Priestess of the White

“Jade?”

Emerahl raised a hand to stall Star. The gods made Mirar a martyr. This dream is no doubt touching the minds of priests and priestesses, too. Surely the gods are trying to put a stop to it.

“I have to tell you something,” Star said in a quiet voice. “I told...”

Maybe they can’t. Maybe this dreamer is protected. By whom? Someone powerful. An enemy of the gods. The Pentadrians! Maybe—

“... I told Rozea you healed me with magic.”

Emerahl turned to stare at Star. “You did what?” she snapped.

Star flinched away. “I’m sorry,” she whimpered. “She tricked it out of me.”

The girl looked frightened. Emerahl began to regret her harsh response. She softened her expression.

“Of course. Rozea’s cunning enough to talk a merchant out of his ship. I was wondering why she’s being so nice to me all of a sudden.”

“I’ve never been much good at keeping secrets,” Star admitted.

Emerahl looked at Star closely. She sensed enough to guess that “tricking” the girl hadn’t been difficult. What should I do now?

I should leave.

Emerahl smiled. Now that Rozea knew she was a sorcerer there was no reason to hide the fact. She was free to take the money Rozea owed her, by force if necessary. Yet once the caravan did join the army, Rozea was bound to tell of the sorceress who’d robbed her. Her story might attract priestly attention. No, I should just leave. The money isn’t worth the risk.

Yet Emerahl still felt a foolish obligation to protect the girls for as long as possible. Once the caravan drew close to the army and Rozea hired new guards, the girls would be safe enough.

And then? Emerahl considered her idea about the dreamer being protected by Pentadrians. She had made no plans beyond escaping the priest, then Porin, and now the brothel. Perhaps she would seek out this dreamer. Perhaps he or she could offer Emerahl protection from the gods and their servants.

If that meant joining the Pentadrians, so be it. For all she knew, they might actually win this war.

39

During the afternoon the east-west road met a wide, stony river. It continued along the banks, the constant din of water rushing over rocks drowning out all but raised voices and the occasional honk of an arem or the call of a reyer. The road entered a wide valley. It passed small villages where the army was greeted by smiling adults and excited children. Then, as the last rays of the sun disappeared over the horizon, they arrived at the end of the valley and Juran called a halt.

I guess this means we’ve left the plains and entered the mountains, Danjin thought as he stepped into the war-council tent. From here it’s all uphill. He looked around, noting the haughty expression on King Berro’s face, the stiff posture of Speaker Sirri and the concerned and sympathetic looks King Guire was giving the Siyee leader.

He moved to one side to wait. The tent remained unusually silent until the arrival of Auraya and the Siyee scouts.

Auraya made the sign of the circle. “Greetings all. This is Sveel of the Snake River tribe and Zeeriz of the Fork River tribe. They are the first of the Siyee scouting expedition to return.”

Juran stepped forward. As he spoke to the two Siyee in their language, Dyara translated for the rest of the council.

“I thank you, Sveel of the Snake River tribe and Zeeriz of the Fork River tribe, for undertaking this dangerous journey. Without your help we would know much less about our enemy. It grieves me, however, that this information cost us the life of one of the Siyee.”

The two Siyee warriors nodded. They looked exhausted, Danjin noted.

“Auraya has told me you hastened to return in order to report something you suspect may be of importance. What is that?”

The Siyee named Zeeriz straightened. “After Tireel was captured we tried to stay close enough to see what happened, but the birds came for us and we had to fly farther away to avoid them. They kept us away from the army until night, when they finally left and we were able to search for Tireel. We found him beside the road. Dead.”

He paused and swallowed audibly. Danjin noted that Sirri’s head was bowed and her eyes closed. He could not help feeling admiration for her. I can’t imagine the Toren king shedding a tear for a lost scout.

“I was chosen to lead in his place,” Zeeriz continued. “I left four behind to bury Tireel, and took the rest with me to pursue the army. We could not find them. They were no longer following the road and we could not locate them in the surrounding land.”

Juran frowned. “No tracks?”

“None that we could find, but we are people of the air and have little skill at tracking. The land there is stony and hard and feet do not leave much imprint.”

“Perhaps they travelled faster than you expected,” Dyara suggested.

Zeeriz shook his head. “We circled a large area. Farther than they could have travelled in a day. When we could not find them I decided we should return here at first light.”

King Berro leaned forward. “It was night when you were searching, wasn’t it?”

When this was translated, the Siyee scout looked at the monarch and nodded.

“Then it’s obvious what happened. They knew there’d be more of you watching, so they travelled without torches. Most likely they were right under your noses, but you didn’t see them.”

“Large groups of landwalkers make a lot of noise,”

Speaker Sirri pointed out. “Even if my scouts did not see them, they would have heard them.”

“Unless the troops were ordered to keep quiet,” Berro countered.

Zeeriz straightened his back. “I am confident that I would have heard them if they had been there. An army of that size cannot travel silently.”

“Oh?” Berro’s eyebrows rose in disbelief. “How would you know? How many armies of that size have you encountered before?”

“We heard yours coming half a day before it arrived,” Sirri answered tartly. “Even if your men had kept their mouths shut, we’d still have heard them.”

King Berro opened his mouth to speak, but another voice cut in.

“It is possible the Pentadrians were sheltering in the old mines for the night,” Jen of Rommel, the Dunwayan ambassador, said mildly.

Danjin heard someone close by suck in a breath. He turned to see that Lanren Songmaker’s eyes were wide with realization.

“Mines?” Juran frowned. “You mean the ancient mines of Rejurik?”

Jen shrugged. “Perhaps. My guess would be the more recent ones. They’re just as extensive as their famous predecessors, but less likely to have collapsed. There are caverns deep inside them that are large enough to hide an army. Why you would want to, however...” He spread his hands. “Bad ventilation, so no fires and no hot food. They had a cold sleep that night.”

“Could they travel through the mountains into Hania?” Lanren Songmaker asked.

Jen shook his head. “Impossible. The mines never extended that far.”

“They have plenty of sorcerers. They could make the mines extend that far.”

“No,” Juran said. “It would take months, if not years, to carve a tunnel large enough. The rock and debris removed would have to go somewhere. Ventilation shafts would have to be created and sorcerers posted to pull air inside, as natural circulation wouldn’t be enough for that many people.”

As this was translated for the Siyee, Zeeriz looked relieved. Danjin felt a pang of sympathy for the young man, who’d rushed back only to have his abilities questioned so derisively by the Toren king.