Voice of the Gods

the men sitting around the camp. Most had paused and wore alert, wary expressions, but these quickly disappeared as the vibration faded away.

“Tremor,” Yathyir murmured to himself before helping himself to another bowl of the overly spicy grain dish the servants had cooked up for them.

Ray looked up at Emerahl and smiled. “Happens all the time,” he told her. “The great Thinker Marmel believed that the escarpment is a sheet of the world sliding over another sheet - the one we’re sitting on. Sometimes the earth shakes so hard you can’t stand up. Sometimes it brings down houses.”

Emerahl looked up at the escarpment and frowned.

“I’m surprised that Hannaya still stands.”

“Oh, bits of it collapse from time to time, but it is strong enough to withstand most tremors. Carved out of solid rock by sorcerers, they say.”

“How far does the escarpment go?”

“All the way to the southwest coast. In some places it is higher, some lower. We’re going to one of the few gaps, where it has split.” He held his hands out, palms down, and mimicked the sliding top sheet of land breaking apart and the two sides moving away from each other. “The land between is a long, steep slope. It was one of the few inland crossings from Avven to Mur for thousands of years, so the people who controlled and tolled the transfer of goods from one land to another became wealthy. Then the War of the Gods happened and within a year power shifted from followers of dead gods to followers of the Five.”

“A year? How do you know that?”

“If you look at stories from the time you can piece together a certain order. Of course, some claimed their gods were alive when they weren’t. Others claimed gods of their enemies were dead when they were still alive. But most were killed over a short space of time.”

Emerahl shook her head in wonder. She had never known how or when the deaths had occurred. The consequences had come slowly. “It must have taken mortals some time to grasp what had happened.”

“Some never did. It is hard to prove the death of invisible beings. There are no corpses. No witnesses. Just silence.”

“Yet their loss affected the world dramatically.”

“Yes. Priests lost their powers. Gods no longer advised or controlled their followers. Some people took advantage of their enemy’s weakness and uncertainty. But not for long. The Five united to bring order to chaos.”

“So the Pentadrian gods existed before the war?”

“I believe so. Sheyr was the God of Prosperity, Hrun the Goddess of Love, Alor the God of Warriors, Ranah the Goddess of Fire and Sraal the God of Wealth. They are still worshipped as such in some places.”

Emerahl considered the list of names and titles. The Circlian gods had once claimed their own titles. Chaia had been the God of Kings and Huan the Goddess of Fertility.

Fertility and Love. Not such a big difference. Both sides have their war god, too. I guess they are matters people are most likely to pray about. Give me a lover, protect my lover, give me children, make me wealthy, don’t let me die...

As for the rest of the gods, the Pentadrians appeared to have the advantage, Emerahl mused. A God of Wealth had to be more useful than Saru, the former God of Gambling - or even a God of Kings. But the southern continent could do with a Goddess of Women, if the dislike for her gender was as strong in the general population as it was with these Thinkers.

Barmonia stood up and yawned loudly.

“We start early tomorrow,” he warned. “So don’t stay up too late.”

As he stalked off toward the tents the other men got to their feet like obedient but reluctant children. Emerahl found Ray smiling at her.

“Would you let me have the honor of escorting you to your tent?” he asked.

She laughed quietly. “It is I who would be honored,” she replied with equal mock formality.

Kereon glanced back at them and rolled his eyes, but said nothing. Yathyir stared, his suspicions about Ray’s motives painfully clear from the avid gleam in his eyes and the adolescent jealousy she sensed.

From Raynora she discerned expectation. She wasn’t surprised. Men were opportunistic and often assumed women living anything other than the life of a dutiful wife must be doing so in order to have their pick of lovers.

Not that Emerahl wasn’t.

The tent was not far away, but getting to it required stepping over several ropes. Ray hovered close, ready to help if she tripped, and she sensed disappointment from him when she arrived without mishap. She turned to face him.

“You’re very beautiful,” he said softly.

She nearly laughed out loud. He was gazing at her as if in awe, but she could sense he was mainly feeling desire.

Still, he was charming and good-looking. There might be advantages in taking him to bed. He was also the first man who had shown an interest since Mirar...

... and that hadn’t come to anything.

She felt a pang of guilt at that thought. It was unfair. Leiard had been controlling him.

Then suddenly she remembered Leiard in the cave in Si, staring at her out of Mirar’s eyes.

“... joining the brothel was necessity... but I also wonder if you unknowingly seek the same kind of assurance that Mirar seeks. You seek a reminder that you are a physical being, not a god...”

She took a step away from Ray. The thought of bedding him no longer appealed. The other Thinkers might take it as proof that their prejudices about foreign women were correct - not that they’d suddenly respect her for remaining chaste.

“Good night Ray,” she said. “I’m tired. I’ll see you in the morning.”

She backed into the tent and closed the flaps firmly. He was all surprise and disappointment, then amusement and determination. After a moment she heard him walk away and breathed a sigh of relief. She drew magic and put a barrier across the entrance.

I’ll have to turn him down a few times before he gives up, she told herself. She regarded the narrow bench covered in a thin mattress that served as a bed and shrugged. Well, it’s better than the bottom of a boat, and I don’t want to fall asleep too quickly anyway.

Lying down, she closed her eyes and let herself relax. Slowly her thoughts began to drift. Soon she had completely lost track of time.

:Emerahl.

The Twins’ dual voices were like an echoing whisper in her thoughts.

:Surim. Tamun.

:You were wise to reject your admirer, Tamun told her.

:Oh? Why?

:Surim would have found it much too interesting.

Emerahl felt a surge of relief. She hadn’t considered that The Twins might end up watching her bedroom antics through the eyes of Raynora. The thought was disturbing.

:You wouldn’t have watched me, would you, Surim?

:I’d have to, in case something happened to you. It would be entirely for your own protection.

:I see. And if something did happen, what could you do to protect me?

He didn’t reply.

:We’ve discovered the true source of the money being offered to Raynora for the Scrolls, Tamun said. It is coming from the Voices. They or their gods must have known the Thinkers are seeking the Scrolls, and don’t like it.

:Which supports our suspicion that the Scrolls contain something dangerous to the gods, Surim added.

:Could I bribe Ray to give them to me? Emerahl asked.

:No. You risk revealing your knowledge of his mission. His gods may be