Voice of the Gods

The room was quiet. All were listening and watching the two Voices intently. Reivan realized her heart was pounding. Imenja had never challenged him publicly before.

Imenja pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Perhaps we should consult our people before we make such a broad- reaching decision for them. I wouldn’t want us to cause an unnecessary division among them, or deny them access to the Dreamweavers’ superior healing skills. Perhaps we could put it to a vote.”

She looked at the other Voices. They nodded and turned to regard Nekaun expectantly.

His eyebrows lowered and Reivan thought for a moment he would scowl. But he suddenly smiled and spread his hands. “Of course we shall. After the war. For now, let’s concentrate on the matter at hand. Come and meet the Elai king, Ais.”

As the Voices followed him, Reivan remained where she was. She watched Nekaun. Something nagged at her.

Then she saw it. After the war there would be no point in consulting the people about Dreamweavers. Nekaun would already have killed Auraya, or Mirar would have attempted to rescue her and forced Nekaun to carry out his threat.

The Second Voice looked across the room, met her eyes and nodded. It was clear her mistress had read Reivan’s mind, or come to the same conclusion independently. Nekaun knew about Imenja’s promise to Mirar that Auraya would be given to him after the war. Was Nekaun teasing the other Voices with his talk of killing Auraya? Or would Nekaun kill Auraya in defiance of his fellow Voices’ one attempt to interfere in his rule?

Reivan shivered. These days she couldn’t say which was more likely.

Endless days of riding in a platten hadn’t done anything to improve Danjin’s fitness. Sweat ran down his face and soaked his tunic. The rings on his fingers dug into his hands as he gripped the oars. His shoulders ached and he longed to just lie down and pass out.

“Take your time,” Ella had said, patting him on the shoulder. “Take all night if you need to. Just make sure you’re well away by dawn.”

Then she had propelled him and the boat out as far as she could. He had estimated from the twinkle of lights on either side that she had driven him halfway across the Gulf. Once the boat had drifted to a halt he had taken up the oars and begun rowing.

Every hundred or so strokes he paused to catch his breath. Finally reaching the hundredth stroke again - he had lost track of how many hundreds long ago - he turned to look behind. To his relief he had managed to continue in the right direction. The lights of the Pentadrian camp were all to his left. Darkness spread to the right. Behind him he could just make out a thin, pale line: the beach.

And as he watched a tiny blue light appeared and died.

The signal at last! Turning away, he started rowing again, spurred by a dubious excitement. Part of him took some satisfaction that he had been chosen for a task more suited to a younger, more adventurous man.

“Why me?” he had asked Ella.

“You know Auraya well enough to resist if she contacts you through the ring and tries to lure you away. You’re also smart enough to avoid heroics.”

“Like trying to rescue her?”

She had smiled. “Yes. Even with your mind hidden, you’d never get into the Sanctuary or overcome her guards.”

Of course he had considered the possibility. Given the chance to free Auraya, he would have. Not just out of concern and loyalty to her, but for the sake of the Circlians. They needed her strength to tip the balance back in their favor.

But the White hadn’t sent Danjin to free Auraya. They had sent him to meet the other cause of the imbalance of power.

The underneath of the boat scraped against sand. Danjin pulled in the oars and braced himself to stand, then nearly fell into the bottom of the boat as something began to pull it toward the shore. He grabbed the sides and twisted around, expecting to see someone hauling on the prow.

But there was nothing. He was heading toward a man-shaped shadow. The boat stopped a few strides away. Standing up, Danjin stepped over the side. Water chilled his feet and ankles. He looked down and frowned, but not at the soaking of his trousers and boots.

I had better leave on good terms. I’m not sure I could drag this boat back out into deeper water.

He looked up at the figure, took a deep breath and splashed toward it. That he had been betrayed and this was a Servant was the worst possibility, but not the only source of trepidation. Even if this was the right man, and although Danjin had worked with him before, there was much to fear and resent about him.

Stopping a few paces away, Danjin stared at the shadowed face.

“Welcome to Southern Ithania, Danjin Spear,” Mirar said dryly.

A chill ran over Danjin’s skin. The voice was all too familiar, but the tone was something he had never heard before. Leiard had always been dignified and reticent. When he had said anything, it was in a quiet, almost apologetic way.

Though spoken quietly, these words boomed with confidence. But not arrogance, he realized. There was great age and experience in them. This was the voice of Mirar the immortal.

Or maybe I’m hearing what I expect to hear, he thought wryly.

“Thank you, Mirar,” Danjin replied. “Though I have to wonder if you have permission to welcome me on the Pentadrians’ behalf.”

“What they don’t know won’t bother them,” Mirar replied.

Was there a hint of contempt there? Danjin wondered.

“But the sooner I return the less chance my absence will be noticed and wondered about,” Mirar added after a pause. “What have you come to tell me?”

Danjin straightened. “The White have sent me to make you an offer. I am linked to them so if you have any question or request—”

“They want me out of the battle,” Mirar interrupted. “I can’t agree to that.”

Danjin swallowed. “Not even in exchange for the freedom of your people?”

Mirar was silent for a moment. “So are they making an offer or threatening me?”

“Not a threat,” Danjin said hastily. “They will promise to allow your people to practice all their Gifts, including mind links, if you desist from helping the Pentadrians.”

“And in return for abandoning the Pentadrians my people here will suffer. Which side is more likely to win this war if I take the White’s offer, Danjin Spear?”

“It would be impossible to guess.”

“And which side if I remain with the Pentadrians?”

Danjin sighed. “Yours.”

:Ask him if Auraya would forgive him for the deaths of her friends and people. Ella’s voice was a whisper in Danjin’s mind. He resisted the urge to touch her ring.

“How will Auraya regard you if you help bring about the deaths of her friends, family and her people?” he asked, keeping his voice gentle.

“Oh, she’ll be in raptures of delight,” Mirar replied, his voice heavy with sarcasm. “But at least there’s a small chance that she won’t be dead. If the White win, she will die.”

“Is that why you’re doing this?” Danjin found himself whispering. Why am I whispering? Do I think the White won’t hear me?

Mirar didn’t reply. His silence might suggest he was unwilling to admit to something. That he still feels something for Auraya? Danjin considered Mirar’s responses. He hadn’t given away anything. Perhaps he doesn’t want to admit that his reasons are less than noble. That he’s doing this out of revenge.

“Is there anything the White can offer you?” Danjin asked.

He was surprised to hear Mirar sigh. “No. But be assured that I will not compromise my people’s stand on