Voice of the Gods

“Wait and see,” she told him sternly. “You will need this gift.”

Opening the bag hanging from her shoulder, she lifted out a clay jug with a narrow neck. The top was sealed with a lump of wax from which a string protruded. Grabbing the string, she pulled the wax plug free.

“Hold out your hands.”

Mirar did as she asked. She tipped the bottle and a yellowish oil filled the hollow of one palm. It smelled pleasantly herbal and zesty.

“Rub this into all exposed skin,” Tintel instructed, tipping oil into her own hand. “It helps keep the bugs and summer fever at bay.”

“So the bugs bring the sickness?” he asked as he rubbed the oil over his hands then onto his face.

“Maybe.” Tintel shrugged. “Maybe it’s just a convenient side effect of the oil. It does help to cool the fever.”

“It is surprisingly refreshing. Makes the heat a little more bearable.”

She stoppered the bottle and replaced it, then drew out a small wooden box. Opening it, she showed him that it was full of candles.

“They’re scented with the same extracts. Use them sparingly and they should last you the journey to the escarpment. We sell both oil and candles each summer, for the cost of making them. We are the only ones who make it, even though we give the recipe away to anyone who wants it.”

“So anyone seeking a profit can’t compete with you. Do you ever have a shortfall of oil and candles?”

“Yes.” She frowned. “Would you have us make a profit on a cure?”

“If people are harmed by a lack of oil, then yes. The profits can go toward the House or the sick.”

“You have no idea what a relief it is to hear you say that.” She closed the box and returned it to the bag, then handed the bag to him.

He smiled. “Are you testing me, Tintel?”

She chuckled. “I might be. Intention and meaning can change over many years. Some Dreamweavers believe you forbade the selling of cures.”

“It’s not adv—”

“Dreamweaver Mirar?”

The voice was full of confidence and power. He turned to face the owner, who was climbing the last few stairs up to the platform.

“Fourth Voice Genza,” he replied. He gestured to Tintel. “This is Dreamweaver Tintel, who runs the Kave Dreamweaver House.”

Genza nodded at Tintel. “I must apologize for taking your founder and guide from you. I know at this time of year his knowledge and powers would be of great benefit to the city.”

Tintel shrugged. “We have been dealing with the fever every year for centuries. I’m sure we will cope well enough without him.”

Genza’s eyes brightened with amusement. “Indeed, you have. Kave owes you a great debt.” She turned her attention to Mirar. “We are almost ready to leave.”

He nodded and turned to Tintel. “Thank you for putting up with me. I hope the summer heat ends early in Kave.”

Tintel nodded. “I hope all goes well in Glymma. I expect you’ll continue to explore Southern Ithania afterward. I look forward to seeing you in Kave again, though perhaps in a better season.”

“I would like to see it in full flood,” he told her.

“Perhaps next time.” She made the old Dreamweaver gesture - a touch to the heart, mouth and forehead. “Goodbye.”

Surprised, he returned the gesture, then turned to Genza and she, taking that to indicate he was ready, led him toward the stairs.

As he followed her down to the plank road, then along it toward the barge, he thought of the news The Twins had delivered in a dream-link last night.

:Auraya is in Glymma, they’d told him. As they’d described the Siyee mission and its failure Mirar had been stunned that the White would do something so foolish. He was not surprised that the attack had failed, though it was worrying that the Pentadrians had been forewarned. Was there a spy in the Siyee ranks? There couldn’t be one among the White’s most trusted, or they would have read the deceit from the spy’s mind.

He hadn’t been surprised to learn that Auraya had accepted Nekaun’s offer, agreeing to stay in Glymma in exchange for the release of the Siyee. I wonder how the White regard her striking a deal with the enemy. Or rather, allowing herself to be blackmailed into staying there in exchange for the Siyee’s freedom.

There were twenty-eight Siyee prisoners remaining. One would have been released today. From Tintel’s description of the river journey to the escarpment, more than three quarters of the Siyee would be free before he’d travelled a third of the way to Glymma. At this time of year, the river moved so sluggishly that barges must be poled or rowed up and down.

So Tamun and Surim have nothing to worry about. The Twins had been concerned that Nekaun planned to use Auraya against Mirar, or vice versa.

:Everyone thinks you and Auraya are deadly enemies. Some believe that Nekaun will offer to kill you in exchange for Auraya’s support. Or that he’ll offer to kill Auraya in order to gain your support.

:Auraya won’t ally herself with the White’s enemy, Mirar had replied, though he wasn’t completely sure that was true. She had sacrificed a great deal to save the Siyee before.

:Good thing they don’t know how you two really regarded each other, eh? Surim had said. They’d just have to decide which to imprison and which to blackmail.

:Blackmail wouldn’t work on her, Mirar reminded them.

:Ah, but it would definitely work on you.

Surim was right, but Mirar had reassured himself with two facts: he was never going to get to Glymma in time, and it took a lot of magic to imprison someone as powerful as Auraya. It would occupy one or more of the Voices night and day, in shifts. It would make them less able to defend themselves should the White attack.

He and Genza had reached the barge. She ushered him on board and showed him the cabin that had been prepared for him. It was tiny, but clean.

Ropes were untied from pylons and crew used poles to push the craft out into the river. Shallow-hulled, the barge rocked ponderously in the water. Genza moved to the prow then turned and said something to the crew, who withdrew their poles.

Then Mirar took an involuntary step backward as the barge began to plow through the river, churning up waves on either side. He felt his stomach sink at the same time as his heart lightened.

Looks like there is a good chance I will make it to Glymma in time to see Auraya.

26

Auraya had walked down corridors tiled in intricate patterns, entered rooms carpeted in rich colors and strolled through courtyards cooled by elegant fountains and exotic plants. She had been served meals of artfully prepared food from pottery and glassware of the highest quality with utensils fashioned of gold. She had heard strange and beautiful music and admired sculptures and artwork, the most amusing being a map of all Ithania made of tiny glass tiles in which the Elai were depicted as golden-haired maidens with fish tails and the Siyee as humans with feathered wings sprouting from their backs.

Nekaun was doing his best to impress her.

Though she couldn’t be sure it was his true purpose, he was making it no secret that he intended to win her over. The possibility that he might believe she would turn from the Circlian gods and ally herself with the Pentadrians had been so ridiculous that she had discounted it at first. But she soon realized he had to consider the