Voice of the Gods

Southern Ithania.”

“Thirty-three Siyee and one sorceress,” he corrected. “Ah, but you were forbidden by your gods to join in any fighting, weren’t you? How strange.”

She shrugged.

He smiled. “I suspect your gods have other reasons to send you here. Trouble is, I cannot guess what. Except, perhaps, that you are a spy.”

“Then why are you giving me the tour of your city?”

“Because I know you will find no great secrets or weaknesses here. We are not planning another invasion of Northern Ithania. I am serious about forging peace between our peoples.”

She looked at Nekaun. “But I have discovered a weakness here. You do not truly understand your own people. You may read their thoughts, but you won’t accept that there is too much hatred between our peoples now for peace to come so easily. Either side will resist any attempt to ally with those that killed their kin. They crave revenge, and if they get it vengeance will be dealt out in kind. It may go on and on, year after year, century after century. Why? Because your gods urged your people to invade mine.”

He stared at her, then slowly smiled.

“Ah, but have you ever wondered why they did?” he asked. “Because yours won’t tolerate followers of any gods but the Circle. Don’t the peoples of the world deserve the freedom to worship who they wish?”

The litter was coming alongside the Sanctuary steps. Auraya met Nekaun’s eyes. “Perhaps they do, but if your gods thought invading Northern Ithania would free mortals from Circlian intolerance they made a supremely grand mistake. All they did was kill a lot of people, Circlian and Pentadrian, and ensure many more would continue to die.”

The litter stopped. Nekaun gave no orders, instead considering her words.

“To that I can only make two replies. Firstly, that the decision was not the gods’, as they leave such matters to us to decide. Secondly, that we will never find peace if we never look and strive for it. It may take time and much effort.” He smiled. “Unlike you, I have all the time in the world.”

Since announcing that the servant had reached his destination and ordering Yem, Gillen and Danjin back into the platten, Ella’s attention had been caught in some distant place. The men now spoke in hushed voices to avoid distracting her. When Gillen won a game of counters his comical choked noises and gestures of suppressed glee made Danjin’s loss of coin less painful.

It helped that Danjin rarely lost to Gillen. Yem, on the other hand, was surprisingly adept at the game. Fortunately Yem was as scornful of wagers and gambling as Gillen was enchanted by them. Losing to him only cost Danjin a little pride.

Gillen had put away the set now and was sitting with his eyes closed. Slowly the man’s head tilted sideways and his mouth opened. A soft snorting filled the cabin.

Yem didn’t appear to notice. He was sitting with the relaxed ease of a younger man, his eyes almost closed and his gaze distant. He went into this meditative state whenever conversation lapsed, and Danjin would not have been surprised to find it was a skill all warriors were taught. Whenever there was a loud noise or someone spoke, Yem’s eyes would open and he was instantly alert.

I could do with that skill, Danjin thought.

He turned to regard Ella, and was surprised to find her watching him. She smiled.

“Have you learned much?” he asked.

She nodded, then glanced at Yem, who was now regarding her expectantly.

“I will tell you,” she said. “Then we must sleep as best we can. We will travel through the night to lessen the chances of the villagers learning we are coming. A platten passing at night might attract some curiosity, but if we travel during the day we are sure to be noticed.”

“The arem will not last,” Yem warned.

“Then we will purchase more.”

Yem’s brow furrowed, but he said nothing. Danjin had seen the warrior helping the servants tend to the animals, and had even heard him murmuring into one of the arem’s ears soothingly when a distant howling in the forest had spooked it. Few Dunwayan warriors owned reyna, but those that did all but worshipped the animals. Danjin had never seen a warrior show any regard for the slow, practical arem.

Danjin looked at Gillen, who was still snoring. He nudged the man’s foot with the toe of his sandal. It took a few taps before he woke up.

“What? Are we stopping now?” Gillen asked, blinking at them.

“No. Ellareen is going to tell us what she has discovered,” Danjin replied.

Gillen rubbed his eyes. “Oh.”

“Take a moment to wake up properly,” Ella said gently.

The ambassador slapped his cheeks. “I’m fine. Go ahead.”

Ella smiled and shrugged. “The story I’ve pieced together from the villagers’ minds is this: almost a year ago a Pentadrian ship was wrecked near a village named Dram. The villagers rescued as many as they could and welcomed them into their homes. The survivors repaid them by working in the fields or with domestic chores. When they expressed a wish to stay, the villagers helped them build homes and find work, with the permission of the clan that owns this land.

“What they don’t know was that the ship had been deliberately wrecked, and that those on board had not struggled to live in their infertile homeland, as they’d claimed. They were Pentadrian priests and their families, sent to befriend and then convert Dunwayans.”

She scowled. “They’ve managed to convert half the village so far. The rest accept the conversion of their fellow villagers, though a few resent the newcomers for various petty reasons.” She looked at Yem. “Once settled, the Pentadrians began to arrange for discontented servants to be brought to Dram. I don’t know why the local clan has allowed these Pentadrians to stay, but I intend to find out. The villagers believe the increase in produce from the extra workers ensures their leaders aren’t looking too closely at matters.”

Yem shrugged. “We don’t often see the Correl clan in Chon. They pay their taxes and cast their votes, but otherwise keep to themselves.”

“I want to pay them a visit,” she said.

“We will pass the road to their fortress tomorrow,” he told her.

Ella looked thoughtful. “Good. We’ll need their help rounding up these Pentadrians.”

“You risk warning the Pentadrians of your arrival if you visit the fortress,” Gillen warned. “What if there are spies there?”

“I will find and deal with them,” she said firmly.

Yem shifted in his seat. “What will you do with the Pentadrians?”

Ella frowned. “That will be up to Juran and I-Portak to decide.”

“Along with the fate of the villagers?”

“Yes.”

Yem’s brow furrowed again, but he stayed silent. Gillen grimaced and sighed.

“The villagers were deceived,” Danjin pointed out. “All they are guilty of is extending a helping hand to people they thought were in need. Surely they won’t be punished for that.”

“The clans won’t care,” Gillen said. “They will want to make an example of them, to discourage servants from leaving their masters or hiding the enemy.”

“They will be given a chance to explain themselves,” Yem assured Danjin.

Will it do them any good? Danjin wondered. Dunwayan justice tended to be unforgiving and brutal.

“They turned from the gods,” Ella said darkly. “They are not completely guiltless, Danjin.”

He stared at her, perturbed. Her eyes narrowed and he felt a chill run down his back. Why do I feel like she is looking for signs of disloyalty? He pushed the feeling aside. My role is to advise. I’m supposed to ask uncomfortable questions.

“What of those villagers who did not turn from the gods, who do not know they were deceived?”

“Who ought to have reported the presence of the enemy?” she asked in reply. “Nobody is guiltless in this