“Yes, of course. But what of your parents?”
“They threw me out.”
His eyebrows rose. “What did you do?”
“You mean ‘Who?’—‘Who did I do?’” she said lightly. “Or who didn’t I do? I guess I was meant for this work.”
“Do you enjoy it?”
She regarded him coolly. Why all the questions? “Most of the time,” she lied.
He smiled. “How did you learn about heybrin?”
She considered the motion of the platten. It was still moving slowly. They couldn’t have gone far, but the more he talked the further they travelled from Main Street. Was he trying to intimidate her into forgoing her fee for the sake of escaping him? Well, it wasn’t going to work.
“I…my grandmother knew a lot about herbs and magic. She taught me. Mother said she shouldn’t have taught me how to stop babies until I was married, but…” Emerahl smiled wryly. “My grandi knew me better.”
“My grandmother used to say people will always have vices, so you may as well profit from them.” He frowned. “My father is the opposite. Very moral. He’d hate to see me now. He took our money out of her ‘immoral ventures’ and put it all into the eastern mountains. We’ve made a lot of money out of rare woods and mining.”
Suddenly she understood what was going on. He was the kind of customer who liked to talk. Well, he had mentioned wanting stimulating conversation. She may as well play along. If she humored him she might learn something—and if she proved a good listener he might become a regular customer.
“Sounds like he made the right decision, then,” she said.
He grimaced. “Perhaps. Perhaps not. The searches at the gates have slowed traffic and we’ve lost custom because of it. I don’t know why they bother. If a priest with mind-reading Gifts can’t find this sorceress, who can? Now there are rumors the White are going to ally with the Siyee, who want the land we own.”
“The White?”
“Yes. The Siyee sent ambassadors to the White Tower. Apparently one of the White has left to visit Si. The newest one. I guess it’s too much to hope that she’ll mess it up out of inexperience.”
Emerahl shook her head. “Who are the White?”
He turned to stare at her. “You don’t know? How can you not know?”
Something in his tone told her that she had revealed herself ignorant in a matter that every modern man and woman knew well. She shrugged. “My home is remote. We didn’t even have a priest.”
His eyebrows rose. “Well, then. No wonder you ran away.”
Ran away? She hadn’t said that, but perhaps he had sensed in her manner that she was lying and guessed at the reason. Running away was a likely story for a young woman on the streets.
“The White are the highest of the Circlian priests and priestesses,” he explained. “The Gods’ Chosen. Juran is the first, then Dyara, Mairae, Rian, and now Auraya.”
“Ah, the Gods’ Chosen.” Emerahl hoped she had managed to hide her shock. How could Juran still be alive? The answer was obvious. Because the gods want him to be. She nodded to herself. Most likely these other White were long-lived, too. What was this White Tower? She suddenly remembered the tower dream that still occasionally bothered her. Was this the tower?
“You look…Did that make sense?”
She looked at the man sitting beside her and nodded. “Yes, it jogged my memory. Grandi taught me something like that, but I’d forgotten most of it.” She looked at him. “Can you tell me more?”
He smiled, then shook his head sadly. “I must return to my home. First I will take you back to yours.” He called instructions to the driver and the platten began to rock more rapidly. After a few minutes it slowed to a halt.
Reaching into his tunic, he drew out a wallet and silently counted out small copper coins.
“Fifty ren,” he said, handing them to her.
She hesitated. “But…”
“I know. We agreed on forty. You’re worth more than that, Emmea.”
She smiled, then impulsively leaned forward and kissed him on the lips. A brightness flared in his eyes and she felt his hand brush against her waist as she climbed out of the platten.
He’ll be back, she thought with certainty. I knew I wouldn’t be here long.
She noted that the twins had disappeared. Turning around, she waved at her night’s investment as the platten drew away. Then, with fifty ren tucked into her purse, she hurried down the alley to her room.
Tryss woke several times during the night. Each time he opened his eyes he saw only darkness. Finally, he blinked sleep away to see the palest light filtering though the walls of his parents’ bower.
He rose and dressed quietly, strapping his tools to his waist. As an afterthought, he grabbed a piece of bread on the way out and by the time he had reached the Open all that was left was the burned crust, which he tossed aside. He stretched and warmed up carefully. If he was to test his new harness today, he did not want pulled muscles hampering his movements. As he ran through the exercises, he looked to the northern edge of the Open, but the White priestess’s bower was hidden within the shadows of the trees.
The landwalker’s presence had stirred the Siyee into a state of excitement and suspense. Everyone talked about her and the alliance offer all the time. Tryss was half sick of the subject, particularly because those people most excited by this visit by the Gods’ Chosen were those who had scoffed loudest when they heard of his harness. The people who did not believe the Siyee had anything to offer the White in return for their protection.
That’s because they’re the least intelligent of us, Drilli had said when he voiced this observation.
He smiled at the memory, then leapt into the air. Cold wind rushed over his face and chilled the membrane of his wings. Winter was drawing ever closer. Snow already dusted the highest peaks. Many of the forest trees had lost their leaves, revealing herds of the animals he intended to hunt.
My family won’t go hungry this year, he told himself.
It took him an hour to get to the cave where he now stored his new harness. He came to it by a roundabout route which would hopefully confuse anyone who might try to follow. His cousins were still gloating over their act of spite, but neither had harassed him since. His father had said something about the pair being busy with a task Speaker Sirri had set them.
Landing before the cave, Tryss hurried inside. Every time he entered and found all as it had been when he left it, he felt a surge of relief.
Not this time. A figure stood beside the harness. He froze in alarm, then felt a mix of relief and anxiety as he saw that it was Speaker Sirri.
The leader of his tribe smiled at him.
“Is it finished?”
Tryss glanced at the harness. “Almost.”
The smile faded. “So you haven’t tested it yet.”
“No.”
She looked at him thoughtfully, then beckoned.
“Sit with me, Tryss. I want to talk to you.”
As she dropped into a squat, Tryss moved to the other side of the harness and folded himself down. He watched her closely. She looked into the distance, then turned back to regard him.
“Do you think you could have this finished and working by tomorrow night?”
Tomorrow night was the night of the Gathering. The White priestess would address them. Tryss felt his pulse quicken.
“Maybe.”
“I need a definite ‘yes’ or ‘no.’”
He took a deep breath. “Yes.”
She nodded. “Are you willing to risk demonstrating it at a Gathering this important?”
His heart was racing now. “Yes.”
She nodded again. “Then I will arrange for it to be part of the meeting. It should be timed well, if you are to impress everyone.”
“I’d be happy just to convince a few people,” he muttered.
She laughed. “Ah, but we have to convince everyone.”
“Some will never believe in it.”
She tilted
her head to one side. “Do you realize that part of the reason they will not open their minds is because they fear you are right?”
He frowned. “Why? If I’m right, they can hunt. And fight.”
“And go to war. If we go to war, many of us will never return, even if the fight is won. We are not as numerous as landwalkers and do not produce as many healthy children. A victory for the White may be the final defeat for the Siyee.”
Tryss felt himself turn cold as her words sank in. If his invention enabled Siyee to go to war, and that led to the end of the Siyee, then he would be responsible for his people’s demise.
“But if we can hunt and grow crops we will be stronger,” he said slowly, thinking aloud. “We will have more healthy children. If we can defend ourselves from invaders, more of us will live to have children. When we go to war we must attack from far enough away that the enemy’s arrows can’t reach us. None of us have to die.”
Sirri chuckled. “If only that were true. We have two paths before us. Both have a price. It may be that the price is the same.” She rose. “Come to my bower late tonight and we will discuss the timing and form of your demonstration.”
“I will.” He stood up. “Thank you, Speaker Sirri.”
“If this works, all of the Siyee will thank you, Tryss.” She paused, then winked. “Not to put any pressure on you, of course.”
Then she strode out of the cave and leapt into the sky, leaving Tryss with the nagging feeling she had just done him a favor he might come to regret.
21
As the black-clothed, brown-skinned landwalker climbed carefully down the rock face, Yzzi smothered a laugh. The woman moved slowly and awkwardly, choosing her foot-and hand-holds carefully. Yet there was a surety in the way the woman climbed that suggested she was well practiced at this. It reminded Yzzi of a boy in her tribe who had been born without a membrane between his arms and body. He could not fly, but he could walk further and leap higher than any normal Siyee. At first his efforts had been comical and pitiful, but she and the other children came to respect him for his determination to be as mobile as possible.
The woman had reached the bottom of the slope and paused at a thin stream to drink. She would have to be familiar with climbing, Yzzi decided, since she must have crossed plenty of terrain like this to get so far into Siyee lands.
Yzzi shifted her weight from one leg to another, keeping her balance easily on the branch. The woman rose, then looked up…directly into Yzzi’s eyes. A chill ran down Yzzi’s spine, but she did not move. It was possible the woman hadn’t seen her. She might be hidden by the foliage.
“Hello,” the stranger called.
Yzzi’s heart stopped. She’s seen me! What do I do?
“Don’t be afraid,” the woman said. “I will not hurt you.”
It took a moment before Yzzi made sense of the words. The woman spoke the Siyee language haltingly and the pitch of her whistles was a little off. Yzzi considered the stranger. Should she talk to the woman? Her father had told her that landwalkers could not be trusted, but he had changed his mind when the White priestess visited their tribe this morning.
“Will you come down and talk to me?”
Yzzi shifted her weight again, then came to a decision. She would talk, but she would do so from where she was.
“I’m Yzzi. Who are you?”
The woman’s smile widened. “I’m Genza.”
“Why are you in Si?”
“To see what’s here. Why don’t you come down? I can barely see you.”
Once again, Yzzi hesitated. The landwalker was so large. She cast about, looking for a place she might perch that was closer to the woman, but from which she could fly away easily. A ledge on the steep slope the woman had just climbed down looked good enough. Diving from the branch, she swooped down and landed neatly on her new perch.
She turned to regard the landwalker. The woman was still smiling.
“You’re so pretty,” she murmured.
Yzzi felt a flush of pleasure.
“You’re strange,” she blurted. “But in a good way.”
The woman laughed.
“Would you pass on a message from me to your leader?”
Yzzi straightened. Passing on messages was important, and children weren’t often given important messages to deliver. “All right.”
The woman took a few steps closer and looked deep into Yzzi’s eyes.
“I want you to tell them that I am sorry about the harm the birds did. It was not meant to happen. They were trying to protect me and I did not realize what was happening until it was too late. I came here to see if we could be friends. Will you remember all of that, Yzzi?”
Yzzi nodded.
“Then repeat it back to me now, so I can see how well you’ll—”
A distant whistle snatched Yzzi’s attention away. She looked up and exclaimed as a large group of Siyee flew overhead. At the center was a white-clad figure conspicuous among the rest for its size and winglessness.
The White priestess, Yzzi thought. She turned back to see Genza crouching beneath the fronds of a large felfea tree. The woman’s expression was terrible—wavering between anger and fear.
“How long has she been here?” she snarled.
“A few days,” Yzzi replied. “She’s nice. You should come and meet her. She’ll want to be your friend, too.”
Genza straightened and her expression softened as she looked at Yzzi. She muttered a few strange words Yzzi didn’t understand, then sighed. “Can you tell your tribe leader one more thing, Yzzi?”
Yzzi nodded.
“Tell your leader that if the Siyee ally themselves with the heretic Circlians, they will gain an enemy more powerful. Now I know she is here, I will not stay.”
“You don’t want to meet the Speakers?”
“Not while she is here.”
“But you came so far! It can’t have been easy.”
Genza grimaced. “No.” She sighed, then looked at Yzzi hopefully. “You wouldn’t happen to know of an easy way back to the coast?”
Yzzi grinned. “I haven’t been that far, but I’ll help you as much as I can.”
Genza smiled with warm gratitude. “Thank you, Yzzi. I hope one day we’ll meet again and I can return the favor.”
As Danjin entered Auraya’s rooms, he heard a shrill cry of joy.
“Daaaa-nin!”
He immediately ducked and looked up. The ceiling was bare. He cast about, searching for the owner of the voice. A gray blur streaked across the room and leapt up into his arms.
“Hello, Mischief,” he replied.
The veez gazed up at Danjin, blinking adoringly. Mischief had taken quite a liking to Danjin now that the adviser, Auraya’s servants and the occasional visit from Mairae and Stardust were the only company he had. Auraya’s pet also found it amusing to drop onto Danjin’s head from the ceiling, a trick that was only slightly less unnerving than the view from the windows.
Danjin scratched the veez’s head and spoke to it for a while, but soon his thoughts returned to the discoveries he had made over the last few days. He had visited friends and acquaintances all over the city, in high and low places. What he’d heard had confirmed his worst fears. The Pentadrians of the southern continent were raising an army.
Military training was a part of their cult and he had hoped his brother and father had come to the wrong conclusions about the trade in weapons. However, both the retired sailor Danjin had befriended during his early years of travelling and the Dunwayan ambassador had told him of active recruitment of soldiers and smiths within Mur, Avven and Dekkar, the lands of the southern continent.
Mischief squirmed out of Danjin’s arms, clearly dissatisfied with the amount of attention he was getting. He jumped up onto a chair and watched as Danjin began pacing, the veez’s small, pointy head moving back and forth.
Was Northern Ithania the Pentadrians’ target? Of course it is. Other landmasses lay to the northeast and west, but they were so far away as
to be almost regarded as legend. If the Pentadrians had their sights set on conquering some other place, the closest was the continent to their north.
:What’s wrong, Danjin?
He let out a gasp of relief.
:Auraya! At last!
:It’s nice to be missed, but that’s clearly not what’s bothering you. What is this about Pentadrians conquering Ithania?
He quickly related what he had learned.
:I see. So this is what people are saying. I don’t think the possibility of war will remain a secret much longer.
:You knew all this?
:Yes and no. We’ve only just begun receiving reliable reports of what’s going on in the south. They’re the observations of people who are being careful not to be noticed. The sort of information you have unearthed—purchases of materials and a change in their military behavior—are new to me. Tell Juran what you have learned. It will help him see the bigger picture.
:I will. How is your work in Si going?
:It’s a fascinating place. I can’t wait to tell you all about it. These people have such gentle natures. I was expecting some kind of internal conflict—like the ancient grudges between the Dunwayan clans—but there’s only a mild sort of competition between tribes that they channel into aerial contests. They look for matches between young men and women of different tribes, and marry quite young, which encourages adolescents to mature quickly. Have you heard from Leiard at all?
Danjin blinked in surprise at the sudden change of subject.
:No. Not once since you left.
Could you…could you visit him? Just to let him know I haven’t completely forgotten about him.
:I’ll do it tomorrow.
:Thank you. And how is…Ah, here’s Speaker Sirri. I will talk to you again soon.
The sense of her presence faded, then suddenly returned.
:And give Mischief an extra scratch for me.
:I will.
Then she was gone. Danjin moved to the chair, crouched and scratched the veez’s head.
“There, that’s from your mistress.”
Mischief closed his eyes, his pointy face a picture of bliss.
Danjin sighed. If only I was so easily soothed, he thought. Auraya knows of the Pentadrian army, but that doesn’t make it any less frightening. I just have to hope that the White are doing all they can to prevent a war—or at least to win if it is unavoidable.