Priestess of the White

those that knew revealed his identity. Leiard’s response was slow, beginning with his acknowledgment of his position as Dreamweaver adviser, then shifting to include many layers of thought. Arleej understood that he hoped to help his people. She also saw the affection and admiration he felt for Auraya. At the same time, he revealed his fear of the White and their gods.

Arleej watched with amusement as his thoughts now began to run in circles. Every time he considered his distrust and dislike of the gods and the White, the thought of Auraya brought reassurance. While he believed she would not willingly harm him or other Dreamweavers, he was not foolish enough to think she would not do so if ordered by the gods. He felt this worth the risk.

All were relieved to see he was working with Auraya for his people’s benefit, not the gods’ or even Auraya’s. Being around any Circlian other than Auraya stirred a deep fear in him, however. Such fear came only from experience. Had something terrible happened to him? As Arleej considered this, Leiard’s thoughts turned to other matters that worried him. Strange memories came to him unbidden, he revealed.

Sometimes thoughts sprang into his mind that did not feel like they were entirely his own. The curiosity of the other linked Dreamweavers rose.

In response, these memories began to spill forth.

She saw the Guardian in the port. The statue was not as weathered, and she suddenly knew what it represented. A god - and not one that the Circlians now worshipped.

She saw a smaller Arbeem, with a half-constructed dock wall. She saw the Dreamweaver House as a new building painted in bright, welcoming colors.

She saw the face of an elderly Dreamweaver man and knew him to be her predecessor from centuries earlier. A thought came with it, and it was nothing like Leiard’s internal voice.

A proud one, that Dreamweaver elder. I had to talk him out of withholding care from the Moderator, though the man deserved it. That was the last time I visited Somrey. Wasn’t much of a kingdom then - not even considered part of Northern Ithania. Who’d have thought it would become the only refuge for Dreamweavers?

Arleej’s heart was racing. Leiard is right, she thought. These aren’t his thoughts. They are Mirar’s.

She had encountered similar link memories before. Most Dreamweavers had fragments of Mirar’s recollections, gained during links. Mirar been linked with other Dreamweavers for so long, there were plenty of his link memories still around. There was something comforting about the thought that the ritual Mirar had begun in order to encourage understanding and speed teaching should also keep part of him alive in the minds of his followers.

However, Leiard carried more than just fragments of Mirar’s memories. His mind was full of so many recollections that a sense of Mirar’s personality had emerged. It was like knowing someone so well, you could predict how they would behave or speak.

Arleej sensed the excitement of the other Dreamweavers. She could feel them greedily prodding for more memories, but the flood had abated now as Leiard contemplated the source of them. Arleej could see that he hadn’t known or even guessed the truth. He was not even sure who he had picked the memories up from. Probably his teacher, though he had no strong memory of the man - or woman.

And that was something that had also bothered him. Why were so many of his own memories so hazy?

:You have many link memories, she told him. And you have spent long years in isolation. With time, it is easy to forget which recollections are yours and which are not. The boundaries have blurred, so you must re-establish them. Linking is the best method. The assertion of your identity at the end of a link strengthens your sense of self.

:But linking will give me more link memories, Leiard pointed out.

:Yes, it will. However, the more you link, the less of a problem that will be. For now, link with only one other Dreamweaver so there is less memory transfer for every self-assertion. Link with younger people who have fewer memories to transfer. This young man you are teaching, for example, would suit you well.

Jayim. Leiard considered how little experience of life the boy had. Yes, he will be most suitable - if he decides to remain a Dreamweaver.

Disappointment flowed from several of the Dreamweavers. They had realized that Leiard could not join in another link with them while in Arbeem, so they would not see more of Mirar’s memories. Arleej felt a wry amusement. Her people had put aside all their suspicions and now accepted and trusted him. Was this just because he held Mirar’s memories?

No, she decided. His intentions are good. His loyalty is to us, though it would be sorely tested if he were forced to choose between his people and Auraya. That he felt this newest of the White to be worthy of his regard was a good sign, too.

Satisfied, she began the last part of the ritual, the self-assertion.

I am Arleej, Dreamweaver elder. Born in Teerninya to Leenin Booter and...

She drew her thoughts in to herself as she recalled those facts that she felt most defined her. As she opened her eyes, she turned to find Leiard still involved in the ritual. The lines about his forehead deepened, then he drew in a deep breath and looked at her. She smiled and released his hand.

“You have been a surprise to us, Leiard.”

His gaze shifted to the other Dreamweavers, who had gathered in groups to talk, and were no doubt talking about him. “Tonight’s discovery was a surprise to me as well. I have much to think about. Will I cause offense if I leave now?”

Arleej shook her head. “No, they will understand. Most return home soon after a link - though I think they would break that habit tonight if you stayed. I’ll see you out, before they pounce.” She ushered him toward the door, waving away one of the elder Dreamweavers as he stepped forward.

“Leiard must return to his travelling companions,” she announced. There were murmurs of disappointment. Leiard touched his heart, mouth and forehead and each of the Dreamweavers solemnly followed suit.

As she led him down the corridor to the entrance of the House, Arleej could think of nothing to say, only a stream of questions best left for another time. They stepped out of the House to find a hired platten had just arrived carrying a family with a sick child. She hailed the driver.

“Are you free for another ride?” she asked.

“Where to?” the man asked.

“The Temple,” she instructed. “The back entrance.”

The driver’s eyebrows rose. She bartered a fair price and paid the man, then watched as Leiard climbed aboard.

“I expect I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said.

“Yes.” Leiard smiled then turned to face the front. Taking this as a cue, the driver flicked the reins and the vehicle drew away.

Arleej shook her head slowly. It was odd, indeed, to be sending a Dreamweaver “home” to a Circlian Temple.

When the vehicle had turned out of sight, she hurried back inside the House. As she expected, her closest confidant, Dreamweaver Neeran, was waiting for her in the hall. His eyes were wide with wonder.

“That was... was...”

“Astounding,” she agreed. “Come up to my room. We need to talk.”

“Of all the people to have Mirar’s memories,” he breathed as he followed her up the stairs, “it had to be the Dreamweaver adviser to the White.”

“An extraordinary man in an extraordinary position,” she agreed. Reaching the door to her room, she pushed it open and ushered Neeran inside. He turned to stare at her.

“Do you think the White know?”

She considered. “If he didn’t, then how could they?”

“All of the White can read minds. Surely Juran will have recognized something of Mirar in Leiard.”

Arleej thought of Leiard’s words: “... all minds are visible to the White.”

“If Juran has, then he was not bothered by it. If he hasn’t, well, now that this is known by us and Leiard, the White will discover it too. I only hope this will not cause him trouble.”