“Have you been to the Temple?” he asked Leiard.
“Not since Auraya left.”
Millo shook his head. “I’ve never seen so many soldiers. Must be the whole army in there. Didn’t know it was so big. The lines of men - and women - looking to join are so long they go out the arch and two blocks down the main road.”
Tanara frowned and glanced at Jayim. “Just as well they don’t take Dreamweavers.”
Jayim’s expression was guarded. Leiard sensed that the boy’s feelings were a mixture of relief, guilt and annoyance.
“What do you know of these Pentadrians, Leiard?” Millo asked.
Leiard shrugged. “Not much. Only what other Dreamweavers have told me. They are a young cult, only a few hundred years old at the most. They worship five gods, as the Circlians do.”
“Real gods, or dead ones?” Millo asked.
“I do not know. Their names are unfamiliar to me.”
“What are their names?”
“Sheyr, Ranah, Alor, Sraal and Hrun.”
“Perhaps they are old dead gods who had different names in the southern continent,” Jayim suggested.
“Perhaps,” Leiard agreed, pleased that Jayim would think of this.
The boy’s eyes brightened. “Or the same gods as the Circlians follow, known by different names.”
“That wouldn’t make much sense,” Tanara pointed out. “They’d be sending their own followers to fight their own followers.”
Leiard looked at her thoughtfully, then shook his head. “No, I can see no profit in it for them.”
She frowned. “You think they’d do that, if there was profit in it?”
“Possibly.”
“But that would be unspeakably cruel.”
“The gods aren’t as noble and fair as the Circlians would have us believe,” Leiard found himself saying. “We Dreamweavers remember what they have done in the past, before this charade of concern for mortals began. We know what they are capable of.”
Tanara stared at him in horror.
Leiard ignored the question.
Mirar didn’t reply. Tanara looked away. “Then we’d best hope they continue to want to keep up the charade,” she murmured.
Jayim was watching Leiard through narrowed eyes. “What do these memories of yours tell you about the Pentadrians?”
“My memories tell me nothing. I have learned what I have learned from Dreamweavers in Sennon.”
“Through dream links?”
“Yes.”
Jayim frowned. He opened his mouth to speak, then sighed and shook his head. “What do they think of them?”
“That Dreamweavers have nothing to fear from the Pentadrians. The southern cult regards us with pity, not fear or dislike. Which proves that their gods are not the same as the Circlians’,” he added.
The boy nodded slowly and thoughtfully. “Will we join this war?”
“Dreamweavers do not fight,” Leiard replied.
“I know, but will we go as healers?”
“Probably.”
Tanara’s eyes widened. She glanced at her son and bit her lip. Millo frowned.
“We will be quite safe,” Leiard assured them. “The Pentadrians understand that we tend to all, no matter what race or religion. Our Gifts will protect us from mishaps or misunderstandings.” He looked at Jayim. “It will be a good opportunity for Jayim to hone his healing sk—”
A knocking interrupted him. They all looked up at each other, then Millo stood and moved to the door.
Leiard finished his drink, then left the table. Jayim had finished his meal long before. Like most boys his age, he was perpetually hungry. He stood and followed Leiard toward the stairs to the rooftop garden.
“Wait, you two,” Millo called.
He stepped back from the doorway. A woman moved past him, and as Leiard took in the Dreamweaver robes and familiar face he blinked in surprise.
“Dreamweaver Elder Arleej,” he said, touching heart, mouth and forehead.
She smiled and returned the gesture. “Dreamweaver Adviser Leiard.”
“It is good to see you again. Are you well?”
She shrugged. “A little tired. I have only just arrived.”
“Then you will be wanting some food and a hot drink,” Tanara said. “Sit down.”
Tanara ushered Arleej to a seat then bustled out. Leiard sat down next to the Dreamweaver elder and gestured for Jayim, who was hovering uncertainly by the stairway, to join them. Millo shuffled away to his room.
“What brings you to Jarime?” Leiard asked.
Arleej smiled crookedly. “Haven’t you heard? There is to be a war. You and Auraya talked us into an alliance just in time, it seems.”
Leiard smiled. There was no resentment in her voice, only irony. “No wonder you are tired. Did you share a ship with hundreds of soldiers, or did the Somreyan Dreamweavers manage to claim one for themselves?”
She shook her head. “We are travelling in small numbers on merchant ships, arriving before and after the Somreyan army. Memories of the massacres of Dreamweavers on the mainland are still strong. We will attract less attention this way.”
“I do not think you would have been in any danger, had you arrived with Somreyan troops.”
“You are probably right. Seeing the troops of another land valuing Dreamweavers might have encouraged Hanians to do the same. Old habits and fears are hard to defeat, however, especially for us.” Arleej looked at him, her direct gaze unsettling. “How are you, Leiard? Has linking with Jayim helped you control your link memories?”
Leiard sensed Jayim’s surprise and alarm. “I am making some progress on my—”
“He doesn’t link with me,” Jayim interrupted. “He teaches me everything except mind links or dream links.”
Arleej looked from Jayim to Leiard, her brows lowering into a frown.
“And he mumbles to himself all the time,” Jayim added, his voice strained. “Sometimes it’s like he’s not aware of me. Then he says odd things in the voice of a stranger.”
“Leiard,” Arleej said, her voice quiet but filled with suppressed alarm. “Do you know... ? Are you... ?” She shook her head. “I know you understand what you risk. Is this secret of yours so great you would sacrifice your identity - your sanity?”
He shivered.
“Leiard?”
He looked up. Arleej was frowning at him. He sighed and shook his head.
“I can’t link with Jayim.” He turned to regard his student. “I am sorry. You should find another teacher. One of the Somreyans will surely—”
“No!” Jayim exclaimed. “If what Ar - Dreamweaver Elder Arleej says is true, you’ll go insane without my
