Voice of the Gods

case, Danjin.”

“The lack of interference from the clan may have been taken as approval,” Danjin argued. “They would have feared to speak against their masters.”

“You don’t know that, Danjin,” she said, smiling, “but we will find out soon enough. If it will ease your conscience, I will look for such thoughts among the villagers. I doubt, however, that the clans will be as sympathetic as you are.” She looked at Yem, who shrugged resignedly. “Now let’s get what sleep we can. Tomorrow will be a busy day.”

28

The hall in which the Voices held formal dinners for guests echoed with Reivan’s and Imenja’s steps. Five places were set at the end of the long table. Just five people dining in this enormous room. It seemed ridiculous, but it was all part of Nekaun’s efforts to impress Auraya.

As Reivan and Imenja neared the end of the table a door opened nearby. A woman entered and for a moment all Reivan saw was the white garb of a Circlian Priestess, and she felt a rush of fear.

Then she saw Nekaun following the woman, Turaan trailing behind. The black of his robes were a contrast to Auraya’s white. An equally powerful statement. She felt fear subside to a nervous excitement.

With both Imenja and Nekaun present, Reivan was safe enough. Auraya could not hope to overcome Nekaun and Imenja in magical strength... though it was hard for Reivan to imagine the two Voices cooperating.

They would if they had to, she thought. Taking a deep breath, she hoped her fear hadn’t shown on her face. Of course, that wouldn’t help much if Auraya could still read minds. She glanced at Imenja.

:Can she?

:We are not sure.

“Priestess Auraya, this is the Second Voice, Imenja,” Nekaun said. Turaan translated the words into Hanian. “Imenja, this is Priestess Auraya, formerly of the White,” Nekaun finished.

“Welcome to Glymma and the Sanctuary,” Imenja said in Avvenan. “It is much better to be facing you over dinner rather than a battlefield.” Auraya’s expression remained blank until Turaan translated, suggesting to Reivan that Auraya could not read minds.

The former White smiled faintly. “It certainly is - for myself as well.”

Imenja turned her head slightly toward Reivan, as if reluctant to stop watching Auraya for even a moment.

“This is my Companion, Reivan.”

Auraya met Reivan’s eyes. “I am honored to meet you, Companion Reivan. Nekaun has told me much about you, including how you led the Pentadrian army out of the mines.”

Reivan felt her face warm. “I am honored to meet you, too.” How much did he tell her about me? Oh, don’t be ridiculous, Reivan. He’s not going to discuss matters of the heart with a former White.

The former White looked amused, no doubt because of Reivan’s blush. Reivan was relieved when the woman’s attention shifted back to Imenja, who said something about Reivan knowing the Sennon language so perhaps they should all speak that, but Reivan barely heard because Nekaun had finally met her gaze. He smiled, making her heart skip, then looked away and gestured to the table.

“Please sit down,” he said. “We shall talk in comfort.”

Imenja and Auraya moved to opposite sides of the table, while Nekaun took his customary place at the head. Reivan found herself sitting opposite Turaan. The man gave her a brief haughty look before turning his attention back to the others.

“It is an interesting idea, this position of Companion,” Auraya said. “I had an adviser, but he was not required to become a priest.”

“Why was that?” Imenja asked.

“An adviser need only be smart, educated and well-connected. A priest or priestess must be Gifted. If we restricted our advisers to priests and priestesses, we’d bar potentially valuable people from our service.”

“That is true,” Imenja agreed. “Which is why we no longer require all our Servants to have Skills.”

Please don’t tell her I’ve got no magical ability, Reivan thought at Imenja. That’s something I’d rather a former White didn’t know.

“Most of our Servants are Skilled,” Nekaun added. “The few that aren’t have exceptional abilities that more than make up for their lack of magical talent.”

“Do you have a group similar to the Thinkers?” Imenja asked.

Auraya shook her head. “There are wealthy, educated men and women who explore academic pursuits for the sake of entertainment, self-improvement or trade, but they have not united as a collective that I know of. What have your Thinkers discovered or developed recently?”

Nekaun began to describe several constructions the Thinkers had designed. Servants brought the first dish and conversation shifted to other subjects, slowed by the constant need for translation. Turaan drank a lot of water, but his voice grew hoarse as the evening lengthened. Reivan barely needed to speak at all. Instead she concentrated on absorbing and considering everything about Auraya.

After the last dish was eaten and the plates taken away, Imenja leaned forward.

“So what are your impressions of the Sanctuary and Glymma so far?”

Auraya smiled. “The Sanctuary is as beautiful as a palace. Glymma has obviously been planned and laid out with forethought and common sense. I’m particularly impressed by your aqueducts and uncluttered streets.”

“And its inhabitants?”

“No better or worse than those in the cities of the north.”

Imenja smiled. “No worse?”

“No.”

“I would have thought we had one point in our favor.”

“What is that?”

“We do not mistreat or despise Dreamweavers or those who follow dead gods.”

Auraya nodded. “That is true. But my people do not invade other lands. I think that is a point in our favor that far outweighs yours.” She paused to hold Imenja’s gaze, then shrugged and looked at Nekaun. “And attitudes toward Dreamweavers are changing for the better, with the encouragement of the White.”

Imenja’s eyebrows rose. “Encouragement? Didn’t they recently drive Mirar out of Northern Ithania?”

Auraya’s eyes widened, then narrowed. “That wasn’t their intention,” she said, a touch of irony in her tone.

“No? So he’s welcome to return any time he wishes?”

“I doubt it. The Circle may be willing to encourage acceptance of Dreamweavers, but they haven’t changed their minds about Mirar.”

“Why do they regard him so unfavorably?” Nekaun asked.

Auraya’s mouth tightened as she paused to consider her answer. “Their conflict began centuries ago, and I cannot tell you exactly why.”

“There must be more to it than Dreamweavers not worshipping gods,” Imenja said.

Auraya nodded. “I believe he foolishly set himself against them. I don’t think he’ll make the same mistake twice.”

Or would he? Reivan wondered. The Voices need to know if Mirar is dangerous. If he is so dangerous that the Circlian gods tried to kill him, is he dangerous to us? He survived being attacked by the most powerful White, so he must be magically strong... and Genza is bringing him here!

Auraya’s gaze snapped to Reivan, then away again.

“Would you like to know where he is?” Nekaun asked.

“I have no interest in Mirar,” Auraya said. “If he’s in Southern Ithania, you’re welcome to him.”