The Last of the Wilds

breath and let it out.

You did say it would be painful, he thought at Leiard.

No reply came. Perhaps Leiard was playing a little joke on him. He waited a little longer. Nothing.

Perhaps he is gone. He shook his head. No. Not gone, but no longer separate from me, or me separate from him.

He looked around, then started walking. There was nothing to do but keep going. Alone. He felt a pang of regret. Somehow he knew he would not be hearing from Leiard again.

I think I’m going to miss him. I can’t have Auraya and now I don’t have Leiard to talk to.

The thought should have been funny, but instead it left him feeling empty and sad.

In the topmost rooms of the White Tower, Juran paced. Each time he passed the windows he glanced down at the city. Long ago he had given up trying to keep a picture in his mind of the way Jarime had looked at the beginning, or at different times in the last hundred years. He might not age physically, but his memories were as prone to fading as any mortal’s.

Which was the source of his dilemma now.

:I can’t remember, he said. It has been too long. It’s like trying to remember what my parents’ maid looked like - and I probably saw her thousands of times more than I saw Mirar when he was alive. Why do you want me to remember what he looked like?

:A suspicion. Either Mirar lives, or we have another Dreamweaver in the world with abilities normally restricted to immortals, Huan said.

Juran felt his heart turn over.

:I’m not sure what would be worse. You do not recognize him, then?

:I cannot see him except through another’s eyes. I cannot recognize him unless the viewer does. You are the only person alive who can recognize him.

Surely you would know if he was Mirar from his mind...?

:I cannot see his mind.

Juran stopped pacing and a chill ran down his spine.

:Would this Dreamweaver be Leiard?

:Yes.

:Leiard can’t be Mirar! I’ve seen into his mind.

:A mind which is now completely hidden. If he can do that, he may have been able to conceal parts of his mind before. He can also heal in a manner that immortals can, Huan added. As Mirar could. And there is one more suspicious factor.

:What is that?

:He has Mirar’s memories and admitted to hearing Mirar’s voice in his mind.

:But he can’t be Mirar! I would have recognized him!

:I wonder if you can. A hundred years is a long time. We have not observed the effect of memory loss in immortals we have created until now. Are there any portraits of Mirar left?

:Most were destroyed, but there may be a few in the archives. But... We found his body.

:You found a body that had been badly crushed. It may not have been his.

:What if Leiard isn’t Mirar?

:He may be a new Wild.

:And that makes him dangerous!

:Yes.

:Is Auraya safe?

:Chaia is watching over her.

Juran moved to the window and looked down at the city again. If Leiard was a new Wild and they were forced to kill him, Auraya would be devastated. Perhaps not as grieved as she would have been when she was still in love with him, but she would find the gods’ reasoning that all Wilds were dangerous hard to understand.

:We did not find all of the Wilds. Those that evaded us haven’t caused us any trouble, he said.

:Not yet. Remember, power is a corrupting force. Immortals do not recognize our authority. They believe their souls will never need to transcend the death of their body, so they feel no need to obey us. They are powerful and can do great harm. Better to be rid of them now, than wait until they fulfil their potential.

:What would we do if a Circlian became immortal - without your help?

:Perhaps, if they were loyal, we would allow them to live.

Juran pressed his forehead against the cool glass.

:So we must execute Leiard. We have no choice.

:If he is, indeed, a new Wild.

:How are we to confirm it?

:We will watch him closely. Do not alert Auraya to the possibility that he is a Wild yet, or the other White. Leiard has offered to teach her how to heal magically. That would require a linking of minds that may allow us to see past the shield hiding his thoughts. We must know if he is Mirar before we strike.

:When will this happen?

:We haven’t yet decided. There are risks. We will seek other means to discover his true identity first. When we have decided, we will let you know. Good night, Juran.

Moving away from the window, Juran headed for the cabinet he kept drinks for guests in. He poured himself a glass of Toren tipli. Though it would not make him drunk, he tossed it down and poured another. The tart flavor was both bracing and refreshing.

:I hope, for Auraya’s sake, that you are wrong, Huan.

The goddess did not reply.

PART THREE

34

From above, the blue lakes of Si looked like glittering gemstones strung together with silver threads. The lake Auraya was heading for was shaped like a crescent moon. Looking closer, she noted little boats on the water. She had been surprised at first to discover that the Siyee were as competent at sailing and fishing as landwalkers. They were a people of the sky, but that didn’t mean they could not sail a boat or net a catch.

More unusual was the sight of flat, cultivated land around the lake. The Blue Lake tribe lived well within Si borders so hadn’t needed to reclaim their tillable land from Toren settlers. It looked as if the area had been cleared of forest long ago in order for crops to be grown. The rows were dark green with the leafy winter crop the Siyee dug into the soil each spring to improve it.

For the past two months Auraya had watched as the land and its people prepared for winter. Food was stored carefully, bowers were repaired, warm clothes were woven. The bowers here did not rely on a tree at their center for support. She headed for the largest one, guessing that it might be a meeting place or at least the home of the village Speaker.

She must have been seen, as whistles filled the air and Siyee began to leave the fields and bowers, their