The Last of the Wilds

seat beside her mistress. He doesn’t have to memorize anyone’s name. He can pluck it from their minds whenever he needs to.

The way the Voices behaved as a group had changed. While she had never seen Nekaun angry or forceful she had no doubt that he was in control. He always sought the others’ opinions and advice, but ultimately decisions were made by him.

Of course, the others can’t object when they gave him the advice that led to his decision, she mused.

When Imenja had handed the responsibilities of leadership over to him she expressed neither relief nor regret. Since then she had said little about Nekaun’s actions. If she found fault with Nekaun’s decisions, Reivan had seen no sign of it.

She can’t say anything to me. He would read it from my mind. She won’t tell me anything that she doesn’t want him to know.

Nekaun had begun to pace the railing. Now he shot her an unfathomable look. She felt her face flush.

What am I thinking? I’m being cynical again. I must stop that. I hope he knows it’s just a habit and I don’t actually think there is fault in his decisions or—

“Since we’re all here, we may as well begin,” Nekaun said.

“Yes,” Imenja agreed. “Who will - or should I say where will - we consider first?”

Nekaun smiled. “Shar and Dunway first, I think.”

The handsome blond Voice cleared his throat. He had brought one of his tame vorns with him and the beast lay panting beside the chair. “The shipwreck plan appears to have worked so far. The survivors are being treated well. The second boat is still trapped in Chon’s harbor. As we expected, the Dunwayans are reluctant to allow our people to disembark.”

Nekaun nodded. “Genza?”

The fourth Voice flexed her lean, muscular arms. “My people have been travelling for eleven days, but even with the help of our birds in surveying the land their progress is slow. They have seen Siyee in the distance a few times, but the flying people do not approach them.”

“No sign of the one they call Auraya?”

“No.”

“Good.” Nekaun turned to Vervel. The stocky man shrugged.

“My Servants have arrived. The Torens don’t seem to care about their nationality, so long as there’s something to buy from them. A pragmatic people. The second boat has not yet reached Genria.”

Nekaun turned to Imenja. “And your Servants are still at sea?”

She nodded. “Yes. They were delayed, along with yours, by that storm. Now that the weather has cleared they should arrive in Somrey in a few days.”

“Is it wise for our people to arrive at their destinations at the same time?” Vervel asked. “The Circlians may notice and grow suspicious of our intentions.”

“If they are paying attention,” Nekaun said. He looked at Genza. “It is unlikely that your people will remain unnoticed, since people enter Si so rarely. However, the Siyee have no priests or priestesses of their own, so they may prove easier to sway.”

“It will not be as easy finding potential Servants among normal humans,” Vervel said. “My people tell me that nearly all Skilled men and women of Northern Ithania become priests or priestesses.”

Nekaun smiled and glanced at Reivan. “And no unskilled do. That rule has been our weakness in the past, too. Would unskilled Northern Ithanians abandon their heathen gods and embrace the true gods if they knew there was a chance they might gain power and authority by becoming Servants?”

The others looked thoughtful. “The power and authority you offer is only valued here,” Imenja murmured.

“For now.”

“How many unskilled will you allow to become Servants?” Vervel asked. “How will you choose?”

“I would not set a number to begin with,” Nekaun replied. “They would have to prove themselves worthy.”

“Good. We don’t want to make a mockery of the gods by ordaining complete fools,” Genza muttered.

“No,” Nekaun agreed. He suddenly looked at Reivan. “We are in no danger of that yet. What do you think, Reivan?”

She blinked in surprise. “I... uh... I can’t help thinking there must be an easier way to convert Northern Ithanians. The Circlians believe our gods aren’t real. They would flock to us if you proved them wrong.”

“How do you suggest we do that?”

“I don’t know. Perhaps only the sight of the gods would convince them.”

He smiled crookedly. “We may call upon the gods for guidance or approval from time to time, but even then they do not always appear at our request. It is unlikely they would agree to appear and demonstrate their powers for every doubting Circlian each time a Servant requested it.”

Reivan looked down. “No, that would be too much to ask. But... it is a pity the Circlians did not see Sheyr appear when we emerged from the mines. If they had seen that magnificent sight, they might not have fought us, but instead joined us. Would the gods agree to appear before a gathering of Circlians?”

“I guess if that were possible they would have done it already,” Imenja said.

“What prevents them?” Reivan asked.

Silence followed. She forced herself to look up at the Voices. To her surprise, the Voices wore thoughtful expressions. Nekaun was frowning, as if troubled by her words. His gaze shifted to hers and he smiled.

“Ah, Thinkers. They have a way of asking unanswerable questions. We all wish to understand the gods, but I doubt any of us ever will. They are the ultimate mystery.”

The others nodded. Nekaun rubbed his hands together and glanced around the room. “Shall we move on to other matters?”

“Yes,” Genza agreed. “Let’s.”

“I hear there has been another duel between Dekkan nobles.”

Genza rolled her eyes. “Yes. Same old families. Same old grudge.”

“We must do more to prevent these confrontations.”

“I’d love to hear any suggestions you have.”

Relieved that their attention had moved from her, Reivan picked up a glass of water and drank deeply. Nekaun often asked for her opinion during these meetings, whereas he rarely spoke to the other Companions. Though it was flattering that he sought it, she did not always enjoy the experience. Sometimes, like today, she suspected she had made a complete fool of herself.

Fortunately, the others did not appear to mind. Instead they discouraged reticence. Reivan had shied away from giving her opinion once and Nekaun had pursued her with a ruthless patience until she gave in.

They were disturbed by my question, though, she thought, looking at the other Voices. It seems I am not the only one who wonders why the gods are so reluctant to show their power or influence more. If they had, would we have lost the war? Would they have advised us against attacking the Circlians? Surely Kuar would not have led us into battle unless the gods had approved.

After all, Sheyr would not have appeared and encouraged the army to fight if he knew the battle was a hopeless cause. I can only conclude that he either knew we’d lose, or couldn’t discover enough about the enemy to see the danger. Either way, he must have known there was a risk of failure.

Reivan shook her head. At least I’m not the only person mystified by the gods. Even the Voices don’t know everything about them.

Mirar stood before the wall of falling water. He reached out and touched the sheet of liquid. The smooth, rippling surface broke around his fingers and cold droplets ran down his bare arms, chilling him.

Get it done quickly, Leiard suggested.

Closing his eyes, Mirar leaned forward and plunged his head into the water.

The water was bone-chilling cold. He scrubbed at his scalp and beard, moving quickly to combat the chill and hasten the rinsing. A step backward and he was back in the air again, water trickling down his bare chest as he straightened.