Auraya frowned. “After I retrieve Mischief,” she added. She touched the blue cloth wound around her body. “And pay that merchant for this and the food I took.”
Emerahl chuckled. “You’ll need some money, then.”
Auraya looked up. “Yes.”
“I have the next best thing. I buried it not far from here, actually.”
“The treasure,” Surim said.
Emerahl smiled. “Yes. I think I can spare a little for Auraya. After all, she couldn’t have turned up in rags - or with no clothes on. That just wouldn’t have been right.”
“I don’t know...” Mirar disagreed.
“Mischief,” Surim said. “Didn’t he free Auraya? Who is this man?”
“A veez,” Mirar said.
Surim looked at Mirar in surprise, then grinned. “Do you mean that, after all you did - or failed to do - to free Auraya, it was a veez that managed it?”
“Yes,” Emerahl replied.
Surim laughed. “I wonder if this poor creature realizes it spoiled any chances you had that Auraya would fall into your arms in gratitude.”
Emerahl snorted. “For the sake of women everywhere, tell me you wouldn’t have done that, Auraya.”
The corner of Auraya’s mouth twitched upward. “I might have. I might not.” She looked at Mirar. “I guess we’ll never know.”
He shrugged. “The past can’t be changed. But the future looks good. Full of endless possibilities.”
Looking away, he saw that the others were exchanging smug grins before they quickly smoothed their expressions.
“And no gods,” Emerahl added.
“But still plenty of mortals,” The Gull said. “Don’t underestimate them. They can be as dangerous as gods. More dangerous, as the gods were limited by the need for willing followers to do their work.”
The others considered this silently.
“We should stay in contact,” Emerahl said, looking around. “Visit each other - and perhaps meet once a year.”
“Yes,” Surim agreed. “Perhaps at Tamun’s new empire of artists.”
Mirar was pleased to see Auraya nodding.
“I’ll visit you all, so long as you let me know where you are, as I travel around the continents,” he said. He looked at Auraya. “Will I be welcome in Si?”
She almost smiled. “Of course.”
Mirar felt his heart stir with hope.
Emerahl rose to her feet. “If we’re going to get this treasure, we’d better do it before we drink too much.” She looked at Auraya. “Would you help me carry it?”
Auraya shrugged, then rose and followed Emerahl into the sand dunes. Looking at her wasted body, Mirar felt a pang of concern.
He caught up with Auraya soon after. She was out of breath, and had stopped. Emerahl’s tracks led away, over the top of a dune. Auraya turned to smile ruefully at him.
“Your healing method does have its limitations,” she told him.
He nodded. “You can only draw upon the resources you have. But a few meals should help fix that.”
Auraya nodded and looked at the ground, frowning. Concerned, he moved closer.
“Are you all right?”
She looked up, then smiled and, without warning, stepped close and kissed him on the mouth. It was more than a mere friendly kiss, but it was brief.
It left him frozen in surprise, heart pounding.
“What was that for?” he managed eventually.
“A thank you,” she said. “All through my... my captivity you kept me company. You gave me hope and courage.” She paused. “And as you said, the future is full of endless possibilities.”
She smiled and, not waiting for him to say anything in return, turned away to determinedly follow Emerahl’s footsteps up the sand dune.
Mirar watched her disappear over the top, then followed, knowing he was grinning like a fool, and not caring.
The man that walked hesitantly through the door was thin and lean. His clothes were simple but the cloth was not poor quality, and his sandals were new. Despite his nervousness, he walked with the ease of a man confident of his place in the world. His hair was gray and his skin wrinkled, but his gaze was direct and sharp.
Propped up on pillows, the Emperor of Sennon assessed the man out of old habit and with skill learned over his long life. Though he saw intelligence and confidence in this man, he also noted with relief the absence of a certain hardness of demeanor he had come to recognize in men who were ambitious, greedy or cruel.
The man took in the bed, the emperor and his companion in one quick glance, then dropped to his knees and pressed his forehead to the floor.
“Rise.” The visitor obeyed, but kept his eyes downcast. “So you are the Wise Man of Karienne,” the emperor stated. “Do you have a name as well as a title?”
The Wise Man nodded. “My name is Eralayo Scribe. Or Ero.”
“You’ve been preaching for some time. If I was not so...” the emperor gestured at the bed “... so indisposed I would come to listen to you.”
“I am honored you say so.”
“Which is why I have brought you here. Tell me about this Maker you speak of.”
The Wise Man looked up in surprise. He glanced at the emperor’s companion, then met the emperor’s eyes again. His shoulders rose and fell as he gathered his courage. Then he straightened.
“We are all creations of the Maker,” he said. “Everything was made by him. Every animal, every plant, every man and woman. Even the dust beneath your feet. Even the gods.”
He paused and swallowed audibly. “The Maker made the world, and his purpose is a mystery to us. We wonder why he made such a flawed world. The Maker made creatures that we consider evil. But why do we consider them evil? Because they kill?” He spread his hands. “A reyna eats plants. Plants are living things as well. The reyna kills the plant it eats. We fear the leramars and the vorns because they can kill us, but they do not do so out of malice, but hunger. We dislike them because they eat our stock. That is not evil, just costly.”
The emperor smiled at that.
“We wonder why the Maker made mortals capable of evil,” the Wise Man continued. “There is much about the Maker that we do not understand. We have only just begun to perceive him. Perhaps in time he will allow us to understand more.”
The Wise Man fell silent, but his expression was expectant.
