Voice of the Gods

possibility that she might have left the White, perhaps even turned from her gods, due to a conflict. She might change sides if she wanted revenge, a return of power, or simply found the ideology of Pentadrians suited her better.

He would give up if she appeared incorruptible. Yet the sooner he felt he had won her over, the sooner he would stop trying. There were twenty-seven Siyee still imprisoned in the caves beneath the Sanctuary so she had to keep this game going for twenty-eight more days.

I have to seem impressed, but not too interested. Resistant, but not unpersuadable, she told herself. I should pretend to have the occasional moment of weakness in order to keep him hoping he can win me over.

Nekaun was leading her down a wide corridor that apparently connected the Lower Sanctuary with the Upper Sanctuary.

“Is it true that the White live in rooms as plain and small as those their priests occupy?” he asked, his ever- present Companion, Turaan, repeating the words in Hanian.

“Plain, yes,” she replied. “Small, no.”

It took constant concentration to ensure she didn’t reveal her mind-reading ability. The sooner she learned some of the local language the better. Someone had advised her of that. She heard a familiar voice in her memory.

“You never know when a bit of the local tongue might work to your advantage. Perhaps even save your life.”

Danjin had said that. She felt a pang of sadness. It had been so long since she’d seen him. She missed his sturdy presence.

“You lived in the White Tower, didn’t you?” Nekaun asked.

“Yes.”

“Do all priests in the Temple live in the Tower?”

She looked at him skeptically. “I only agreed to stay here, not to give you information about your enemy.”

His smile widened. “Forgive me. I did not intend to take advantage of you. I am merely interested. Here,” he gestured to a narrow opening in a wall. “Here is a place very precious to us. The Star Room.”

From Turaan came a sudden nervous excitement, and she read from him that this was the Pentadrians’ primary worshipping place. An altar of some kind. As Nekaun stepped through the gap Auraya hesitated. How dangerous could the altar of the enemy gods be? Could they do anything to her there that they couldn’t outside of it?

Nekaun promised on those gods that I would remain unharmed, she reminded herself. And I agreed to stay and be shown around. If either of us is going to break our word, I won’t be the first.

Taking a deep breath, she stepped through the gap into a large room. Black walls, floor and ceiling surrounded her. The walls were at strange angles. She realized there were five of them; the room was a pentagon. Nekaun was standing at the center, between lines of silver set into the floor. A chill ran down her spine as she realized they formed a giant star.

She looked up at Nekaun.

“Am I to be introduced to your gods now?” she asked, pleased to hear that her voice was calm.

His smile, usually so charming, was wry.

“No. The gods choose when they appear, not I. They don’t often speak to us, and rarely instruct us. We appreciate the freedom to govern ourselves and they trust us to do it well.”

“If they never appear, then some of your people must come to the conclusion they do not exist.”

He chuckled. “I didn’t say they never appear. You do not believe they are real, do you?”

“I know at least one is,” she told him, “as I saw him during the war.”

He blinked in surprise. “You saw one of our gods?”

“Sheyr, I believe.”

“He only appeared the once.” He narrowed his eyes. “You were there?”

“Yes. When your people emerged from the mines. That is how we knew to return from the pass and meet you.”

He shook his head. “What were you doing there?”

Moping over Leiard, she thought wryly. Can’t tell him that... “Exploring,” she told him. “I was about to leave, but Chaia stopped me.” She smiled. “Sometimes it is better when a god is willing to visit and instruct his followers.”

His eyebrows rose, giving him a thoughtful expression.

“Do you believe my gods are real?” she asked.

His shoulders lifted. “I have not seen them, but I believe it is likely.”

“Are your gods survivors of the War of the Gods?”

“I don’t know,” he replied frankly. “They have never said they aren’t.”

She shook her head. “Either your gods are new, or my gods were not aware your gods had evaded them.”

He pursed his lips and considered her. “Are you ever disturbed by the knowledge that your gods claim to have murdered so many other gods, and are proud of it?”

She frowned. “No. The old gods were cruel and used mortals badly.”

“And your gods did not?”

Abruptly, Auraya thought of Emerahl’s story of Chaia’s seduction of women, and of the tales of deformities during the years of transformation by Huan that the Siyee told to each new generation.

“You hesitate,” he pointed out quietly.

I believe I’ve just given him one of those moments of weakness I was planning, she mused. Except it wasn’t planned and I wasn’t pretending.

“They may not be without fault,” she conceded. “But beings as old as they, are likely to have made bad decisions from time to time. From what I have been taught, the dead gods were guilty of far worse. What matters more than past errors is that the Circle has brought peace, order and prosperity to Northern Ithania since they united. In the last hundred years seven countries have become allies, and no wars had been fought - until your people invaded.”

His expression was unreadable now. Stepping out of the star shape, he walked over to face her, then gestured to the opening. “Shall we move on? I would like to show you the Lower Sanctuary, where we meet and deal with the public. If you are committed to peace, order and prosperity I think you will find it interesting.”

She smiled and graciously let him usher her from the room.

The sky was streaked with clouds of bright orange deepening into pink, but a wall of darkness hid the source of the fading light. The escarpment looming over the dry land shortened the days by blocking out the sun in the afternoon.

I wouldn’t like to live here, Emerahl thought. There’s something ominous about that cliff. I feel like it is going to tumble onto us at any moment.

The speed at which the Thinkers had managed to bring together a caravan of platten to take them all to Sorlina was impressive. Two days after her reading of the bones, Emerahl paid her board and transferred her belongings to one of several covered platten heading out of the city. Barmonia told her that he was leading the expedition, as he had travelled to the ruined city so many times that he had lost count. She might have taken the jovial way he spoke to her now as an indication that he was warming to her, if she hadn’t been able to sense his disdain whenever she was around.

Let him play at being friendly, she thought. The journey will be less pleasant otherwise. I can’t exactly tell him I know he and his colleagues are planning to dump me on a ship once they’ve found the Scroll.

A faint vibration ran through the ground, strong enough to set the tent ropes swinging. Emerahl looked up at