Last of the Wilds

35



Sitting down, Mirar rested his elbows on his knees and his chin on his fists and thought about Auraya.

Until she had visited that morning, he had not seen her for two months. While he had hoped they would encounter one another again as they battled Hearteater, he also knew there was nothing to be gained from a meeting except danger. The hopeless infatuation for her that had come with accepting Leiard as a part of himself wasn’t easy to live with. In fact, it was a great nuisance. He constantly told himself to get over it—the sooner the better. Yet when she had called out to him, when she had walked into the bower, his heart had performed all manner of acrobatics, and he knew it would take more than two months’ separation before he had full control of it again.

The last thing he had expected was for her to come seeking his magical healing technique. Since leaving the North River tribe, Mirar had cursed the gods many times for not allowing her to learn it. As the disease attacked Siyee in more and more tribes, many, many Siyee had died that she might have saved.

Why now? he asked himself. Why have they changed their minds?

The answer was clear. The disease had become a plague. Perhaps the Siyee had heard of his healing ability and started to wonder why the Gods’ Chosen did not have it.

If that is so, why don’t the gods teach her?

He’d pondered that question all day. The only conclusion he could come to was that they couldn’t. They were beings of magic. Perhaps beings with no physical body could not heal physical bodies, even through a willing human.

There was a danger in teaching her this technique. It was similar to the method all Wilds used to prevent themselves aging. Auraya might realize this. The gods certainly would.

I can’t bring myself to believe she will harm me if she suspects I am immortal. A suspicion is not a truth, and she is not one to act on mere suspicion. She promised I would not be harmed. Also, she will feel she owes me something in return for giving her the ability to save lives. Perhaps only the chance to leave Northern Ithania.

When he had told Emerahl, through dream links, of his encounter with Auraya, she had urged him to abandon the Siyee and flee. She suggested he go to Southern Ithania, where Dreamweavers were tolerated and even respected. When he had told her he had offered to teach Auraya his healing method she had called him an idiot, but she couldn’t come up with a reason why he shouldn’t—other than those he had already considered.

He heard the sound of feet meeting the ground. Looking up, he saw only darkness, then Auraya came out of the gloom like a beam of moonlight taking form. Mirar felt a shiver run down his spine. The hem of her priestess’s circ flared outward as a breeze stirred it. Her unbound hair blew across her face and she lifted a hand to catch and hook it behind one ear.

Look away, he told himself. If she catches you gazing at her she might suspect you‘re still smitten.

He drew in a deep breath and rose.

“Greetings, Auraya of the White.”

One of her eyebrows quirked upward in amusement at his formal manner.

“Greetings, Dreamweaver Wilar.”

He directed her to one of two blankets he’d set on the ground outside the bowers. She sat down and watched as he moved to the middle tent. Inside, Tyve was sitting beside a Siyee man lying unconscious on a stretcher. The boy stood up, stooped to pick up one end of the stretcher and helped Mirar carry it outside.

After they had placed the stretcher on the ground between Auraya and the other blanket, Ty ve returned to the bower. Mirar sat down.

Auraya leaned forward and placed a hand on the man’s head. Her eyes grew distant as she accessed the Siyee’s condition. A grim twitch of her lips told Mirar she had seen the damage the disease had done. She looked up at him expectantly.

“What now?”

“I could explain to you in words and guide you toward discovering the Gift for yourself, but that would take months, or years, and neither of us have the time to spare. We must engage in a link.”

Her eyebrows rose. “A mind link?”

“Not exactly. We will link hands, but unlike a mind link there will be no need for you to open your mind. It is similar to a dream link, but easier since you do not need to be in a trance or part-asleep. Physical contact removes the necessity for that. I will project my instructions to you. You will answer in the same way. Are you willing to do this?”

The corner of her mouth twitched upward as she considered. After a moment she nodded to herself and held out her hands to him. He was not surprised. She had accepted dream links before, despite their illegality, and would have decided what he was going to teach her was worth bending the law for.

He took her hands and closed his eyes, then sought and found a sense of her presence before him. From her came a feeling of both anticipation and uncertainty.

:Auraya.

:Leiard? Or should I call you Wilar?

:Whatever you wish, he answered.

:I don’t think of you as Wilar, so I’ll call you Leiard. But… you seem different.

:I am changed?

:Yes and no. You seem more yourself. That sounds strange, I know, but before you were so… so uncertain of yourself. Now you are not.

He felt oddly pleased about that.

:It is true. I am not the person I was.

:I was probably the source of all that uncertainty, she continued sadly. Perhaps we should not talk of it.

:Perhaps. Perhaps not, he answered. It could do as much harm as good.

:True. She fell silent, then before he could think of a way to change the subject she spoke again.

:I forgave you, she told him. I was angry, but not any more. Not since we worked together at the North River. I would like it if we could befriends.

:I would like that too, he told her, perhaps with too much feeling.

:Do not fear that it will bring you or your people any trouble. The gods know where my heart lies now.

Mirar felt a twinge of surprise. She had found another lover? He struggled to hold back a feeling of jealousy. No, he told himself. Accept it. He examined the feeling then pushed it aside. Better that she is happy. Better that I am not making her miserable, anyway.

Then he realized that she might not have been referring to a lover at all. She might simply have meant her heart was for the gods. There was one way to find out…

:I hope he is worthy of you, he said.

A wave of embarrassment came from her. He smiled; he had guessed correctly.

He was only sensing embarrassment, however. She ought to be betraying some feeling of happiness or joy. She wasn’t. It won’t last, he found himself thinking with satisfaction. This time he did quash his feelings. It was time to direct their attention elsewhere.

:Magic can be used in healing in many ways, he told her. Dreamweavers divide these into three levels of difficulty. The first level is the simplest: the use of magic to hold or heat or move. The second uses the same Gifts but in more challenging situations as well as using magic to boost a body’s strength. The third is so difficult it requires great concentration and a sure knowledge and experience of all processes of the body. It enables a Dreamweaver to influence tissue within a body to a degree of detail where flesh and bone may be realigned and persuaded to heal immediately.

Mirar paused. No feeling of confusion came from Auraya, so he continued on.

:What I will try to teach you is a step beyond the third level. It does not require drawing a great deal of magic, or even gaining a great knowledge and experience of bodily systems. What it requires is a mind capable of sensing and understanding the body from the finest detail to the greater whole. Once you understand, you can influence.

He guided one of her hands down to the Siyee, setting it upon the man’s chest.

:Watch.

To show her he had to lower the shield around his mind that prevented her seeing his thoughts. He took care to let it fall only while he was concentrating on healing, opening and closing the shield like a shutter and passing what he saw and did to Auraya in images and ideas.

The man’s body filled his awareness. The damage within it, and the effect it was having on the whole, was obvious. He detected something out of place—the tiny but dangerous life that should not be there, and he communicated all that he sensed to her.

:Now you.

She did not send what she was perceiving to him. For a long time she was silent, then he felt a thrill of excitement from her.

:I see it! I can see the disease! Show me how to kill it.

He concentrated on the man again, showing her how to focus magic in a way that killed the intruding malaise but did not harm the body. Now he saw her actions by watching the effect she had on the Siyee. He was surprised and pleased to see that she had understood everything he had told her.

Her attack was not ordered, however, and he found himself demonstrating how to work systematically through the body so she left no trace of the disease alive. They began working together, each responding to complement or support the other’s actions. It was like a dance. It was exhilarating.

She does this naturally, he thought suddenly. It is like an innate Gift. She must be Gifted enough to become immortal without the gods’ assistance. The thought of what they could have been sent a thrill through him. Immortal lovers… But that’s not going to happen. It would make her an enemy of the gods she loves. And I am the hated Mirar. Even if she could forgive the deception…

She was engrossed in the healing. He let her continue alone while he watched. Since this healing method was new to her, she could not be using it to stop herself aging. Perhaps the gods, through the ring she wore, were keeping her from aging without her being conscious of how it was done.

I wonder how long it will be before she makes the connection, he wondered. Is that why the gods do not teach the White to heat?

:The disease is gone! she said.

He examined the Siyee closely.

:Yes, he told her.

:That was… easier than I thought. This way you have of sensing the body is… amazing. And logical. I cannot understand why I have never done this before. But… this man is still dying.

Yes, there is more to do.

He led her attention back into the Siyee’s body. Taking energy from stores of fat, he used them to help speed the regrowth of lung tissue. She followed suit. With the lungs restored, the blood began to improve and then the strength of the heart. Circulation enlivened, the fingers, toes and other extremities warmed. He could sense Auraya’s amazement and joy.

Finally he moved to the man’s hand. A finger had been broken and badly set long ago. Mirar carefully straightened it, shuffling the fibers of the bone into new positions. The amazement he sensed from Auraya changed into a bright excitement.

:You could heal anything this way, she said. You could give sight to a man who had been blind all his life. You could restore a cripple. You could revive a dead man.

:Yes, but with the last it must be immediate. Memory deteriorates within minutes of death and cannot be restored.

:Can I heal myself the same way?

:Of course, he told her. He needed to steer her away from this chain of thought. You’ve learned exceptionally fast and well.

:You thought this would take longer.

:I did. As always, you‘ve exceeded expectations. If only all my students learned so quickly.

:If that is all I need to know, then I should return to the Temple Mountain tribe immediately. There are many there who may die tonight if I do not bring them this healing.

Then I won’t delay you any longer.

Their hands parted and the sense of her presence vanished. Opening his eyes, he found her looking at him, smiling broadly. He felt his heart skip a beat and quickly looked down at the Siyee.

“Thank you, Leiard. Every life I save with this Gift will be a life you have saved.”

He glanced up at her. “Don’t go telling the gods that. They can be unpleasant to be around when jealous.”

She opened her mouth to reply, then her eyes dropped to the Siyee.

“He’s awake.”

Mirar looked down at the man, who was regarding them curiously.

“Good evening,” he said. “Auraya and I have cured you, but you will have to live in the first bower until the rest of the village is well. You will be tired for a day or two. Sleep and regain your strength.”

The man nodded weakly and closed his eyes again.

Auraya climbed to her feet. “I’ll help you carry our friend here back into the bower, then I must go.”

Together they lifted the man and carried him to the bower of cured Siyee. Auraya stepped outside again. Standing in the entrance, Mirar watched as she walked a little way from the bowers. She smiled at him once, then rose up into the air and disappeared into the night.

He sighed. She had started to see the potential in the Gift within moments of learning it. It would not be long before she returned with questions.


Imenja’s ship was bigger than the raiders.‘ It was a different shape, too. Reivan had explained to Imi that this ship had been built with a narrow hull so it would travel fast. Most ships were used to carry things to trade with, so they had wider hulls in which to store goods. This ship only had to carry them, a crew, and their supplies.

The entire ship was made of a black wood from a place in the southernmost part of the southern continent. The star shape that Imenja and Reivan wore had been painted in white on the hull. The sails were also black with a white star. Imi could imagine how formidable this large, narrow vessel would look to traders and raiders. She almost wished they would encounter the raiders that had captured her. Maybe Imenja would punish them with her magic.

Where there had been a large hole in the deck of the raider ship to allow access to stolen goods stored in the hull below, Imenja’s ship had a shallow depression which created a sort of low sitting area, covered by a kind of tent. There Imi, Imenja and Reivan slept or sheltered whenever it rained. The rest of the time they sat on deck and tried to keep out of the way of the crew. Imi had been inside the hull a few times. There was a bucket down there for bailing out water, but the ship was so well made it didn’t leak much. The time she’d spent in the raiders’ ship felt like a distant memory or a story she’d been told, though she occasionally had nightmares about it.

The hull was full of stores. It was half as full as it had been when they had set out a few months before. The food they ate was far better than what she’d been given as a prisoner, but not as good as what she’d enjoyed in the Sanctuary. Tonight the meat they had eaten had been too salty and there had been only dried fruit and nuts to go with it. She found herself daydreaming of dried sea grass rolled around fresh crawler meat and smiled at herself for craving what she had once considered boring food.

A crewman was clearing away the plates and utensils now. Imi looked up to see Imenja unrolling a large map. She had seen it before many times, but it always intrigued her. It was the way the world looked to a Siyee, yet it was useful to landwalkers.

The captain unrolled his own maps, which were covered in lines that made no sense to Imi, and weighed them down with various objects. Lamps within the tent swung back and forth to the swaying of the ship, throwing moving shadows over everything. The captain pointed to a place on his map, then to one on Imenja’s, and spoke.

Reivan glanced at Imi, then translated. “He says we’re about here, far enough from shore that we can no longer see it from the mast.”

“Could a boat be rowed to shore from here?” Imi asked the captain, with Reivan translating quietly.

“Yes, but it would take many hours. Worse if there are currents against us.”

“What is the risk of being seen?”

“Always high during the day.”

“And at night?” Reivan asked.

“The moon is near full,” he reminded them. “We won’t be able to see if there are any reefs closer to shore, either.”

“You don’t have to take me all the way in,” Imi told him as soon as Reivan had finished translating. “I can swim some of the way.”

They turned to regard her, each wearing a frown.

“Are you strong enough for that?” Reivan asked.

The captain said something in a warning voice.

“He says there might be sea predators. Spinerakes, which I think you call flarkes.”

Imi felt a rush of fear, but she straightened her back. “The only really dangerous sea creatures are flarkes and they like smaller prey. They’ll only attack people that are hurt, or if there’s no other food. If the Siyee see you they’ll try to kill you. That’s more of a risk for you than this is for me.”

As Reivan translated Imi’s words, the captain smiled crookedly. He looked at Imi with what she thought might be admiration.

“We have to hope there are Siyee on shore to find,” Reivan said.

“I only have to swim along it to find them. Getting back to you will be harder. How will I find you if the ship and the boat can’t be seen from shore?”

Imenja and Reivan exchanged a glance.

“We must agree on a time and place,” Reivan said. “We take Imi toward shore in the morning and pick her up at night.”

“How will I find you in the dark?” Imi asked, shivering as she considered what it would be like swimming in darkness. “I’d rather swim during the daylight.”

Imenja smiled. “Then we’ll take you at dawn and pick you up in the late afternoon instead,” she said. “If you don’t find Siyee that day, we’ll sail farther west the day after and try again.”

Imi nodded. “That will work.”

Reivan translated this for the captain, who nodded. He turned to a crewman waiting nearby and spoke. The man disappeared, then returned carrying a flask and some small, duck glasses. Imi struggled to stop herself grimacing. The drink served at the end of formal meals was too strong and sour for her, but she always made herself sip it for fear of causing offense. It did make her pleasantly sleepy, however, which was better than tossing and turning in the “tank” bed they had made for her in the hull. The tank kept her wet, but it wasn’t easy to relax in water that constantly moved with the ship.

Tonight she probably would lie awake, despite the drink, thinking of the adventure ahead. Would there be any Siyee on shore? Would they help her?

And what will we do if they don’t know where Borra is?


As Juran opened the door to his rooms, Dyara felt instantly on edge. Though he looked calm, there were lines on his face that only appeared when he was in great distress. He stepped aside and gestured for her to enter, saying nothing. Rian and Mairae were already there. Both looked bemused.

Sitting down, she waited as Juran paced the room slowly, clearly gathering his thoughts. She knew him better than the other White, but that was to be expected. They had worked together for seventy-six years. Every sign of his agitation worried her more, and it took all her self-control not to demand he hurry up and tell them what was bothering him.

“For the last few months Huan and I have been watching a… a certain individual,” he began. “We have been waiting for a sign that our suspicions about him are right, or not. Tonight we found that they were.”

“Who is this person?” Dyara asked.

Juran stopped pacing and looked at her. He took a deep breath and his expression hardened. “The man we have been watching is Mirar.”

Dyara stared at Juran in disbelief. The room was silent for several heartbeats.

“He’s dead,” Rian stated.

Juran shook his head slowly. “He isn’t. I do not know how it can be true, but it is.”

“You’re certain of this?” Dyara asked.

“We are now.”

“But you found his body.”

“We found a body that had been crushed. It was the right height, the hair coloring was correct, but nobody could have recognized his face. He wasn’t seen leaving the collapsed house, and plenty were watching.”

“But there was no way to prove the body belonged to Mirar,” Dyara finished.

“No.”

Mairae leaned forward in her seat. “How did you discover Mirar was alive?”

Juran sighed and moved to a chair. “I should explain how this all came about. Auraya discovered Mirar in Si a few months ago, though she didn’t know it was him of course. He was treating the Siyee and—”

“Does she know who he is?” Dyara interrupted, alarmed. “Is she safe?”

Juran smiled. “She does not know, but she is safe enough. Chaia is watching over her.”

“She thinks Mirar is an ordinary Dreamweaver,” Rian guessed.

“Yes.”

Dyara nodded to herself. Of course. Then a possibility occurred to her and she looked up at Juran, but his attention was on Rian.

“She asked him to teach her his method of healing,” Juran continued. “At first Huan forbade it, but recently she decided it was a risk worth taking in order to confirm our suspicions. There was little dangerous information he might learn from Auraya’s mind, but much for us to learn from his.”

“Wait,” Dyara interrupted. “Both Auraya and Huan can’t read his mind?”

Juran grimaced. “No. It is shielded.”

“No wonder you were suspicious of him,” Mairae said.

“Yet you encouraged her to learn from him?” Dyara added.

Juran met her eyes and nodded. “We had to know if my suspicions were correct. Today Mirar agreed to teach her. Huan and I linked with Auraya through the lesson… though she was not aware of it.”

Mairae drew in a quick breath. “Why didn’t you tell her what you were doing?”

“To learn the healing Gift she needed to link with Mirar. If she had suspected who he was, or knew that Huan and I were watching, Mirar might have learned of it.”

“If he could learn that from her, what else might he have learned?” Rian asked quietly.

“Nothing,” Juran assured him. “We were ready to break the link, but it wasn’t necessary. She kept her own mind well guarded. What Huan and I saw of his, however…” He shook his head. “While Auraya’s attention was on what she was learning, Huan and I saw glimpses of Mirar’s thoughts. At one point, while Auraya was distracted, he even considered what she would do if she learned he was really Mirar.”

Dyara’s mind was spinning with questions. How has

Mirar survived? Will Juran have to kill him all over again? Or will the gods have mercy on him and send me or Rian to do it? Or Auraya, since she is in Si.

Then she remembered the possibility that had occurred to her earlier. “Why would Mirar be teaching something like that to one of us? Why would he help or trust Auraya?”

Juran looked at her, the lines of sorrow deepening. “He knows her well and we know him. He is… he is Leiard.”

The room fell into a stunned silence. Dyara nodded with a bitter satisfaction. She had guessed right.

“Leiard!” Mairae exclaimed. “How is that possible? We’ve all met him. We’ve all read his mind. How did we not discover his real identity?”

Juran spread his hands. “I don’t know. If he can hide his mind from the gods, who knows what other Gifts he has? Perhaps he has gained the ability to hide his identity behind a false one.”

“But you know what he looks like,” Rian said. “Why didn’t you recognize him?”

“He did not look as he did when I knew him.” Juran sighed. “It has been a hundred years and my memory has faded.” He moved to a table and picked up a sheet of parchment. “After Mirar’s death nearly all of the statues or paintings of him were destroyed. I sent priests all around Northern Ithania to find what they could. This is a sketch of a carving found in the ruins of an old Dreamweaver house a few years ago.”

He handed the sketch to Dyara. As she saw the face she drew in a quick breath. The face was smoother and fuller than Leiard’s, and was beardless, but it was still recognizable. She handed the sketch to Rian, who scowled as he, too, identified the face.

Dyara leaned back in her chair and thought back to when Leiard had arrived in the city, and before. He had known Auraya as a child. He had sought her out once she became a White. She had made him Dreamweaver Adviser. As the implications of Mirar being in such a position of influence over Circlians occurred to her she groaned.

“How far back does it go?” she asked aloud. “Did he know she would become a White? Was it a coincidence or did he arrange for her to come here, his unwitting tool?”

Juran turned to stare at Dyara. “Surely not.”

“We must consider the possibility,” she said.

“I doubt he arranged it that way,” Rian said, “but when he heard what she had become he wouldn’t have been able to resist the chance to meddle. He followed her here to gain her confidence and her trust.”

“And her bed!” Dyara hissed. Anger filled her and she looked at Juran. “Truly he is the rogue you once knew. He used his influence over her to encourage acceptance of his people among Circlians.” She felt a bitter thrill of triumph. “But he went too far. Taking her to bed was a mistake. After it was discovered he went to Si, knowing she would return there. Now he’s seducing her all over again, using his magical knowledge as a lure.” She looked at Juran. He shook his head in denial, but whether it was at Mirar’s scheme or just the horror of the situation she couldn’t guess.

He began to pace again. “What you say may be true, Dyara, but it may not be, either. When I confronted Leiard about his affair with Auraya I searched his mind and saw nothing to indicate he was Mirar, or any great plans of working against us. What I saw was a man in love with Auraya. A hopeless, fearful love, but a real one. He couldn’t have invented that.”

“And she loves him,” Mairae murmured. “Or she did.”

“What she loved was a lie,” Rian pointed out.

“Then it is fortunate she doesn’t love him any more,” Dyara said. “Because she will have to kill him.”

The room fell silent again. Mairae’s eyes were wide with horror. She looked at Juran. “Surely not.”

“She is in Si,” Juran said wearily. “It would take months for any of us to reach him.”

“You can’t ask her to do that,” Mairae insisted. “Even if she knows he is not the man she once loved, it is too cruel to make her kill him.”

“When she learns who he is and how he has used her she will understand he cannot be allowed to live!” Rian said vehemently.

Dyara winced. She was inclined to agree with Mairae. “What do the gods want us to do?”

Juran smiled thinly. “They are deliberating.”

“If they ask, I am willing to do the deed in her stead,” Dyara said. “I agree with Mairae that it is a hard thing to ask of Auraya. There are other ways to do this. We may be able to use Auraya to lure him out of Si, for instance.”

Juran nodded. “I will suggest that. Thank you.”

The four of them fell silent then, all absorbed in this new revelation and its possible consequences. After a while Dyara stirred and looked around.

“We can only wait for the gods’ decision. Let’s return to our rooms and consult again tomorrow.”

As she stood up, Mairae and Rian followed suit. They filed out of the room silently. At the doorway Dyara looked back. Juran smiled grimly. She felt a pang of sympathy for him as she stepped outside. He would get no sleep tonight. Truly his ghosts had come back to haunt him.

He has never forgiven himself for killing Mirar, she thought. Now he knows he’s been feeling guilty for a hundred years for something he never did.