Priestess of the White

Roffin grunted quietly.

“His kind don’t belong here.”

“Nope,” Cemmo agreed.

“Should be up at the high-folks’ drink shop.”

“Tha’s right.”

“Someone oughta throw him out.”

“Upta Garmen. He won’t ‘less there’s trouble.”

“Garmen’s got somethin‘ to’ lose if highborn folks take exception. We don’t,” Roffin pointed out.

Cemmo looked away. “True. But... I dunno. Somethin‘ ’bout him looks dangerous.”

“Just his starin‘ gettin’ to you.”

Garmen, the owner of the drink shop, gave the stranger a quick, nervous glance. The man wasn’t drinking much, either, Roffin noted. Cheap, foreign bastard.

As Roffin slammed down his third mug, the stranger turned to stare at him. Roffin stared right back. The man’s eyebrows rose a little. He smiled.

“Well, if nobody else has got the guts.”

Cemmo frowned as Roffin rose, but said nothing; he just slid off his chair and followed, a silent supporter. As Roffin strode toward the stranger, others looked up and nodded in approval.

The stranger watched him come, apparently unconcerned. Roffin leaned over the man, taking full advantage of his bulk.

“You’re in the wrong place,” he told him. “The place for you is on the other side of the road. Uptown.”

A smile thinned the stranger’s mouth.

“I like here,” he said in a deep, strangely accented voice.

Roffin straightened. “We don’t like you here. Go stare at your own kind.”

“I stay.” The man gestured at the seat opposite. “You stay. We drink.”

“You drink elsewhere,” Roffin growled. He reached for the stranger’s shoulders. The man’s eyes narrowed but he did not move. Roffin felt scorching heat envelop his fingers. He snatched his hand away, cursed and stared at his reddened skin.

“What did... ?”

“You go,” the man said, with a note of warning in his voice.

Roffin took a few steps backward. The stranger was a sorcerer. No threats were going to budge him. Cemmo looked at Roffin questioningly. As Roffin glanced around the room, he realized that all the occupants were watching him. Had they seen what the man had done? Probably not. They just saw Roffin backing down to a highborn foreigner. Scowling, he turned on his heel and strode to the door.

“Take my money elsewhere,” he muttered as he left, slamming the door behind him. Once outside, however, he stopped, unsure what to do now. Cemmo hadn’t followed. Long habit made him note the sound of the surf pounding at the base of the cliff below and the whistle of the wind between the buildings. It would be a rough night on the water.

His hand throbbed. He looked down and decided he ought to get someone to see to it.

The priest. Yes, he’ll have a cure for it. Roffin glanced back at the drink shop and smiled. And I’m sure Priest Waiken will want to know there’s a foreign spy in town.

12

Rippling, surging water stretched in all directions. The reflected light of the rising sun formed ribbons of orange on its surface. Occasionally a seabird would soar past, seemingly oblivious to the ship or its occupants.

Looking to the west, Danjin could see a blue smudge of mountains above a thin, dark strip of land. The Sunset Range ran up the west coast of Hania to Mirror Strait, where it plunged into the water and formed a line of small islets leading to the larger Somreyan Islands. According to ancient histories some of those mountains had once spouted fire and ash, but now they were cold and silent.

“Danjin.”

He turned in surprise. Auraya rarely rose before dawn. Her long hair was plaited into a simple tail rather than the usual elaborate style. She was frowning.

“Good morning, Auraya of the White,” he said, making the gesture of the circle. “It is a beautiful morning, isn’t it?”

She glanced at the sunrise but her frown did not fade.

“Yes. It is.” She looked at him. “I will be leaving the ship in the next hour. Would you look after Mischief and ensure Leiard reaches his accommodation safely?”

Looking along the deck, Danjin noted that four crewmen were untying a small boat from where it had been securely tied up on deck for most of the trip.

“Of course,” he replied. She was biting her lip. He reached out but did not quite touch her arm. “Can you tell me what calls you away?”

She turned slowly, her gaze sweeping over the crew. “A little,” she said quietly. “Juran has received several reports of a Pentadrian priest, probably a spy, passing through villages and towns on the north Hanian coast. He has sent Dyara to capture the man and has asked me to approach from the north in order to cut off his escape.”

He nodded, understanding her apprehension. Her training in the use of her Gifts had barely begun. This could be her first sorcerous confrontation.

The gods will protect her, he told himself. And Dyara will probably turn it into a lesson, he added wryly.

Her lips curled into a small smile as she read his mind. “I will return to Jarime with Dyara, so I am leaving you in charge, Danjin Spear.”

“Does Leiard know that you are leaving, or why?”

She shook her head. “Tell him what I have told you, but to the rest say only that I have left to deal with some matter on the coast.”

He nodded. “I will.”

She fell silent, watching the distant coastline. As they drew closer to the land, Danjin fought a growing anxiety. She is one of the Gods’ Chosen, he reminded himself. She can look after herself.

He realized it was not her safety he worried about. She might be forced to kill this spy. It was not a burden he would wish on her any sooner than necessary.

If only Mairae had returned with us, he thought, instead of remaining behind to make arrangements for trade and other delegations to visit under the terms of the alliance. As soon as this thought came he knew it was an unworthy one. Mairae might be fully trained - or so he assumed - but she was as undeserving of the burden of a death on her hands as Auraya was.

The sun crept higher and the coast closer. The dark line Danjin had seen from a distance became a weathered black cliff. A building with several stout towers was visible, built close to the edge of the wall. The boat was lowered into the water. Auraya climbed nimbly down, joining the rowers inside.

Danjin leaned on the railing as he watched them row away. Auraya sat with a straight spine and did not look back.

“Adviser Danjin Spear.”

Danjin turned to find Leiard standing behind him. He wondered how long the Dreamweaver had been there.

“Yes, Dreamweaver Leiard?”

Leiard stepped up to the railing and stared out at the boat. “I gather Auraya will not be joining us for the morning meal.”

Danjin shook his head. “No. She has left to meet Dyara in order to deal with a Pentadrian spy and will return to Jarime by road.”

Leiard nodded. He watched the boat a moment longer, then turned to face Danjin again. The corners of his