Voice of the Gods

Raos, as it had once been known. She had probably walked past this very stone in its original resting place many times. How had it come to Mur?

Footsteps drew closer and she realized that someone was approaching. She kept her eyes on the stone, expecting the man to pass, but he didn’t. He moved to her side and when she looked up she realized it was the younger of the Thinkers.

She resisted a smile. Of course it was.

“Bar’s always been like that,” he said. “He doesn’t like women much. I hope that you are not too disappointed.”

“It is his loss, not mine. Tell me, how did this monument stone come to be here?”

He shrugged. “It has always been here.”

She chuckled. “Now I am disappointed. Are you Thinkers so befuddled by your smoking herbs that you don’t even know the treasures you have here?”

“This is no treasure.”

“A monument stone from ancient Raos no treasure? Do you know how rare these are? The Circlians destroyed so much from the Age of the Many that our history is in fragments.” She pointed at a glyph. “This priest, Gaomea, is one of the few whose names are still known.” She ran her finger down the line of symbols, translating to Murian. “Are there any other stones like this here?”

He was staring at her now. “I don’t know, but I can ask the librarian for you. If there is anything here, he’ll show you if I ask for it.”

She turned to regard him. “It’s that bad?”

“What?”

“I can’t ask for them myself?”

He grimaced. “No. Like Bar said, you’re a woman and foreign.”

She sighed and rolled her eyes. “Well, I suppose it’s still better than home. The only way you can see old treasures is to buy them off a rich noble, and only if he or she is willing to sell.”

He led her away from the table toward the old man cataloguing his scrolls. “All this belongs to the Pentadrians,” he said in a voice that indicated he didn’t think much of that.

“At least they haven’t destroyed it. The Circlians would have. I was lucky to save this.” She patted the box.

“So... what’s in there?”

“Just a fragment of a scroll.”

“Why did you come here with it?”

She paused and regarded him carefully. “It’s in Sorl.”

He stared at her in disbelief. She continued on as if mistaking his silence for puzzlement.

“An ancient priest tongue of Mur. I would have thought you’d know that.” She shook her head as if exasperated. “I was hoping it would make more sense to a local, who might know the places it refers to and what ‘breath offering’ means.” She slipped the box into a bag at her waist. “Could we ask about those treasures now? I think they’re all that’s going to make this trip worth the effort.”

The tension and excitement within the young man was palpable. With admirable self-control he kept silent. She was expecting this: the younger Thinkers rarely did anything without consulting their powerful peers first.

“Then I’ll just have to make sure old Rikron shows you everything.”

22

Auraya had tested a few limits to her abilities in the last few days. It was not possible for her to sleep and remain airborne at the same time, so she had remained awake as she hovered over Glymma. After a few sleepless days it became difficult to concentrate, so last night, at Juran’s urging, she had retreated to the hills to rest.

Her willingness to obey the gods was constantly tested. She could hear the thoughts of the Siyee. She knew they were chained somewhere below the Sanctuary. She knew they were frightened and despairing.

But they had not been harmed physically. Nobody in the Sanctuary - nobody whose mind she could read - knew what Nekaun planned to do with his prisoners. Some thought he intended to ransom them. Others considered a possibility Auraya was glad the Siyee had not considered: that the sky people would be handed over to a group known as the Thinkers, who would probably study and experiment on them.

Returning to her position high above the Sanctuary, Auraya began to skim the minds of those below.

The first mind she found was that of a Servant given the task of alerting the Voices if Auraya approached the Temple. The woman had already seen Auraya. She had informed Nekaun telepathically through her star pendant.

Auraya ignored the woman and skimmed over the minds of other Servants and the domestics that took care of mundane chores. Fragments of prayers, recipes, sums and songs came to her. Snatches of gossip, instruction and intrigue threatened to distract her. But her need to find the Siyee was all-consuming.

There. They’re still there.

The impracticalities of being physically chained to the same place were beginning to have an effect. She sensed humiliation and revulsion as well as fear. Then she sensed their fear deepen. Looking closer, she saw that one of the Siyee was being taken away. She felt her stomach clench and realized she had let herself drop toward the Sanctuary. Pulling up, she watched and waited, dread growing.

She saw Nekaun through the Siyee’s eyes. Nekaun said something, but the Siyee was too frightened to comprehend it. Something about leaving.

Then the chains were removed from the Siyee’s wrists. Doors opened and the sky appeared. The Siyee took a step forward, but the man caught his shoulder in a firm grip.

“Tell her to meet me on top of the Sanctuary,” he said slowly.

The Siyee nodded. He was to be a messenger. That was the price of his freedom. The man holding the Siyee let go. The Siyee staggered forward toward the doors. There was a short drop outside. Was this a window, then? No matter. The wind was good. His legs were still stiff. He stretched his arms - he ought to warm his muscles up more before attempting to fly but he wasn’t going to stay any longer than he had to.

Reaching the opening, he leapt out and felt his heart soar with joy as the wind lifted him up.

Free... but what of the others? He circled higher. The man wants to speak to Auraya. Maybe she can work something out. But where is she?

Auraya descended quickly. The Siyee saw her and rose to meet her. He flew in a tight circle around her.

“The leader freed me,” he told her. “Gave me a message for you. He wants to meet you. On top of the buildings.”

She whistled that she understood.

“How are the others?”

He described what she had seen in the Siyee’s minds: the hall, the lack of sanitation and his fears that they would soon lose the ability to fly.

“I took food and water for Zyee and Siti to leave at the places we camped,” she told him. “Is your water skin empty?”

“Yes.”

“Swap it with mine.”

She flew alongside him to make the exchange. When she was done he circled around her, looking down anxiously.

“Can I help?”

“No. Go home.”

He whistled an acknowledgment.

“Then good luck. Be careful. Could be a trap.”

“I know.”

She watched him fly away. He was tired and hungry. How would he manage to return to Si, across the Sennon desert, with no food but the little she had stolen from Klaff and only one skin of water?