for her husband. Warriors marched across the field, snapping out orders.
“Pentadrians to the left, Circlians to the right,” one was saying.
Out of the crowd came Dor, his face dark with suppressed anger. She hurried to him and saw his expression soften. As his arm came around her shoulder she sighed with relief. Then she noticed the blood on his knuckles. She looked at him questioningly.
He smiled grimly. “A lucky hit,” he said. “After that I couldn’t get close. Nobody could. Most of them are sorcerers.”
“Sorcerers?” she repeated.
“Yes.” He sighed. “I think the White must be right. Ordinary people might have a few Gifts, but nothing like these. We’ve been tricked, Lu.”
Lu looked down at Ti, her little face screwed up as she cried with all her being, then over at the crowd of newcomers - no, Pentadrians - now settling down on the other side of the field. She felt something she had never felt before.
Hate.
Wrists were unbound. A water skin was handed over, and a parcel of food. Sreil turned to look at Auraya. His concern for her, and for the priest left alone below, was so strong she felt battered by it. She held his eyes and watched his thoughts shift to those who had gone before him, and home. He nodded once, then turned and leapt off the building.
She watched him fly away, relief washing over her. He still had to survive the long journey home, but the chances she could face Speaker Sirri again without terrible guilt and grief were better. She did not know how she would, if Sirri’s son did not make it home.
“What are you going to show me today?” she asked, turning to regard him.
His shoulders lifted. “Nothing. I have shown you everything within reach of the city. Today... I thought we might relax and talk.”
Auraya smiled wryly. She could never allow herself to relax when talking to him. He led her down into the building and through corridors. Parts of the Sanctuary were familiar to her now. She rarely lost her sense of direction. As Nekaun took her a few levels higher than she had ventured before, she found her curiosity growing.
Reaching the end of a corridor, Nekaun led her through a set of double doors and led her into a large, airy room. Domestics waited.
“These are my private rooms,” he told her. A few words in Avvenan sent the domestics hurrying away. Nekaun opened a pair of wooden doors, revealing a balcony.
“Come outside,” he said. “It is a pleasant place to sit and talk, especially on a day like this when cool breezes ease the summer heat. I have ordered drinks and food.”
Auraya followed him out. Elaborately woven reed chairs filled the space. A blown glass jug stood on a table next to two intricately decorated goblets. Nekaun poured water into the goblets and handed one to Auraya.
Sitting down, she sipped it cautiously. Nekaun settled into a chair facing hers.
Turaan sat further away. The Companion barely spoke these days and most of the time she forgot he was there. Whereas Nekaun used to speak in his own language and allow Turaan to translate, he spoke Hanian now. Yet the Companion remained. Nekaun still needed to consult Turaan on the less common words he did not know yet.
Auraya always waited until Hanian was spoken, despite knowing that her mind-reading abilities had been discovered. So long as the Voices pretended the fact was a secret, so would she.
“So what do you think of my home now you have seen more of it?” Nekaun asked.
“The Sanctuary is pleasant,” she replied.
He smiled. “And the city?”
“Prosperous. Ordered. I wish Jarime had been planned with as much foresight.”
“One doesn’t plan unless one needs to. Hania is not as dry as Avven. What of my people? How do you regard them now?”
“As I always have,” she told him. “People are much the same everywhere. They love and hate. They follow good traditions and bad. They work, eat, sleep, raise families and grieve the dead.”
Nekaun’s eyebrows rose. “Yet you do not regard them in the same way you regard the Siyee?”
“The Siyee don’t hate me. Your people do.”
“Hmm.” He nodded. “But you did not know this until you came here.”
“No, but I reasoned that they would. I would have been deluded if I’d thought I’d be welcome. Your people have much to hate me for.”
His eyes brightened. “You could redress that,” he said softly. “If you stayed here. You have an opportunity to gain their favor.”
“And earn the hatred of my people?” she asked.
“Ah, but would you? If you brought about a lasting peace between our people you may be loved by all. It might not be easy at first, but if you succeeded...”
Auraya looked away, through the railing of the balcony to the city below. His vision was a powerful one. A tempting one. As a White, she had been known for her ability to unite people. Her naive suggestions had brought about the freeing of her village from the Dunwayans who had taken it hostage. Her insight into the Dreamweavers had allowed her to achieve an alliance with the Somreyans, and to encourage tolerance and cooperation between the cult and Circlians. Her empathy and love for the Siyee had united the sky people with the Circlians. Making peace between the Circlians and Pentadrians almost seemed the next logical step.
But she was no longer a White. More importantly, she no longer had their complete trust. A negotiator needed the trust of all parties he or she dealt with.
Then there were the gods. She could never succeed at making peace between Circlians and Pentadrians with Huan working against her. She could never succeed unless the gods wanted peace.
A chill ran through her as she realized the truth of that. Peace was not in her hands, nor in the hands of any mortal or immortal. Mortals were helpless so long as the gods fought each other.
And so long as the gods used mortals as their tools and weapons.
From what she had overheard of Huan, she doubted the goddess could ever rise above petty hate and pride to negotiate with the Pentadrian gods. And what she had overheard of the gods’ conversations told her their own alliance wasn’t as solid as they liked mortals to believe.
Nekaun shifted in his seat, drawing her attention back to him. She felt an unexpected sympathy. He could not see that his ambition was impossible.
“I wish it were possible,” she told him. “But I cannot be the peacemaker. Not unless all the gods wish it.”
“My gods may wish it. Do yours?”
She grimaced. “I don’t know.”
He looked into the room. She saw that domestics had arrived with platters of food. They brought them outside and set them on low tables. Nekaun took a handful of nuts and chewed as he waited for them to leave.
