Last of the Wilds

31



Aime had been a profitable place for a healer to visit. Emerahl had not expected it to be since there were priests aplenty, the Temple was not far from the market and she had even seen a few Dreamweavers about. It appeared few of either were female, however. Her customers had been women of all ages, too shy or embarrassed to consult a male healer about their more personal ailments, or women who simply preferred to be treated by another woman.

She had rented a room from the master of mooring, who had been keen to help her out after she had freed up the blood flow in his leg where scar tissue had restricted it. After several days she had a purse heavy with coin, but the moon had waned and appeared again as a thin crescent, and she had to leave in order to make it back to the Stack in time.

Last night a short storm had forced her to seek shelter in a bay. It was large enough to support a substantial fishing village, where she rented herself a room. She was making her way back to her boat when she felt a tug on her sleeve.

She turned, expecting to find a customer had approached her. The skinny, dirty boy in well-patched clothes at her elbow was not what she was anticipating.

“How can I help you?” she asked, hiding her dismay. This was obviously a street child and it was doubtful he, or whoever he might be approaching her on behalf of, would be able to pay her.

“Come see,” he said, still tugging at her sleeve.

She smiled. “See what?”

“Come see,” he repeated, his gaze overly bright.

All she detected from him was purpose and urgency.

“Is somebody hurt?” she asked.

“Come see.” He continued tugging at her sleeve.

She straightened. He might be a simpleton, sent by someone to find a healer. The bags of cures on her belt were a clear advertisement of her profession that even an idiot child would recognize.

She nodded. “All right. Show me.”

He took her arm and led her away.

It was just as well she was leaving. Whoever had sent the child probably wouldn’t have any money but perhaps they could pay her some other way. Countless times in the past she had found that if word got around that she would cure the poor and helpless for no charge, hoards of sick and poor would somehow track her down. Soon after, customers that could afford to pay started demanding they get free healing too. It didn’t matter how small or large the town, the situation could become difficult in mere hours.

The boy had led her into an alley so narrow she had to walk sideways in places. In doorways she caught glimpses of thin faces and eyes noting her passing speculatively. She drew magic and surrounded herself with a light barrier.

They emerged in another street. The boy turned down this and they descended several staircases. A wider street followed then they emerged onto grassy dunes that followed the arch of the bay. He started down a track, still holding her arm, toward a rocky point.

As they drew closer, she grew aware of the booming of the sea. The boy took her off the path and let her arm go. He hurried toward the rocks, jumping from boulder to boulder.

Has someone hurt themselves falling off these rocks? she wondered. Or drowned, perhaps. I hope not. Sometimes those with limited minds didn’t comprehend when others were dead. They thought them merely sick.

The boy turned to look at her and beckoned. His voice was barely audible over the roaring.

“Come see.”

She lengthened her strides. He waited until she was closer before continuing on. The rocks grew larger and more jumbled. It took most of her concentration to make her way over them. The roaring of the sea grew louder. When she judged she was about halfway to the end of the point the boy suddenly stopped and let her catch up with him.

From a few steps away a spout of water roared from the ground.

It rose up twice the height of a man, floated for a second, then splashed back down into a wide depression where it drained down a hole in the rocks. Emerahl found she was stiff with shock, her heart pounding.

The boy was grinning widely. He moved to the highest of the surrounding piles of boulders and climbed up to the top. Sitting down, he beckoned to her.

Is this all he brought me here for? she thought.

“Come up,” he called.

Taking a deep breath, she pushed aside her annoyance and started climbing. When she reached the top he smiled and patted the rock beside him.

“Sit down, Emerahl.”

She paused, frozen by the shock of both hearing her name and the realization that he had spoken in a language long dead. As it dawned on her who this was, she found all she could do was stare at him. He smiled up at her. His overly bright gaze was not that of a simpleton, but of a mind much, much older than his body appeared.

“Are you…?” She left her question deliberately unfinished. No sense giving him a name to give back to her, if this was not the one she sought.

“The Gull?” he said. “Yes. Do you want me to prove it?” He cupped his hands together and whistled.

A moment later something whisked past her ear. A sea bird hovered over his cupped hands for a moment, wings beating, and she saw an object drop from its claws before it swooped away. He held up his hands. In them was a moon shell strung onto a rope of “old woman’s hair.” He picked out a strand of weed, then let it float away on the wind.

She sat down.

“We thought you were dead,” he said.

Emerahl laughed. “I thought you were dead. Wait… you said ‘we.’ Are there other immortals left from the past age?”

“Yes.” He looked away. “I will not say who. It is not up to me to reveal that.”

She nodded. “Of course.”

“So why have you revealed yourself to me?”

Drawing in a deep breath, she let it out slowly while considering where to begin. “I spent most of the last century living as a hermit. I’d still be there if a priest hadn’t decided to visit me. I slipped away and haven’t stopped travelling since.”

“The Circlians chased you,” The Gull said.

She looked at him in surprise. “Yes. How did you know that?”

“The gossip of sailors spreads faster than the plague,” he quoted.

“Ah. So you know I evaded them.”

“Yes. They lost you in Porin about the time the news came that the Pentadrians were invading. Where did you go then?”

“I… ah… I followed the Toren army.”

His eyebrows rose. “Why?”

“I joined a brothel. It was the best hiding place at the time.” She noted that there was no dismay or disapproval in his expression. “The brothel travelled behind the Toren army and I figured it was a good way to escape the city unnoticed.”

His eyes brightened. “Did you see the battle?” He sounded eager, like an ordinary boy excited by the idea of watching real warfare.

“Most of it. I left at the end after I met… an old friend. I spent some time in Si before deciding to seek you out.”

“Old friend, eh?” His eyes narrowed. “If you’ve been a hermit for the last century, this friend must be old indeed.”

“Perhaps.” She smiled. “Perhaps it is not up to me to reveal that.”

He chuckled. “Interesting. How ironic it would be if this friend turned out to be the same friend as mine.”

“Yes, but that’s not possible.”

“No? So more than a few of us evaded the gods.”

Emerahl nodded. “By different means.”

“Yes. For me it was easy. I have been hard to find for a long time. I simply became harder to find.”

She looked at the boy. “Yet you sought me out.”

“That’s true.”

“Why?”

“Why did you seek me?”

“To know if other immortals survived, and how. To offer help if you ever needed it. To see if I could ever ask for help in return.”

“If you have survived this long, I doubt you need my help,” The Gull said quietly.

She shook her head. “I cannot live like a hermit for the rest of eternity.”

“So you seek company.”

“Yes, as well as the possible benefits of powerful friends.”

He grinned. “You are not alone in that. I would like to count you as one of my powerful friends.”

She smiled, more pleased and relieved than she had thought she would be. Perhaps I am lonely, after all those years living by myself.

“However,” he continued, his expression suddenly grave. “I cannot say whether my friend would agree. If my friend disagrees, I will follow their advice. I value it greatly. You must gain their approval. Otherwise…” he grimaced apologetically “… we cannot speak to each other again.”

“How do I gain their approval?”

The boy pursed his lips. “You must go to the Red Caves in Sennon. If a day passes and you have not met anyone, approval has not been granted.”

“And if it is?”

He smiled. “You will meet my friend.”

She nodded. Sennon was on the other side of the continent. It would take months to get there.

“You don’t meet your friend often, do you?” she asked wryly.

“Not in person.”

“If they approve, how will I contact you again?”

“They will tell you how.”

She laughed. “Ah, this is all wonderfully mysterious. I shall do as you say.” She looked at him and sighed. “I don’t have to leave straight away, do I? We can chat for a bit?”

He smiled and nodded, his gaze somewhere in the distance. “Sure. In just a—”

His words were drowned out as water once again shot out of the ground. When it crashed down he chuckled.

“The locals tell visitors this is called Lore’s Spitbowl, but they have an even cruder name for the spouts of water.”

Emerahl snorted. “I can imagine.”

“They take it for granted that it will always be here. Eventually the water will wear away the rock, and there won’t be enough constriction in the cave below to force the water up. There was a spout in Genria once that dwarfed this.”

“Ah, I remember that.” Emerahl frowned. “What happened to it?”

“A sorcerer thought that by making the hole larger he’d create a bigger spout.” He shook his head. “Sometimes the greatest Gifts come to the greatest fools.”

Emerahl thought of Mirar and the antics he was famous for, and nodded. “Yes, they certainly do.”


Auraya climbed into the hanging bed and lay still until it stopped swinging. It was early evening, but signs that the Siyee village was stirring into life still reached her. Those that had recovered enough were resuming their old routines. Washed clothes snapped in the wind. The smell of cooking wafted to her nose. The laughter of children reached her ears. She closed her eyes and drifted toward sleep.

:Auraya.

At once her eyes were wide open, and her longing for sleep forgotten.

:Chaia! You’ve been gone for days.

:I was busy. So were you.

:Yes. I think the worst is over. We’ve isolated those whose bodies can’t fight the disease. Once everyone is cured, we’ll allow them to rejoin the tribe. They will still be in danger of falling ill again if anyone carrying the disease visits the tribe.

:You cannot stay here just in case they do, Chaia warned.

:I know. Leiard might stay, however.

:He was here when you arrived?

:Yes. She paused. I cannot read his mind. Why is that?

:He is blocking you. It is a rare Gift.

:His ability to heal is extraordinary.

:Yes. He is more than he first appeared to be. Such powers of healing are also rare.

:It is a pity he did not become a priest. Auraya closed her eyes. A powerful healer priest. He could have helped many more people. I have asked him to teach me this healing Gift. Do you approve?

Chaia did not answer straight away, then he spoke quietly.

:I must think on it. How do you feel about him now?

She frowned.

:Different. I’m not angry any more. He apologized. That changed more than I would have expected.

:How so?

:I don’t know. I like him better for it. I think… I think I would like us to befriends—or at least remain in contact.

:You are still attracted to him.

:No!

:You are. You cannot hide that from me.

Auraya grimaced.

:Then you must be right. Are you… do you mind that?

:Of course, but you are human. So long as you have eyes you will admire other men. That does not mean you will pursue them.

:No. I definitely won’t be pursuing Leiard. That is a mistake I will not make again.

:Good. I do not want to see you hurt. Now sleep, Auraya, Chaia whispered. Sleep, and dream of me.