Voice of the Gods

“Surely that is worth bending a few rules for?”

Mirar shook his head. “The trouble is, it is not some minor rule, but our primary law and principle.”

“But they tried to kill you,” Genza reminded him.

Mirar met the woman’s gaze. “And your people arranged for Dreamweavers in Jarime to be murdered so that Priests would be blamed.”

Genza’s eyes narrowed slightly, then she turned to look at Imenja.

“I guess we are lucky that your people don’t take sides,” Imenja said quietly. “Rest assured that not all of us were in favor of that sordid little scheme.” He noticed that the woman’s Companion was staring at her mistress, radiating suspicion and horror. “We do not intend to repeat that mistake. However, I’m sure the White would attempt to kill you again, if they could.”

Mirar laughed darkly. “I know. They’ve already tried.”

Imenja’s eyes brightened with interest. “Recently? Is that why you came to Southern Ithania?”

“Yes. And now I find the very woman they sent to execute me is here, being treated as an honored guest.”

He noted which faces betrayed surprise and which did not. Imenja was smiling.

“You know Auraya’s here?” Genza asked. “And you still came?”

Mirar shrugged. “Of course I know. The city is full of gossip - and Dreamweavers.”

Imenja chuckled. “And Nekaun has hardly kept her a secret.” She looked at Mirar and sobered. “You’re in no danger. We will not allow her to harm you. And it seems we need not fear you will harm her.” She watched him closely, probably looking for signs that he might make an exception to his rule against violence. “In a week she will be gone.”

Mirar nodded.

“There is no need for you two to meet. Perhaps you would prefer to avoid her,” she continued. He sensed disappointment from the Companions and resisted a smile. Clearly they were curious to see what might happen if he and Auraya encountered one another.

As am I, he thought. To know she is this close and not see her once... Surely there would be no harm in meeting.

“I don’t care,” he said. “In fact, it would be satisfying to let her see me, alive and well treated by her enemy.”

Imenja chuckled again. “That, too, can be arranged.”

32

Dreamweaver Mirar is a good-looking man, Reivan thought as she watched him and Imenja stroll toward the Sanctuary flame. Not my type, though. He looks like a northerner, and there’s something else...

He reminded her of a Thinker she had once been infatuated with as a young woman. The Thinker he reminded her of had appeared at a meeting one day and charmed everybody. A few months later he vanished. In the following years he arrived and left unannounced numerous times. Every time he visited Glymma he found himself a different pretty girl, then discarded her. Reivan had felt jealous at first, then sympathy for the girls who had been promised so much but were left broken-hearted, sometimes burdened with an occupied womb.

Mirar had a confidence about him that drew people, and it was this that reminded her of the Thinker. He had the same restlessness in his gaze, as if he were always planning his next destination. Yet while the Thinker had moved whenever there was something to escape, she imagined Mirar simply drifted about, observing whatever he encountered, then drifted on.

He doesn’t hurry, she thought suddenly. That’s the difference. And why would he, when he’s immortal?

That was what most fascinated her. The Voices were immortal because the gods wanted them to be. Mirar had somehow achieved it without help. She itched to ask him how, even though she doubted she would understand the answer.

He and Imenja had been standing before the Sanctuary flame. Now they turned and walked back toward Reivan.

“... ever blown out?”

“A few times. We haven’t hidden the fact. People can be superstitious about such matters. They might think that if the flame went out the world would end, or something equally ridiculous, if we didn’t tell them it happens occasionally. As it is, they still try to find some significance to the few occurrences they know of.”

Mirar chuckled. “I imagine they do.” He looked up. “Is that a Siyee?”

Following his gaze, Reivan saw a winged figure circling upward.

“Yes,” Imenja said. “One of the group we are holding prisoner. They attacked one of our villages. Nekaun is letting them go, one by one, in exchange for Auraya staying here.”

Mirar nodded. “I heard about that. It is wise, letting them go separately. They can’t easily band together and attack again.”

“Yes.”

“You must be treating them well,” he added. “Or by now they would not be able to fly. Are you giving them supplies to get them home?”

“They can’t carry enough to last all the way to Si, unfortunately, but what we give them should sustain them until they reach Sennon.”

Imenja ushered him to the staircase that led down from the Sanctuary flame into the buildings below. Following them, Reivan heard voices coming from somewhere ahead in the corridor. Mirar and Imenja turned a corner and stopped. As she reached them, Reivan recognized the voices and a shiver ran over her skin. She looked at Mirar. His mouth was set in a smile. His eyes were bright - perhaps with fear, perhaps amusement.

Reivan looked at the object of his attention. Auraya stared back at Mirar through narrowed eyes. She stood very still, as if frozen. Nekaun gave Imenja a very direct look, then turned to Auraya and opened his mouth to speak - but he did not get a chance.

“Mirar,” Auraya said, her voice full of contempt. “I see you’ve arrived.”

“I have,” he replied, glancing at Imenja. “And received a warm reception.”

“I would expect nothing less of our hosts.”

Auraya’s gaze was intense, but Mirar did not flinch.

“I would have expected otherwise based on the rude reception I received in the north,” Mirar said airily. “But then I thought ‘it has to be better in the south, because it could hardly be worse.’ ”

Auraya smiled. “They just haven’t got to know you yet.”

Mirar’s smile faded slightly, and a small crease appeared between his brows.

“How are the Siyee faring these days?”

“Well,” Auraya said shortly.

“The White finding them useful allies?”

“Of course.”

“I hear their latest mission failed.”

“I’m afraid that’s old news here.”

“Yes,” Mirar agreed. “I suppose I have the White to thank for this opportunity to meet you again - under much more enjoyable circumstances, too.” He looked at Imenja. “I hope there will be time for us to converse again, before you leave. Perhaps over dinner?”

“It can be arranged,” Imenja replied mildly.

“Perhaps a quiet, private dinner,” Auraya said, her eyes gleaming. “Just the two of us. We could resume our previous conversation. Pick up again from where we stopped.”

“I’m sure my new friends would like the opportunity to join in,” Mirar replied. “Especially when you are leaving so soon. They have first claim on you, since your time here is finite and mine is not.”

Nekaun chuckled. “Dreamweaver Mirar is right. We still have much to show you, and your time here is fast