Voice of the Gods

Elai were a young race created by a goddess who hated immortals.

Huan, he thought darkly. He frowned as he remembered the strange distorted creatures, dead or barely alive, that he had chanced upon long ago. They kept appearing, for over a century. Only when the early ancestors of the Elai appeared toward the end of that century had he found an answer to the mystery. The twisted creatures had been the experiments and failures of the sorcerers fulfilling Huan’s great ambition to create a people adapted to living in the sea. She and her followers didn’t suffer as the animals and people did. At least the people chose their fate, though I’m sure they didn’t expect to be cast out to sea or left to die when the work failed.

Eventually Huan had succeeded. Out of a goddess’s vision and mortals’ willingness to do her bidding had come two miraculous peoples, the Elai and the Siyee. Out of cruelty had come beauty. This was the way of the ocean, too. Sometimes the most beautiful creatures were the most deadly. Starfan fish were brightly colored, but so venomous one prick of their spines could kill in a few breaths. The doi was a playful, intelligent creature, loyal and affectionate. Sailors believed that doi swimming in the prow wave of their ship was a sign of good luck. But The Gull had seen doi treat their own kind with a cruelty he had otherwise only observed in humans.

He shrugged. The gods had once been mortals. They were driven by the same emotions and needs. Therefore it was no surprise they could be as cruel as humans. The trouble was, while the occasional human was inclined to behave badly, all of the gods had dealt cruelly with humanity at some point.

No, not all, he corrected. The old gods weren’t all bad. Is it so strange that those remaining are cruel? They were the ones willing to murder the rest.

His mind was beginning to wander in old and familiar circles. He didn’t mind that, but he had agreed to contact The Twins tonight. Moving to the back of the cave, he lay down on some old blankets. He closed his eyes and sent out a mental call.

:Gull, Tamun answered. You’re late.

:Ignore her, Surim added. She’s grumpy.

:Oh? Why is that?

:Everything is happening too fast. It scares her.

:I am not scared! Tamun protested.

:Not a bit, Surim agreed unconvincingly.

:What is happening too fast? The Gull asked.

:Emerahl wants us to go to Diamyane, Surim explained. And you, too.

:She wants to attempt to kill the gods?

:Only if an opportunity arises. She has rightly pointed out that it would be a shame if one does and we are not there to take advantage of it.

:That is true.

:Are you willing to go to Diamyane, hang about in the middle of a battlefield with all the risks of being discovered that it entails, just in case Auraya somehow manages to escape and decides to help us kill her precious gods?

The Gull considered. He could see the advantages of being in the place where the White and the Voices clashed. The gods were sure to be present. They might be able to kill several at once.

Yet he could also see that the chances that everything would fall into place were slim.

But if there was even a slim chance...

:Yes, he said. If I remain hidden in the water, discovery is unlikely.

Tamun cursed.

:Sorry, sister, Surim said. Emerahl wins this time. We had better start packing.

:And I have a long way to travel, The Gull added.

:Will you make it in time?

:Yes, if I leave tonight.

:Then travel well. We will speak to you again tomorrow night, Surim finished.

Opening his eyes, The Gull stared up at the roof of the cave. He rose and moved to the cave entrance. Closing his eyes again he sent out his mind, seeking a familiar pattern of thought.

It did not take him long to find it. Slow, male and calm, the mind roused at his familiar presence. He posed a query; it answered with an affirmative.

Pleased, The Gull waited.

Some time later he felt the same mind’s anticipation of arrival. Looking down, he saw the great head of the roale, as large as a fishing boat, surge up out of the water, turn and crash down again. One eye glinted in the starlight.

:Thank you, he said to it. We will swim south together, where the water is warm and full of fish.

:Yes, the roale replied. Food.

Stretching out his arms, The Gull leapt from the stack and dived into the sea.

Every time the Voices gathered without Nekaun present Reivan felt uneasy, yet she no longer felt comfortable in his presence either.

The other Voices weren’t conspiring against him, yet in his absence they were more likely to voice their opinions. It didn’t help that they often discussed ways to lessen the impact of his mistakes, or verged on complaining about his methods.

Today they were discussing the Sanctuary’s remaining honored guest, the Dreamweaver Mirar. Though Reivan had seen him several times now, she found it hard to believe this man was over a thousand years old. It wasn’t that he looked no older than thirty - Imenja was far older than she appeared as well, but she had a bearing that suggested the confidence and wisdom of an older woman. Mirar lacked the aura of power Reivan had expected. He seemed too humble to be a great sorcerer of legend and the founder of a cult as old as the Dreamweavers.

The Voices were concerned with more important matters.

“So can Mirar read minds or can’t he?” Shar asked.

“He can’t,” Genza replied.

“But your test worked. He reacted.”

“He sensed a threat to himself, but not its nature,” Genza explained. “If he had known what the threat was he would never have stepped into the alcove. That indicates he has an ability to sense the mood of those around him, not read minds.”

“If I’d been observing people for a thousand or so years I would be able to sense moods too,” Vervel said. “Is it a magical ability or good observation?”

“The assassin was out of sight,” Genza reminded him. “This isn’t observation, it’s a Skill.”

“There is one final test I’d like to make,” Imenja said. The others turned to regard her. “A test that would surely betray his ability.”

“What is that?”

“Allow our Companions to know the true nature of the relationship between Mirar and Auraya.”

The other three Voices exchanged glances.

“If he can read minds, he will know we know,” Vervel pointed out.

“Yes. But he will also read that it only improves his position. That we have something to offer in exchange for his help in the battle. So long as he knows we are willing to make that offer, we will have his cooperation.”

“But we may lose it if Auraya dies,” Genza added.

“Most likely,” Imenja agreed. The Voices exchanged long looks, then she nodded. As she spoke her gaze moved from one Companion to the next.

“The gods have told us Mirar and Auraya were once lovers. It is more likely that he wishes to rescue her than kill her.”

Lovers? Reivan straightened in surprise. Surely not!