36
It had been many centuries since Emerahl had sailed up the Gulf of Sorrow. Sennon, with its deserts and drab towns, didn’t appeal to her. In her long life she had never left the continent of Northern Ithania except to visit the island nation of Somrey, which nowdays was considered part of Northern Ithania anyway.
If she had been sailing along the middle of the gulf, and the air had been less hazy, she might have been able to see both Northern and Southern Ithania at once, but the need to stop for supplies from time to time kept her close to the Sennon coast. She could have tried to buy food in Avven but she didn’t know what sort of reception she would receive on the southern continent, and knowing nothing of the local language would make trade difficult. Sennon, on the other hand, had barely changed from what she remembered. Even the language hadn’t altered that much in the few hundred years since she had last visited.
The horizon in every direction was hazy with dust, blown up by the wind that drove her boat east. Ahead was the Isthmus of Grya, a strip of land that divided the Gulf of Sorrow from the Gulf of Fire. A city, Diamyane, lay at the point where the Isthmus joined Sennon. There her sea journey would end.
She chewed her lip and patted the tiller. The little boat had taken her a long way in the last few months. It had weathered more than a few storms as well as the unusual strain of being lent speed by the occasional push of magic.
She was going to miss it. The only way to get a boat past the Isthmus was to pay someone to haul it across, and she doubted she had enough money for that. Once she sold her boat, she could join a trader caravan travelling east, or, if she could afford it, buy passage on a ship.
Pushing aside regret, she reminded herself that she had made this decision months ago and there was no point changing her mind. She could have sailed right around Southern Ithania, but that would have added months to the journey. She might also have sailed around the top of Northern Ithania, but that would have taken her past Jarime and she would prefer not to travel past a country the White ruled.
Mirar had warned her in a dream link that the Siyee were watching their coastline closely after the Pentadrians had landed and been sent away again months before. He had also warned her that Auraya was in Si. Passing by one White was better than passing by four, Emerahl had reasoned. She had taken plenty of supplies so she could avoid landing in Si. No flying white-clad sorceress had come to visit her, and the winds had been in her favor most of the way. Until now she hadn’t had reason to regret her choice.
Unnaturally regular shapes began to appear in the dusty haze ahead. As they emerged they revealed themselves to be buildings. Emerahl directed her vessel toward them. She did not hurry, prolonging the moment she had to give up the boat. All too soon she was drifting up to a mooring and tossing rope to the dock boys, who pulled her boat in close and bound it to the bollards with practiced speed. She climbed up onto dry land, dropped coins into their hands and asked where the boat haulers were.
They had set up a shop by the docks. As she walked in she sensed the hauler’s mood change to gleeful greed. Over several cups of a hot, bitter local beverage she convinced them that a woman could barter as well as a man, but while her senses told her she had forced them down to a reasonable price, it was still too high.
Next she sought a buyer for her boat and discovered that craft as small as hers weren’t in demand. The main use for boats here was to transport goods, and hers was too small for that. One man was prepared to pay her a paltry amount for the craft, however. She arranged to meet him later in the day so he could inspect the boat.
Hours had passed. She sought the local market to exchange some money for the local coin, the canar. There she bought food and a measure of kahr, the local liquor, then half-heartedly tried to sell her services as a healer. Several healers already working the market regarded her with hostile stares. She knew she would not be able to stay here untroubled for long. In Sennon all were free to live as they wished and worship who or what they wanted so long as they did not break any of the essential laws of the country. On her way to the market she had seen a Dreamweaver House and plenty of Dreamweavers. In Toren people had approached her for help; here they ignored her, clearly satisfied with the amount of local healing available.
So I must get their attention with better or less common products, she told herself.
“Cures for infertility,” she called to the crowd. “Removal of scars. Aphrodisiacs.”
A man and a woman turned to look at her. The woman carried a baby and the man was holding the hand of a small boy. They exchanged a glance and hurried toward her. Emerahl wondered which of the three services they wanted. They didn’t appear to need fertility treatment. They might want aphrodisiacs, but scar removal was just as likely.
“Are you Emmea, the healer who wishes to sell a boat?” the man asked, using the name she’d given the boat haulers. She had stopped using the name ‘Limma’ once she reached Sennon. Using a different name when she was on the other side of the continent made her less traceable.
Emerahl blinked in surprise, then nodded. “Yes. Do you wish to buy one?”
“No,” the man replied. “Let me introduce myself. I am Tarsheni Drayli and this is my wife Shalina. We wish to buy passage for us and our children.”
Disappointment followed his words. “Oh. I can’t help you. I’m not going west.”
The man smiled. “We do not wish to go west. We want to go east.”
“I still can’t help you,” she told them apologetically. “I can’t afford haulage.”
“Ah, but you do not have to buy haulage,” he told her. “There is a small tunnel through the Isthmus. It was opened a few years ago. Only small boats can go through. The fee is much less than haulage.”
“Is that so?” Nobody had told her about this tunnel, but it was not surprising that haulage sellers would neglect to tell her of it. “How much does it cost?”
“Twelve canar per boat,” the man said.
Emerahl nodded. She sensed no dishonesty from him. Twelve canar was still too much, however. She could manage it, but would have no money left to buy food—unless she did take these people east. She silently cursed herself for not pricing passage on a ship. She had no idea how much to charge these people.
“My offer is this,” the man said, forestalling her. “We will pay the fee to go through the tunnel. In return you will take us east to Karienne.”
Emerahl smiled. “That’s reasonable. Passage on a ship will cost a lot more than twelve canar.”
He nodded and she detected no emotions associated with deception from him—just hope.
She pursed her lips as she considered the deal. The man, Tarsheni, regarded her patiently.
“You must bring your own food and water. I have no money to pay for your basic necessities,” she warned.
“We will, of course,” Tarsheni replied.
“And while I don’t believe you have any plans of stealing my boat from me, I should warn you against coming up with any such ideas in the future. My Gifts are not inconsiderable.”
Tarsheni smiled. “You have nothing to fear from us.”
Emerahl nodded. “Likewise. I have one more question. What is the reason for this journey?”
The couple exchanged a glance and Emerahl sensed apprehension. She crossed her arms and stared at them expectantly. The man’s shoulders slumped.
“You may find this foolish,” he said. “We have heard of a man in Karienne who knows wise and wondrous things. We are travelling there to hear him speak.”
Emerahl sensed no dishonesty, but guessed they were withholding something.
“What is so special about this man?” she asked.
“He…” Tarsheni began.
“Are you Circlian?” his wife asked.
Emerahl regarded the woman—Shalina—with cautious surprise.
“No,” Emerahl admitted, hoping she had not just lost herself the deal.
“You’re not Pentadrian,” Shalina said, her shrewd eyes glittering. “Are you a heathen or a non-believer?”
Emerahl held the woman’s gaze. “Does this man you want to see follow one of the dead gods?”
Shalina shook her head.
“He says the gods were created by a greater being,” Tarsheni said. “Maybe he is wrong. That is what we are going there to find out.”
“I see,” Emerahl said. “What an interesting idea,” she added, genuinely intrigued. If the idea became popular, it might be the first new religion to manifest in millennia, if she did not count her own long-dead unscrupulous and unwanted Followers of The Hag.
“So,” she said, bringing her attention back to the family, “when do you want to leave?”
The couple grinned broadly.
“We have only to pay the boarding house and fetch our belongings,” Tarsheni told her. “And buy some food. How much should we purchase?”
Emerahl smiled. They were young and inexperienced travellers who were probably used to living comfortably. They would probably find the journey rough going. She had better make sure they were well-prepared.
“Take enough to last a few days—you can never be sure how long it will take to get to the next village. Take nothing perishable and make sure everything is well wrapped. It can be hot out on the sea and everything will get wet if a storm blows in. Have you got any oilskins? No? You had better take me back to the boarding house with you. I’ll look over what you’re bringing and tell you how to pack it. And you’ll need something for seasickness…”
Feeling more cheerful than she had all day, Emerahl led the family out of the market. She didn’t have to give up her boat, and she might even make a profit out of transporting this family to Karienne.
Six more Siyee were sick from Hearteater at Temple Mountain by the time Auraya returned, and another two Siyee had reported members of their families sickening since then. Auraya had used her new healing Gift many times already, but the Temple Mountain Siyee were less willing and able to keep separate from each other. There were already signs of re-infection.
At the same time, news had come of sick Siyee in tribes that had escaped the disease so far. She was all too aware that her efforts would be more effective in tribes that were less crowded and more cooperative, but she was determined to leave the Temple Mountain tribe in a better state than at present.
“This disease is determined to test every one of us,” Speaker Ryliss said resignedly as he topped up the oil heater.
“It will, if given the freedom to spread,” Auraya agreed.
“How can we stop it?”
“Send everyone who has recovered from the disease away.”
He frowned. “You said people could not catch the disease from those who had fully recovered from it. I’d be sending away people who are of no risk to others here.”
“Yet they take up too much space, preventing us from properly isolating the sick. If you sent away those who have not been ill, you risk that some of them may be sick and not showing symptoms yet.”
“But sending people away… is that necessary?”
“Your village is overcrowded,” she told him, not for the first time.
“No more than others, surely.”
“Most villages have reduced in size in the last year, having lost members in the war. Many of the Siyee here have moved to this tribe recently, haven’t they?”
Ryliss nodded. “Yes. They came here to learn about and serve the gods.”
She looked up at him in surprise. “Why didn’t they go to the priests in the Open?”
He shrugged. “They came here before the priests arrived. And… not meaning to give offense, but some Siyee feel they should learn Siyee ways of worshipping from other Siyee.”
She smiled. “I can understand that. Would it help if priests came here? Would the Watchers be willing to teach alongside landwalkers?”
“I will ask them.”
“Thank you.” Moving away from one patient, Auraya approached the next. “These newcomers are young and strong. Their bodies are fighting the disease.” She straightened and met his gaze. “So will you send some of the people here away?”
His face wrinkled with reluctance, but Auraya did not hear his answer. Another voice filled her mind.
:Auraya. Come to the Temple.
As abruptly as it had arrived, Huan’s presence flashed away. Ryliss was still talking. Still making excuses, she noted.
“I’m sorry, Speaker,” she interrupted. “I must leave you now. I have been summoned by Huan.”
His eyes widened. “Best not keep her waiting.”
“No.” She strode out of the room and into a corridor. The cave system was shallow, and she reached an opening to the air in a few moments. She glanced upward, making sure no other Siyee was about to leap from an opening in the cliff face above and collide with her, then concentrated on her sense of the world and propelled herself toward the closest mountains.
Wind buffeted her face, cool and pleasant. As she drew closer she was able to make out the Temple. Though she had seen it several times now, she always felt wonder at the sight of the small structure carved out of the mountain peak. How it had been made was a mystery. Ryliss had told her it was far older than the Siyee race. Whoever had made it must have been either a talented climber or capable of flight. Why they had done it was an even greater mystery.
Five columns supported a domed roof. Auraya landed in the center of the circular floor. She took a deep breath and looked around, her heart beating quickly with anticipation. Though she had grown used to Chaia’s company, the prospect of being in the presence of the other gods was still both thrilling and daunting.
:Huan, I am here, she called.
Auraya concentrated on her sense of the magic around her. She felt a presence approaching at a rapid speed. The magic in the world roiled in its wake and she had to resist an instinctive urge to back away. It stopped abruptly just a few steps from her and the air about it began to glow. The light formed the figure of a woman, her expression stern. Auraya prostrated herself.
:Rise, Auraya, Huan said. We have a task for you.
“What must I do?” Auraya rose to face the goddess.
:We have discovered a great mistake, made long ago. You must correct it—but be warned: it will not be easy or pleasant. We have discovered that an enemy we believed long dead is alive. Not only does he still live, but he has been meddling in the affairs of the world.
Auraya’s heart skipped as she realized who this enemy must be. “Kuar! But how did he survive? How am I to defeat him?”
:It is not Kuar. If Kuar had survived we would not set you against him. He was more powerful than you. This is a lesser enemy and an older one. Juran was the last to face him. His name is Mirar.
Auraya stared at Huan in astonishment.
“Mirar? How can this be?” Then she realized what the gods wanted her to do and felt her heart sink. Oh, Leiard. Will you ever forgive me?
:He won’t, Huan told her. Leiard is Mirar.
“Leiard?” Auraya exclaimed. For a moment she could not think. Then she laughed in disbelief. “That can’t be. I’ve seen his mind. Well, I did before he—”
:Mirar is Leiard. He deceived us. He deceived the White and, worst of all, he tricked and used you. We are not sure how he managed to hide behind the persona of Leiard, but we are certain of his true identity. When you linked with him to learn his healing Gift, I saw the truth.
“You were there…?”
:Yes.
Auraya shook her head in disbelief. She had caught glimpses of Leiard’s thoughts during the link. None of what she had seen had revealed anything but healing knowledge.
:While you were distracted he let his guard down, believing he was safe.
She searched her memories of Leiard. First she recalled him as he had been when he had lived in the forest near her village, teaching her about cures and the world. Had there been any sign that he was really Mirar? She couldn’t recall any.
Next she considered the man who had been her adviser in Jarime. He had been so uncomfortable in the Temple. She had assumed any Dreamweaver would be. Was his fear of all things Circlian an indication of his true identity? He had overcome that fear and become Dreamweaver Adviser. It hadn’t been his idea, however; it had been hers. Dreamweavers had benefited from his work, but there was nothing unusual or wrong in that. Any Dreamweaver would have aimed to do the same.
Unless he had somehow used his position to gain other advantages without her knowledge…
:You are not seeing the depth of his deception, Auraya. Leiard does not exist. He never did. The man you knew was an invention designed to manipulate you.
Auraya frowned. She was looking for something unusual in Leiard’s behavior. She should consider what Mirar’s behavior had been. If he had set out to deceive her by inventing Leiard, he had succeeded. He had gained her friendship and trust, then her love. She thought of the dream links, the declarations of love, the promises. None of it had been real. She shivered. She had… done things with a man she didn’t really know, whose intentions couldn’t have been good for her, the gods or Circlians.
What was Mirar’s real intention, then? Did Juran ruin his plans by discovering our affair and sending him away? Did Mirar come to Si hoping to encounter me and resume our affair?
As the possibilities occurred to her she felt a rising anger. I was willing to risk so much for Leiard! But I saw that he had changed, she realized. When we linked so he could teach me, I sensed a difference. What did he say again? “I am not the person I was.”
:Now you do see the truth, Huan said. It will cause you pain. We wish that it were not so. Better that this mistake had never been made. Hold on to your anger. You will need it to do what must be done. The other White are too far away to act. You are close, and have the advantage of surprise. He will not expect you to be the one to execute him.
“Execute him?” Auraya went cold to the bone.
:Yes. You hesitate to kill. That is good; we would be disappointed in you if you did not. But he must die—properly this time. I will guide you.
“When?”
:Now.
“But the Siyee…?”
:It will not take you long, Auraya.
“Oh.” She felt strangely disoriented. I’m not going to have time to get used to this, am I? I’ll have to sort out what it all means afterward.
:Yes. You must not let anything distract you, Huan warned. He is strong. It will be difficult. He will try to manipulate you. He will try everything to stop you.
Of course he will, she thought. I doubt he wants to die.
:I will guide you. Go, Auraya. Find him.
Last of the Wilds
Trudy Canavan's books
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