The Last of the Wilds

A head appeared and two milky eyes stared up at them. The inner eyelids of the Elai warrior slid back. He grasped the rope and began to climb.

When he reached the rail, he paused and looked at the crew nervously. He was older than the Elai warriors who had sunk the raider ship. As Imenja stepped forward to welcome him, he turned to regard her, his expression serious.

“I have come to give you a message,” he told her. “King Ais, ruler of Borra and the Elai, invites Second Voice Imenja, Servant of the Pentadrian gods, to consider this proposal.”

He spoke slowly and carefully, and had obviously memorized the message from the king. Reivan smothered the urge to smile in triumph as she realized this was a treaty proposal.

“The king suggests his people and yours meet to trade goods in the future, but not at the islands of Borra. Islands a few days’ sailing from Borra might be suitable, if they are not overrun by raiders.

“In return for help with Elai defenses, King Ais will help Pentadrians fight raiders, but only if the risk to his warriors is not too great. All valuables taken from raider vessels would become the property of the king. Training of Elai in fighting, magic or building defenses would also occur away from Borra.”

Imenja nodded. “Am I right to guess that the signing of such a treaty will occur on one of these remote islands as well?”

The messenger nodded. Imenja looked away as if considering.

:What do you think, Reivan?

:I think this is the only offer we’ll get. There will be no discussion of these terms. If we attempt it, we will not hear from him again.

:And what of the terms?

:The only part that sounds unreasonable is that they get all the loot. It would not take long for it to occur to them that if they wait until a trader has been attacked, they will get more loot from the raider.

Imenja turned back to the messenger.

“I agree to these terms on behalf of my people. If you tell me the location of the islands you spoke of, we will sail for them tomorrow.”

The messenger looked surprised, but not displeased. He gave her directions, then, bowing respectfully, he bid them farewell and moved to the edge of the ship. Unlike the younger warriors, who had leapt into the water, he climbed down carefully and slipped into the sea with barely a splash.

Imenja beckoned to Reivan, who moved to her side.

“You still fear they’ll replace raiders as the greatest danger for traders in these waters,” she said quietly. “Don’t worry. I will make them think twice about that.”

A warm weight lay between Auraya’s shoulders. After long hours of flight, Mischief had grown bored, yet he understood, perhaps instinctively, that he could not leave the protection of her pack. Instead he did something she envied him for: sleep.

The night landscape below was coy about revealing its features. Different shades of darkness marked different areas: forest was darker than fields, water was blacker still. From time to time the moon found a gap in the clouds and Auraya was able to make out roads and houses.

Now there was an aberration below. An interruption of the natural pattern, poised at the meeting of land and water. As moonlight once again bathed the world it showed hard angles and a jumble of interconnecting lines. Two buildings caught the light and seemed to throw it back. The Dome shone like a second moon, half-buried in the ground. The White Tower stretched up, like an accusing finger.

Moving toward the Tower, she considered once again the reception she might receive. Would all four White meet her? Would they be sympathetic or angry? Would she be expected to apologize or explain herself? As she descended she braced herself for a meeting that was probably going to be awkward, if not unpleasant.

As her feet touched the roof her surroundings darkened. She looked up to see that the clouds had covered the moon again. No one stepped out to greet her. She waited for several heartbeats, then laughed quietly.

I assumed the gods would let Juran know I was coming. Looks like they didn’t. She moved toward the door, amused to feel a faint disappointment. They might be waiting inside, or in my room.

She entered the building, opening and closing the door to the roof quietly. Moving down the stairs, she did not meet anyone - not even a servant. Reaching the door to her rooms, she paused to listen. No sounds came from within. She opened the door and found her rooms dim and empty.

Putting her pack down, she created a spark of light. A sleepy Mischief crawled out. He blinked at her then jumped onto a chair and curled up. She patted him, then looked around.

Everything was how she had left it, yet it did not feel like the place she had left. She felt no lifting of her spirits at familiar surrounds. Walking from room to room, she wondered if her lack of relief at returning home was because it was going to be something like a prison for the next decade.

She sat down on the edge of her bed and twirled the ring on her finger.

During her long flight, with nothing to distract her, she had spent a lot of time thinking. At first she had decided there was no point agonizing over her future. It was set and there was nothing she could do to change it. But something nagged at her and eventually she had admitted to herself that she did have choices, even if they were foolish or ridiculous. She began examining them, weighing up the consequences, in order to convince herself they were not ones she wanted to make.

By the time she had reached Jarime she had come to the realization that some of these choices weren’t as foolish as she’d first thought. That she might be happier, or at least more useful to the world, if she made them.

At the same time they frightened her. She had decided she needed to sleep before making any decision. And there was something else she needed to know.

Lying back on the bed, she let herself sink toward sleep. When she judged the time was right, she spoke a name.

:Mirar!

There was a long silence, then a familiar mental voice replied.

:Auraya? Is that really you?

:It is. I have a question for you.

:Yes?

:Will I be able to teach your healing Gift to others?

:Only in rare circumstances.

:What circumstances?

He did not answer.

:Mirar?

:Have the gods chosen a punishment for you yet? he asked.

:Yes.

:What did they decide?

She hesitated. If he had any intention of causing trouble, knowing she couldn’t leave Jarime might encourage him.

:That is none of your business, she told him.

:Isn’t it? Consider it an exchange of information. I will tell you the circumstances which limit the teaching of healing for the gods’ decision on your punishment.

She felt annoyance, but pushed it aside. She could give him part of the truth.

:They sent me back to Jarime.

:Ah. So the Siyee are without a healer, which explains your question about teaching. They’ve punished you by punishing the Siyee. I guess they didn’t have much else they could take from you.

:You did not expect them to remove my ability to fly?

:No. I’ve suspected that ability is your own since the day I taught you healing. Now I am sure of it.