The Last of the Wilds

the door. He opened it, paused to smile at her, then stepped outside.

As the door closed she slowly let out the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. There is absolutely no chance that he doesn’t know how he affects me, she thought. She laughed wryly at his words. ‘Thank you for sharing your thoughts with me.’ Had he been making a joke?

She sighed and sat down. What are the odds that I can make myself get over this infatuation while I am away? Surely a few months at sea will be enough for me to come to my senses.

It better be, she told herself. Or this is going to make life in the Sanctuary very, very uncomfortable.

I must be crazy, Mirar thought as he slid along the rope. I should have realized Auraya would come here the moment news of Hearteater reached her. I should have left before she arrived.

But would you have? Leiard asked.

Mirar frowned. It would have meant abandoning the Siyee. Those who cannot fight the disease would have died without my help.

Yes. Which is why you stayed after she arrived.

I wouldn’t have got far. She would have found me. And if I’d left before she arrived she would have heard stories of a Dreamweaver and come looking for me.

She would have been too busy healing Siyee to look for you, Leiard pointed out. Just as she will be if you leave now. So why do you stay?

Mirar sighed. The damage was done. Auraya must have noticed my mind was shielded the moment she met me. She ought to have been suspicious.

She wasn’t. She was puzzled, but not suspicious. Your explanation satisfied her. She doesn’t understand the significance of the mind shield.

Either the gods haven’t told her or she’s hiding her suspicions well.

Why would she do that?

Because she needs me. All she knows is that I’m capable of hiding my mind.

And can heal magically in a way only immortals can. Why did you reveal that?

Because the only other choice was to let someone die. Again, she seemed amazed by the healing, not alarmed. I don’t think she understands the significance of it either.

But the gods do.

Yes. But they only know I’m a Dreamweaver who happens to be powerful enough to heal magically. They don’t know if I have actually learned to stop myself aging as well. If I behave as if I have something to fear they’ll guess I know more than I should. That’s why I can’t run. He started pulling himself along the rope again.

They won’t take the risk that you haven’t become an immortal, Leiard warned. They’re biding their time. You’re useful to them right now, but the moment the Siyee are safe the gods will have you killed.

By who? Auraya? It would be a bit much to ask their newest White to kill her former lover, don’t you think?

You are taking an immense risk. If she knew your true identity she would not hesitate to kill you.

And I’m not foolish enough to tell her. Neither am I foolish enough to stay here longer than I need to. Once the Siyee are well I will leave.

Reet, as always, was waiting for Mirar at the next platform. As Mirar hauled himself along the rope the boy hovered at the edge, then when he reached the platform the boy stepped forward to help him up.

Abruptly, Reet turned away and a rough sound escaped him. Mirar placed a hand on Reet’s shoulders and felt them shake with every cough.

“Go inside and rest.”

Reet grimaced. “If I lie down I might not get up again.”

“That will be true if you don’t rest.”

“Who will check on people? Who will take messages to Auraya?”

“There are other Siyee well enough to take over the task. Now, let’s see how your brother is faring.”

“He’s better,” a voice said from the bower.

He turned to find Reet’s mother slouched against the entrance. Shaking his head, Mirar walked toward her.

“You should be resting, too,” he told her.

“You said I was recovering,” she replied.

“Not that quickly.”

“Someone has to feed the boys.”

He took her arm and guided her back inside, helping her climb back into her bed. When she had settled he left Reet talking to her, and moved into the other room. Two sling beds hung to one side, one empty. The boy in the occupied one was sleeping, his breathing slow and unhampered, his skin pale but not bluish.

It appears your prospective student has overcome the disease, Leiard said.

Yes, Mirar replied. He turned and called to Reet.

Reet’s footsteps were hurried. He looked at his brother anxiously.

“He has beaten it,” Mirar told him. “In a few days he’ll have recovered his strength enough to walk.” He pointed to the empty bed. “Now it’s your turn. Rest.”

Reet hesitated, then reluctantly climbed into the sling. Moving closer to Tyve, Mirar pretended to examine the sleeping boy while he watched his brother. Reet sighed, coughed a little, then his breathing slowed and he sank into an exhausted sleep.

“Has Reet got it?”

Mirar jumped at the voice. He looked at Tyve and found the boy watching him.

“Do not fear for him,” he murmured. “I will make sure he recovers.”

Tyve nodded. He closed his eyes and a faint smile crossed his face. “I know.”

“You’re past the worst of it,” Mirar told him.

“I’m so tired. When will I be able to fly?”

“In a few days you can start building up the strength in your arms again.”

Light footsteps brought Mirar’s attention to the room’s entrance. The boys’ mother entered, carrying a bowl of water. He sighed and crossed his arms.

“What will it take to make you stay in bed?”

“How long is it since Reet ate?” she countered.

He felt a pang of guilt; he did not know. She searched his face and nodded.

“I thought so. The White lady brought food and fresh water. I hear she is not as good a healer as you, but she can fly. That’s... useful.”

Mirar took the bowl from her. “How do you know what the villagers are saying?” he asked, worried that people had been visiting each other secretly.

“Reet has been carrying gossip as well as messages for you.”

He chuckled and turned back to Tyve. The boy took the bowl and drank all the water thirstily. It appeared to give him some strength.

“How is it you knew Auraya before now?” Tyve asked.

“That is something I wish to keep private,” Mirar replied.

Tyve’s eyebrows rose, then drew together into a frown. “You don’t like her.”

Mirar found himself shaking his head. “That’s not true.”

Taking the empty bowl, Mirar handed it to Tyve’s mother. She left to gather more.

“You hate her, then?”

“No.”

Nosy, isn’t he? Leiard observed.