Voice of the Gods

Who’d have thought ordinary physical processes that one tended to every day and barely thought about could cause such distress? She had consoled herself that if they did not bring her food or drink these problems would not bother her for long.

When Nekaun returned after three days she was too weak to stand. He had said nothing but simply looked at her and the mess beside her, his nose wrinkling in disgust. Then his expression became thoughtful and a gleam entered his eyes. He turned to the Servants and spoke.

She nearly cried out a protest at his orders. Catching her tongue between her teeth, she told herself it would be more humiliating to beg and plead than to endure what he planned. And begging probably wouldn’t stop him anyway.

Domestics were brought. They cut away her clothes and threw buckets of cold water over her and the floor. They brought water for her to drink and a thin sludge she guessed was made of some kind of grain. She could not feed herself, so she had to let them tip the water and sludge into her mouth.

By then Nekaun was smiling. The gleam in his eyes intensified when she had been stripped, but disappeared as she was fed. It was clear he was enjoying her humiliation. She was tempted to spit the sludge at him, but she was too hungry to waste it.

That day she discovered she wanted to live. She wasn’t sure how badly yet, but she dreaded finding out what she might be willing to do in order to... and beyond that. At what point would she change her mind and long to die?

If Nekaun was curious to know the answers to the same questions, he was in no hurry to find out. All he had done so far was taunt her.

“Greetings, Auraya,” he said. “I trust you are finding your accommodation satisfactory?”

She ignored him. He asked something similar every time. “Are you enjoying your stay?” “Is there anything I can get for you?”

Seeing movement beyond him, she turned her attention to the domestics that were hurrying into the room. They scuttled past him hesitantly. The first two held buckets of water. She gritted her teeth against the cold of her daily dousing. The second bucket was thrown over the floor then a broom used to sweep feces off the dais.

A third domestic held a bowl of water to Auraya’s mouth. She drank it all, knowing no more would be brought until tomorrow. The last domestic lifted the usual bowl of grainy sludge.

“Stop,” Nekaun said.

Auraya felt her heart sink as the domestic lowered the bowl. She hoped she was managing to keep her expression bland and devoid of fear as Nekaun came closer, sure that any sign of apprehension would only encourage him to find more ways to torment her.

He took the bowl from the domestic, then lifted it to her mouth.

She paused only momentarily. If she refused to eat from his hands he would starve her until she did. Better to pretend it didn’t matter.

He watched her, smiling, as she ate. She did not meet his gaze, instead concentrating on a small scar on the side of his nose. She hadn’t noticed it before. She wondered what had caused it.

The bowl tipped higher, forcing her to gulp to avoid the sludge spilling over the lip and being wasted. When it was empty Nekaun stepped back. He held the bowl out to one side and the domestic hurried over to take it.

“Go,” he told the domestics. They scurried away, relieved. One of them wondered why they feared the First Voice here when they didn’t elsewhere. He concluded it was because he had no idea what to expect of the man in this situation. The sorceress was an enemy. Nekaun might order that something awful be done to her, and the domestic didn’t want to be the one to do it.

If Nekaun heard the domestic’s thoughts he gave no sign. He stared at Auraya. She fixed her gaze at the wall past his shoulder. Though she could not sense any thoughts from him she sometimes felt she knew what he was thinking. Like now, when his attention drifted below her face. She knew he was either pretending to be interested in her nakedness in order to intimidate her or... or he was excited by it.

He took a step toward her, then another. She felt her heart begin to race and breathed a little slower, willing herself to remain calm. A step away he paused, his nose wrinkling.

“Really, Auraya,” he said, shaking his head. “You should take better care of yourself. You smell terrible.”

Turning on his heel, he stalked away.

She watched him leave. The Servant guards locked the gate behind him. Footsteps faded to silence.

She sighed with relief.

Just trying to intimidate me, she told herself.

Leaning back against the base of the throne, she closed her eyes and sent her mind out into the world. This was how she spent most of her waking hours. Several times a day she checked on Mischief. One of the domestics had adopted him as her pet. He stayed because Auraya encouraged him to through dream-links and he was used to being left with a carer.

During the evenings she dream-linked with Mirar. The rest of the time she skimmed minds. Being chained up in a cold, empty hall wasn’t exactly stimulating for the mind. At least, not in a good way. Exploring the world kept her mind busy.

It was a secret source of pride to her that she was getting better and better at sensing other minds every day. Each time she reached out she managed to read minds further from her position than she had the previous time. In this way, she heard the rumors of war the day after her imprisonment. Nekaun’s breaking of his vow had made sense then. If the Circlians were invading he would not risk that his attempts to charm her had failed. He knew if he let her go she would probably return to the White to fight with them.

Would I have? she asked herself. Perhaps. I wouldn’t have liked it, but if the gods ordered me to I would have fought for them.

What didn’t make sense was that Nekaun hadn’t killed her. Why imprison her? Did he plan another bargain, with her as payment? Did he think he could persuade the White to go home in exchange for her return?

She smiled wryly. Huan would never agree to that.

But Chaia might. She thought of his message, sent through the dying Siyee priest. None of the domestics that tended her had spoken a word to her, let alone his “key” word. She doubted any message from Chaia would come through Nekaun. Nobody else had visited her.

Gods had, however. Saru, Yranna and Lore had hovered around her briefly. Their conversation told her that they had come to confirm that she was imprisoned here, but had revealed little else.

Did Chaia have a plan in place to free her? Or was he too preoccupied with preparations for war? There was only so much he could do here, in a land where nobody worshipped or obeyed him.

Maybe he intends for me to be freed once the Circlians are victorious. But I expect Nekaun will ensure I die if the Pentadrians lose. He’ll give my guards orders to kill me.

She opened one eye and looked at the Servants standing by the gate.

Unless someone stops them.

She thought of the hint the gods had given that they could get rid of Mirar, even though he had the Voices’ protection. If there was an assassin here, perhaps they could help her.

But they wouldn’t unless the White ordered them to, and she hadn’t been able to tell the White about her situation. Even if Nekaun hadn’t taken the priest ring, she could not have used it. The void would prevent it working. So instead she had tried to contact Juran via dream-links. None of her attempts had succeeded. She had tried calling to Mairae, and even Dyara, but neither had answered. This morning Mirar had given her an idea.

“You’ll just have to skim the minds of the Companions... And do the same for the advisers of the White.”

She couldn’t dream-link with the White, but perhaps she could reach Danjin.

Relaxing against the throne, Auraya slowed her breathing and sought the dream trance. Once there, she called out Danjin’s name.

There was no response at first, but after several attempts she heard a familiar but confused mental voice.

:Auraya?

:Yes, Danjin. It’s me.

:Auraya... I’m dreaming.