Priestess of the White

“Perhaps we will learn how to fight before then.”

This had come from Sreil. Tryss felt his heart lift. Had Sreil remembered Tryss’s harness?

“If landwalkers come here, they can teach us,” Sreil added. Tryss’s heart sank.

“But then we will have to admit we can’t fight,” Vissi warned.

“I think we must be honest with these White,” Sirri said. “After all, they are closer to the gods than any mortal, and the gods can see our minds. They will know if we are dishonest.”

The tribe was silent. Then Tryss’s father spoke.

“Then they will know that we cannot fight with sword or spear. They would not have asked this of us, if they felt we had no value to them in war.”

The meaning behind his father’s words struck Tryss like a physical blow. He felt a rush of cold, and shivered. Slowly he lifted his head to stare up at the stars.

Have you seen my mind? he asked. Have you seen my ideas? Is this what you mean to have happen - for me to give my people a way to fight?

He held his breath. What if the gods answer? he suddenly thought. That would be... wonderful and terrifying.

But no answer came. Tryss felt a moment’s disappointment. Had they heard, but were ignoring him? Did this mean he shouldn’t continue with his inventions? Or were they just not paying attention?

I could go mad thinking like this, he decided. They didn’t say “yes.” They didn’t say “no.” I’ll take that as meaning they weren’t listening, or don’t care, and do what I want.

All he wanted was to perfect his harness and see the Siyee using it to hunt. If his inventions led to the end of his people’s troubles... well, that would be even better. He’d be famous. Respected.

Tomorrow, he decided, I’m going to finish making my changes. After that I’ll test it. When I’m sure it’s working perfectly, I’ll present it to the Speakers.

8

Jarime was a city with many rivers. They carved the city into districts, some more affluent than others, and were utilized by watercraft carrying people and goods. Water was drawn from them for use, then channelled away to the sea through underground tunnels.

One half of the Temple boundary was formed by a river, and a tributary of it flowed through the holy ground. There were many pleasant leafy places along this tributary where a priest or priestess could find quiet and solitude for contemplation and prayer. The mouth of it was guarded to prevent outsiders disrupting the quiet, but if a visitor carried the right permission token he or she could ride the shallow Temple boats into the grounds.

Auraya’s favorite place on the river was a small white-stone pavilion. Stairs led down to the water on one side, where bollards allowed boats to be tied up. At the moment a veez was balancing on the rounded top of one bollard, investigating it closely. He looked up at the next post and Auraya caught her bream as he sprang toward it. Landing neatly, he leapt again, jumping from one bollard to the next.

“I do hope you can swim, Mischief,” she said. “One mistake and you’re going to fall in the river.”

Having reached the last bollard, he stood up on his hind legs and blinked at her.

“Owaya,” he said. In a blur of movement, he jumped down from the post, bounded to her seat and leapt into her lap.

“Snack?” he asked, gazing up into her eyes.

She laughed and scratched his cheeks. “No snacks.”

“Tweet?”

“No treats.”

“Food?”

“No food.”

“Titfit?”

“No titbits.”

He paused. “Niffle?”

“No nibbles.” She waited, but he stayed silent, gazing imploringly at her. “Later,” she told him.

The veez’s sense of time was limited. He understood “night” and “day,” and the phases of the moon, but had no understanding of smaller units of time. She could not tell him “in a few minutes” so she made do with “later,” which simply meant “not now.”

He was a strange and amusing companion. Whenever she returned to her rooms he bounded up to her, saying her name over and over. It was hard to resist such a welcome. She tried to find an hour each day to work on his training, as the Somreyans recommended, but she was lucky to manage more than a few minutes. Yet he learned quickly, so perhaps this was enough.

Finding a name for him had been a challenge. After she had heard that Mairae’s veez was named Stardust she decided she must find something less fanciful. Danjin had told her of a rich old lady who had named hers Virtue - apparently so she could always end a conversation with “but I do treasure my Virtue.” Now, when Auraya discussed her plans each morning with Danjin, he always smiled when she told him: “I must put aside some time for Mischief.”

This morning, however, her reason for bringing Mischief with her was not to continue his training but as a distraction if the conversation she was planning proved awkward. She was curious to see how the veez would react to her visitor, though he had a habit of pronouncing judgment of people loudly while in their presence, which she hadn’t yet managed to break.

Opening her basket, she took out an elaborate toy from the collection the Somreyans had provided. Setting it down, she began reading the instructions on its use. To her surprise it appeared to be a toy designed to teach the veez how to unpick locks with its mind. She wasn’t sure what was more amusing, that the creature was capable of it, or that the Somreyans thought it an appropriate trick to teach it.

She heard a splash and looked upriver. A punt drifted into sight, guided by two pole men. As she saw the passenger, she sighed with relief. She had not been sure if Leiard would accept her invitation. They hadn’t met in the Temple grounds before, but in quiet and private places in the city. Knowing how all things Circlian made him nervous and fearful, she had wondered if he would dare enter the Temple again.

But here he was.

Which was just as well. If he had been unable to bring himself to enter the Temple he would not be able to perform the role she wanted to offer him. She watched the punt draw closer. Mischief leapt out of her lap and scampered up a post of the pavilion into the roof. The pole men maneuvered the punt out of the current, and when the craft neared the stone steps one jumped out and tossed ropes around the bollards.

Leiard rose in one graceful movement. He stepped ashore and climbed the stairs. Watching him, Auraya felt a wistful admiration. There was something appealing about his perpetual air of dignity and calm, and the way he moved with unhurried ease.

Yet as she met his eyes she saw that this impression of calm was only external. His gaze wavered, leaving hers and returning only to slip away again. She hesitated, then looked closer. Fear and hope warred in his thoughts.

She was glad she had insisted that she meet him alone. Dyara had wanted to supervise, as always, but Auraya had guessed that the presence of another White would intimidate him. Especially one who radiated disapproval at the mere mention of Dreamweavers.

As she observed she saw that hope appeared to be winning the battle with fear. Leiard saw in Auraya a potential for change for his people that made dealing with the fear the Temple aroused in him worthwhile. She noted his trust only extended to her. He believed she would not harm Dreamweavers willingly. Nor would she be happy should the other White do so. She was the best opportunity for peace the Dreamweavers had encountered.

However, she saw that he did not entirely believe this. Circlians cared only for their gods and themselves. They despised and feared Dreamweavers. He wondered if he was a fool for trusting her. It was frustrating being