Priestess of the White

“Greetings,” Leiard replied. No traditional welcome from this one, then. Was it lack of training, or simply disdain for ritual?

Leiard sat in a chair opposite Jayim. He looked at the vest. The boy followed his gaze, then quickly picked it up and draped it over the back of the bench.

“Bit hot today, isn’t it?” he said. “Have you been to the city before?”

“Yes. Long ago,” Leiard replied.

“How long ago?”

Leiard frowned. “I’m not sure exactly.”

The boy shrugged. “Then it must be a long time ago. Has it changed a lot?”

“I noted a few changes, but I cannot judge well as I have seen only part of the city since I arrived this afternoon,” Leiard replied. “It sounds as though eating at the street shops is as perilous as it has always been.”

Jayim chuckled. “Yes, but there are some good ones. Will you be staying long?”

Leiard shook his head. “No, I leave tomorrow.”

The boy did not hide his relief well. “Back to... where was it?”

“Oralyn.”

“Where is that?”

“Near the Dunwayan border, at the base of the mountains.”

Jayim opened his mouth to speak, but froze at the sound of knocking. “Someone’s at the door, Mother.”

“Then answer it.”

“But...” Jayim looked at Leiard. “I’m keeping our guest company.”

Tanara sighed and stood up. She crossed to the main door, out of sight. Leiard listened to the slap of her sandals on the tiled floor. He heard the sound of a door opening, then female voices. Two sets of footsteps returned.

“We have a customer,” Tanara announced as she entered the room. A woman wrapped in a generous swathe of dark cloth entered. The cloth was draped over her head, hiding her face.

“I haven’t come for healing,” the woman said. “I am here to see an old friend.”

The voice sent a shiver up Leiard’s spine, but he was not sure why. He found himself rising to his feet. The woman pulled back the cloth from her head and smiled.

“Greetings, Dreamweaver Leiard.”

Her face had changed. She had lost all the roundness of childhood, revealing an elegant jaw and brow and high cheekbones. Her hair had been dressed into an elaborate style favored by the rich and fashionable. She seemed taller.

But her eyes were the same. Large, expressive and bright with intelligence, they gazed at him searchingly. She must be wondering if I remember her, he thought. I do, but not like this.

Auraya had grown into a strikingly beautiful woman. It would never have been apparent in the village. She would have seemed too fragile and thin. The fashion of the city suited her better.

The fashion of the city? She did not come here to be fashionable, but to become a priestess. At that thought he remembered his hosts. Knowing they had a Circlian priestess in their house might frighten them - especially a high priestess. At least Auraya had the sense to cover her priestess’s clothes. He turned to Tanara.

“Is there a place the lady and I might talk privately?”

Tanara smiled. “Yes. On the roof. It’s nice out there on a summer evening. Follow me.”

The woman led them through the communal room to the staircase opposite the main door. As he emerged onto the roof, Leiard was surprised to find it was covered with potted plants and worn wooden seats. He could see neighboring apartments and other people relaxing in rooftop gardens.

“I’ll get you some cool drinks,” Tanara said, then disappeared downstairs.

Auraya sat down opposite Leiard and sighed. “I should have sent you a message warning that I was coming. Or arranged to meet you somewhere. But as soon as I learned you were here...” She smiled crookedly. “I had to come straightaway.”

He nodded. “You need to talk about your mother with someone who knew her,” he guessed.

Her smile faded. “Yes. How did she... ?”

“Age and sickness.” He spread his hands. “Her illness took a greater toll as she grew older. Eventually it was going to defeat her.”

Auraya nodded. “So that was all? Nothing else?”

He shook his head. “It is easy, after a long time keeping a sickness at bay, to be surprised when it claims a person.”

She grimaced. “Yes - especially when the timing is... unfortunate.” She let out a long sigh. “How is Father?”

“He was well when I left. Grieving, of course, but also accepting.”

“You told the initiate that you found the message in the hands of a drunken courier. Do you know why Priest Avorim has not contacted me?”

“The courier claims he is sick.”

She nodded. “He must be so old now. Poor Avorim. I gave him such a hard time during his lessons. And you.” She looked up and gazed at him, smiling faintly. “It’s strange. I recognize you, but you look different.”

“How so?”

“Younger.”

“Children think all adults are old.”

“Especially when those adults have white hair,” she said. She pulled at the cloth covering her. “It’s a bit hot to be so dressed up,” she continued. “I was worried that if people saw me arrive it would bring your hosts trouble.”

“I’m not sure what it is like for Dreamweavers in the city.”

“But you believe your hosts would be frightened if they knew who I was,” she guessed.

“Probably.”

She frowned. “I don’t want them to fear me. I don’t like it. I wish...” She sighed. “But who am I to want to change the way people are?”

He regarded her closely. “You are in a better position than most.”

She stared at him, then smiled self-consciously. “I guess I am. The question is: Will the gods allow it?”

“You’re not thinking of asking, are you?”

Her eyebrows rose. “Maybe.”

Seeing the bright glint in her eye, Leiard felt an unexpected affection for her. It seemed some of the curious, relentlessly questioning child remained in her. He wondered if she let her peers encounter it, and how well they coped.

I can even imagine her drilling the gods about the nature of the universe, he thought, laughing silently to himself. Then he sobered. Asking questions is easy. Making change is harder.

“When do you plan to leave?” she asked.

“Tomorrow.”

“I see.” She looked away. “I had hoped you might be staying longer. Perhaps a few days. I’d like to talk to you again.”

He considered her request. Just a few days. Footsteps from the staircase hailed the return of Tanara. She appeared carrying a tray bearing pottery goblets and a dish of dried fruit. She lowered the tray and offered it to Auraya. As Auraya reached out to take a goblet Tanara gasped and the tray dropped.

Leiard noticed Auraya’s fingers flex slightly. The tray stopped, the contents of the goblets sloshing, and remained suspended in the air. He looked up at Tanara. The woman was staring at Auraya. He realized that the cloth covering Auraya’s shoulders had slipped and the edge of her circ was showing.

He stood up and placed his hands on Tanara’s shoulders. “You have nothing to fear,” he said soothingly. “Yes, she is a priestess. But she is also an old friend of mine. From the village near my—”