Voice of the Gods

But still, she longed to get out of this place and into the sunlight, and away from these selfish, arrogant men. Tonight she would dictate as much of the poem as she could remember to The Twins. Tomorrow... tomorrow she would congratulate the Thinkers and start the long journey back to familiar lands.

31

Danjin stared at the cover of the platten and slowly realized he was awake. The two men opposite him were conscious but their attention was elsewhere. Gillen looked more alert than he had for any of the journey so far, rubbing his hands together in excitement and anticipation, while Yem was even more subdued than usual. The warrior had worn a constant frown since they’d left the fort and Danjin suspected he was caught between sympathy for the servants that had escaped oppressive clan rule and outrage that the Pentadrians had subverted them.

Danjin looked at Ella. Her eyes were closed and her breathing was slow.

Ultimately I have to trust her and the wisdom of the gods. If this tough stance on associating with Pentadrians wasn’t needed we wouldn’t be ambushing a village with the help of the local warriors.

The platten slowed. Ella moved abruptly to open the flap of the cover.

“We’re here.”

Danjin felt his stomach sink, but said nothing. He heard the sounds of doors slamming and distant shouts. Angry and frightened voices surrounded the platten as it slowed to a stop.

Ella smoothed her circ, then looked at Yem, Gillen and Danjin.

“Stay close,” she said, then pulled the flap wide and stepped out.

Danjin followed, then Yem and Gillen. Men and women milled around the platten. When they saw Ella their eyes widened and they quietened. A few faces betrayed dismay and alarm. Others showed amazement and curiosity.

Looking along the street, Danjin saw warriors ushering people toward the growing crowd. Men, women and children emerged from houses, some dressed in their nightclothes. From another direction came a large group of locals. From the sweat on their brows Danjin guessed they had been gathered from homes and farms further from the village center.

As the crowd swelled, Danjin looked closely at the people. In the torchlight the physical characteristics that marked them as Dunwayan or Southern Ithanian were heightened. Pentadrians varied from pale to dark-skinned, and their builds could be as varied, so it was easier to identify them simply as those that didn’t look Dunwayan. He judged the crowd to be a quarter Pentadrian.

A group of Dunwayan warriors, their faces almost black from tattooing, surrounded the villagers. The gray- haired clan leader, Gret, stepped forward. He made the sign of the circle.

“We have brought the occupants of all of the local farms and homes,” he told her. “Some may have evaded us.”

Ella nodded. “Who leads this community?” she asked, her voice ringing out above the noise of the crowd.

A discussion followed. Danjin made out enough to understand that an elder of the village spoke for the village when dealing with the local clan. The man came forward.

“Who leads the Pentadrian community?” she demanded of him.

He hesitated, but Ella had already turned away from him.

“Servant Warwel, come forward.”

Silence followed. People exchanged nervous glances. Ella’s eyes moved over them and stopped.

“You can walk, Servant Warwel,” Ella said warningly, “or be dragged. It is your choice.”

A man moved forward. He was tall and walked with dignity. His expression was grim and resigned. He stopped a few steps from Ella and returned her stare silently.

“People of Dram, you have been deceived. This man and those of his ship were sent here by the leader of the Pentadrians, Nekaun,” Ella said, turning to meet the eyes of the village elder. “Their ship was not wrecked accidentally. It was wrecked deliberately so that they might gain the sympathy of Dunwayans. They were then to settle here and befriend as many Dunwayans as possible in order to convert them to their own religion.”

She looked out over the crowd. “They have succeeded far too easily. I see many here who have been corrupted by their influence. I also see many who were then lured out of service to their clans with promises of freedom. Clans whose warriors had fought for them but a few years ago. Fought those who invaded our lands in order to enslave us.” A murmur of protest rose, but Ella raised her voice. “They may have used gentler methods this time, but do not doubt that their intention is the same. This is - was - just another invasion. They came here to separate you from the Circle of Gods, abusing your generosity and preying upon your weaknesses in order to do so.”

She paused to scan the crowd silently for a moment. “It is a pity you all allowed this to go as far as it has. I see some here who did not allow themselves to be corrupted, but who remained silent out of fear or greed. I see very few here who were powerless to protest or act and I will speak in their defense. As for the rest of you: it is up to I-Portak to decide what is to be done with you, Pentadrian and Dunwayan alike.”

Turning to Gret, Ella nodded. “They are yours to deal with.”

The clan leader barked out orders and warriors began to move people along the road out of the village. Danjin noted that the old warrior was making a good show of following Ella’s orders with distaste. Every time a crying child was herded past, Gret looked at Ella pointedly. She ignored him, her expression stern and disapproving.

“Where are you taking us?” someone called.

“To Chon,” a warrior replied.

“Let us go back to our homes for clothes,” one woman begged of a warrior. “We’ll freeze to death like this.”

“My cures,” an old man croaked. “I won’t make it without my cures.”

“What will we eat?”

“My mother is sick. She’ll never make it to Chon.”

Gret turned to one of his companions. “Get someone to take the woman and the old man back to their homes.”

At once several other voices rose pleading for the same opportunity.

“No,” Ella said. “Take a few and the rest will demand the same. Keep the prisoners here and send a few warriors to the houses to gather blankets, food and clothing for all.”

Gret’s eyebrows rose, then he nodded at his companion. “Do it.”

Danjin felt a chill run down his spine. Surely a delay now would be better than deaths along the road...

Ella turned to Danjin. “Find out what the old man needs and fetch it,” she murmured.

“Yes, Ellareen of the White,” he replied.

He hurried away and started looking for the old man. Circling around the crowd, he looked back to where Ella stood. She held her head high and was staring loftily down her nose at her prisoners. He felt his stomach sink a little.

She’s only doing that in order to intimidate them into obedience, he told himself.

But they will remember it. They will tell others how cold and uncaring Ellareen the White is. How cruel and inflexible the White’s justice was.

He shook his head. She has to do this. She can’t override Dunwayan law. And if she was without pity she wouldn’t have sent me to find the old man’s cures.

Then why did he feel as if he wasn’t watching an act? Why did he suspect that Ellareen hadn’t tried to persuade the Dunwayans to treat the village with some sympathy because she didn’t want to?

Why did she disturb him sometimes?

Sighing, he turned away, found the old man and pulled him aside to question him.