in one of the most remote places in Northern Ithania? Did he fear that our affair would become common gossip and people would try to harm him? Did he fear that I would seek to punish him for his infidelity?

She wanted to ask him so many questions, but that meant bringing up painful subjects. The answers ought to have been easy to learn. She should have been able to read his mind, but she couldn’t. His mind was shielded. She had never encountered anyone who could do that. Had he always known how to do it, or learned it recently? Could other Dreamweavers learn it from him? What if all Dreamweavers learned to hide their thoughts? An advantage the White had over them would be lost.

Remembering the hospice, she felt a pang of guilt Knowing that she was working toward disempowering Dreamweavers made it harder to face Leiard. It was another reason she had avoided him, sending messages via Ty ve then Reet.

She had been sending for Leiard more often than she wanted to. One of the medicines Leiard was using worked better at breaking up the mucus in the lungs of victims than any she had brought. A few hours earlier a patient, delirious with fever, had insisted on being treated only by “the dream man.” Now she must send for him again.

The patient before her, a middle-aged father, was sinking fast. His body’s struggles to fight the disease were pitiful. She expected him to die soon and it seemed prudent to reassure the Siyee that the healer agreed with her assessment. If a patient she was attending died, they might all decide they, too, only wanted to be treated by the Dreamweaver.

Hearing a thump behind her, she turned and looked out of the bower. Reet stood on the platform outside, coughing quietly. His attention was on Leiard, who was hanging from a sling looped around the thick ropes stretched between the platform and another somewhere to the right. The Dreamweaver was hauling himself along by grasping the thick rope and pulling. As he reached the platform, she saw that his hands were red and raw. His bag hung from a rope around his waist.

Reet helped him up onto the platform then out of the sling. Wasting no time, Leiard marched into the bower. His eyes met Auraya’s for a moment, but his grim expression did not change. He crouched beside her, placed a hand on the man’s forehead and closed his eyes.

Unbidden, a memory rose of the few times she had watched him sleeping. A forgotten longing crept over her and she gritted her teeth. It is just an echo of the desire I once felt. I don’t love him any more. She made herself think of the nights of pleasure Chaia had given her. Then she shook her head. That was too distracting, and she ought to be concentrating on her patient.

Looking down, she felt a thrill of surprise and hope. The man’s skin was still pale, but the blue tinge had gone from his lips and fingers. His labored breathing had changed to a slightly easier, deeper sound.

How is this possible? she thought. I gave him what strength magic can provide, but his body wasn‘t fighting the disease. It had ravaged him. Leiard can’t be creating new flesh where it has been eaten away. He can’t be making the body fight the disease. He can’t be killing the disease itself…

Or could he? The Dreamweavers’ healing skills were greater than Circlians‘. Leiard had only taught her about cures when she was a child, not of the healing methods of Dreamweavers. Since then no opportunity had presented itself for her to observe a Dreamweaver treat a man as sick as this.

She felt a thrill of excitement. If Dreamweavers knew how to re-create damaged flesh, make a body fight a disease or kill the disease itself, her priests and priestesses could learn the skill from them. Circlian healers could save countless lives.

Maybe I shouldn’t be avoiding Leiard, she thought. Maybe I should be recruiting him… again. She grimaced at the thought. It is a pity I can’t read his thoughts, or I would know right now what he has done and I could continue avoiding him.

Leiard drew in a deep, slow breath and let it out. Removing his hand from the man’s brow, he stood up. From out of the shadows, where she had been waiting quietly, the man’s wife appeared. The woman had barely recovered from the disease herself. In her hands was a round, flat loaf of bread.

“Eat, Wilar,” she said to him. “Reet tells me he hasn’t seen you eat or rest once.”

Leiard looked at the woman, then glanced at Auraya. The woman followed his gaze.

“You too, lady, of course,” she added.

Auraya smiled. “Thank you.” She looked at Leiard critically. Dark shadows lay under his eyes. “He does look like he needs it.”

Leiard hesitated, then turned to Reet.

“Check on Veece,” he ordered. The boy nodded and flew away.

As the Dreamweaver sat down the woman broke the bread and handed pieces to them both. It was stale. No doubt she hadn’t had a chance to cook for days. Many of the Siyee would be running out of fresh supplies.

We must do something about that, Auraya thought.

“What can I do for him?” the woman asked, looking at her husband.

“Continue applying the essence,” Leiard told her.

“Will he live?”

“I have given him a second chance. If he does not improve, I might have to isolate him until the rest of the tribe are recovered.”

“Why?” Auraya asked.

He turned to regard her. “He will be in danger of catching it again.”

She held his gaze. “So you are killing the disease in his body?”

“Only when it is necessary,” he said, with obvious reluctance.

“I know of no other healer who can do that. You’re more skilled than I was aware of.”

He looked away. “There are many things you do not know about me.”

At his sullen tone, the woman’s eyebrows rose. She rose abruptly and left the room. Auraya regarded Leiard. His aloof expression annoyed her.

“Like what?” she asked. “Or should I ask: what else?”

He turned to regard her, his eyes cold, but as she stared back his expression softened.

“I am sorry,” he murmured. “I knew you would look for me. I should have been more… considerate about how and where you might find me. It was the only way I could be sure you would not approach me. I did not trust… myself. I did not trust myself to have the will to leave.”

She stared at him in surprise.

He was apologizing. And what surprised her more was to find herself accepting it. Not that it didn’t still hurt that he had run from her, that he had run into the bed of a whore, but now she had to admit that she had understood all along why he had done it. She had been as incapable of ending their affair, despite knowing the harm it would bring.

Am I forgiving him? And if I am, what does this mean for us? She looked away. Nothing. We cannot start again. We cannot be together. Why would I even want to? I have Chaia.

Leiard was watching her closely. The room was tense with expectation.

Movements in the next room reminded her of the Siyee woman’s presence. Can she hear us? Auraya concentrated and sensed curiosity and speculation. The woman didn’t understand the little she had heard.

“I… understand,” she said. “It is in the past. So… Lei—”

“Wilar,” he interrupted.

“Wilar, then. Why is your mind blocked?”

His expression was suddenly guarded. To her annoyance she felt a small thrill of attraction. It is his mysteriousness, she thought suddenly. It intrigues me. Everyone else is so easy to read. I can know everything about them, if I want to, but with Leiard I always had this sense there was more to discover about him even though I could read his mind. Now that I can’t read his mind I’m even more curious.

“An old friend taught me the trick. I never felt it necessary to use it until recently.”

An old friend? She smiled as she guessed who he was talking about. “Is Mirar still lurking in the back of your mind?”

His lips twitched into a wry smile. “No.”

“Ah. That’s good. You wanted to get rid of him.”

He nodded. He was watching her closely. A thump outside the bower drew their attention. Reet stood outside.

“Veece is failing again.”

Leiard frowned and rose.

“Thank you for the food,” he called to the woman. Then, without a word of farewell he strode outside, stepped into the sling Reet had held up for him, and slid away.