Priestess of the White

help.” He paused to catch his breath. “Whatever secret you have, I’ll keep it. I won’t tell anybody.”

“You don’t understand,” Leiard said gently. “If I tell you this secret you can never link with another Dreamweaver. I would not restrict your future that way.”

“If that’s what it takes to save you, then I’ll do it.”

Leiard stared at Jayim in surprise. When, in the last few months, had this boy become so loyal?

Arleej made a small, strangled sound. She let out her breath in a rush. “I don’t know, Jayim. That is a heavy price for you to pay.” She turned to Leiard, her expression tortured. “How... how long would Jayim have to keep this secret?”

Forever. Leiard looked away and shook his head. It was unfair, but he could not unlive the past.

You know this affair can’t last, Mirar whispered. Eventually it will be discovered so you may as well tell Jayim.

Why do you want me to stop? You seemed to enjoy dream-linking with her.

She is one of the gods’ pawns. I enjoy the irony. In fact, next time I might have a little play with her myself.

Leiard felt his stomach turn. Could Mirar interfere with the dream link?

I might show you a few things you thought you didn’t know.

You wouldn’t dare. If Auraya knew you had this much control...

She would do what? Kill me? But that would mean killing you. I suppose that might not be so hard if she knew her lover could turn into the hated Mirar at an inappropriate moment.

Leiard sighed. What do you want me to do?

Leave Jarime. Find somewhere remote where Auraya won’t find you. Train Jayim in mind- linking.

If Arleej is right, it will mean the end of your existence.

I don’t want to exist. This is the Age of the Five. My time is in the past, when there was a multitude of gods, and immortals roamed freely - what they now call the Age of the Many - and perhaps the far future, but not now.

Leiard was amazed by this admission. If this shadow of Mirar did not want to exist, why was it so concerned about Leiard’s safety?

The other voice did not answer.

Very well, he thought. But I will join the Dreamweavers going to the war first.

He waited, expecting Mirar to protest, because following the army meant being near the White - and Auraya - but the voice remained silent. Relieved, he looked up at Arleej.

“I can only do this if Jayim and I leave Jarime,” he told her. “I will join you in tending the wounded after the war, then we will disappear for a while. We will meet with other Dreamweavers in the future, when it is safe to do so.” He turned to Jayim. “You must never allow yourself to come into the presence of the White. They can read minds more thoroughly than any sorcerer has before.”

Jayim frowned. “If they can read my mind, won’t they read the secret from yours?”

“Yes.”

“But you’re the Dreamweaver adviser.”

“Not for much longer. I will be resigning as soon as I am ready to leave.”

“Why not now?”

“They may attempt to meet me in order to learn the reason. I want to be long gone when they receive my message.”

Jayim’s eyes were wide. “This must be quite a secret.”

Arleej smiled grimly. “Yes. I hope it is worth all this trouble.”

“What trouble?”

They all looked up to see Tanara standing in the doorway, holding a platter of food. As Arleej explained, Leiard felt a pang of guilt. He would be taking Jayim away from his family, probably never to return. Then something else occurred to him and he groaned.

“What is it?” Arleej asked.

He looked at her apologetically. “The White could learn from you and the Bakers that I have left because I have a secret I wish to keep from them.”

She grimaced. “Which would be enough reason to send people out to find you and bring you back.” She shrugged. “I don’t intend to go anywhere near them anyway.” She looked at Tanara. “I doubt the White will seek out you and your husband. They’re too busy organizing a war. Just in case, can you be somewhere else for a few weeks? If you need money for accommodation, we can provide it.”

“Millo has a brother living in the north,” Tanara said. “We haven’t visited in a while.”

“Then visit him,” she said; “I think I can keep away from the White so long as they still have a Dreamweaver adviser to consult.” She turned to Leiard. “Do you have anyone in mind to take on the role?”

He shook his head. “That would be your decision, or Auraya’s.”

She pursed her lips, then her eyes narrowed. “Since Auraya is absent and the other White are busy with war preparations, the matter will probably be put off until she returns - unless I can offer a few candidates. Hmm, this will take some consideration.” She rapped her finger on the table and paused to think. “My people will be leaving in advance of the army. We will always be more than a day’s ride from the Circlians. The White won’t know you’re with us, and even if they find out they’ll be too busy with their preparations to seek you out. I would like to remain close at hand while you sort this out. You may need my help.”

Leiard bowed his head. “Thank you. I hope I won’t need it.”

* * *

The eastern horizon brightened steadily, casting a thin, cool light over the sea. As Auraya walked along the beach with Tyrli she considered her first impressions of the Sand tribe’s home. She had come to associate the Siyee with high mountains and forests, but seeing their bowers among the treeless dunes of the coast yesterday had caused her to reassess her assumptions about them. They lived well here on the beaches of Si, which only highlighted what they had lost when Toren settlers had stolen the fertile valleys of their homeland.

“You have everything you need?” Tyrli asked.

“Everything except enough time,” she replied. Or Leiard’s recommendations, she added to herself. He hadn’t dream-linked with her in days, which had made it easier to rise before dawn this morning. She had been waking up early, worrying about the reason for his silence, for the previous two mornings.

“If you had more time I would introduce you to the Elai who trade with us, but they will not meet us for nearly a month.”

“I would like that, even if just to see more of your tribe,” she told Tyrli truthfully. She had only glimpsed how his people lived and would have liked to learn more about them. “Juran is pressing me to meet with the Elai as soon as possible.”

“There will be another opportunity,” he replied.

“I’ll make sure of it.” She turned to face him. “I will return to the Open in about ten days.”

He nodded. “We will be ready.”

She smiled at his grim confidence. He had sent messengers back to the Open with her news of the Pentadrian invasion and Juran’s request for help in the coming battle. She sighed and looked across the water.

“You should be there by midday,” he assured her.

“How do I find my way?” she asked.

He turned to face the mountains and pointed. “See the mountain with the double peak?”

“Yes.”

“Fly away from it, keeping it aligned with this beach. You’ll see the coast on your right. If you don’t see it after a few hours, keep bearing right until you do. Follow it to the end of the peninsula. Then head directly south. There are a lot of little islets around Elai. If you fly for more than an hour without seeing one, you’ve missed Elai and should head northward again.”

She nodded. “Thank you, Tyrli.”