Priestess of the White

He laughed. “I don’t doubt it.” He hummed quietly. “That is good, what you’re doing.” A long pause followed, then she felt the muscles in his shoulders tense.

“The White have asked us to prepare our army for a war,” he told her.

“A war?” She felt a mingled dismay and hope. Wars brought danger, but also opportunity. Perhaps an opportunity for her to escape the city. “Who with?”

“With the Pentadrians.”

She paused. He had been astonished that she didn’t know who the White were. Should she admit that she didn’t know who these Pentadrians were either?

“You’re wondering who they are, aren’t you?” he asked. “Well, I can’t tell you exactly. All I know is that they’re a cult based on the southern continent. They’ve managed to persuade Sennon to ally with them.”

“They plan to invade Toren?” she asked.

“They plan to invade all of Northern Ithania. To get rid of all Circlians. They hate Circlians.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think anyone does.”

I could think of a few reasons, Emerahl thought. They’ve given plenty of so-called ‘heathens’ reason to hate them. Who knows what they did to these Pentadrians.

“So it looks like I’ll be marching to war in a few weeks,” Panilo continued. “With my own men to command. What do I know about war? Nothing.”

All that anyone ought to know, she thought sadly. Poor Panilo. Looks like my best customer won’t be around for a while - and might never return.

“You probably won’t have to do anything more than relay commands to your men,” Emerahl said soothingly. “The king will be making all the decisions for Torens.”

He nodded. “And he’ll be following the directions of the White.”

The White. Of course. All the priests and priestesses will be called forth to fight. The watch over the gates will be called off. I’ll be free to leave the city. Just a few weeks.

Panilo straightened. “How can we fail when we have the gods on our side. These Pentadrians are only heathens, after all.”

“That’s true.” She smiled, leaned against his back and wrapped her arms around his chest. “When you get back you can tell me all about it.”

26

Since demonstrating his harness, Tryss had been waking up early. Sometimes he rose quietly and slipped out to hunt; at other times he stayed in bed, listening for the sounds of his family starting their daily routine. Today he had decided to stay in bed. He’d stayed up late and all he felt like doing was dozing.

His thoughts strayed to conversations of the previous evening. Sreil, Speaker Sirri’s son, had told Tryss that the young men of other tribes were all eager to try out his invention, but their Speakers had ordered them to leave Tryss alone. They wanted to ensure no tribe was seen to be given favor over the others. Speaker Sirri had suggested that one man from each tribe be chosen to form the first group Tryss would teach. Those men would pass on what they learned to their tribe.

Tryss wasn’t sure if that was a good idea. It certainly wasn’t the fastest way to teach others and it might not be the most reliable. If one of those men didn’t understand him, mistakes might be passed on.

Nothing would happen until the alliance with the White had been signed, anyway. Last night the Siyee had held a second Gathering. This time all the tribes had agreed to an alliance with the White. The mood had been grim rather than celebratory. While most Siyee were happy with the decision, some clearly felt they were being forced to make a choice between the White and the White’s enemy in order to save themselves from the settlers. As if the priestess was to blame for the Siyee’s situation.

She isn’t, Tryss had decided. The White are as much to blame for having an enemy as the Siyee are for having their land stolen by invaders. It felt right that White and Siyee could now help each other out.

A faint noise drew Tryss’s attention. He listened carefully and decided that what he was hearing was his mother in the main room, probably preparing the morning meal.

I could go out and help her, he thought. Doesn’t look like I’m going to go back to sleep.

He swung out of bed and washed himself before dressing. Stepping out into the main room, he grinned as his mother looked up at him. She smiled, then turned her attention back to a stone bowl.

“You’re up late.”

He shrugged. “It was a long night.”

“I saw you talking with Sreil,” she said approvingly. “He’s a smart boy, that one.”

“Yes.”

The water in the bowl began to steam, then bubble. She dropped nutmeal and dried fruit into it and the liquid stopped simmering. Tryss watched as she stared at the porridge until the liquid began to boil again. If Siyee were more Gifted, we might never have needed the harness, he thought. Most Siyee could manage this heating his mother was doing, but little more. From what he’d heard, most landwalkers had small Gifts too.

“I haven’t seen much of Ziss and Trinn lately.”

“Me neither,” he agreed. “Thank Huan.”

She glanced at him. “You shouldn’t let that little prank of theirs ruin your friendship.”

“It wasn’t a little prank,” he retorted. “And they were never my friends.”

One of her eyebrows rose. “Just be careful how you treat them now. You’re going to be getting a lot of attention, and they’ll resent you for that. It’s always better to avoid making enemies out of—”

“Hello? Anybody awake?”

The words were spoken quietly and came from beyond the bower entrance. Tryss recognized Speaker Sirri’s voice, and exchanged a glance with his mother.

“Yes. Come in, Speaker Sirri,” his mother called.

The door flap opened and the older woman stepped inside. She nodded respectfully at Tryss’s mother, then smiled at Tryss.

“The Speakers will be meeting to witness the signing of the alliance this morning. I would like Tryss to attend.”

His mother’s eyebrows rose. “You would? Well, I can’t see why not. Does he have time enough to eat?”

Sirri shrugged. “Yes, if he does not take too long.”

“And you?”

The older woman blinked in surprise. “Me?”

“Would you like some nut mash? It is ready and I have plenty.”

Sirri eyed the bowl. “Well, if it is no trouble...”

Tryss’s mother smiled and spooned out the hot mash into four bowls. Sirri sat down to eat. From the look of relief on her face, Tryss guessed the Speaker had not found the time to eat anything this morning. The hanging across the door to his parents’ room opened and his father stepped out, his hair sticking up in all directions. He looked at Sirri in surprise.

“Speaker,” he said.

“Tiss,” she replied.

“Is that breakfast I can smell?” he said, turning to Tryss’s mother.

“It is,” she replied, handing him a bowl.

“You must be proud of Tryss,” Sirri said.

Tryss felt his heart swell with pleasure as his parents nodded. “He’s always been a clever boy,” his mother said. “I thought he would do well, perhaps become a bower-maker or arrowforger. I never guessed he would help bring about such changes for our people.”