Priestess of the White

Thinking of the favor she’d asked of Danjin, Auraya sobered. Mischief didn’t dislike Danjin, but he did seem to like Leiard better. Her first thought had been to ask Leiard to visit Mischief, but she knew how uncomfortable he felt when in the Temple. Better to spare him that.

She suppressed a sigh. How had it come about that both of her advisers had reason to fear visiting her? For Leiard it was being in a place of the gods’ influence; for Danjin it was being so far from the ground.

Perhaps that was part of the reason she was enjoying the company of the Siyee ambassadors so much. Like her, they loved flying and the gods - or at least Huan. Though they were the first people she had encountered that worshipped one god over the others. That wasn’t surprising, however. Huan had created them.

“I called you here to assure you I haven’t been ignoring you,” she told Leiard. “I’ve been so busy I’ve had no time for unofficial visits. I regret that, because we’ll have few opportunities in the near future to talk.”

Leiard looked at her questioningly.

“I’m going to Si, to negotiate another alliance.”

His eyebrows rose. “Si?” He smiled. “You’ll enjoy that The Siyee are a gentle and generous people. Honest and practical.”

“What do you know of them?”

“A little.” He lifted Mischief from his shoulder and sat down. The veez immediately curled up in his lap. Sitting opposite, Auraya felt a small pang of jealousy that her own pet seemed to prefer her visitor.

“The Siyee are in my memories,” he told her. “Since you have spoken to them at length, you will know most of what I do. What they may not have mentioned are the taboos of their culture.”

She leaned forward. “Yes?”

“Not all Siyee can fly,” he told her. “Some are born incapable and some lose the ability. Accidents are tragically common. Old age is particularly cruel to them. Be careful how you refer to these Siyee. Never describe them as crippled.”

“How should I refer to them?”

He shook his head. “They have no commonly used term. If you are to meet with any Siyee, let him or her decide where it should take place. If the one you are to meet is capable of flight, he will come to you. If he is not, you must go to him. In that way, you are not insinuating that the former cannot fly, and treating the latter with respect by not drawing attention to his or her inability.”

“I understand. I’ve noticed they tire easily when walking.”

“Yes.” He paused, then chuckled. “They treat landwalkers more like flightless Siyee than not. But you...” He frowned. “You should not allow them to. Otherwise it will seem like you expect favors you do not deserve.”

This is valuable advice, she realized. I would not have thought it odd if the Siyee always arranged to meet me wherever I am staying.

“Anything else?”

He paused, then shrugged. “That is all I can recall now. If I think of anything else before you leave, I will make sure you know of it.”

She nodded. “Thank you. If you remember something after I have left, tell Danjin. He will be taking care of my affairs here while I’m away.”

“I will. When will you be leaving?”

“In a few days.”

“How long do you expect to be in Si?”

“As long as it’s necessary, and I am welcome. A few months, most likely.”

He nodded. “It is unlikely you will need my advice in that time now that the Somreyan alliance is signed.”

“Yes,” she agreed. “Though I will miss your company.”

He smiled, his eyes flashing. “And I yours.”

“How is your new student, Jayim?”

His expression was a mixture of remorse and determination as he replied. “Not used to working hard,” he said. “But he does have a natural fascination for cures and healing. I have a lot of work in front of me.”

“At least you’ll have more time for it, with me out of your way.”

“But no excuse to escape from my responsibilities,” he pointed out.

She chuckled, then a faint chime drew her attention to a timepiece on the side table. “Ah, I’m afraid I must send you back to them now. I have a lesson with Dyara next.”

She rose. He gently scooped Mischief up and set him aside, then stood and followed her to the door. As he wished her luck, she shook her head.

“I’m sure I’ll find time to talk to you again before I go.”

He nodded, then turned away and started down the stairs. Closing the door, Auraya felt a pang of sadness.

I’m going to miss him. I wonder if he’ll miss me. She strolled to the window and looked down at the people far below. From his thoughts she knew that Leiard regarded her as more than someone who could help his people. He felt affection. Admiration. Respect.

At that thought she felt a pang of guilt. The idea that had come to her in the garden of the Somreyan Temple came rushing back. She had struggled with it several times, unable to decide what she should or should not do. All reason told her that dissuading people from joining the Dreamweaver cult was the right thing to do. The gods did not preserve the souls of those who turned from them. By stopping people joining the Dreamweavers she would be preventing the death of many souls.

Yet she also felt that there was something wrong with causing the demise of the Dreamweavers. Those people chose to become Dreamweavers and knew what they sacrificed.

Furthering Circlian knowledge of healing was a good aim. Deliberately reading Dreamweavers’ minds in order to gain that knowledge was wrong, however. It was stealing. Although arranging for her own people to discover that knowledge for themselves was not.

If I think of it as merely increasing the priests’ healing knowledge, then I will be doing nothing wrong. How can I be blamed if it leads to the Dreamweavers’ demise?

Because I saw the consequences and continued anyway.

She sighed. It’s not my responsibility to save the Dreamweavers.

Leiard should fear me, she thought. She shook her head. It always comes back to Leiard. Do I struggle with this simply because I’m afraid I’ll lose his friendship?

Juran’s warning came back to her. “But be careful, Auraya, that you do not compromise yourself for the sake of friendship.” She turned away from the window. There’s no hurry. A project like this would take years. Its effects wouldn’t be felt for at least a generation. Not until long after Leiard has died.

Sitting down next to Mischief, she scratched his head. The way things are going I may never have time for it anyway. Between making alliances and avoiding a premature death at the hands of these Pentadrians, I think I’ll be occupied for some time.

* * *

“She said she’d always wanted to be buried in a box, like proper people.”

Rayo looked at his sister, then back at the body of the old woman. “Boxes cost.”

“She still has money left,” Tiro said. “Only right we use some for a box.”

“Don’t have to,” his sister said. “When we were in the pit we saw a box that looked like a coffin. It’s what got us talking ‘bout it. Might still be there.”

“Then go see,” Rayo tossed at Tiro. The boy and two others hurried away.

Crouching down, Rayo took the old woman’s hand. It was cold and stiff. “Thank you, Emeria. You fixed m‘ sis, and m’sel’, and were true gen’rous. We’ll get your box, if it’s still there. I hope you don’t mind us taking your money and stuff. It’s not like you’ll be needing it, now you’re with the gods.”

The others nodded. Rayo drew a circle on the old woman’s forehead, then got to his feet. The boys might need help if the box in the pit was big enough to be used as a coffin. There would be digging to do, too. It would take lots of time and energy. He looked at his sister.

“Take her stuff,” he said. She nodded and set to work.

An hour later Emeria’s body lay in the box. His sister and the other girls had slipped up into the hills to pick