Priestess of the White

“He doesn’t talk about it in the way you’d expect. You’d think he’d be happy that Mirar is no longer making his life difficult, but instead he says it was a - how did he put it? - an ‘unfortunate necessity.’ I think he even feels guilty about it. Definitely regretful.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.” Mairae shrugged. “But I think seeing Mirar’s memories in Leiard’s mind might stir more guilt and regret.”

“I see.” Auraya chewed on her lip. “If I replace Leiard with another Dreamweaver there’s still a chance Juran will be reminded of Mirar. Many of them carry Mirar’s memories, though it is rare to find this many in one person. A younger Dreamweaver might not have any, but he may not be as useful to us.”

Mairae sighed. “And just being around a Dreamweaver is going to remind him. It’s a question of degree. I’m sure Juran is capable of living with reminders of the past, but confronting him with actual memories of Mirar’s may be a bit much to ask.”

“What should we do?”

Mairae pursed her lips, then shrugged. “Wait and see. I’ll let Juran know about these memories so he is prepared for them. Should they prove a problem, I’ll let you know. Otherwise, just keep on as before.”

Auraya sighed with relief. “I will.” They reached a small stone pavilion and sat down. A full-sized statue of Chaia stood in an alcove. It was impressively accurate - a solid version of the glowing figure she had come face-to- face with at the Choosing Ceremony. “I should be worn out. All that political discussion, but it never tired me.”

“Another of the gods’ Gifts,” Mairae said. “Without them I’m sure all that rich Somreyan food would have made us sick - or fat.”

Auraya grinned. “Do you think there’s a noble family here that hasn’t fed us? We’ve eaten every meal at a different house.”

“I was beginning to suspect they’d invent new mealtimes just so we could visit more people.”

“I feel a bit guilty about it, actually. While we’ve been socializing, poor Leiard has been running back and forth between us and the Dreamweaver House. He’s exhausted.”

“Then we’ll have to hope, for his sake, that the council accept the modifications to the alliance or he’ll have to go through it all again. Ah - here’s your other man.”

Auraya looked up, expecting to see Danjin, but instead a furry shape bounded out of the garden and leapt onto her knee.

“Owaya!” Mischief looked up at her and fluttered his eyelashes.

She choked back a laugh. He had learned the mannerism from the many veez belonging to Somreyan families. It appeared to melt the hearts of most rich Somreyan women. Not me, she told herself, though she had an uneasy suspicion she might be wrong.

She hadn’t intended to take him with her on her social visits, but Mairae assured her that the Somreyans expected her to take her pet everywhere, as they did. At gatherings the veez played boisterously with each other, though servants always hovered nearby to discourage unplanned amorous encounters. Mischief had learned many new words, including some that were going to scandalize Auraya’s servants when he returned to Hania - if any understood Somreyan.

Now, as he realized his latest trick had failed to make a treat appear in her hands, he began to look sulky. He gave a little huff and hung his head.

“You’re so mean,” Mairae said. “I’ll take him to the kitchen and find him something to chew on. I do believe this sensation I am feeling is hunger. I’d almost forgotten what that was.”

“I’ll come with you.”

“Stay,” Mairae said. “You won’t be alone long.”

Auraya blinked in surprise, then concentrated on the minds around her. She found Leiard’s quickly, as he was walking through the garden toward her.

“Mischief. Snack.” Mairae held out an arm. The veez looked from her to Auraya.

“Go on,” Auraya said.

He leapt from her lap and scurried up Mairae’s arm to her shoulder. Auraya watched them walk away, smiling as the veez licked Mairae’s ear and caused her to flinch.

Soon afterward she heard footsteps. Leiard came around a corner and saw her. He smiled and lengthened his stride. As he reached the pavilion his eyes strayed to the statue of Chaia and his face froze for a moment, then his gaze returned to her.

“Auraya of the White,” he said formally.

“Dreamweaver Leiard,” she replied.

“It grows late,” he observed. “Will they decide today, do you think?”

She lifted one eyebrow at him. “I’ve never seen you anxious before.”

His lips twitched up at one corner. “It would be disappointing if we came so far only to have them reject the alliance.”

“Yes, it would, but perhaps it would only take a little more negotiation to persuade them.”

“Perhaps.”

He glanced at the statue again. She turned to regard it. If Chaia was watching, what did he make of Leiard? Were the gods bothered by the revelation that the Dreamweaver adviser to the White contained Mirar’s memories?

No, they probably knew all along, she realized. They would have warned me if Leiard was a danger.

But would they warn her if this put him in danger? Standing up, she moved out of the pavilion and began to stroll down the path. Leiard let out a long, quiet sigh of relief and fell into step beside her.

She felt a pang of annoyance at the sigh. It reminded her that, even if she managed to encourage tolerance for Dreamweavers among Circlians, he would never be comfortable around anything to do with the gods. That was to be expected. He had turned from the gods to become a Dreamweaver. When he died the gods would not take his soul. It would cease to exist. The thought pained her. I am immortal. I won’t ever meet him in the afterlife. It wouldn’t be so bad if he simply worshipped a different god. At least I’d know he still existed somewhere.

She shook her head. Why would someone reject the gods and their chance at eternity? She turned to regard him, and his eyebrows rose in query. “What is it?”

“Why did you become a Dreamweaver, Leiard?”

He shrugged. “I don’t remember exactly,” he said. “Must have been the right decision at the time.”

“What did your family think - do you remember that?”

He frowned, then shook his head. “My parents are dead.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

Leiard made a dismissive gesture. “It was a long time ago, when I was young. I barely remember them.”

Auraya laughed. “When you were young? Leiard, you can’t be all that old. You’re the only person I know who seems to get younger every time we meet.”

“That’s because you’ve been growing up.”

She crossed her arms. “How old are you?”

He paused and frowned. “About forty, I think.”

“You think? How can you not know exactly how old you are?”

His frown deepened. “Arleej believes my loss of memory is caused by me not linking with other Dreamweavers for many years.”

Sensing his distress, she decided to change the subject. It was clear his loss of certain memories bothered him. “How many years has it been since you joined a link?”

“Not since before I lived in the forest near your village.”

She drummed her fingers against her arm. “How long were you in the village before my family arrived?”

“A few years.”

“Then you haven’t linked for nearly twenty years. How old are Dreamweavers when their training is finished?”