The Last of the Wilds

“You said yourself, Imi is a princess and she should be escorted home with great fuss and ceremony by someone no less important than a Voice.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Not exactly those words, but the meaning was the same.”

“That’s not the reason you’ve concealed this from him, is it?”

Imenja smiled. “Who’s the mind-reader here?” Then her smile faded a little. “I am not as easily dissuaded from exploring a chance at alliance with the Elai. They may be small in number and they may worship a false god, but until we have met them we cannot know their full potential. Consider the Siyee and how effective they were in battle. We might benefit as much or more from sea-warrior allies. Who cares what they worship?”

“Our gods would surely—”

The whoosh of wings drew Imenja’s attention upward. The Siyee had reached the ship. They circled, their fierce faces creased with frowns of suspicion. The contraptions strapped to their chests looked flimsy, but Reivan knew well how lethal they could be.

“They are brave coming so close,” Imenja breathed.

Reivan glanced around the ship to see that some of the crew were holding bows.

“Do not attack or retaliate,” Imenja called out. “Unless I give the order.”

After circling the ship three times, all but one of the Siyee swooped away toward the shore. The remaining man flew directly toward Imenja and Reivan. An object shot from the Siyee’s harness. Reivan took a step backward but Imenja remained still. The missile landed with a thud, embedding itself in the deck at Imenja’s feet. The Siyee flapped hard to avoid the rigging, then curved away toward the mountains.

Imenja nudged the dart with the toe of her sandal. “What do you make of that?”

“A warning,” Reivan replied, her voice wavering a little. “And a reminder. We are not welcome in Si.”

“I agree,” Imenja said. “The trouble is, we have to get Imi to shore if she is to find out where her home is. How are we going to do that?”

“Perhaps we should ask her.”

Imenja looked at Reivan and smiled. “Of course. We’ll discuss it with her tonight.”

35

Sitting down, Mirar rested his elbows on his knees and his chin on his fists and thought about Auraya.

Until she had visited that morning, he had not seen her for two months. While he had hoped they would encounter one another again as they battled Hearteater, he also knew there was nothing to be gained from a meeting except danger. The hopeless infatuation for her that had come with accepting Leiard as a part of himself wasn’t easy to live with. In fact, it was a great nuisance. He constantly told himself to get over it - the sooner the better. Yet when she had called out to him, when she had walked into the bower, his heart had performed all manner of acrobatics, and he knew it would take more than two months’ separation before he had full control of it again.

The last thing he had expected was for her to come seeking his magical healing technique. Since leaving the North River tribe, Mirar had cursed the gods many times for not allowing her to learn it. As the disease attacked Siyee in more and more tribes, many, many Siyee had died that she might have saved.

Why now? he asked himself. Why have they changed their minds?

The answer was clear. The disease had become a plague. Perhaps the Siyee had heard of his healing ability and started to wonder why the Gods’ Chosen did not have it.

If that is so, why don’t the gods teach her?

He’d pondered that question all day. The only conclusion he could come to was that they couldn’t. They were beings of magic. Perhaps beings with no physical body could not heal physical bodies, even through a willing human.

There was a danger in teaching her this technique. It was similar to the method all Wilds used to prevent themselves aging. Auraya might realize this. The gods certainly would.

I can’t bring myself to believe she will harm me if she suspects I am immortal. A suspicion is not a truth, and she is not one to act on mere suspicion. She promised I would not be harmed. Also, she will feel she owes me something in return for giving her the ability to save lives. Perhaps only the chance to leave Northern Ithania.

When he had told Emerahl, through dream links, of his encounter with Auraya, she had urged him to abandon the Siyee and flee. She suggested he go to Southern Ithania, where Dreamweavers were tolerated and even respected. When he had told her he had offered to teach Auraya his healing method she had called him an idiot, but she couldn’t come up with a reason why he shouldn’t - other than those he had already considered.

He heard the sound of feet meeting the ground. Looking up, he saw only darkness, then Auraya came out of the gloom like a beam of moonlight taking form. Mirar felt a shiver run down his spine. The hem of her priestess’s circ flared outward as a breeze stirred it. Her unbound hair blew across her face and she lifted a hand to catch and hook it behind one ear.

Look away, he told himself. If she catches you gazing at her she might suspect you’re still smitten.

He drew in a deep breath and rose.

“Greetings, Auraya of the White.”

One of her eyebrows quirked upward in amusement at his formal manner.

“Greetings, Dreamweaver Wilar.”

He directed her to one of two blankets he’d set on the ground outside the bowers. She sat down and watched as he moved to the middle tent. Inside, Tyve was sitting beside a Siyee man lying unconscious on a stretcher. The boy stood up, stooped to pick up one end of the stretcher and helped Mirar carry it outside.

After they had placed the stretcher on the ground between Auraya and the other blanket, Ty ve returned to the bower. Mirar sat down.

Auraya leaned forward and placed a hand on the man’s head. Her eyes grew distant as she accessed the Siyee’s condition. A grim twitch of her lips told Mirar she had seen the damage the disease had done. She looked up at him expectantly.

“What now?”

“I could explain to you in words and guide you toward discovering the Gift for yourself, but that would take months, or years, and neither of us have the time to spare. We must engage in a link.”

Her eyebrows rose. “A mind link?”

“Not exactly. We will link hands, but unlike a mind link there will be no need for you to open your mind. It is similar to a dream link, but easier since you do not need to be in a trance or part-asleep. Physical contact removes the necessity for that. I will project my instructions to you. You will answer in the same way. Are you willing to do this?”

The corner of her mouth twitched upward as she considered. After a moment she nodded to herself and held out her hands to him. He was not surprised. She had accepted dream links before, despite their illegality, and would have decided what he was going to teach her was worth bending the law for.

He took her hands and closed his eyes, then sought and found a sense of her presence before him. From her came a feeling of both anticipation and uncertainty.

:Auraya.

:Leiard? Or should I call you Wilar?

:Whatever you wish, he answered.

:I don’t think of you as Wilar, so I’ll call you Leiard. But... you seem different.

:I am changed?

:Yes and no. You seem more yourself. That sounds strange, I know, but before you were so... so uncertain of yourself. Now you are not.

He felt oddly pleased about that.