The Last of the Wilds

None had died so far. Speaker Veece had come closest, but Mirar had brought him back from near death with magical healing. The old man’s body was still disinclined to fight the disease, however. This left Mirar with a dilemma.

It was better for the patient if his or her body learned to fight the disease. Mirar could use magic to ease the symptoms and give the patient strength, but he was always reluctant to use it to expel the disease itself. If he did, the patient was vulnerable to catching the disease again. In a village where the disease was spreading so easily, that was a likely fate. If a patient’s body was incapable of learning to fight the disease, magical expulsion and then isolation was the only option. Mirar would do it, if he must, but only as a last resort.

He was nearing the other end of the rope now. Lamplight illuminated a small platform supporting a single bower. The previous platform had been larger, and sat a little higher than this one. As Mirar reached it, he found himself hanging just above the wooden floor. He raised his arms and let himself slip out of the loop.

At the thump of his landing a child rushed out of the bower. She stared at him, then grabbed his arm and pulled him inside.

A woman lay on a mat on the floor, her eyes closed. Tyve was sitting beside her, holding her hand. A bowl of water steamed nearby, its surface swirling with oil. The sweet, crisp smell of brei essence filled the air.

“How is she?” Mirar asked.

“Her breathing is doubled,” Tyve said. “It sounds a little bubbly. Her fingers are cold and her lips are starting to turn blue. I’ve given her some mallin.”

He’s learning fast, Leiard noted.

Mirar could not help smiling, but he quickly smoothed his expression as Tyve looked up at him.

“I know you said not to touch anyone, but she took my hand. I didn’t mean it to happen. When it did, it was too late already.”

Mirar nodded. “Compassion is a strength in a healer, never a weakness.” He looked pointedly at the child holding his arm. “Just remember to wash your hands.”

He extracted himself from the child’s grip and kneeled beside the woman. Placing his hand on her brow, he slipped into a healing trance and sent his mind out into her body.

Her body was fighting it, he saw with relief. She just needed a little help. Drawing magic, he used it to ease some of the inflammation in the lungs and encourage the heart to beat faster in order to send more blood to her extremities.

Though her body was fighting the disease, he could not guess whether it would have won without his help. Hearteater did not have such a devastating effect on landwalkers. Was it a stronger version of the disease? If it was, landwalkers would face a terrible plague if it spread beyond Si. The Siyee could be more vulnerable to Hearteater, however. The disease had spread through land walkers’ lands before, but this might be the first time the Siyee had encountered it. Did that mean a race of people could become used to a disease?

It was an interesting idea, but not one that bode well for the Siyee.

He drew his mind from the Siyee woman’s body. She was breathing easier now and her face was no longer pale. Tyve caressed her hand.

“Her fingers are warm,” he said, looking up at Mirar in wonder. “How do you do that? It’s... it’s...” He shook his head. “I’d do anything to be able to do that.”

Mirar smiled crookedly. “Anything?”

Tyve glanced at the woman and nodded. “Yes,” he said.

Here we go again, Mirar thought, remembering similar moments over the centuries. Young men or women caught up in the wonder of helping save lives. Later, when the elation died and he told them what the life of a Dreamweaver involved, most changed their minds.

If Tyve doesn’t, will you teach him? Leiard asked.

There’s not much else to do here, Mirar replied. It’ll keep me occupied while I’m trying to stay away from the White.

What about Jayim?

Mirar winced as he thought of the boy Leiard had begun training in Jarime.

Arleej will have arranged for someone to finish the job. I certainly can’t do it.

No, but if you are forced to abandon this boy’s training you cannot rely on Arleej to take over, Leiard pointed out.

I could. Arleej might not like it much, but I could send Tyve to Somrey. She might curse me for giving her another student, but she will recognize the advantages of having Siyee Dreamweavers.

The White won’t like that much, Leiard warned. If the gods hear that a Dreamweaver is training a Siyee, they will investigate. They will realize that Tyve is being trained by someone whose mind they can’t see, and grow suspicious about your identity.

Mirar considered. Should Tyve decide to become a Dreamweaver he will have to understand and accept that it must be a secret, and that I may be forced to send him to Somrey to complete his training.

Where it would no longer need to be concealed. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? You’d like the White to discover that while they were making themselves the first Siyee priests and priestesses, you were making the first Siyee Dreamweaver.

It would be satisfying, Mirar admitted.

“Wilar?”

He looked up at Tyve.

“What do I have to do?” the boy asked.

Mirar smiled. “I will tell you, but not now. We must continue with our work.”

Tyve nodded. He looked at the girl child, who was sitting cross-legged to one side.

“She is showing the first signs. What should we do?”

Looking at the girl, Mirar beckoned.

“Come here, little one. What is your name?”

28

Aglow warmed the eastern horizon but the air was chill. Auraya turned to look at Reet, but he wasn’t beside her. She felt a stab of alarm and searched all around. He was flying below her. To her relief he wasn’t succumbing to weariness or Hearteater, but was descending toward their destination.

She followed him down, dropping through a gap in the leafy canopy of the forest and dodging branches of enormous trees.

A whistle burst from Reet. A few weak replies came. Looking around, Auraya saw bowers built upon platforms high among the tree branches. The messenger swooped down toward one of these.

He chose the tribe leader’s bower. Landing a moment after the young Siyee, Auraya smiled as an old woman shuffled out of the bower. She was the Speaker’s wife, she read from the woman’s mind. Her smile faded as she recognized the symptoms of disease.

“I have brought help,” Reet said tiredly. He turned to Auraya. “Auraya of the White has come to help us. This is Speaker Veece’s wife, Tryli.”

The old woman smiled wearily. “Welcome, Auraya of the White. Veece would welcome you in the traditional way, but he is ill. So it falls to me to thank you for coming.”

Auraya nodded. “How many are ill?”

“Most of us, but we have not lost anyone since the healer came.”

Reet straightened and grinned. “Tyve persuaded him to come!”

Auraya blinked in surprise. Looking into the woman’s thoughts, she read that a man had come to treat the sick.

“A landwalker?” she asked, alarmed. Had one of the Pentadrians remained? Had the Pentadrians given the Si