Priestess of the White

She was carrying a small cage. Inside it her veez hunched, all four legs braced against the floor.

“Cage bad,” he said sullenly.

“Quiet,” she told him.

To Danjin’s surprise, the creature obeyed. As Auraya moved toward the main door, Leiard picked up his bag and looked at Danjin expectantly. Danjin left and the Dreamweaver followed.

Auraya started up the stairs. As they climbed, the cage in the stairwell descended past them. Its sole occupant was a young man in spectacular formal dress. Danjin recognized the man as Haime, one of the many Genrian princes. The prince, seeing Auraya, made a half-bow and the formal gesture of the circle. Auraya smiled and nodded in acknowledgment.

They passed the door to Rian’s rooms. Danjin thought of the rumors and speculation that were rife in the city regarding Rian’s recent journey south. Reports about a dangerous sorcerer attacking villages in Toren had reached Jarime and all had assumed Rian had left to deal with the impostor. When Rian had returned a few days ago, Danjin had expected some sort of triumphant announcement that a threat to the lands had been dealt with, but none came. Did this mean Rian had failed? Or had he travelled south for an entirely different reason?

Auraya reached Mairae’s door and knocked lightly. It opened and the pale-haired White ushered them into her reception room.

“I’m nearly ready,” she said after exchanging quick formal greetings. “Just make yourselves comfortable.”

Her face was a little flushed, Danjin noted. She hurried into the private rooms of her quarters. Auraya smiled, then paused and looked questioningly at Leiard. The Dreamweaver met her eyes levelly and shrugged. Auraya turned away, apparently satisfied with what she had seen in his face, or read from his mind.

Mystery surrounds me constantly, Danjin thought wryly.

A small whine drew his attention back to Mischief. The veez was restless, turning circles in his cage and stopping to stare upward. Belatedly, Danjin looked up to find another veez clinging to the ceiling above them.

Mairae’s veez... What is its name? Stardust.

He could see why. The veez was black with tiny white speckles all over. A female. She leapt from the ceiling to the back of a chair, then scurried down to the floor. Approaching Mischief’s cage, she stood up on her hind legs and made the complex chittering noise that was the creature’s natural vocalization.

The door to the private rooms opened. Mairae walked back into the reception room. A servant followed close behind, carrying a small bag. Seeing Stardust, Mairae called the veez’s name.

“Are you taking Mischief?” Mairae asked Auraya as Stardust bounded over to her.

“I have to, if I’m going to complete his training according to the Somreyans’ instructions.”

Mairae bent to pet the veez at her feet. “I’d love to bring Stardust, but ships make her ill.” She pointed at the door to her private rooms. “Go inside.”

Stardust trotted to the doorway then sat down and gazed longingly at her mistress.

“I’ll be back soon,” Mairae assured the creature.

Stardust let out a long, exaggerated sigh, then folded her paws and rested her chin on them, so that she now blinked imploringly up at her mistress. Mairae rolled her eyes.

“Little manipulator,” she muttered. “We should go quickly, before she starts crying.”

“They do that?” Auraya asked.

“They can’t make tears like humans do, but they certainly know how to mimic a good wailing.” She closed the door. “Are you ready for your first sea journey?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Auraya replied.

Mairae gave them all one of her dazzling smiles. “Then let’s get ourselves to the docks before they think we’ve changed our minds and leave without us.”

Danjin smiled. As if one of the White’s ships would leave without the White. He followed Mairae out of the room. As they waited for the cage to arrive, he considered the task ahead.

Would everything work out as they hoped? There was a good chance it would, he decided. He would have thought otherwise if his impressions of the Dreamweaver had been less favorable. During all the consultations on the alliance, Leiard had been refreshingly frank about the terms that would offend his people, and yet the alternatives he’d suggested had not been unreasonable. So far Danjin had seen nothing to make him suspect the Dreamweaver wanted anything more than to reduce conflict between his people and Circlians.

Yet there was definitely something strange about Leiard. For a start, his behavior toward Auraya changed from moment to moment. Sometimes he was quiet and his manner and speech were respectful; at other times his tone was authoritative and confident. Perhaps he regained his confidence when he forgot who she was, then lost it when he remembered again.

Or was it something else? Danjin was not sure. Maybe it was Leiard’s nervousness with the other White that bothered him. Though Leiard had met and spoken with Mairae several times during discussions about the alliance, he was always warily polite to her. Around Dyara he was reluctant to speak at all, though this was probably because the older woman had made no pretense of her dislike of heathens. During one of the first meetings Dyara had questioned Leiard until Mairae had protested that half of their meeting time was being taken up with “interrogation.” Danjin suspected that Dyara found Leiard’s reticence and vague answers frustrating. Her dissatisfaction only sparked more questions.

Rian had appeared once during a meeting but had treated Leiard with indifference. Juran was the only White that Danjin had not observed Leiard interact with. It would be interesting to watch. He suspected that nothing would distress Leiard more than meeting the man who had killed the founder of his cult.

As the cage rose up toward them Danjin considered whether Leiard’s discomfort was simply contagious. I am uncomfortable around him because he is uncomfortable around the people I respect.

He was certain of one thing: he was going to keep a close eye on Leiard. The White might be difficult to deceive, but he’d never wager that it was impossible.

The outer arms of the Bay of Jarime had slowly drawn closer together during the last hour, revealing tall cliffs on either side. Auraya watched with interest as the crew of the Herald went about their tasks, following orders relayed down a chain of command. The ship pulled out of the bay, then between the two great columns of rock known as the Guardians. The swaying of the deck changed to a deep rolling as they entered the waters of Mirror Strait.

“Ships used to make me ill.”

Auraya glanced at Mairae. They were sitting up on the stern, where wooden benches hugged the railing. Soft cushions had been placed there for them and a canopy shaded them from the bright sun. Leiard and Danjin stood near the prow and a small team of servants were down in the hull preparing a light meal.

“Seasickness?” Auraya asked.

“Yes. It affected me so badly, I’d spend most of a journey barely conscious.” Mairae lifted her hand and splayed her fingers. The sunlight glinted off the white ring on her middle finger. “Sometimes it is the smallest of the gods’ Gifts that I treasure the most.”

Auraya looked at her own ring, then at the door leading to the rooms below deck.

“I hope Leiard and Danjin will be all right.”

“I’m sure the Dreamweaver has his own ways of curing seasickness, and Danjin has probably brought medicines for it. He’s very organized.”

“Yes.” Auraya smiled. “I don’t know what I’d do without him.” She turned to regard Mairae. “You don’t have an adviser?”

“I did, in the beginning. His name was Wesso, but I called him Old Westie because he came from Irian Island and his accent was so strong it was hard, sometimes, to understand him. He was my adviser for nearly ten years.” Her gaze became distant. “I didn’t need him by then, but dismissing him would have hurt him deeply, so I kept him until he died. I do miss him sometimes.”

Seeing the sadness in Mairae’s eyes, Auraya felt a pang of sympathy - and something akin to dread.

“Have you grown used to watching people grow old and die?” she asked in a low voice.

Mairae met Auraya’s eyes, her expression unusually grave. “No, but I have learned how best to allow myself to grieve. I give myself a measure of time to feel bad, then move on. And I don’t let myself anticipate it too much. The way I see it, you can’t worry overly much about the future when the future stretches endlessly before