the rift in your identity might widen again.”
“I have you.”
She smiled. “Indeed you have. But I am a person who Mirar relates to strongly. I may be inhibiting your ability to accept Leiard. You need to interact with people who have no prior relationship with you. These Siyee will do you no harm. You said you hadn’t met any of them.”
“Who will I tell them I am? I can’t tell them I am Mirar.”
“No. You will have to pretend to be someone else again.”
“Leiard?”
“No,” she said firmly. “Give yourself a new name and appearance, but don’t invent new habits or personality traits to go with them. Be yourself.”
“What name should I use, then?”
She shrugged. “I wouldn’t choose a name you dislike.”
He chuckled. “Of course not.” She heard him drumming his fingers. “I’m still a Dreamweaver, so I’ll name myself after one. On the journey to the battle I met a young man not unlike myself. Opinionated and smart. His name was Wil.”
“Wil? Isn’t that a Dunwayan name? You don’t look Dunwayan.”
“No. I’ll add a syllable, then.”
She chuckled. “How about Wily? Or Willful?”
He sighed. “In a thousand years your sense of humor hasn’t improved much, Emerahl.”
“I could have suggested Wilted.”
He made a low, disapproving noise. “I will call myself Wilar.”
Emerahl nodded. “Wilar, then. Wilar what?”
“Shoemaker.” He lifted one foot. The sandals he had made were just visible in the faint light.
“Useful skill, that one,” she said.
“Yes. Leiard did learn some new ones for me. I never needed to make my own before then. People were always happy to give them to me.”
“Ah, the good old days,” she said mockingly. “How we miss the unending adoration and generosity of our followers.”
He laughed. “Except it wasn’t unending.”
“No. And I don’t miss it.”
They were silent for a long time. Mirar finally stirred, and she braced herself in preparation to stand up. But instead of suggesting they go back inside, he only turned to regard her.
“You are going to leave, aren’t you?”
She looked at him, and felt pulled in two directions. “I do want to find the other Wilds,” she said. “But it can wait. If you need me to stay, I will.”
He reached out and touched her face. “I want you to stay,” he told her. “But... you’re right about your effect on me. You’re an anchor that I’m afraid to let go of. I should do as you suggest and seek out other people.”
She took his hand and closed hers around it. “I can stay a little longer. There is no hurry.”
“No, there isn’t. Except I feel restless already. I think I’ll soon become unbearable to be around if I don’t find something to do. I’d come with you if I could. I wish you had a plan in mind that I could assist with, but I’m glad you’re trying to find them.” He paused. “We must stay in contact.”
“Yes.” As she said it, she felt her wish to find the Wilds harden into determination. “We will dream link. I can tell you how my search is going.”
“And keep an eye on me?”
She laughed. “Definitely.”
He drew his hand away and leaned back on the rock wall again. His head tilted as he looked up at the stars.
“So beautiful,” he said. “Will you change your appearance again?”
She considered. Being good-looking gave one an advantage when gathering information, but being beautiful - and young - usually proved a hindrance when travelling. People tended to notice and remember beautiful women. They asked too many questions or, if then, tried to seduce her.
“Yes. I’ll add about ten or twenty years I think.”
He murmured something. She caught the words “missed out” and smiled. It was nice to know he was still attracted to her. Perhaps once he had accepted Leiard and become whole again there would be another opportunity for a dalliance.
She smiled.
Imenja poured another glass of water, then topped Reivan’s glass up.
“One more to go,” she murmured. “It’ll be over soon.”
Reivan nodded and tried not to look too relieved. When she had first entered the room and realized that she would be included in the final stage of an event as momentous as the election of the First Voice she had been dizzy with awe and amazement.
She had watched in fascination as each of the Voices closed their eyes, communicated with Head Servants in regions all over Ithania, and spoke aloud the tally of votes for each Dedicated Servant. The Companion for each Voice had marked the tally on a huge sheet of parchment. When Imenja had indicated that Reivan should do the same for her, she had been overwhelmed. As she’d taken up the brush her hands had been shaking with excitement.
At the end of an hour the endless repetition of the tallying had turned fascination to boredom. After two hours she was dismayed to find they had collected tallies for only a sixth of the regions on the parchment. It was going to be a long day.
Domestics brought an endless variety of delicacies and drinks as if to make up for the monotony of the day. All conversation was undertaken in quiet murmurs, so as to avoid distracting whichever Voice was collecting information.
“That is all,” Vervel said. “All votes are cast. Will you do the first count, Imenja?”
The Second Voice rose and moved to the sheet of parchment. She ran her finger down the first column slowly, her lips moving as she added up the numbers. When she reached the end of the column she took the brush and inked in a total, then she started counting the next column of numbers.
This was also a slow process, but Reivan felt a growing anticipation. When Imenja was done, they would know who was to be their new leader. She glanced at the Companions. They, too, were watching with rapt expressions.
Imenja’s finger made a soft scraping sound as it moved down the parchment. Each time she paused to ink in the result Reivan studied her face. Reivan had memorized the order of the names and knew which Dedicated Servant her mistress was counting the tallies of. She also knew from the tallies she had written down which candidates were most favored. But when Imenja’s eyebrows rose at one result, and frowned at another, Reivan could not guess whether her mistress was pleased, dismayed or merely surprised.
When Imenja had finished, she straightened and looked at Vervel. He returned her gaze, then shrugged. Karkel, Vervel’s Companion, half rose out of his chair, but sat down again as Vervel looked at him and shook his head.
Vervel now began to count the votes. Unable to stand the suspense, Reivan looked away. A plate of nuts and dried fruit lay on the table beside her. She began to eat, though she was far from hungry. The plate was half- empty by the time Shar announced his count finished. Imenja rolled the parchment up then smiled at the four Companions.
“Let’s go and give one Dedicated Servant some good news and a lot of people something to celebrate.”
The Companions stood. Reivan noted the expressions of resignation on their faces.
