Priestess of the White

Tryss shrugged. “Gone. I told you if we took too long a leramer would find it.”

“There’s no blood.” This came from one of the older boys. “If a leramer took it, there’d be blood.”

“And there’s no sign anything was dragged away,” another added. “If it stayed to eat, there’d be a carcass.”

He was right, Tryss realized. So where had the yern gone?

Sreil stepped forward and examined the ground thoughtfully. “But something big did lie here not long ago.”

“Having a nap, probably,” someone said. There was a snigger from a few of the watchers.

“So, Tryss,” Ziss said, “did you find a sleeping yern and think you could convince us you’d killed it?”

Tryss glanced at his cousin, then at the amused faces of the Siyee around him. His face burned.

“No.”

“I’ve got things to do,” someone said. The Siyee began to move away. The air hummed with the sound of their wings. Tryss kept his eyes on the ground. He heard footsteps approach, then felt a pat on his shoulder. Looking up, he found Sreil standing beside him, holding out the spike that had struck the yern.

“Good try,” he said. Tryss winced. He took the spike from Sreil, then watched as the older boy sprinted into the open and leapt into the air.

“You used florrim, didn’t you?”

Tryss started. He hadn’t realized Drilli was still there.

“Yes.”

She looked at the spike. “It’s got to take a lot more florrim to put a big animal to sleep than a person, and that wouldn’t have got far through a yern hide. Maybe you should try something stronger, or deadlier. Or make sure it can’t wake up again after it falls asleep.” She patted the sheathed knife buckled to her thigh meaningfully.

She has a point, he thought.

Drilli grinned, then turned away. As she leapt into the sky, Tryss watched her in admiration.

Sometimes he wondered how he could be so stupid.

2

Auraya sat before the polished silver mirror, but she did not see her reflection. Instead she was captivated by a recent memory.

In her mind she could see thousands of white-garbed men and women congregated before the Dome. She remembered how she had never seen so many priests and priestesses gathered in one place. They had travelled to the Temple from all the lands of Northern Ithania in order to attend the Choosing Ceremony. Every priest and priestess living in the Five Houses had been sharing their rooms with those from outside the city and country.

She had glimpsed the size of the crowd as she had left the Tower, walking with her fellow high priests and priestesses to the Dome. Beyond the sea of white figures there had been an even larger crowd of ordinary men, women and children come to witness the event.

Only high priests and priestesses had been candidates for the last position among the Gods’ Chosen. Auraya had been one of the youngest of these. Some had said she had ascended the ranks only because of her strong Gifts. Her stomach still tensed with anger at the memory.

It is unfair of them. They know it took me ten years of hard work and dedication to reach the position so quickly.

What did they think now that she was one of the White? Did they regret their judgment of her? She felt a mingled sympathy and triumph. They were victims of their own ambition. If they thought the gods would pay attention to their lies they were fools. Instead it probably proved they were unworthy. A White shouldn’t have a habit of spreading untrue gossip.

Returning to her memory, she replayed the walk from the Tower to the Dome in her mind. The high priests and priestesses had formed a ring around the dais inside. The Altar, the most sacred place in the Temple, stood at the center. It was a large five-sided structure three times as high as a man, each wall a tall triangle that sloped inward to meet its fellows. On occasions when the White entered it, the five walls hinged outward until they rested on the floor, revealing a table and five chairs within. When the White wished to converse in private the walls folded upward to enclose them in a room from which no sound could escape.

The Altar had folded open like a flower as the four White climbed the steps of the dais and turned to face the crowd. Auraya closed her eyes and tried to recall Juran’s exact words.

“Chaia, Huan, Lore, Yranna, Saru. We invite you, our divine guardians and guides, to meet with us today, for the time has come for you to choose your fifth and last representative. Here stand those who have proven themselves your worthy, capable and devoted followers: our high priests and priestesses. Each is ready and willing to dedicate their life to you.”

The air had seemed to shimmer briefly. Auraya shivered as she remembered. Five figures had appeared on the dais, each a being of light, each a translucent illusion of humanity. A low sound had risen from the watching priests and priestesses. She had heard faint shouts of “The gods have appeared!” in the distance.

And what a sight they were, she thought, smiling.

The gods existed in the magic that imbued all the world, in every rock, every drop of water, every plant, every animal, every man, woman and child, in all matter, unseen and unfelt unless they wished to influence the world. When they chose to reveal themselves they did so by changing magic into light and shaping it into exquisitely beautiful human forms.

Chaia had been tall and dressed like a statesman. His face was noble and handsome, like a kingly figure chiselled from polished marble. His hair had moved as if stirred by an affectionate wind. And his eyes... Auraya sighed. His eyes were so clear and unbearably direct, but also somehow warm and... affectionate. He really does love us all.

Huan, in contrast, had been intimidating and stern in appearance - beautiful but fierce. With her arms crossed over her chest she had radiated power. She had swept her eyes over the crowd as if looking for something to punish.

Lore’s stance had been casual, though his build was heavier than the rest of the gods. He wore glittering armor. Before the War of the Gods he had been worshipped by soldiers.

Yranna had been all smiles, Auraya recalled. Her beauty was more feminine and youthful than Huan’s. She was a favorite among the younger priestesses, still a champion of women, though she had put aside the role of goddess of love when joining the other gods.

The last god Auraya had noticed was Sam, a favorite of merchants. It was said he had once been the god of thieves and gamblers, but Auraya was not sure it was true. He had taken on the slimmer physique fashionable among courtiers and intellectuals.

At the gods’ appearance all had prostrated themselves. Auraya could still remember the smoothness of the stone floor against her forehead and palms. Silence had followed, then a deep, melodious voice filled the Dome.

“Rise, people of Ithania,” a beautiful voice said.

As she had climbed to her feet with the rest of the crowd, Auraya had been trembling with awe and excitement. She hadn’t felt so overwhelmed since she had first arrived at the Temple ten years before. It had been strangely delightful to feel so inspired again. After so many years living in the Temple, little about it stirred such exhilaration anymore.

The voice spoke again and she realized it belonged to Chaia.

“A few short centuries ago gods fought gods and men fought men, and much grief and ruin was caused. We five were saddened by this and undertook a great task. We would make order from the chaos. We would bring peace and prosperity to the world. We would release humankind from cruelty, slavery and deceit.

“So we fought a great battle and reshaped the world. But we cannot shape the hearts of men and women. We can only advise you and give you strength. In order to help you, we have selected representatives from among you. Their duty it is to protect you and be your link to us, your gods. Today we will choose our fifth representative from those you have deemed most worthy for this responsibility. To the one we choose we bestow immortality and