Priestess of the White

Star grinned. “Tell me anyway.”

Intrigued, Emerahl found herself searching Charity’s mind for any hint of deception. She could detect nothing more than wistfulness, gratitude and, most of all, smugness.

It was rare, but not unheard of, for a customer to make more than a token effort to pleasure a whore in return. As Charity talked, Emerahl felt a pang of sadness. This night of pleasure reminded her of a few she had experienced herself, long ago, with another Dreamweaver. The Dreamweaver. She smiled as she imagined what the girls would say if she told them of that liaison.

“Any time he wants to sneak into my tent he can have the night for free,” Charity told them.

“They don’t call her Charity for nothing,” Brand said, rolling her eyes.

“What did he look like?” Star asked.

“Tall. Skinny. I thought he was a bit scrawny at first. Very pale blond hair. Almost white. He had a beard, but he shaved it off the next day. Looked much better without it, too.”

Emerahl turned her mind from the girls’ chatter. Thinking of Mirar brought her back to her plans to find the source of the tower dream. It seemed a fanciful thing to do, hunting down a dreamer for no real reason other than curiosity. Although what else was there to occupy her? After a hundred years Northern Ithania had filled up with priests and priestesses. That restricted what she could do to almost nothing.

She was growing more and more convinced that the dreamer was on the other side of the mountains. The closer she got to the range, the stronger and more vivid the dream became. If that meant he or she was among the Pentadrians, so be it.

“You were right about the secret compartments,” Tide whispered into Emerald’s ear, making her jump.

She turned to regard the young woman. “Compartments?”

“Under the seats,” Tide said, gently tapping her heel against the underside of her seat. “I saw Rozea putting things in here a week or so ago. She does it in the morning, when we’re all still asleep. I woke up and watched her through a hole in our tent.”

Emerahl smiled. “Aren’t you a clever thing?”

Tide grinned. “Not that I’m stupid enough to take anything.”

“No, that would be foolish,” Emerahl agreed.

Foolish for anyone who needed to stay in the brothel or couldn’t fend for themselves outside of it, she amended. In just a few days the Circlians would clash with the Pentadrians. She would wait and watch, and when the right moment came she would take her money and head for the pass.

And she would leave whoring, priests and Northern Ithania behind her.

As the final strut sprang into place, Tryss stood up and gave the bower one last critical examination.

“It’s fine,” Drilli said. She rose from her crouch and handed him a leg of roasted gowt. “So who did these new soldiers turn out to be?”

He looked at her in surprise. It was easy to forget that information did not always filter through to everyone. They had been flying together when the soldiers had been spotted marching down from the pass. Sirri had told him to fly back and inform the White, and though he had returned hours ago he had only just rejoined Drilli.

“Dunwayans,” he told her. “They live on the other side of the mountains, but farther north. The men who came down to meet us are tribe leaders, war planners and priests. Most of their army is in the pass, waiting for us to join them.”

She nodded and chewed slowly, her expression thoughtful. “Have you seen Auraya?”

He shook his head. “Songmaker says she practices magical fighting techniques with Dyara for most of the day.”

“She always spends some time each day with us, too, though. Nobody’s seen her at all since yesterday.”

Tryss took a bite of roasted gowt. It was interesting but not surprising that information about the Dunwayans didn’t spread quickly among the Siyee, yet they noticed Auraya’s every movement.

“I’m sure she’s occupied with something important. I might find out what it is tonight.”

Drilli made a small noise of protest. “Another war council? Am I ever going to have you all to myself for an entire night - without you sleeping through it all?”

He grinned. “Soon.”

“You always say that.”

“I thought you were tired.”

“Yes. I am.” She sighed and crouched beside the fire. “Exhausted. It makes me cranky.” The firelight bathed her skin with a warm orange glow, highlighting her cheekbones and the lean angles of her body.

She’s so beautiful, he thought. I’m the luckiest Siyee alive.

“Father still won’t talk to me,” she said gloomily.

He moved to her side and rubbed her shoulders. “You tried again?”

“Yes. I know it’s too soon, but I can’t help trying. I wish Mother was here. She would talk to me.”

“She might not. Then you’d feel doubly worse.”

“No,” she disagreed with conviction. “She would talk to me. She knows things can be more important than... than...”

“What things?” he asked absently.

“Just... things. Here’s Sirri.”

He looked around to see Speaker Sirri land on an outcrop above their camping place. She smiled.

“Hello, Drilli. That smells delicious.”

Drilli rose. “Hello, Sirri. You’re not skipping meals again, are you?”

Sirri laughed. “I ate something before.”

“Here.” Drilli stood up and tossed something in Sirri’s direction.

The Speaker caught it neatly. “A spice cake. Thank you.”

“She makes them hot,” Tryss warned.

Sirri took a bite, chewed, then winced. “They certainly are. Well, we’d best fly or the meeting will start without us.”

Tryss nodded. He rose as Sirri leapt into the air, but paused as he felt Drilli’s arms wind around his middle. He turned to face her. Her kiss was warm and lingering and he pulled away reluctantly.

“Soon,” he promised.

“Go on, then.” She patted his rear. “Before she comes back looking for you.”

He grinned, then turned and leapt into the air.

They had camped on a small ledge overlooking the road. Most of the Siyee had set up their bowers on ledges and outcrops, whereas the only accessible space for the landwalkers to camp on was the road itself. From the air the landwalkers’ many lamps and fires looked like giant, looping glitterworm larvae.

Tryss caught sight of Sirri and flapped hard to catch up. She glanced back at him as he neared. “How are your meetings with Songmaker going?”

“I’m learning faster than he is. He has a big disadvantage, you see. Our spoken language is similar to his, but our whistling words are all new.”

“How close are you to understanding landwalkers?”

He shook his head. “A long way off. I sometimes recognize a few words. That tells me what they’re talking about at least.”

“That could be useful.”

The white tent appeared around a curve of the road. They both descended toward it. The crowd they usually found waiting outside wasn’t there. As they landed, they heard voices inside.

“Well, better late than not at all,” Sirri murmured.

He followed as she strode forward. The discussion halted as they entered.

“Please forgive us our late arrival,” Sirri said.

“Don’t apologize,” Juran replied. “We were just making introductions.” He gestured to the four Dunwayans Tryss had seen only briefly before. They were small for landwalkers, but their bulging muscles gave the impression of formidable strength and the patterns drawn on their faces added to their fierceness. As Juran introduced them,