daughter’s disappearance.
The two veez circled each other slowly, their tails twitching. Auraya sighed and shook her head.
“They’ve forgotten they’ve grown up.”
Mairae laughed. “Yes - they’re like a pair of children who can only relate by wrestling with and insulting each other.”
Stardust leapt on top of Mischief, and all detail was lost as the two became a blur of rolling, twisting fur, legs and tail.
Mairae chuckled. “How is Mischief’s training going?”
“Well.” Auraya grimaced. “There’s not a mechanical lock that he can’t open, and he’s become much easier to link with now that he’s matured a bit and I can actually hold his attention for more than a few moments. He speaks into my mind now, too.”
The two veez separated. They stood apart and chattered at each other, then simultaneously affected boredom and began washing themselves.
“Have you met Keerim?” Mairae asked.
“No.”
“He’s a famous veez trainer, visiting from Somrey. Not bad-looking, too. You should arrange t—”
The call was from Juran.
Mairae was regarding her expectantly.
“What is it?”
Auraya rose. “We’ve been called to the Altar.”
“The Altar?” Mairae’s eyebrows rose. She stood and scooped Stardust off the floor. “How unusual. I wonder if the gods have an answer for us.”
“On the existence of Pentadrian gods?” Auraya tried to pick up Mischief, but he darted away. She moved to the bell rope and pulled it. There was no time for chasing veez. A servant would have to take care of him.
They left the room, entering the circular staircase at the center of the Tower. Auraya heard Mischief speak her name telepathically, somehow managing to convey immense disappointment at her leaving so abruptly. Mairae put Stardust down.
“Go home,” she ordered. The veez scampered down the stairs. “Good girl.” Mairae straightened and looked up the stairwell.
“The cage is already descending.”
“Yes. Juran said he would collect us on the way past.”
They watched the base of the cage slowly drop toward them. As it drew level with their eyes it slowed. Dyara and Juran stood inside. When the cage stopped, Juran opened the door and stepped aside to let them in.
His expression was serious and perhaps a little pensive, but he managed a small smile. “No, I do not know why the gods have called us,” he said before either of them could ask. “Let us hope it is good news.”
Dyara looked at him and lifted an eyebrow. “We would hardly be hoping for bad news now, would we?”
The White leader chuckled. “No.”
The cage began descending again. As it passed Rian’s rooms, Mairae looked at Juran questioningly.
“Rian was in the city. He’ll meet us at the Altar,” Juran explained. He looked at Auraya. “How is the hospice faring?”
She nodded. “Remarkably well. There have been a few differences of opinion, but that’s to be expected. Our methods aren’t going to be the same.” She paused, wondering if that was the sort of information he really wanted. “We are learning much from the Dreamweavers,” she added.
“And they from us?”
“Occasionally.”
“Are the Dreamweavers holding back knowledge?” Dyara asked.
“Not yet,” Auraya replied.
“I’m surprised,” the woman said. “Who’d have thought they’d entrust their secrets to priests?”
“They’ve never considered their knowledge to be secret,” Auraya told her. “That would give them a reason to withhold healing, which is against their principles. They never deny anyone aid.”
“An admirable principle,” Juran said. “One I think we should consider adopting.”
Dyara turned to stare at him in surprise.
“Even if it meant healing Pentadrians?”
Juran smiled wryly. “It is possible that superior healing skills would help us win the favor of people of the southern continent one day.”
The cage began to slow. “Not if their gods are real,” Auraya pointed out.
“No,” Juran agreed.
The cage stopped at the center of the hall.
“Then having plenty of skilled Circlian healers will be even more important,” Juran replied. “We can’t rely on a heathen cult to treat our wounded, no matter how skilled it is. Doing so would give them more influence than I would like them to have.”
He led them out of the cage. Auraya considered his words. He obviously expected Dreamweavers to still exist in a century - not to fade away once their main advantage over Circlians had been taken away. Perhaps his reasons for asking her to start the hospice were a little different from what she’d assumed.
Juran reached the entrance of the Tower and led them out into bright sunlight. A covered platten had just pulled up outside the Dome. Rian stepped out and signalled to the driver to move away, then he turned to wait for them. As Auraya drew closer, she saw that his eyes were aglow with religious fervor. He said nothing as they reached him, just fell into step as they strode under the arches of the Dome.
After the bright sunlight the shade within the Dome was a relief. Auraya’s eyes adjusted to the softer light and she saw the five triangular sides of the Altar opening. Juran led them across the building to the dais, then up into the Altar. As soon as all had taken their seats the points began to hinge upward again.
Juran paused, as he always did, to consider what he was going to say. But as he drew breath to speak, Auraya felt a movement nearby. Suddenly she was aware of the magic in the world around her, and that magic rippled and thrummed with a presence. She turned to face it.
“Chaia, Huan, Lore, Yranna, Saru,” Juran began. “We—”
Auraya gasped as she realized what she was sensing was a god.
“Chaia,” Juran said, beginning to rise.
Auraya felt the world around her vibrating with the arrival of the rest of the gods. She watched in awe as each became visible as a light that took on human form.
