Voice of the Gods

to sleeping in hammocks, not the hard ground, their exhaustion would ensure they got some rest.

As quiet settled over the camp, Auraya’s stomach sank as she felt a familiar approaching presence. She knew it was Huan by the way the hairs rose on the back of her neck.

Huan moved to priest Teel and spoke into his mind. First she asked how the Siyee had fared, then, as always, she asked what Auraya had done. Teel reported Auraya’s every movement faithfully.

:She is not to fight in this battle, Huan told him.

:Even if we are losing? Teel asked.

:Even then. This is to be a warning to the Pentadrians that every time they strike at Circlians there will be retribution. It needs to be delivered by Circlian fighters. If Auraya fights, it will appear to come from her.

:But she is a Circlian, too.

:But not our chosen weapon of retribution. How will the Pentadrians learn to respect ordinary Circlians if ordinary Circlians do not stand up and fight?

:I see.

:Yes. You are a good example for your people, Teel. You are loyal and obedient.

Auraya felt Teel’s pride swell.

:I will do whatever you want me to.

:I know you will, Teel. Your heart is true. Of the Siyee priests, you show the most promise. I know you will not fail me.

Auraya rolled her eyes. The young man was already stuffed full of his own importance. He did not need Huan boosting his confidence and pride any further. As the flattery and declarations of loyalty continued, she found herself feeling faintly nauseous.

This is one of the gods I used to love unreservedly? she asked herself. It was terrible discovering that Huan hates me and wants me dead, but this is sickening. She’s turning him into a blind fanatic. He’ll probably be so sure she will protect her little favorite that he’ll rush into the battle and get himself killed.

Sighing, she rolled over. I don’t love the gods equally any more. When I die Chaia had better be the one to take my soul. I think if it was a choice of being taken by Huan or fading out of existence, I’d choose the latter.

This was a terrible blasphemy, she knew, but for once it didn’t send a shiver of fear down her spine.

19

Ella’s circ lay beside her, neatly folded. On top of her white dress she wore the travelling wrap local women favored. She wore it in the usual fashion: slung around the shoulders. It could also be lifted to cover the head during rain, or wrapped about the torso for warmth, but Danjin hadn’t seen her try either yet. They’d had only dry summer days since leaving Chon.

Sitting opposite Ella in the platten was Yem, the eldest son of the Dregger clan leader. The young man was as lean and muscular as most warriors were, and he was intelligent and politically astute. Danjin had also noticed that Yem was unusually sympathetic toward servants and for that reason he was a strange choice of guide for them.

Dunwayan warriors expected loyalty from their servants. There was no law preventing a servant leaving a household; he or she could even try to find employment elsewhere, though doing so was difficult since most clans had plenty of servants and few warriors would accept a servant who had already proven disloyal by leaving the service of another.

What the Pentadrians had done by arranging the “escape” of servants could rouse a general rebellion of servants against the warriors. Danjin had expected I-Portak to choose someone less sympathetic to the servants to be Ella’s guide. Someone more like Gim, their last dinner host.

The other occupant of the covered platten was Gillen Shieldarm, the Hanian ambassador. During the long hours that Danjin and Ella had spent waiting in Chon, Gillen had visited at least once a day, keeping them entertained with stories or games of counters. Now, on the road, he did the same using the small set that Silava had packed for Danjin. Sometimes it seemed the only conversation in the platten was between Danjin and Gillen, and about counters.

Danjin suspected Gillen had offered to accompany them because he was bored in Chon. Ella had accepted Gillen’s offer because he had a deeper understanding of Dunwayan customs and recent politics than Danjin. Ella spent most of her time staring into the distance, listening to the minds of the men they were tracking. Yem remained quiet, only speaking when addressed. Danjin was sure Yem’s silence had nothing to do with snobbery, but was either a sign the young man was unsure of himself, intimidated by Ella, or was simply the sort who preferred to listen rather than talk.

Yem and Gillen didn’t know as much as Danjin did about the reason for this journey. During the dinner at Gim’s household, Ella had caught the nervous thoughts of Ton, a servant planning to leave his master’s service. For some time now the man had been meeting a Sennonian spice seller. The seller had told him that Dunwayan servants were little more than slaves, and spoke of a place where all people were equal and all work was shared. A place in the south of Dunway.

A visit to the market confirmed Ella’s suspicions. One of the spice sellers was a Sennonian Pentadrian with orders to send potential Dunwayan converts out of Chon. He did not know where he was sending them, unfortunately, but through him Ella found the mind of the escaping servant, Ton.

As she’d hoped, Ton had just begun the journey to the haven for servants. From that day he passed in and out of the care of various men and women - none of whom knew where this haven was or more than one other guide. It was a carefully planned system designed to make tracing the Pentadrians difficult.

Difficult, but not impossible, Ella had said. All she had to do was follow the servant. Though he did not know where he was most of the time, she was able to learn his location from the people around him.

Looking out of the open door flap, Danjin found himself looking into the tops of tall trees. The road had been hewn out of the steep sides of the mountains south of Chon. If he looked down, which he preferred not to do, he would see the edge of the road and a slope that was too close to vertical for comfort.

Ella made a small, frustrated sound, drawing his attention away. She was shaking her head.

“What is it?” he asked.

“They’ve sent him on alone. He has no idea where he’s going.” She frowned and looked at Yem. “Let’s consult the map.”

The young man drew out a wooden cylinder and unstoppered it. From it he took a roll of thin leather covered in tattooed pictures and lines. He had told them it was human skin. The warrior who had created it had travelled around Dunway for years, carefully etching his map into the back of his most devoted servant. Since hearing the tale, Danjin had done all he could to avoid touching the map.

Small blurred pictures of fortresses were spread evenly across the country. The roads were inaccurately straight, showing none of the winding turns the platten had taken. Lines in a faded red showed the boundaries of land owned by different clans.

“He’s here,” Ella said, pointing to a group of symbols that indicated the houses of land servants. “His instructions are to walk along this road until he sees a big rock shaped like an arem, then take the next left turn. Then he’s to look for a large tree and cut across fields.”

Danjin suddenly understood her frustration. These instructions couldn’t be followed on a map. The man had no idea where he was, or where he was going, and had no companions or guides who did.

These Pentadrians are clever, Danjin thought. But they won’t evade us. It’s just a matter of time.

“Eventually he will see a landmark I know,” Yem assured her.

“And by then we will have fallen behind,” Ella said, clearly not happy.

“We could travel to the place he just left,” Gillen suggested. “Then follow the instructions.” Their platten was