Last of the Wilds

46



“Msstf, Owayafly?”

Auraya looked at the veez, who was inspecting her pack hopefully.

“Yes, Mischief. Auraya and Mischief fly… to Jarime.” She had been about to say “home,” but the words didn’t seem right. Jarime no longer felt like home.

Sighing, she sat down and patted the veez. Sirri had been dismayed to learn that Auraya was leaving. Without my help many, many Siyee are going to die, she thought. But if the gods had removed my ability to fly instead, I would not be able to reach all the distant villages anyway.

She had expected that, with the plague spreading throughout Si, whatever punishment the gods decided upon would not take effect until the disease was under control. By sending her to Jarime now the gods were also punishing the Siyee for her disobedience. That was unfair. Cruel, even. She felt her mood darken. Perhaps Mirar was right about them…

It was ironic that by persuading Mirar to teach her his healing Gift she had brought about events that forced the only two people who could help the Siyee to leave Si.

Mirar’s words repeated in her mind. “Come with me. We will leave Ithania and seek the distant continents.”

What he had proposed was absurd. It meant abandoning the Siyee. She looked down at the ring on her finger and smiled wryly. Even if she had been ordered to give away everything it meant—her position, power, flight, immortality—she would still prefer to stay and help the Siyee.

Looking up, she regarded the array of objects on the table. Gifts had started arriving as soon as the news of her departure began to spread. She couldn’t take everything, her pack wasn’t big enough even without a veez filling half the space. But she wanted to fill her room in the tower with Siyee-made objects so that every time the other White visited her they would be reminded about the fate of the Siyee.

She wasn’t just abandoning the Siyee to Hearteater, but to the Pentadrians. If they tried to land here again, none of the other White could arrive in time to help. And what use would I be, without flight or my powers enhanced by the gods? She grimaced. I supposed I could live on the coast. If I had a ship, we could reach the place the Pentadrians landed fairly quickly. Maybe my reputation would scare them off.

It was almost tempting. Perhaps if Siyee, as soon as they showed signs of sickening, flew to her, she could help them. She could set up a healing place in the Sand tribe village. Maybe a few Siyee would be capable of learning Mirar’s healing Gift.

Then her heart sank. She wasn’t sure if she would still be able to use Mirar’s Gift if she removed the gods’ ring. She wasn’t even sure she could remove the ring without something terrible happening.

Perhaps I should ask Chaia, a dark, quiet voice in the back of her mind said. Shaking her head, she stood up and moved to the table. It’s absurd, she thought. I’m not going to take off the ring or turn from the gods. I have to accept their judgment. I will make the best of it.

In Jarime she could teach Mirar’s Gift to others. There must be healer priests and priestesses capable of it. Perhaps the Siyee who chose to join the Temple could take the skill back. It would be too late to save most Siyee from Heart-eater, but it might go some way toward them forgiving her for abandoning them.

Which she hoped they would. It would break her heart if, ten years from now, she found she was no longer welcome in Si.


Someone was screaming. No—lots of people. Their wails were almost comically melodramatic. Mirar tried to feel concerned, but only became worried that he wasn’t concerned.

:Mirar?

:Ernerahl? Are you making that noise? It’s irritating.

:What noise?

:This noise.

:Oh. That. You’re dreaming.

He paused to think.

:If I am, am I dreaming you?

:No. I’m trying to dream link with you. Get control of yourself, Dreamweaver.

Control. Of course. He exerted his will on the dream, and the screaming became muted. It should have fallen to silence. Then he remembered.

:It’s the blizzard, he told Emerahl. The noise of the wind must be so loud that my mind can’t help registering it even in my dreams.

:How lovely for you.

:Yes. How are you?

:I’ve reached the Red Caves. I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve told my hosts all about you. They’re impressed at how you managed to change your identity for a century.

Mirar felt a twinge of apprehension. She had told them that? What else had she told them?

:Do I mind? he replied. Well, that depends who your hosts are.

:The Twins.

Surprise nearly shook him from the dream state.

:Is that so?

:Yes. Have you ever met them?

:Once, a long time ago. About fifty years before Juran was Chosen they warned me that the Dreamweavers would face bad times in the next century. I didn‘t believe them.

:They say they see patterns in the world. They constantly skim the minds of mortals, watching the spread of ideas. They say human behavior is fairly easy to predict, most of the time.

:Well, they’ve been skimming minds a long time, he reminded her. I heard rumors of their existence only a few hundred years after I became immortal.

:0h, they’re older than that, she told him. They’ve watched mortals for many, many centuries before they learned to see patterns in their behavior, and became famous for their predictions.

:What do they see happening in the near future? he asked.

:They don’t agree. Surim thinks there is some great change about to happen. Tamun does not think it likely, so soon after the rise of the Circlians and the Pentadrians. And that is interesting, too. They say the two religions formed and grew simultaneously. Surim thinks that there is nothing more to it than powerful beliefs rising to fill the voids left after so many gods died in their war. Tamun believes there is more to it than that—that the religions are linked.

:Do they know if the Pentadrian gods are real?

:They are. Too many Pentadrian worshippers can recall encounters with their gods for them not to be real. Nobody knows where these gods came from, however. They are different to the Circlian gods in that they rarely appear before mortals. They don’t like to meddle too much in the affairs of their followers.

:Except to tell them to invade Northern Ithania?

:The Twins believe that was the decision of the former leader, Kuar.

:Interesting. I like the idea of non-meddling gods, but if the result is mortals making decisions like that…

:Don’t tell me you’ve changed your mind and think we’re better off with gods than without.

:No. Never. But mortals can make astoundingly stupid and cruel decisions, too.

:Even your own followers? she asked.

:Of course not. Dreamweavers are always unfailingly sensible.

:Ha!

:Well, most of them.

:Have you contacted Dreamweaver Elder Arleejl

:Yes, he said. She’s making the arrangements you suggested.

:How did she take the news about you?

:She was surprised.

:I’m sure she was more than just surprised. The Twins told me something you’ll find interesting and maybe even useful in the future. There are more voids in the world. Most are of no use to anyone, but there are a few in remote locations that might be good places for you to hide.

:Do they know what caused them?

:No. Only that a great magical event must have happened to drain that much magic from one place in the world. They had never heard of them before the War of the Gods.

:That certainly qualifies as a great magical event, Mirar remarked.

:Yes. I’d always thought it strange that a war between such beings has never affected the physical world. All that changed for mortals was that gods no longer appeared, or they lost Gifts their gods had bestowed upon them.

:I wonder if the voids are dangerous to the gods. They are beings of pure magic, after all.

:Only if they blundered into one, I suppose.

:Yes. I wonder if we could arrange that.

Emerahl’s amusement came to him in a gentle wave of humor.

:It’s gone quiet, she said suddenly.

Mirar paused and listened. It took a moment for the meaning of the silence to occur to him. The sound of wind had stopped. Either his subconscious had finally blocked it, or the storm had ended.

:I had best wake up and be civil to my hosts, Emerahl told him. Happy travelling, Mirar.

:Thanks, he replied, thinking of the treacherous snow and rugged mountains he still had to cross.

Her mind faded from his senses. He drew in a deep breath and pulled himself into full consciousness. To his relief the wind had stopped screaming. Opening his eyes he saw only darkness, so he drew magic and created a spark of light. His relief changed to dismay.

The entire mouth of the enormous cave he had been sheltering in was completely blocked by a wall of snow.

That was why he couldn’t hear the wind any more.