Voice of the Gods

Mirar’s skin prickled in warning. He made himself smile. “If I must, though I’ll admit I would gain no pleasure from it.”

Her smile widened. “Then don’t. I will be returning to Glymma in a few days. I want you to accompany me. You should meet my fellow Voices.”

A chill ran down Mirar’s spine. This was no invitation, though it wasn’t a straight order. He regarded her seriously. “Be assured I am honored by the invitation. I do intend to visit Glymma and would like to meet the other Voices. I would prefer to have seen more of Southern Ithania first. Must my visit be so soon?”

She nodded. “Your travels can wait. There can be nothing more important for you now than establishing a friendly acquaintance with us.” Her expression softened and she tilted her head. “And I think you will provide entertaining company on my return journey.”

Mirar suppressed a sigh. He was not going to be able to refuse her.

“When do you leave?”

“In two days.”

A cheer gave him an excuse to shift his attention away. The muscular young man was performing acrobatics to entertain the voters. Genza snorted softly.

“Thank the gods the Chieftain is not chosen by popularity alone,” she murmured.

“Do the Trials have any effect on the decision?”

She gave him an affronted look that was clearly faked.

“Of course they do. If we didn’t let the people think they had a part in it, they might not accept our decision.”

He nodded. “I guessed as much.”

“You disapprove?”

“Not at all. I know you’ll choose wisely.”

“How can you be sure?”

“While you and your fellow Voices are probably willing to sort out any troubles in Kave, I’m sure you’d rather not make the long journey here too often, especially not in summer.”

She chuckled. “Kave isn’t at its best this time of year. There’s no better time to visit Glymma, actually. Will you come with me?”

He smothered a sigh and considered. I have no pressing reason to refuse and risk offending her and the other Voices. Since I will most likely meet these Voices eventually, it may as well be at their invitation. He nodded.

“Wonderful!” she exclaimed. “I shall arrange a cabin for you on my barge.”

Another cheer came from the crowd. Looking out at the city, Mirar thought back to the battle between the Circlians and the Pentadrians. He remembered watching a black-robed woman, one of the Pentadrian leaders, slaughtering mortals with magic. He realized then that Genza was the Voice that had bred the black birds that had savaged the Siyee, clawing at wings and eyes and sending sky people falling to their deaths.

So? Auraya probably killed just as many Pentadrians, he reminded himself.

But somehow it was easier to imagine Auraya feeling bad about it than Genza.

Auraya had learned much about Nekaun, the First Voice of the Gods, since the previous day. After she had taken the food she had stolen to the two Siyee, she had carried Mischief to a new vantage point. From there she watched with both mind and eyes the activities below. Though she could not sense the mind of the First Voice, she could observe him through others.

He had been elected by his people, not by his gods. Prior to his election he had been in charge of a temple dedicated to one of the Pentadrian goddesses, Hrun. That goddess was a benign one concerned with love and family, and his role had been to arrange and lead the rituals of the Temple.

The Second Voice of the Gods, Imenja, was rumored to dislike and disagree with Nekaun. This was attributed to the fact that Imenja’s adviser, Companion Reivan, was known to be Nekaun’s current lover. All expected this situation to improve when Nekaun, notoriously fickle, moved on to a new lover.

Good to see our enemies enjoy just as much scandal and gossip as we do, she thought.

Imenja and two of the other Voices were in Glymma. Ironically, it was Genza, the woman in charge of the fighting birds the Siyee had tried to attack, who was furthest from the city, attending to a ceremony in the south of the continent.

Auraya had also learned much about the Pentadrian religion. Information gathered by the White’s spies had told her the names of the Voices and their gods, as well as a few Dedicated Servants, but no Circlian spies had been able to supply many details of their beliefs and hierarchy. All Servants could wield magic except, interestingly, this Companion Reivan, who had gained the position in return for a good deed during the war.

Reivan had been a member of a group of intellectuals known as the Thinkers. In Jarime there were social circles of academics and enthusiasts, but nothing like this organized society of men and women of learning.

Not long after dawn the town had begun to stir. Auraya had watched, Mischief curled up in her lap, as the inhabitants had risen and set about their daily tasks. Some of the Pentadrians, however, were occupied with less routine work: tending to and arranging for the transportation of their Siyee prisoners to Glymma.

Auraya watched as uncovered platten were hired in one part of the town and Siyee were given water and bread in another. She observed Nekaun through the eyes of his Servants. All the time she looked for flaws in their plans that might give her and the Siyee the opportunity for escape.

So far the Siyee had been securely imprisoned close to Nekaun inside a building. Once outside, the only person who could prevent her freeing them was Nekaun. Any attempt to free them would have to happen before they reached Glymma. She was sure escape would be much harder to arrange once they reached the city.

A line of platten now waited outside the building. The First Voice emerged and walked around the vehicles as if inspecting them. She tensed as she detected the Siyee’s fear rising. They were being taken out of the room they had been imprisoned within. Pentadrians guided them firmly out of the building. She watched as, one by one, they were taken outside, lifted into the platten and bound to iron rings attached to the vehicles’ sides.

If only Nekaun wasn’t here, she thought.

But even if he hadn’t been, how could she have freed the Siyee without fighting off the attacks of the Servants? She ground her teeth. Chaia’s voice echoed in her memory.

:... If this ambush of yours leads to Auraya turning from us...

She was determined to disappoint Huan. If she was going to fail a test of loyalty, it would be by doing something much less trivial than fighting when she had been ordered not to.

But what if not fighting leads to the Siyee’s deaths? Auraya’s jaw ached from grinding her teeth. She rubbed it, then sighed. I’ll only be able to decide that when - if - the time comes. But if they die I will make Huan pay for it. Somehow.

She grimaced at her own thoughts then. How had she come to the point of wishing to take revenge on a god she had once loved?

Mirar would find this amusing.

The platten were full of Siyee and Pentadrians now. The last of the vehicles bore only Nekaun and a driver. They began to move.

People paused to stare as the procession wound through the town. The Siyee were a strange sight to them. A frightening one, too. Siyee had killed many Pentadrians during the war.

As the platten reached the edge of the town and set out along the road to Glymma, Auraya began to rise. Mischief gave a sleepy whine of protest as she lifted him into her pack.

“Pack bad,” he murmured.

“I’m sorry, Mischief,” she told him.

Stepping off the rock pinnacle she had been sitting on all night, she propelled herself after the Siyee and their captors.