Voice of the Gods

“You should have told me about this.”

“I was going to but... Mother distracted me.”

He nodded, then turned back to the unconscious man. A chill ran down her back as he began to untie the bandages. “Is that wise?” she asked hesitantly.

“Naen will watch him. How much sleepease did you give him?”

“Not much. A small spoon’s worth.”

The man’s eyes fluttered in reaction to Kleven’s touch. He wasn’t waking up, but he would soon.

“Stop,” she found herself saying. “You can’t let him wake up. You have to drug him again.”

Kleven turned to stare at her questioningly. “Why?”

She sighed. “It’s incredible, but you have to believe me. I was warned about him and ordered to immobilize him by...” She grimaced. “I know you’ll find this hard to believe - by Yranna.”

Kleven’s eyebrows rose. “The goddess?”

“Yes. She spoke to me. In my mind. And no, I don’t usually hear voices in my head.”

The priest considered her thoughtfully. She saw the doubts in his eyes, but could not tell whether he hesitated to believe her or to risk acting against a god’s orders.

“How am I to know you’re not making this up?”

“I can’t prove it, if that is what you mean. But I can point out that I have never acted with anything but good sense before - or shown signs of madness.”

“You haven’t,” Kleven agreed. “But it does not make sense that Yranna would speak to you but not the rest of us. If this man is a danger to the hospice, we all need to know.”

“That puzzled me, too,” she admitted. “Perhaps the danger has passed... but I’m not willing to take that risk. Are you?”

Kleven looked at the sleeping man dubiously.

“Can I offer any assistance?”

They turned to find Dreamweaver Fareeh standing in the doorway. Ella groaned inwardly. Kleven hadn’t finished untying the bindings, and as the Dreamweaver noticed them his eyebrows rose.

“A troublesome patient?”

Kleven looked at Ella. “In more ways than one.”

The Dreamweaver looked at the sleeping man, then at each of them, and nodded. He began to move away. Kleven sighed. “Ella here says she was instructed by Yranna to immobilize him.”

Ella turned to stare at the priest in surprise.

“Ah,” was all Fareeh said.

Why would Kleven tell him that? Slowly the reason dawned on her. If he doesn’t, Fareeh would know we are keeping something from him. That might change how he deals with us. She shook her head. This balance of trust and distrust between our peoples is so easily tipped.

“Do you believe her?” Kleven asked.

The Dreamweaver shrugged. “I do not believe what I cannot confirm with my own senses, so belief is irrelevant. Either she is wrong, or she is right. Either situation is alarming. I can suggest only that you bring both patient and priestess to the greeting hall so that we can all help to watch and deal with any trouble that arises from this.”

The older priest nodded. “Good advice.”

Ella watched anxiously as Kleven lifted the unconscious man with magic and carried him out into the hall. Visitors and healers alike, bored and eager for distraction, watched curiously as this stranger was laid upon a bench. But as time passed and the man did nothing but sleep, their attention soon strayed.

Watching the stranger, Ella wondered what he had planned to do. Were you going to attack us? Were you going to slip out of the room while we were distracted and open the back door to let your people in? Every time the man moved, Ella’s heart lurched.

When the man’s eyes finally fluttered open she rose, ready to face any kind of attack with magic.

“Sit down, Priestess Ella,” Kleven said calmly, but firmly. She obeyed.

The stranger struggled up onto his elbows, staring groggily about. His gaze fell on Ella, and he shuddered.

“Wha’ hap’n’d?” he asked. “Sh’, she t’tack’d me.”

“Stay calm. You are not in any danger,” Kleven said soothingly. “Take a moment to recollect yourself.”

The man’s gaze roamed the room. “Still here. Wh—... am I a pris’ner?”

“No.”

He began to struggle to his feet. Kleven stood and steadied the man.

“Let me go.”

“All in good time. You’ve had a small dose of a sleep drug. Just let it wear off.”

“Sleep... why’d you drug me?”

“One of us believed you intended us harm. Is that true?”

The expression that crossed the man’s face sent shivers down Ella’s spine. Guilt! she thought. He was planning something.

“No. I just came to...” He reached up and touched his brow, flinching as his fingers found the stitches. He drew in a deep breath and straightened his back, then stood up. He swayed a moment, then took a few steps. The drug was wearing off quickly, and nobody was moving to stop the man as he walked with growing confidence across the room and back.

“I’m right,” he said. “Can I go now?”

Kleven shrugged and nodded. “I can see no reason why we should keep you here... except that there’s a hostile crowd outside. You’ll get another one of those scratches, at the least, if you try to leave.”

The man looked at Ella pointedly. “I’ll risk it.”

Kleven shrugged. “We won’t stop you, we can only warn you. I will release the door.”

Nobody stirred as the man started toward the door. Ella frowned. She ought to be glad he was leaving, his plan foiled. But something nagged at her. Why would Yranna let this man go if he had threatened the hospice? Yranna had said...

Then she realized what it was.

“Stop!” she cried, jumping up. The man ignored her.

“Ella...” Kleven began.

As the man put his hand to the door Ella drew magic and sent out a barrier to stop him. He pressed the invisible shield and turned to glare at her angrily.

“Ella!” Kleven barked. “Let him go!”

“No,” she replied calmly. “Yranna told me to immobilize him. She didn’t say why. Maybe it was to prevent him harming us. Maybe it was to prevent him leaving.”

The man backed away from the door and turned to face her, his face contorted with anger. She felt Kleven take hold of her arm.

“Ella. We can’t...”

His voice faded and she heard him draw in a quick breath. A rapping came from the door. Kleven let her go.

“Drop your barrier, Ella,” he murmured. “Rian of the White is here.”

She did as he asked. The door swung open. A man wearing an undecorated circ stepped over the threshold. Rian, the red-haired White, regarded the stranger with ancient eyes.

“You’ve led us quite a chase, Lemarn Shipmaker.”

The stranger backed away, his face pale. A high priestess stepped into the hospice. At a nod from Rian, she gestured at the man. He walked stiffly past her and through the door, obviously guided by an invisible force.

Rian turned to regard the hospice occupants. “The troublemakers have prudently found other places to be. You can leave safely now. Or stay and continue your work or treatment, as you wish.”

From around the room came several sighs of relief. Kleven stepped forward and made the formal two-handed sign of the circle.

“Thank you, Rian of the White.”