“I do not see our adviser to the White gaining as much profit from serving the Temple.” Fa-Dyer gestured at the walls. “If you are so important to the Circlians, why is it that a mere merchant lives in better conditions than you? You must ask for an increase in your allowance when you next see your employer. When will that be?”
“Auraya has left for Si, Father,” Danjin replied. “To negotiate an alliance.”
His father’s eyebrows rose. “You did not accompany her?”
“The mountains of Si are not easily crossed by landwalkers.”
“Landwalkers?”
“It is what the Siyee call ordinary humans.”
His father sniffed. “How uncouth. Perhaps it is fortunate she left you behind. Who knows what unsavory habits these people have?” He popped a morsel of food into his mouth then wiped his hands on a cloth a servant girl held out for him.
“If the Si do ally themselves with Hania, you may see more of them here. They will install an ambassador and others will visit in order to seek education, join the priesthood, or trade.”
His father’s gaze sharpened. He chewed, swallowed, then took a sip of water.
“What do they have to trade?”
Danjin smiled. “That is one of the questions Auraya intends to answer.”
Fa-Spear’s eyes narrowed. “There is opportunity here, son. You may not have a decent income, but if you take advantage of opportunities like this that issue may not matter.”
Danjin felt a flash of indignation. “I cannot use my position to gain trade advantages.”
His father snorted. “Don’t be such a righteous fool. You won’t be adviser forever.”
“Not if I abuse my privileges.”
Danjin started at the voice in his mind.
He started to smile, and quickly schooled his expression.
“... fame and glory have passed,” his father was saying, “you will soon be forgotten.”
Danjin opened his mouth to reply.
He choked.
There was a pause.
“Are you listening?” Fa-Spear demanded.
Danjin looked up, and quickly considered whether he should explain who he had been communicating with.
“I was considering your advice, Father,” Danjin replied.
Fa-Spear’s eyes narrowed, then he turned to Nirem. “Have you seen Captain Raerig lately?”
Nirem nodded, and started recollecting a drunken gathering in a remote town. Relieved that attention had finally shifted from himself, Danjin let his thoughts stray, until he was brought back by the mention of the southern cult.
“He said they’re good customers, these Pentadrians,” Nirem said. “Half of their priests are warriors. He buys Dunwayan weapons and sells them on the southern continent. Can’t sell enough of them. Do you think we should... ?”
To Danjin’s surprise, his father frowned. “Maybe. I’ve heard they’re gathering an army down there. Your great-grandfather always said war was good for trade, but it depended on who was planning to fight who.”
“Who are they planning to fight?” Danjin asked.
His father smiled thinly. “I’d have thought you’d know, Adviser to the White.”
“Perhaps I do,” Danjin said lightly. “Perhaps I don’t. Who do
His father shrugged and looked away. “For now I’d rather keep what I know to myself. If there’s an advantage to be gained from this, I wouldn’t want a stray word in the wrong place to ruin it.”
Danjin felt a stab of anger. It was not the veiled insult suggesting he’d leak information that riled him, but that his father knew he had information Danjin needed. Information that the White needed.
Then his anger evaporated. If his father hadn’t wanted Danjin to know about the Pentadrians gathering an army, for fear it would ruin some trade deal, he wouldn’t have mentioned it at all. Perhaps this was all the warning his father could bring himself to give his youngest son.
No reply came. Danjin turned the ring around his finger and considered what he ought to do.
A feeling of suffocation woke Leiard. He sat up, gasping for breath, and stared at his surroundings. The room was dark and he sensed dawn was not far away. He could not remember the dream that had woken him.
Rising, he washed, changed and slipped out of his room. Creating a tiny spark of light, he crossed the communal room and made his way up to the rooftop garden. He stepped outside into the chill air and approached the garden seats where he held Jayim’s lessons.
Sitting down, he considered his dream. All that remained was a feeling of fear. He closed his eyes and concentrated on a mental exercise designed to retrieve lost dreams, but nothing stirred. Only the fear lingered.
The dreams he did remember were of Auraya. Some were pleasant, filled with joy and passion. He hadn’t had such arousing dreams since... so long ago he could not remember. Unfortunately, some of the dreams were full of unpleasant consequences, of accusation and retribution and terrible, terrible punishment.
This other voice in his mind - the thoughts that Arleej believed were a manifestation of Mirar’s link memories - spoke to Leiard often now. It was logical that, if he was going to be arguing with himself over Auraya, this illusionary Mirar would side against him having anything to do with the White. Mirar
He had wondered, briefly, if Mirar had influenced him somehow that night in Auraya’s room. Leiard was wary of blaming this secondary identity for any of his own actions, however. There had been no voice encouraging him to seduce Auraya. Mirar had been silent until early the next morning, not speaking until Leiard left the Tower.
Auraya had kissed him goodbye, then asked him to keep their tryst a secret. A reasonable request, considering what he was. What she was. Had anyone seen him leave? He had seen no sign of servants, but had been prepared to behave as if nothing other than a late-night consultation had occurred.
