The Last Of The Wilds (60 page)

“Even the most distant tribes are sending messages for help. I fear you cannot reach them all in time. I do not know what to do. And the Blue Lake tribe has sent news that Dreamweaver Wilar has vanished.”

Auraya felt a shiver run down her spine at the name. From Sirri’s thoughts she could see the Speaker didn’t know the reason for Mirar’s disappearance, but the Blue Lake messenger had speculated at the possibility that there had been an argument between Auraya and Mirar.

“I know that he has left,” she said carefully. “And I know why, but I cannot speak of it except to say that I wish he did not need to and that there is nothing I can do to help him.”

Except do nothing
, she added silently.

Sirri was intrigued, but she did not voice any of the questions that came to mind. They had reached Auraya’s bower. Mischief leapt off Auraya’s shoulder and darted inside.

“That is a shame,” Sirri said. “If you cannot help him, who can?”

“Only himself.” Abruptly Auraya remembered the friend she had seen in Mirar’s mind. Would the woman who had helped him regain his identity be able to help him again?

Sirri smiled and stepped away. “We have much to discuss tonight. What will you do next?”

“Convince Mischief to stay here, then visit the sick newcomers.”

Sirri nodded. As the Speaker walked away, Auraya entered her bower. Looking around, she noted the bowl of fruit and fresh jug of water sitting on a table. She silently thanked whoever had kept the place ready for her return, including taking care of Mischief.

The veez had climbed up to the hanging basket he used as a bed. His nose peeped over the edge, then he climbed onto the brim and leapt onto her shoulders.

“I think you’re heavier than before,” she told him. “Are you getting fat?” She scratched him under the chin.

“Msstf fat,” he agreed.

She laughed. He had recognized the Siyee word for “fat,” though she could see he didn’t understand it. People must have been saying it in his presence enough for him to associate it with himself.

“Have you been pestering people into giving you food?” she asked him.

He didn’t answer. His eyes were closed in appreciation of her scratching.

“Now, Mischief, stay. Auraya go and—”

e is she? Ah. Here she is.

She froze. The voice was Chaia’s. Her heart began to pound. Mischief leapt off her shoulders and turned to regard her, whiskers twitching. He could sense her agitation, but not the source of it. Then a glow began to form in the center of the room and the veez fled into the bedroom.

Auraya swallowed hard as the glow formed the shape of a man. Chaia was smiling, she saw with relief.

, Auraya.

, Chaia, she replied.

d you miss me?

She stared at him for a moment, unsure how to answer. It wasn’t the question she was expecting. His smile was the sort of playful expression he wore during his more amorous moods, but for some reason that disturbed and repelled her. As he stepped forward she had to resist the urge to back away.

s a little hard to miss someone when you’re not sure if you’ll like what they’re going to do or ask of you when they return, she said, perhaps too bluntly.

His smile widened and he reached out to touch her cheek.

t would be. But putting that aside, don’t you miss our nights together? Don’t you miss my touch?

Where his fingers passed through her skin she felt a delicious tingling. A shiver ran down her spine.

s, she admitted.
A little
.

t a little? He pouted.
Wasn‘t I attentive enough?

She could not resist a smile.

u were more than attentive enough. She stepped back out of his reach.
But that was just physical pleasure, Chaia. I miss it. I even crave it sometimes. But
...

? His eyebrows rose.
You didn’t miss me, did you? You don’t love me?

She looked away. Now that he had confronted her with the question, she knew he was right.

t in the way human lovers do. Not in the way…

e way you love Mirar, he finished, all humor gone from his face.

She felt a flash of anger.

. Nothing like what I feel for Mirar. Is it pity you want?

He stared at her, then smiled.

:I
believe I asked for that. And I know you do not love me as you once loved Leiard
. His eyes narrowed.
What do you feel for me?

She considered.

g between love for a god and the love for a friend. I think… I think we are too different.

:I have always treated you as an equal, when we were alone together. You have done the same.

, but it isn’t about us pretending to be equals. She shook her head. A movement in the bedroom entrance caught her eye. Mischief was looking out.
Maybe it is as implausible as expecting Mischief to feel romantic love for me. He is a veez, I am human. Gods and humans may be more similar than humans and veez, but not similar enough. There are so many differences in how we see the world. So much that we can’t get from each other that we can get from our own kind. I
... She looked up at Chaia.
But you know this. You can see my mind
.

:I
can only see what is, not what you have yet to decide
, he told her.

She felt her heartbeat quicken.

n you can see what I have decided in other matters. What are you and the other gods going to do?

He shrugged, though his expression was now serious.

:
We haven’t decided yet
.

She frowned.

y not?

His mouth twisted into a crooked smile.

e do not always agree on everything, Auraya.

n what options are you considering?

h, he replied.
That would be telling
.

And he vanished. She felt a surge of anger and frustration.

? Her senses told her he was still in the room.
Chaia! I know you‘re still here. I can sense you.

:I
know you can
. He drifted away, but before he faded from her senses words came to her like a distant voice blown to her on the wind.

:I
expected you to refuse, Auraya. Know that you have made an enemy of one of the gods
.

And then his voice faded to nothing. She turned around and around, wondering if he had been referring to her refusal to kill Mirar, or her admission that she didn’t love him like a human. Which of the gods had she made an enemy of: Chaia or another?

Imi walked slowly around her room, touching everything. She had done this several times in the last few days, not sure if it was to reassure herself that she was truly home, or to remind herself how much had changed.

The carvings around the walls had never interested her as they did now. As a child she had liked them for what they represented: famous Elai, the goddess Huan, creatures of the sea. Now she saw the workmanship in them and she wondered how much landwalkers would pay for carvings like these.

And what else could the Elai sell them?

While she hadn’t liked wearing the formal jewellery favored by adults before, now she carefully chose something from her chest every day. Her favorite toys she now displayed on a shelf, but she did not play with them. Instead she asked Teiti endless questions about Elai history, the landwalkers who had attacked or deceived Elai in the past, magic and the goddess. When her aunt could not answer her questions, she had sent the woman away to find answers, or demanded to see people who could tell her what she wanted to know.

“All landwalkers have Gifts—even small ones. Why don’t we?” she had asked of the palace sorcerer, an ugly old man with a wheeze and loose skin that hung from his bones like cloth.

“The oldest records tell how Huan selected men and women with weak Gifts to become Elai,” he told her. “They were less resistant to the changes she wrought in them.”

“Resistant? Didn’t they want to become Elai?”

“They did, but those with magic found they kept undoing the changes without meaning to.”

“What of the Elai who have Gifts now? Do they undo themselves?”

He shrugged. “We do tend to sicken easily and age faster.”

“Is it the same for the Siyee?”

He nodded. “They have fared better, however. They have a few sorcerers with moderately powerful Gifts. At least they did ten years ago, when I last visited.”

“Why have they done better?”

“I don’t know,” he had admitted. “Why don’t you ask the head priestess?”

She had followed his advice. The head priestess, a woman of Teiti’s age, told her that the way things were was how Huan intended them to be.

“So she doesn’t want us to change?”

“Not necessarily. We can change. But if we begin change in a way she does not want us to, she will intervene. She has done it before.”

Imi had considered this, then moved to another question that had been bothering her.

“We only follow Huan. What of the other gods? Why don’t we follow them?”

“Because Huan made us.”

“And she doesn’t let us follow other gods as well as her?”

The priestess’s eyebrows had risen at that, but not in surprise. Imi had met her disapproval with determination.

“What are the other gods like?”

“Chaia was always known as the God of Kings. Lore was the God of War. Yranna the Goddess of Women and Saru the God of Wealth.”

“You say that as if they aren’t any more.”

“They put aside their former titles after the War of the Gods. But these titles are still an indication of their natures. Chaia has the character of a leader, and is wise in all matters of holding and keeping power.”

Imi nodded. “What of the Pentadrian gods?”

The priestess shrugged. “I know nothing of them. It is said only five gods survived the War of the Gods, and that in some lands people still worship dead gods as if they are real.”

“Servant Reivan said that she once heard her god speaking in her mind. That sounds as if he is real.”

“She may have imagined it.” The priestess shrugged. “I know nothing of these Pentadrian gods, nor do I need to know anything. Huan is our goddess and creator. We need no other.”

“No. But it would be good to know all about other people’s gods.”

“Why?”

“In case Huan decides we need to change,” Imi replied. “Or in case we begin to change and Huan doesn’t stop it.”

“I doubt she’d approve of us worshipping other gods.”

“I don’t think any Elai would want that. But other things can change, sometimes without us wanting it. We should be ready to face anything.”

The priestess had smiled at that. “You’ll make a good queen one day.”

Imi felt a wry pride at the memory. She had nearly finished her circuit of the room. As she moved to the next shelf there came a knock at the door, and she stopped. Teiti emerged from her little “room” within Imi’s cave and opened the door. The woman frowned as she saw the boy standing there.

“Come in, Rissi.”

The boy sidestepped past Teiti and walked toward Imi. He stopped a few steps away and bowed.

“Princess,” he said. “I have come to report my findings.”

Teiti nodded approvingly at the formality before returning to her room. Imi smiled at Rissi. After a day of pleading, her father had finally agreed that several months’ imprisonment was enough punishment for the boy who had led her out of the city and to the islands where she had been captured. Rissi hadn’t been angry with her for leading
him
into trouble. Instead he apologized endlessly for failing to stop or rescue her. He had come to the palace each day, asking if there was anything he could do to make up for his mistake.

Teiti had suggested Imi think of something useful for the boy to do, as guilt—though undeserved—was obviously making him miserable. That had given Imi an idea, and she had sent Rissi out on a quest for information. Her father used the pipe room to listen in on the city populace and gauge people’s opinions on his rule. She would use the children.

Rissi had asked other children to pose a question to their parents. He was to tally the answers and give them to her.

The question was: “Should the Elai be friends with the people who had rescued Princess Imi?”

Imi smiled at Rissi. “What did they say?”

“It was even,” he told her. “Some said the answer was ‘yes.’ Just as many said ‘no.’ A few didn’t get an answer, or didn’t understand the answer, or their parents couldn’t decide.”

“So half of the definite answers were ‘yes’ and half ’no,’” Imi mused aloud. “Without anyone trying to change their minds yet.”

“You’re not going to get your father to befriend landwalkers, are you?” he asked.

“You don’t like the idea?”

He shook his head. “Landwalkers took you away and made you work like a slave. They’re dangerous.”

“Not all of them,” Imi told him. “The Pentadrians were good to me.”

He shook his head in disagreement, but said nothing.

“Why don’t you believe me?” she asked.

He frowned. “It’s not that I don’t believe you, but…”

“But?”

His frown changed to a scowl. “It only takes one bad one among the good and we’re all dead.”

“Not if we don’t bring them here. When we trade we should do it somewhere else. And insist that there only be a few of them. We could even have them leave goods somewhere for us, and we could leave ours in return.”

“And if they come back and attack us? If raiders come to take the goods?”

“We should have a quick escape route. They can’t swim like us, remember. We have to stop running and hiding. We have to be able to stand and defend ourselves.”

“We have our warriors.”

“Who can only fight one on one. We need to do better than that. We need archers. And fortifications. And magic.”

Rissi shuddered. “I don’t like it. We’ve been safe living here for generations. Why change that?”