Priestess of the White

flowers. All but the woman’s worn-out undershift had been removed from the body, but with the flowers scattered over her everything looked right and respectful.

They each spoke a quick, tearful farewell, then covered the box with a few charred planks of wood salvaged from the burned house they lived under. Rayo and the other boys dug a hole in the small yard behind the house. The ground was hard, and it was dark by the time they finished. Finally they returned to the house, carried the box out and set it in the hole.

When all that was left was a mound of earth, they scattered a few more flowers, then returned to their cellar. All were silent and glum.

“Where’s her stuff?” Rayo asked his sister.

The others gathered around as she brought a stack of clothes and Emeria’s bag to the center of the room. They all grimaced as she opened the bag and a distinctly fishy smell wafted out.

She handled the contents carefully.

“They’re cures. She told me what they were for and how to use them. These ones she said she’d sell, because they weren’t really good for anything, but some people thought they made them good at sex so they were actually worth a lot.”

“We can sell them,” Rayo said.

She nodded. Bringing out a small leather wallet, she tipped the contents onto the ground. The others grinned at the pile of coins.

“She kept this real close, tied round her waist. Her secret stash.”

“Our secret stash,” Rayo said. “Everyone gets something, to be fair. We start with the clothes. I’m taking the tawl. Who wants the tunic?”

As they divided Emeria’s belongings, Rayo felt a warm feeling of lightness. She hadn’t been with them long, but so long as they each had something of hers it would be like a bit of her was still with them.

I hope she’s happy, up there with the gods, he thought. I hope they know they got the best part of her.

16

Though the morning air was growing colder each day, Leiard had chosen to hold Jayim’s lessons in the rooftop garden of the Bakers’ home. It had taken some time and persistence to convince Tanara not to interrupt them. She had initially assumed that she could bring them hot drinks without disrupting the lessons, so long as she didn’t speak. Leiard had told her firmly that her presence broke their concentration and she wasn’t to approach at all. After that she kept creeping up the staircase and peering at them every hour or so, and was disbelieving when he told her that this, too, was a distraction.

He wasn’t sure if he’d convinced her yet. To be sure, he had made a mental note of the average time between interruptions and paced his lessons accordingly. It was essential that they be left alone this morning, as he intended to teach Jayim the finer points of a mind link.

Opening his eyes, Leiard regarded his new student. Jayim’s chest fell in the slow, regular rhythm of a calming trance. A little of the boy’s former reluctance to learn the mind skills of Dreamweavers still remained, but Leiard didn’t expect all doubts to vanish overnight. Otherwise, Jayim was being attentive and working hard. His enthusiasm was for medicines and healing, and he was progressing well in those areas.

That was part of the reason Leiard had decided they would perform a mind link today: he wanted to see if they could pinpoint the source of Jayim’s aversion to developing his telepathic abilities. The other reason was so that Leiard could assert control over the link memories that were overlapping his own identity. He wasn’t sure what would happen to him if he didn’t. Would his sense of self continue to erode? Would his thoughts become a muddle of conflicting memories? Or would he begin to believe he was Mirar?

He did not intend to find out. Closing his eyes again, Leiard held out his hands.

“We gather tonight in peace and in pursuit of understanding. Our minds will be linked. Our memories shall flow between us. Let none seek or spy, or impose a will upon another. Instead, we shall become one mind. Take my hands, Jayim.”

He felt the boy’s slim fingers brush his, then grasp his hands. As Jayim sensed Leiard’s mind, he recoiled slightly. Leiard heard him take a deep breath, then reach out again.

At first there was only a sense of expectation. Leiard felt his companion’s nervousness and waited patiently. Soon, snatches of thought and memory flitted through Jayim’s mind. Previous lessons, Leiard saw. Embarrassment at private matters revealed. He found himself thinking back, to other links with adolescent boys and similar secrets unintentionally revealed.

:Do not try to block these memories, he advised. Blocking disrupts the link.

:But I don’t want to reveal them! Jayim protested.

:Nudge them aside. Try this: whenever you find your mind wandering in that direction, think of something else. Select an image or subject that is neither pleasant nor unpleasant, but which will lead your thoughts away.

:Like what?

:I list the medicines useful to babies.

To his credit, several such medicines sprang to Jayim’s mind. His thoughts soon returned to the former subject, however.

:Does this distraction work all the time?

:Most of the time.

:Do you use the same trick to stop yourself giving away other secrets - like those that Auraya tells you?

Leiard smiled.

:What makes you think Auraya tells me secrets?

:I sense that she has.

The boy was perceptive. Leiard sensed smugness.

:Could I trust you with those secrets? he asked.

Jayim was all curiosity and eagerness now. Of course he would keep whatever he learned to himself. He would never risk losing Leiard’s trust. Besides, if he did, Leiard would learn of it in the next memory link.

Then doubts crept in. What if he accidentally let something slip? What if someone tricked him into giving secrets away?

:Secrets are best kept secret, Leiard said. The more who know, the less secret they are. It is not distrust that keeps me from telling you, Jayim.

:You like Auraya, don’t you?

The abrupt change of subject made Leiard pause. It also stirred a mixture of emotions.

:Yes, he replied. She is a friend.

But he knew she was more than that. She was the child he had once taught, who had grown into a powerful, beautiful woman...

:You think she’s beautiful, Jayim stated. His amusement deepened. You fancy her!

:No! Her face came into his thoughts and he felt a familiar admiration suddenly sharpen into longing. Shocked, he pulled away from Jayim’s mind, breaking the link.

The boy said nothing. Leiard sensed smugness again. He ignored it.

I don’t desire Auraya, he told himself.

I’m afraid you do, another voice in his mind disagreed.

But she is young.

Not so young anymore.

She is a White.

All the more reason to desire her. The attraction of the forbidden is a powerful