“You’ll have to guide me,” came the reply.
The little spark of light floated past Reivan’s head, then stopped.
“Where now?”
“A bit to the right,” she called back.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” the other Servant called. “What if you get stuck?”
“I’ll get unstuck,” she replied, hoping she was right. Don’t think about it. “Forward and a bit more to the right. That’s it... now left - not so fast.”
With the light near the end of the curve, she could see that the tunnel widened again. It might narrow later, but she wouldn’t know until she got there. She pushed on, felt the constriction ease, shuffled around the bend...
... and sighed with relief as she saw that the tunnel continued to widen ahead. Within a few steps she could stretch her arms out and not touch either side. Ahead, it turned to the right. Her surroundings were no longer illuminated by the Servant’s magical light, which was still within the narrow gap behind her, but by a faint light coming from beyond the turn. She hurried forward, nearly tripping over the uneven ground. As she reached the turn, she gasped with relief. The tunnel walls ended at a patch of green and gray.
Rock and trees. Outside.
Smiling, she walked back to where the tunnel narrowed and told the Servants what she had found.
Reivan watched as the army spilled out of the tunnel. As each man and woman emerged they paused to glance around, relief written in their faces, before starting along the narrow trail leading to the top of the ravine. So many had passed she had lost count of them.
Servants had widened the tunnel with magic. The White Forest, as Imenja had dubbed it, would no longer be haunted by moaning winds. It was a shame, but few in the army would have been able to wriggle through the narrow gap as Reivan had.
A team of slaves began to emerge. They looked as pleased to be out of the mines as the rest. At the end of this journey they would be freed and offered paid work. Serving in the war had earned them a reduced sentence. Even so, she doubted any of them would boast about their part in this failed attempt to defeat the Circlians.
Defeat is probably far from anyone’s minds right now, she mused. They’re just happy to see sunlight. Soon all they will be worrying about is getting across the desert.
“Thinker Reivan,” a familiar voice said from close by.
She jumped and turned to face Imenja.
“I’m sorry, holy one. I didn’t hear you approach.”
Imenja smiled. “Then I should apologize for sneaking up on you.” She looked at the slaves, but her gaze was distant. “I sent the rest of the Thinkers ahead to find a path down to the desert.”
“Should I have joined them?”
“No, I wish to talk to you.”
Imenja paused as the casket containing Kuar’s body emerged from the tunnel. She watched it pass, then sighed deeply.
“I don’t believe Skill should be an essential requirement of all Servants of the Gods. Most, perhaps, but we should also recognize that some men and women have other talents to offer us.”
Reivan caught her breath. Surely Imenja was not about to...
“Would you choose to become a Servant of the Gods, if it were offered?”
A Servant of the Gods? What Reivan had dreamed of all her life?
Imenja turned to look at Reivan as she struggled to find her voice.
“I... I would be honored, holy one,” she gasped.
Imenja smiled. “Then it shall be so, on our return.”
PART
ONE
1
The man standing near the window all but reeked of fear. He hovered a few steps away from the panes, challenging himself to overcome his dread of heights and step closer, to look down from the Tower window at the ground far below.
Danjin did this every day. Auraya didn’t like to stop him. It took a lot of courage for him to confront his fear. The trouble was, being able to read his mind meant that she felt his anxiety and was distracted from whatever she was trying to concentrate on - at the moment a long and boring letter from a trader asking for the White to enact a law that would make him the only man able to trade with the Siyee legally.
Turning away from the window, Danjin found her looking at him and frowned.
“No, you didn’t miss something I said,” she replied.
He smiled, relieved. Reading minds was a habit for her now. The thoughts of others were so easily detectable that she had to concentrate in order not to hear them. The normal flow of conversation felt frustratingly slow as a result. She knew what somebody was going to say before they said it and had to hold back from replying until the words were spoken. To answer a question before a speaker had the chance to ask it was rude. It made her feel like an actor, anticipating and delivering lines.
With Danjin, however, she was able to relax. Her adviser accepted her mind-reading as part of what she was and did not take offense if she reacted to his thoughts as if he had spoken them aloud. For that she was grateful.
Danjin moved to a chair and sat down. He looked at the letter in her hands.
“Have you finished?” he asked.
“No.” She looked down and forced herself to continue reading. When she had finished she looked up at Danjin again. His gaze was distant and she smiled as she saw the direction his thoughts had taken.
I can’t believe it’s been a year already, he mused. A year since I became an Adviser to the White. As he noticed her watching him his eyes brightened.
“How will you be celebrating the end of your first year as White tomorrow?” he asked.
“I suppose we’ll get together for dinner,” Auraya replied. “And we will be meeting in the Altar, too.”
His eyebrows rose. “Perhaps the gods will congratulate you in person.”
She shrugged. “Perhaps. Perhaps it will just be us White.” She leaned back in her chair. “Juran will probably want to review the year’s events.”
“Then he has a lot to review.”
“Yes,” she agreed. “I hope not every year of my life as a White is that exciting. First the Somreyan alliance, then living in Si, then the war. I wouldn’t mind visiting other lands, or returning to Somrey and Si, but I would prefer it if I never had to go to war again.”
He grimaced in agreement. “I wish I could say with certainty that it was unlikely in my lifetime.” But I can’t, he finished silently.
She nodded. “So do I.” We can only trust that the gods had good reason to order us to let the Pentadrian sorcerers live. With their strongest sorcerer dead, the Pentadrians are weaker than the Circlian forces - for now. They have only to find another to replace him to become a threat to Northern Ithania again.
Once she would have been unconcerned. Sorcerers as powerful as the leaders of the Pentadrians were not born often - perhaps once every hundred years. That five had risen to power in Southern Ithania in the same generation was extraordinary. The White couldn’t risk hoping that another hundred years would pass before the Pentadrians found a sorcerer strong enough to replace Kuar.
We should have killed the four that survived, Auraya thought. But the battle was over. It would have seemed like murder. I have to admit, I would rather we White were known for our compassion than for ruthlessness. Perhaps that is the gods’ intention, too.
She looked down at the ring on her hand. Through it the gods heightened her natural magical strength and gave her Gifts that few sorcerers had ever possessed. It was a plain white band - nothing extraordinary - and her hand looked just as it had the year before. Many years would pass before it became apparent that she hadn’t aged a day since she had put it on.