Priestess of the White

“I don’t mean to put two Dreamweavers in the council, Danjin. This would be a separate position.”

“Chosen by whom?”

“By the White.”

“The Somreyans wouldn’t accept it!”

“They’d have no choice. It would have nothing to do with them.”

Danjin narrowed his eyes. “All right. You have me mystified. Just tell me.”

She chuckled. “Clearly the White need an adviser on Dreamweaver affairs.”

“And this adviser would be a Dreamweaver?”

“Of course. The Somreyan Dreamweavers would never listen to a Circlian elected to the position.”

Danjin nodded slowly as he considered the advantages of this arrangement “I see. First, the Dreamweavers will be mollified. By hiring one of them as an adviser, the White acknowledge that Dreamweavers have some value. The adviser tackles face-to-face discussion over the terms of the alliance so that, faced with one of their own, the Dreamweaver elder is forced to negotiate sensibly rather than reactively.”

“And our adviser could make suggestions on how the terms of the alliance might be altered to reduce the number of protests, and therefore speed the process,” Auraya added.

What are the disadvantages, then? Danjin asked himself. What are the weaknesses in this plan?

“You will have to take care that this adviser’s goals are not contrary to your own,” he warned. “He or she might suggest changes to the alliance that benefit their people and prove to have ill consequences for us.”

“He or she would have to be as unaware of those consequences as I,” she replied, tapping her forehead. “There are only four people in the world who can lie to me.”

Danjin felt a thrill at this piece of information. So the White could not read each other’s mind. He had always suspected it was so.

“Of course, it may be that no Dreamweaver will agree to work with us,” he warned.

She smiled.

“Do you have anyone in mind?” Even as he asked, he knew the answer.

“Of course. Naturally, I’d want to work with someone I feel I can trust. Who better, then, than the Dreamweaver I know personally?”

As the platten trundled away, Auraya took in her surroundings. She and Dyara were in a wide, flat space between rows of cultivated trees. Long grass swayed in the breeze. In the distance a priest and priestess cantered around a field on a large white reyer. Both looked familiar.

“Is that... ?”

“Juran and Mairae,” Dyara answered. “We call the last day of the month Training Day because it’s the day we work with the Bearers. Once you have established a link with one, you need to maintain it.”

“Is that what I’ll be doing today?”

Dyara shook her head. “No. You will have to learn to ride eventually, but it is not a high priority. It is more important to teach you how to use your new Gifts.”

The two reyer in the distance wheeled in a complicated-looking maneuver, their legs moving in unison. Auraya could not imagine herself managing to remain on a reyer’s back while it twisted about like that. She hoped her relief at the news her feet would remain on the ground wasn’t too obvious.

“The shield I taught you to make last time will hold off most types of attacks,” Dyara said, her voice taking on a now-familiar lecturing tone. “It will deflect projectiles, flame and force, but it won’t stop lightning. Fortunately, lightning is naturally attracted to the ground. It will take the easiest route - through you. To prevent that you have to give it an alternative route, and you have to do it quickly.”

Dyara held out a hand. A tortured ribbon of light flashed from her fingers to the ground and a deafening crack echoed across the field. A burn marked the grass. The air sizzled.

“When do I get to do that?” Auraya breathed.

“Only when you’ve learned to defend against it,” Dyara replied. “I will begin with small strikes, aiming at the same place. You must try to alter its course.”

At first Auraya felt as if she had been ordered to catch sunlight in her hand. The lightning strikes happened too quickly for her to sense anything about them. She noticed the wriggly line of light was never the same. It must have a reason to follow a different path. Something about the air.

:Dyara? Auraya? a voice said in Auraya’s mind.

Dyara’s head snapped up. She had obviously heard it too.

:Juran? she replied. Auraya glanced toward the field, but the two riders were no longer there.

:Rian has found the Pentadrian. Focus on his mind through mine.

Dyara looked at Auraya, then nodded. Closing her eyes, Auraya sought Juran’s mind. As she linked with him she sensed Mairae and Dyara, but Rian’s thoughts demanded attention. From him came sounds and images. A forest. A half-ruined stone house. A man in black clothing standing in the doorway. She drew in a breath in wonder as she discovered she could see what Rian was viewing as clearly as if she were standing in his place. She could also sense him drawing magic in order to feed the shield of protection around him.

The Pentadrian was watching Rian approaching. Vorns were all around him. He reached out and stroked the head of one sitting beside him, murmuring in his strange language.

Rian stopped and dismounted. He sent an instruction to the mind of his Bearer. It galloped away.

The sorcerer crossed his arms. “You come to catch me, priest?”

“No,” Rian said. “I have come to kill you.”

The sorcerer smiled. “That not polite.”

“It is what you deserve, murderer.”

“Murderer? Me? You speak of priests and men, yes? I only defend myself. They attack first.”

“Did the farmers and merchants you killed attack you first?” Rian asked.

:I can’t read his mind, Rian said. His thoughts are shielded.

:Then he could be dangerous, Juran said.

:As powerful as one of the immortals of the past Age. This will be an interesting fight, Rian replied.

“I not attack farmers and merchants,” the sorcerer said. He scratched the head of a vorn. “My friends hungry. They not given respect or food. You people not polite or respect me and my friends from day I here. Now you say you kill me.” He shook his head. “You people not friendly.”

“Not to murderers,” Rian said. “Perhaps in your land savagery is no crime, but in ours it is punishable by death.”

“You think you can punish me?”

“With the gods’ blessing and power.” Auraya felt the surge of adoration and determination that Rian felt. He is utterly dedicated to the gods, she found herself thinking. In comparison the rest of us are merely loyal. Yet the gods must find that acceptable, or all White would be like Rian.

The sorcerer laughed. “The gods would never bless you, heathen.”

“Not your false gods,” Rian replied. “The Circle. True, living gods.” He drew magic and channelled it out, shaping it into a streak of white heat. The air before the sorcerer suddenly became a wall of violent ripples. A wave of warm air washed back over Rian. The sphere of protection Rian had set about himself buckled inward. He strengthened it instinctively, warding off the force buffeting it. Auraya heard the snap of wood as the trees around Rian bore the brunt of reflected power.

Rian attacked again, this time shaping magic into darts that assailed the sorcerer from all sides. The Pentadrian’s defense held, and he returned with strikes of lightning that Rian guided to the ground.

So that’s how it’s done, Auraya thought.

The ground beneath Rian bucked and jumped. He sent magic down, steadying it. At the same time he drew air from around the sorcerer, trapping him in a vacuum. The sorcerer wrested air back.

:He’s testing me, Rian observed.