Voice of the Gods

to be done, I can only do my best to oblige them.

The force of her magic knocked him against the wall, driving air from his lungs. Pushing him down onto the bench, she held him there, hoping that he was too caught up in fighting for air to use any Gifts he might have.

But he’ll recover his wits soon enough. Yranna suggested drugs...

Grabbing a bottle of sleep vapor oil, she poured some onto a cloth and held it against his nose until his eyes glazed over. It would subdue him for several minutes, but what then? The blockade might last for hours.

I need a sleep inducer. She searched the room and found a nearly empty jar of sleepease powder. Mixing up a thin draft from the remnants, she carefully poured it down his throat. It roused him to a semi-conscious state; he coughed, then swallowed the mixture before subsiding into unconsciousness again.

She stood back to assess her handiwork, and realized she had no idea how long such a small dose of the drug would work for. A half-cupful induced a full night’s sleep. The dose she’d given might last an hour, if she was lucky. She could find more sleepease, but it was dangerous and difficult to administer to a fully unconscious patient. It might get into his lungs. She looked down at the man.

Yranna said to immobilize you, she thought, not kill you. What did you have planned, anyway, Mal Toolmaker?

On impulse, she grabbed a few strips of bandages, tied his hands and feet and gagged him. To hide this, she took a blanket and covered the man, leaving only the top of his head showing.

But this would not stop him attracting attention when he woke up. The others will want to know why I did this. What am I going to tell them? She was not sure they would believe her if she told them the goddess had instructed her to immobilize a patient. Well, they might eventually, but in the meantime they’ll probably set him free to do whatever he intends to do.

He’d suffered a blow to the head, so it would be plausible to say he’d experienced dizziness or disorientation. Sleep drugs were not the usual treatment, however. She would have to come up with other ways to explain that.

“Ella!” a familiar voice called from within the corridor.

Ella spun around. Her mother must have slipped away from Priest Naen. She hurried out of the room before the woman could discover her with a bound and gagged patient.

In the corridor a thin graying woman wrapped in a clean, well-made tawl of fine cloth, scowled disapprovingly as she saw Ella.

“Ella. At last. I need to have a little talk with you.”

“So long as it is little,” Ella said, keeping her attitude businesslike. “Come back to the greeting hall.”

“You must stop working here,” her mother told her in a low voice as she followed Ella. “It’s too dangerous. It’s bad enough knowing you’re constantly under the influence of these heathens, but now it’s worse. The rumors are all over the city. I’m surprised you haven’t already had the sense to leave this—”

“Mother,” Ella interrupted. “What are you talking about?”

“Mirar is back,” her mother replied. “Or haven’t you heard?”

“Obviously not,” Ella said.

“He was - is - the leader of the Dreamweavers. A Wild, you know. They say he wasn’t killed a century ago; he survived. He’s been in hiding and now he’s returned.”

“Who says this?” Ella asked, trying not to sound too skeptical.

“Everybody - and don’t give me that look. He’s been seen by many people. And the White aren’t denying it.”

“Have they had a chance to?”

“Of course they have. Now, you listen to me. You can’t work here any more. You have to stop!”

“I’m not abandoning people who need my help because of a rumor.”

“It’s not rumor!” her mother exclaimed, forgetting that she had already called the claims of Mirar’s return such. “It is the truth! What if he comes here? Think what he might do to you! You might not even recognize him. He might be working here now, in disguise! He might seduce you!”

Ella managed, with difficulty, to keep the smile from her face. Seduce indeed! “Dreamweavers do not interest me, Mother.”

But the woman wasn’t listening. As the possible threats to Ella’s person grew more preposterous, Ella steered her mother toward a bench in the greeting hall.

“And now look what’s happened,” her mother said abruptly, sitting down. “Because he’s returned, we’re stuck in here. Isn’t there a back door to this place? Can’t we—”

“No. When this happens there are always troublemakers waiting outside the back entrance.”

“If you were a high priestess they wouldn’t dare.”

Ella smothered a sigh. Tell me, Yranna, are all mothers like this? Are they ever satisfied with their offspring? If I managed to become a high priestess would she decide I ought to be a White? If by some miracle I became a White, would she start nagging me to become a god?

She gave her mother the usual answer. “If I were a high priestess I would have no time to see you at all.”

Her mother shrugged and turned away. “We hardly see you anyway.”

Only every second or third day, Ella thought. How neglectful I am. How deprived are my parents. If I ever get like this, she thought, please, Yranna, have someone kill me.

“Have you heard who is going to replace Auraya?” her mother asked.

“No.”

“Surely you must have heard something by now.”

How is it she can make even that sound like a failing?

“As you’ve pointed out so many times before, I am only a lowly priestess, unworthy of notice or respect, or even the deepest of Circlian secrets,” Ella replied dryly, expecting to be scolded for her sarcasm.

But her mother wasn’t listening. “It’ll be one of the high priests,” her mother said, mostly to herself. “We need someone strong - not some frivolous young girl with a liking for heathens. The gods did right to kick that Auraya girl out of the White.”

“She wasn’t kicked out. She resigned to help the Siyee.”

“That’s not what I heard.” Her mother’s eyes shone with glee at the gossip she was privy to. “I heard she refused to do what the gods asked of her, and they took her powers from her.”

Ella gritted her teeth. “Well, I talk to Yranna all the time, and she mentioned nothing about that. Besides, a good healer doesn’t spend work hours gossiping.”

Her mother’s eyes narrowed and her chin rose. Before she could speak, however, Ella heard her name called. She looked up and felt her stomach sink as she saw Priest Naen and Priest Kleven approaching. Both were frowning.

“What happened to the man with the cut brow, Ella?” Kleven asked.

“He... he became angry when he heard we were trapped here.”

“So you sedated him?”

Leaving her mother sitting on the bench, she rose and hurried over to Kleven, lowering her voice.

“Yes. He was... very angry. I used sleep vapor, and when he showed no ill effects I gave him a tiny dose of sleepease.”

“Sleepease? On a man suffering a head blow?” Kleven exclaimed quietly. He shook his head and started toward the corridor. Ella felt her heart skip a beat, and hurried after him.

“Anyone suffering a head injury who displays strange behavior should be watched closely,” Kleven told her as he entered the room. He drew the blanket from Mal Toolmaker’s head, exposing the gag.

“What is this?” he said. Pulling the blanket away, he exclaimed as the bandages tying the man’s hands and feet were revealed.

“He attacked me,” she told him.

He looked at her sharply. “Are you all right?”

She shrugged. “Yes. He didn’t touch me.”