Priestess of the White

:I don’t understand...

:Neither do I. The gods couldn’t make me stronger, so instead they have given me a new Gift. I can see the sorcerer. He is leaving. Should I follow him? Or meet Dyara?

:Don’t put yourself in danger. Meet Dyara. You must both return.

:We can’t let the sorcerer get away! Dyara protested.

:We must. You are stronger than Auraya, but we don’t know if you are strong enough, and until Auraya has completed her training we should not set her against such dangerous sorcerers - even with assistance. Meet Auraya and return to Jarime.

Auraya surveyed the buildings below. Smoke was no longer curling from the house. As she watched, Borean emerged, and from his gestures she guessed he was telling the villagers the water was no longer needed.

:Where are you, Dyara?

:On the road, not far away now.

:I’ll come south and meet you.

Breaking the link, Auraya willed herself into motion once again.

13

The first thing Leiard noticed when Danjin Spear opened the door to Auraya’s rooms was how pale the adviser was. The man’s fear of heights wasn’t as well suppressed as usual, but added to it was amazement and wonder.

“Dreamweaver Leiard,” Danjin said, a little breathlessly. “Mairae said I should send you to the roof. The stairs will lead you there.”

“Thank you, Danjin Spear.”

Cool air gusted out of the room. Leiard paused and glanced over Danjin’s shoulder to see a pair of workmen standing before a window empty of glass.

So that’s the source of his heightened fear. He’s all too aware that nothing lies between him and the drop outside. But why is the glass missing? Has someone fallen through it? He could sense nothing from the adviser or the men to suggest that.

His view of the room was obscured as Danjin closed the door firmly. Leiard shook his head and began climbing the stairs. The mystery would probably be solved when he spoke to Auraya.

The Herald had returned to Jarime three days ago, and Leiard to the Bakers’ house. News of the signing of the alliance had travelled faster and Tanara had already had a celebratory dinner arranged. She invited other Dreamweavers and sympathetic friends. Not all were as sure as she that this was the beginning of peace between Dreamweavers and Circlians, but all agreed that there had been a marked lessening of harassment of “heathens” in Jarime during the last few months.

Jayim had been silent and thoughtful that evening. Later, he had questioned Leiard on his role. Leiard had sensed that the boy was close to deciding his future. He did not nudge him toward a choice. Jayim needed to sort this out by himself.

This morning a feeling of resolution had imbued the house. Jayim had been tense and quiet, clearly waiting for an appropriate moment to speak. At the end of the morning meal he had asked if Leiard still wanted to teach him. A few words later Leiard had gained himself a pupil.

Tanara had barely enough time to grasp what had transpired when the summons to the White Tower had come. Leiard had left the boy grinning and his mother planning another celebratory meal. Now, as he climbed the stairs to the roof, Leiard asked himself if he was happy with the arrangement. Jayim was intelligent and Gifted. With training and maturity he would make a good Dreamweaver. So why did he feel this lingering regret? Did he crave solitude? Or simply not to be encumbered by a student? Or did he still hope, deep down, that Auraya would come back to him?

I’m a fool if I do.

The end of the staircase appeared. A small door stood half-open, swaying gently. Leiard felt cool air on his face.

As he stepped outside, something swooped in and out of sight just beyond the edge of the Tower. He stopped and frowned. It had been too big to be a bird. He’d had a brief impression of human proportions. Had a Siyee come to Jarime? His heart beat faster at the thought. As far as he knew no Siyee had flown this far before. He hurried toward the railing at the edge of the Tower.

Looking over the edge, he saw the figure clearly. This was no Siyee, but a human of normal proportions. Impossibly, this human - this woman - had no wings. A white circ flared out from her shoulders. She was turning slow loops in midair. As her face turned upward he felt his heart jolt.

Auraya!

He stared at her in disbelief. How is this possible?

With magic, obviously, a voice in his mind replied.

He had never seen it done before. Though plenty of sorcerers had tried, no one had ever achieved it. Until now he’d had no idea it was even possible, but here she was, defying the pull of the earth.

Flying!

He considered what it had cost the Siyee to be able to take to the sky, and suddenly it hurt to watch her. It was not the only pain he felt, but emptiness, as if the last of his hopes were draining out of him. No matter how disillusioned with her life Auraya might become, nothing would ever lure her away from this.

She was grinning widely, all her attention on the acrobatics she was performing, albeit slowly.

“Leiard!” She had noticed him. “Look what I can do!” she called. She turned another loop. Her circ flared and he noticed she was wearing trousers beneath it rather than the usual long tunic. No doubt the latter had proved awkward to fly in - at least with any dignity.

He couldn’t help smiling. The childlike glee in her voice reminded him of the girl she had been. Her gaze shifted past him and her grin relaxed into a smile. She swooped down and he turned to watch as she dropped to the roof.

A priest was walking toward them. The man had a dignified bearing, but wore an expression of friendly concern. There was something familiar about him.

It’s him, the voice in the back of Leiard’s mind said.

Who? Leiard asked. No answer came, but he didn’t need one. This priest’s circ was plain, and there was only one White he hadn’t met.

“Juran,” Auraya said. “This is Dreamweaver Leiard. Leiard, this is Juran of the White.”

A memory flashed into Leiard’s mind of Juran’s face set with determination. With it came a surge of fear. Leiard managed to suppress it. There was no getting out of this meeting. Juran has no reason to harm me, he told himself.

The White frowned, no doubt catching Leiard’s thoughts, but then his face relaxed.

“Dreamweaver Adviser Leiard,” he said. “It is a pleasure to meet you at last. Thank you for your help with the Somreyan alliance. Auraya and Mairae tell me your assistance was invaluable.”

Leiard inclined his head in reply. “It was a pleasure to assist them.” He glanced at Auraya. “And it appears the gods are pleased with Auraya’s efforts.”

Juran smiled. “They could have warned us,” he said ruefully, but with no hint of reproach. His expression became serious again. “Auraya has told me about link memories. She says you have many of Mirar’s.”

Auraya’s smile disappeared. She frowned at Leiard in concern.

“It is so,” Leiard replied. “I have no idea where or from whom I picked them up. It had been many years since I participated in a memory link.”

Juran nodded. “How recent are these memories?”

“They are fragmentary,” Leiard replied truthfully. “It is hard to know what time they relate to. Some are old, as the landmarks within them are not as affected by time. Sometimes it is impossible to tell.”

Juran opened his mouth as if to say more, then shook his head and turned to regard Auraya. “We have much