The Last of the Wilds

“Yes.” Rian sniffed in disdain. “So few of them worship simply out of awe or respect. Always they expect something in return.”

Juran smiled. “If awe and respect were all that was required, you could worship this Creator as easily as the true gods.”

Rian shook his head. “I still require proof of their existence.”

Juran’s gaze had sharpened now. “And their goodness? What would you do if they asked you to do something you thought was unjust?”

Leaning back against the railing, Rian resisted a smile. This was about Auraya, he guessed. “No task is unjust, if they ask it of us.”

“Even if it contradicts the laws and principles they have encouraged us to embrace?”

“They must have their reasons for contradicting themselves. There are always circumstances in which laws may be flexed.”

“And if this wasn’t one of those circumstances?”

“Then I would conclude that I do not know the true circumstances. If the gods do not offer a reason for acting against their law, I must conclude they cannot. I would have to trust that their decision was right.”

Juran frowned and rubbed his chin.

“So you would not require them to explain their full reasons to you?”

“No.”

Rian watched as Juran drummed his fingers against his arm, his expression thoughtful. Of the four White, Juran was the only one who welcomed religious debate. Dyara didn’t have the patience for what she called “fruitless speculation,” and the few times Rian had attempted to draw Mairae into the subject she seemed uncomfortable. He hadn’t tried to talk to Auraya. Though the opportunity had come a few times in the past, he had let it pass by. It wasn’t that she gave the impression she wasn’t interested - more the opposite. But he suspected he would not find her opinions agreeable.

“Have the gods ever made a decision that you would not have agreed with, but you accepted only because you trust their wisdom?” Juran asked slowly.

Rian’s heart skipped a beat. Should he admit to that? Before he could decide, Juran smiled.

“I think I can guess that your hesitation indicates that they have.”

Rian nodded once. “But I came to see the wisdom of their decision later.”

Juran’s eyes narrowed. “You do not wish to tell me what that decision was.”

At first Rian began to shake his head, but then he reconsidered. In light of recent events, Juran might need to know this small thing.

“In the past it would have been petty to speak of it, but now it may prove important.”

“Yes?”

“I disagreed with Auraya’s Choosing.”

Juran’s eyebrows shot upward. “But you say you came to see the wisdom of it.”

“Yes, she proved useful.”

“You speak in past tense.”

Rian shrugged. “I cannot see the future. I do not know if she will be useful in the future.”

“It almost sounds as if you see her as... expendable,” Juran mused.

“I did not mean to.”

Juran looked away and sighed. “She has only been with us for a year. Was killing Mirar too much to ask of her?”

Rian frowned. “What time limit would you place on obedience to the gods? She vowed to serve them the day she was chosen - and before then: the day she became a priestess.”

Juran chewed on his lower lip. “Making that vow does not mean fulfilling it is easy.”

“She killed Kuar.”

“I have to wonder if Mirar would not recover again anyway. We do not understand his powers.”

“I will burn his body to ashes and scatter them across the world,” Rian assured him. “I doubt he’ll recover from that.”

Juran looked at him, his expression unreadable. “And what would you have the gods do with Auraya?”

Rian paused and frowned. “She disobeyed them. Perhaps she hesitated out of confusion or indecision, but they gave her a second chance and she still defied them. I find myself questioning her Choosing again, but I will accept whatever the gods decide.”

Juran nodded, his expression thoughtful. Then he looked around at the crew. They were no longer rushing about, but pretending to work while they waited for the signal to leave. The crew of the Star was also waiting expectantly.

“Have a safe journey, Rian. Don’t strain the ship too much.”

“Dyara would never let me come close to risking a leak,” Rian replied.

Juran chuckled. “No.”

Rian watched the White leader leave the ship, then nod to the captains of both vessels. An earlier discussion with Juran and Dyara came to mind.

“Together you will be strong enough to repel an attack by one of the Pentadrian leaders,” Juran had said.

“But not two,” Dyara had pointed out.

“If that should happen, call on Auraya. She is the only one of us who can reach you quickly.”

“And if she refuses to help?” Rian asked.

“She would never consider it,” Dyara said indignantly. “She may be a fool when it comes to Mirar, but she would not abandon us.”

“And if Mirar joins with the Pentadrians?” Rian asked.

Dyara and Juran had exchanged grim looks. “I feel that is unlikely,” Juran had said. “There was no sign of such an alliance in his mind. If there had been Auraya would have... behaved differently. But if such a situation occurs I see no choice for you but to flee.”

The two ships pulled away from the docks. The gods will warn us, Rian told himself. And Auraya will have no choice but to come to her senses, or betray us all.

42

The boat vibrated faintly as its hull scraped against the sand. An order was barked, and the rowers quickly stowed their oars, leapt out into the water, and began to haul the boat onto the shore. Reivan rose with Imenja and followed her mistress to the prow. They stepped onto dry sand then started toward the crowd of dark-skinned, hairless men.

It was not hard to distinguish the leader from the rest. The King of the Elai wore no clothing apart from a pair of short trousers made of a leathery material similar in color to his skin, but his body was draped and decorated with jewellery. From chains of gold hung medallions molded into the shapes of sea creatures, glinting with inset precious stones. Carved shells polished until they shone like rainbows had been linked together to form an impressive vest. The weight of the jewellery must have been considerable, but he held himself proudly, back straight and shoulders set. In one hand he held a spear that, despite embellishments of gold and jewels, looked as if it could easily withstand more than decorative use.

He was scowling.

Reivan suppressed a smile. Imi had warned them that her father was hostile to foreigners.

A protective circle of Elai warriors stood around the king, all wearing armor and frowns, and carrying spears. Imenja walked to the edge of this circle and stopped. The warriors nearest her stepped aside, allowing her and Reivan inside.

“Greetings, Ais, King of the Elai,” she said.

“Greetings, Imenja, Second Voice of the Pentadrians,” he replied.