The Last of the Wilds

Her eyebrows rose. “The only ones to have survived the gods’ war, that is. Perhaps the Pentadrians’ gods have risen since.”

“The Circle would have noticed.”

“Perhaps they didn’t.”

Meeran raised his hands in a pacifying gesture, though the conversation did not appear to be leading to an angry exchange. “We could argue this all night. I am more interested to know what you both think the consequences may be of the Council’s decision to allow them to settle.”

Haleed looked down at the ship and scowled. “Trouble, as I said. First we allow them to enter our country, then what? Will we give them a place on the Council?”

Arleej smiled. “If they gather enough followers to become a legitimate religion we cannot refuse them a place. It is our law and tradition.”

“Perhaps it is time we changed that law,” Haleed said darkly. “Or increased the required number of followers.”

A shadow passed over Arleej’s face. She’s concerned the hatred of Pentadrians would convince Somreyans to agree to that, Meeran realized. The Dreamweavers are few in number compared to the potential number of Pentadrians that might come here. A law like that would rob her of her place on the Council but not prevent the Pentadrians gaining power.

“The people will never agree to that, no matter how frightened they are of our visitors,” Meeran assured them.

“So we’re stuck with them,” Haleed growled.

“Not necessarily,” Arleej said quietly. “They have only to undertake one act of aggression and we can throw them out. We get to decide what an act of aggression is.”

Haleed looked at her, his expression one of begrudging respect. She smiled back at him. Meeran looked from one to the other, then shook his head. Their strengths had been refined through years of resistance to each other. The thought of what they might do united was more than a little disturbing.

“They do claim to be here to make peace,” Meeran reminded them. “Dubious as that claim may be, I think we should at least give them a chance to prove it.”

The two Elders looked at him, and though their faces clearly showed that they disagreed, both nodded.

There was snow on the northern mountains already, Auraya noted. Small patches of it reflected the light of the moon, giving the mountains a dappled look. Soon those patches would grow in size, join together and the mountains would be clothed with white.

She frowned as she considered the effect an early and hard winter might have on the Siyee if they were weakened by Hearteater.

It will not be so bad if I can stop the disease spreading, she told herself.

But that was not always easy. While healer priests and priestesses understood a little about plagues, ordinary people regarded the spread of such illnesses with fear and superstition. She had discovered today that the Siyee were no different.

The family that had left the North River tribe had refused to leave the Open voluntarily, despite being offered bowers close by and assurances that they only need stay away long enough for all to be sure they weren’t sick. When Sirri ordered them to leave they had obeyed, but resentfully.

The Siyee living about the Open had mixed reactions to the situation. Some reacted fearfully, and Auraya suspected Sirri would have her hands full keeping those people from leaving. Others thought the North River family was being treated unfairly and did not hesitate to voice their anger.

Fortunately, none of the visitors showed signs of the illness. The messenger, however, was feeling more wearied by their journey back to the North River tribe than he ought to. She looked across at Reet and frowned.

He must have left the priests’ bower not long after I did, she remembered. I can sense that he’s hungry. He could not have eaten much and didn’t rest at all. Perhaps weariness is all that is wrong with him.

He had left hours before she had, but she had caught up with him easily. Now she was torn between flying on ahead and remaining with him. What if the sickness came over him quickly? What if he passed out and fell to his death?

What if he was just tired and she arrived too late to save one of the tribe?

It was an impossible choice. If only she knew what was happening in the village - if anyone would suffer because of the delay.

Perhaps there was a way to find out. There was someone she could ask. He might not answer her call, he might not even answer her questions, but she could only try.

:Chaia.

She waited for several heartbeats then called again. When no familiar presence touched her senses she sighed and thought about her dilemma again. Perhaps she should consider what she did know about the situation she was in. All I know is that Reet is dangerously tired. So she must decide based on that.

I will stay with him, just in case, or until I know more. Chaia may still turn up.

She felt a shiver run down her back at the thought of being in the god’s presence again. So much had changed in the last few days.

I don’t miss Leiard any more, she thought, smiling. Chaia was right about that.

She had never felt such pleasure before. Her experiences with Chaia were like a dream link, but far more sophisticated. Dream links relied upon the memory of physical pleasure. Her time with Chaia was one of discovery and of ecstasy she hadn’t felt before. His touch could only be the touch of magic, but that changed when their mind and will united. Magic could become sensation. He was able to respond to her slightest desire, yet at the same time he could stimulate her in ways she had never imagined were possible.

She had expected the world to seem subdued in comparison to her encounters with Chaia, but instead it was as though her senses had been enlivened. Every object was fascinating. Every living thing, beautiful and vibrant.

Fortunately this effect faded. She did not want to be distracted by the beauty of an insect while trying to discuss important matters with the Siyee. Seeing them with her senses awakened had only strengthened her wish to protect them.

Yet she was also more conscious of the differences between them and herself now. Her height and winglessness. Their mortality. Being so conscious of the differences between herself and them saddened her. Had she come closer to a god only to move further from mortals? It was a disturbing thought.

But it is nice to look forward to night again, she thought. And there’s not much point worrying about it right now. Smiling to herself, she put all worries aside and drifted into daydreams of her next encounter with Chaia.

27

“Tarn Genrian!” Devlein Wheelmaker shouted. “You can’t do this to me!”

“You may be Genrian,” Reivan replied calmly, “but while you live in Avven you must live by our laws. You have resided here long enough to know we forbid the enslavement of any but criminals.”

“She isn’t human,” he insisted. “She’s an animal - a creature of the sea. You only have to look at her to see that.”

She stared back at him. “You have only to speak to her to know she is human. And what a tale she tells about you.” She shook her head sadly. “It is you I’d describe as inhuman.”

A cry of rage broke from him. He lunged forward. Reivan flinched backward, but his groping hands never