Voice of the Gods

Auraya looked away. “Mind-skimming is much like mind-reading. Sometimes you find out things you wish you hadn’t.”

“Ah.” Jade dropped the birds onto the cooking stone between the beds. “Believe me, knowing too much is a familiar curse to us immortals.”

“Like knowing the secret of immortality?”

Jade’s eyes rose to meet Auraya’s, then narrowed. “No, that’s one piece of knowledge I don’t regret having.” One of her eyebrows lifted. “And it’s one you have, too. You just need to spend a little time thinking about it.”

Jade was right. The gods already considered her knowledge of magical healing to be almost as damning as knowledge of immortality. And Huan had allowed Auraya to learn magical healing in order to persuade the other gods to kill her.

“Thinking time? That’s all it takes?”

“Yes.” Jade smiled. “Consider everything Mirar taught you about healing a body with magic. All you need do is apply it to your own. Begin a constant state of renewal and you need never age or die. Mirar said you learned to heal easily; this should come just as naturally. But don’t think about it now,” she added, her tone suddenly practical. “I need you to pluck and gut these feathered darlings while I fetch some vegetables.”

The house smelled faintly of stale sweat and mold beneath the tang of cleansing herbs. Danjin started up the stairs, trying not to breathe too deeply.

Ella had hired a few rooms in a house across the road from the hospice. The condition of it couldn’t be helped. They needed to be in sight of the people passing the hospice and since the hospice was in the poor quarter most of the buildings were squalid. Ella didn’t appear to be bothered by the smell. She didn’t touch the food brought by the wife of the house’s owner, however, and Danjin took that as a warning not to be ignored. If someone who could read minds avoided eating something, it was always wise to follow suit.

Ella had assured Danjin that the owner and his wife would not gossip about their guests. Having seen the mobs that gathered outside the hospice, and heard of Dreamweaver murders, their hosts weren’t going to risk bringing any attention to themselves.

The alley behind the house was kept clear of the homeless and loiterers. Ella and Danjin arrived each day in an ordinary platten, entered the house via the rear door and for a few hours Ella sat by the window watching the people on the street below. She had seen a plan to block the hospice’s entrance in someone’s mind yesterday and managed to prevent it by stopping messages to supporters reaching their targets.

News of the most recent murder of a Dreamweaver and disappearance of his student had left her angry and disappointed. She had known and respected the Dreamweaver, though she did not remember much about his student. Danjin knew she was frustrated. They had hoped that by watching people around the hospice she would be able to prevent such crimes. Ella’s expression while watching had grown more intense since the Dreamweaver’s murder.

Reaching the top of the stairs, Danjin walked to the last door and knocked. There was a click and the door swung inward. Ella was sitting by the window as usual.

“Come in, Danjin Spear,” Ella said.

Closing the door, Danjin turned to find Ella rubbing her temples.

“You look pained, Ellareen of the White.”

She grimaced. “All this mind-reading is disorientating.” She straightened. “I have come to a few conclusions. Sit down and tell me what you think.”

He settled onto a chunky wooden chair made only slightly less uncomfortable by a few mean cushions. She looked out of the window again and her eyes narrowed. “Remember how I said that the murderer we questioned not only hated Dreamweavers, but he feared them? I’ve been looking for what people fear about the Dreamweavers. It’s been interesting. They don’t fear individual Dreamweavers, nor Dreamweavers in general. Dreamweavers have always been too few in number and lacking in influence or ambition to be a threat. What people fear is that this will change.” She looked at Danjin. “They fear that Mirar’s return will make the Dreamweavers dangerous.”

“So when this rumor dies the hospice will be safe again.”

Ella shook her head. “It won’t die. Mirar has returned.”

He stared at her in shock. Mirar, the immortal leader of the Dreamweavers, alive? Now he could understand how those who believed the rumor must feel. Who would not feel a stirring of fear at the knowledge that the legendary immortal enemy of the gods still lived? To be immortal, a sorcerer must be immensely Gifted. Juran, the most powerful of the Gods’ Chosen, had been given the task of executing Mirar. All believed he had succeeded. Had that been a lie, or had Juran been deceived?

“How did he survive?” he asked Ella.

“Mirar was buried and his body crushed, but with his healing magic he nurtured enough of himself that he was able to recover later. He suppressed his own knowledge of his true identity, and was able to hide from the gods.”

Hidden for a century. Waiting for his chance to... to what?

“Why reveal himself now?” Danjin asked, as much to himself as to Ella. “Did he mean to?”

Ella smiled. “No.”

“What happened?”

She looked away. “I’m not free to tell you that. Yet.”

Danjin smiled and nodded. “But there is more to tell.” He would consider that later. For now he could only give her advice based on the information she had given him. “Most people will not be sure if the rumor is true or not,” he said, thinking aloud. “Your concern is with those who believe it and hate the idea so passionately that they attack Dreamweavers and the hospice.”

She nodded. “People fear Mirar deeply. Some even fear to seek Dreamweaver help in case the one they encounter turns out to be Mirar. Perhaps we could have artisans paint pictures of him so people know that the Dreamweaver they consult is just an ordinary man.”

“The people who visit the hospice are not the people you need to be concerned with,” he pointed out. “I doubt the troublemakers would ever consider seeking Dreamweaver help. You said people feared a change in the Dreamweavers under Mirar’s influence. That is the fear that drives them to kill.”

“How can I fight that?” she asked, frowning. “I could tell them that we’ll easily be able to stop the Dreamweavers if they turn on us, but why would they believe me? If they had any faith in us they wouldn’t be attacking anyone now.”

“It helps, sometimes, to remind people they’re safe. A little reassurance now and then never goes astray.”

Her frown faded and she looked thoughtful. “Won’t it seem as if we expect the Dreamweavers to turn on us if we say we’re ready for it?”

“Maybe. Maybe it isn’t a bad thing that they’re becoming more suspicious of Dreamweavers. I might have suggested you find a way to reassure people that Mirar can’t or won’t influence Dreamweavers, but I fear that would be foolish. I expect Mirar will take control of his people again.”

Ella scowled. “He won’t live that long.”

Her confidence was both reassuring and disturbing. “I’m glad to hear it.” He paused. “And perhaps this is what people need to hear... unless there is a chance his execution will fail again.”

She looked at him, her eyes dark.

“It won’t. Unless he can rejuvenate his body from ashes.” The corner of her mouth twitched. “But we have to find him first, so we’d best not mention killing him just yet.”

8

Outside the cave the tops of the trees glowed with the last rays of the sun. Emerahl set her back to the rock