Sighing, she sat down on one of the beds. When she had returned here last spring, she had noted that the space devoid of magic had shrunk since her last visit over a century ago. Slowly the magic of the world was seeping back to fill it. That suggested the original void had been even larger before she’d discovered it, and would eventually no longer exist.
For now it would suffice. She had travelled through the rough wild land of Si, a journey which involved a lot more climbing than walking, in order to reach this place. At every second step she had cursed Mirar, her fellow immortal and friend, for talking her into teaching Auraya. Every other step she had cursed The Twins, immortals even more ancient than herself and Mirar, who she had finally met for the first time a few months ago, for agreeing with him.
:We must know what Auraya is, Tamun had said to her in a dream-link, the night after Mirar had made his request. If she becomes an immortal she could also become a valuable ally.
:What if she can’t do it?
:She must still be a powerful sorceress, Surim had replied with uncharacteristic seriousness. Remember, the gods do not like independent sorcerers any more than they like us immortals. If we do not help her they will kill her.
:Will they? Just because she has quit the White doesn’t mean she has turned against them, Emerahl had pointed out. Auraya is still a priestess. She still serves the gods.
:Her mind is full of doubts, Tamun said. The gods’ demand that she kill Mirar without trial weakened her regard for them.
Emerahl nodded. She knew this herself. Once Auraya had removed the ring of the gods’ power her mind had no longer been shielded. With help from The Twins, Emerahl had learned to mind-skim and had occasionally seen Auraya’s thoughts.
The trouble is, while Auraya’s loyalty toward some gods has been weakened she still feels a need to at least remain on good terms with them. If she discovers who I am, she will know the gods want me dead. And she doesn’t have a prior friendship with me to make her reluctant to strike, as she had with Mirar.
She had seen enough of Auraya’s mind to know the former White did not like killing. If their meeting went well the gods wouldn’t even know Emerahl was here. She looked around the room again. The gods were beings of magic, and so could only exist where there was magic. They could not enter these rare, unexplained voids, nor could they see what lay within unless they looked through the eyes of humans standing outside it. Once Auraya was here the gods would not be able to read her mind.
There was still a good chance Emerahl had travelled halfway across the continent for nothing. She could not make Auraya learn anything. She would have to be careful what she told the woman, too. If Auraya left the void before learning to hide her thoughts, the gods would read her mind.
Emerahl shook her head and sighed again. This is such a risk. It’s all very well for The Twins, safely hidden away in the Red Caves in distant Sennon, or Mirar in Southern Ithania. They don’t have to worry that Auraya will change her mind and decide killing immortals without due cause is acceptable.
But The Twins’ help was invaluable. Every day and night they reached out to minds across the continents, skimming thoughts, alert to the intentions and actions of powerful people. The pair had honed these skills over thousands of years. They knew mortals so well, they could predict their behavior with uncanny accuracy.
Mirar had always said that the Wilds - or Immortals, as The Twins called them - each had an innate Gift. Emerahl’s was her ability to change her age, Mirar’s was his unsurpassed ability to heal. The Twins’ was mind-skimming. The Gull’s... she wasn’t sure exactly what his was, but she was sure it had something to do with the sea.
And Auraya’s, Mirar claimed, was her ability to fly. Emerahl felt a twinge of interest ease her annoyance at being here. I wonder if she can teach it to others. Mirar taught me to heal, though I can’t do it as well as he can. Perhaps I won’t be able to fly as well as she can... actually, flying doesn’t sound like an ability one can safely do less well at. Ineptitude could be fatal.
She snorted then. It’s worth a try, though. There has to be some benefit in this for me. It would be easier to like the idea of teaching this girl if I’m compensated for having to put off my search for the Scroll of the Gods.
The Twins had told her that they’d picked up rumors of an artifact that described the War of the Gods from the viewpoint of a long-dead goddess. Emerahl had decided to find it. Such a record might contain information useful to the Immortals. Information that might help them evade the gods’ notice, or survive if they failed. It might even give them the means to fight back.
According to The Twins, scholars in Southern Ithania had been searching for the Scroll for decades. They had made progress lately, but were still lacking enough information to discover the Scroll’s location. The Twins had assured her that these scholars were not about to find it soon, however. She had time enough to teach Auraya.
She moved to the jars and pots and began looking over the cures and preserved food.
But first I need to gather some food. And then I have to figure out a way to get Auraya to come here, and persuade her to stay for a while, all without arousing the gods’ suspicions.
The ship climbed steadily up one side of a wave, paused for a moment at the crest, then plunged down the other side. Mirar gripped the railing, half terrified, half exhilarated. Spray constantly wet him, but he didn’t retreat below deck. The wind and water were a welcome relief from the heat in the small passenger compartment.
And the old man doesn’t need me around to remind him that he’s dying, Mirar told himself.
He’d treated Rikken in one of the small ports along the Avven coast. Tough and wiry, the old merchant had grown anxious at Mirar’s assessment of his failing health. It was not the news that he was dying that bothered him, but that he might not expire in his homeland.
So he had asked Mirar to accompany him on his final journey home to Dekkar, in the hope that having a healer on hand would ensure he returned alive. Mirar had agreed out of restlessness and curiosity. He had encountered no hostility toward Dreamweavers in Avven, but the unending sameness of the towns he had passed through had begun to bore him. The buildings were made of mud-coated brick like those in Sennon, but did not vary in color or design. The people, men and women, wore drab clothing and covered their faces with veils. Even their music was monotonous.
I’m not looking for trouble, he told himself, remembering Emerahl’s accusation during their last dream-link. I like to travel and explore. It’s been a long time since I was free to do so. One of the crew hurried past Mirar, nodding and smiling as their eyes met. And these southerners are friendly, Mirar added, nodding in return.
He looked toward the coast again. A low rock face had appeared the day before and now it soared higher than the cliffs of Toren. Ahead its shadow abruptly ended, and he was beginning to make out the reason.
Time passed slowly, the ship only allowing a glimpse of the coast at the crest of each wave. Mirar waited patiently. Then, between one wave and another, the end of the cliff came into view.
The high rock face turned abruptly inland, its sheer sides dropping to a low, forested land fringed by gentle beaches. The change was extraordinary: bare rock to lush vegetation. The cliff continued to the east, folding back and forth into the distance, growing even higher than at the coast.