Trudi Canavan - Priestess of the White

Tanara leaned back to regard him. “I don’t deny there are risks. I only ask that you consider. You must do what your heart tells you.”

Standing up, she left the room, drawing the door shut behind her. Leiard closed his eyes and sighed.

Tanara is ignoring one simple fact: the gods would not have chosen anyone sympathetic to Dreamweavers, he told himself.

But they had chosen Auraya. Either she had developed a dislike of Dreamweavers, or they were playing a different game. He considered the possibilities. If they took an intelligent and Gifted woman who was sympathetic to Dreamweavers and caused her to turn against them, she might bring a new and fatal force to the Circlian hatred of heathens. She might be the one to destroy us completely.

And if he ran away and left her, alone and grieving, he might be the first to give her a reason to resent his people.

Curse the gods, he thought. I have to stay. At least until I know what’s going on .

The heat from the summer sun was stronger on the upper slopes of the mountains. As Tryss felt sweat beginning to run down his brow again, he straightened and shook his head. Droplets landed on the frame of the harness and were quickly absorbed by the dry wood. He pulled off his string-reed vest and laid it aside. Then, bending closer, he carefully stretched strips of flexible gut between the harness joints.

Much of the harness lay in pieces. He was trying to duplicate the lever system so he could carry four spikes instead of two. Already he was beginning to doubt that he could get off the ground while carrying something this heavy. Perhaps he would have to haul it up a tree or a cliff before launching himself into the air.

That wouldn’t impress people, however. He had decided he wasn’t going to show anyone this new harness until he’d had several successful hunts. Whenever he brought a creature down he would let it sleep off the drug, but when the time came to prove himself he would butcher his catch and carry meat back to the Open. When the other Siyee saw his family feasting, their jeers and mockery would stop.

He paused to sigh. If only his cousins had followed him quietly instead of telling other Siyee what Tryss had claimed to have done. Then only they and Drilli would have been present when Tryss arrived to find the yern gone. Since that day the story of his wild claim had spread throughout the Open. He was teased constantly, sometimes by Siyee he didn’t even know.

A prick of pain stung his arm and he jumped. The gut string slipped from between his fingers and flicked away. He cursed and examined his arm. A small red dot had appeared. Had something stung him? He looked around, but could see no insect buzzing nearby that might have made such a bite.

Just as he was searching the ground for crawling insects he felt another sting, this time on his thigh. He looked down in time to see something small and round fall to the ground. Bending closer, he noticed a winnet seed among the stones of the rock face. They were bright green and hard to miss, especially as winnet seeds weren’t found this high up in the mountains. The small tree grew alongside creeks and rivers, not on dry rocky slopes.

A small click brought his attention back to the harness just in time for him to see another seed fall from the frame to the rocks, then roll away. He slowly disentangled himself from his invention and stood up, casting about. In the corner of his eye he saw a movement and felt a sting on his shoulder. He spun around and started toward a large rock near where he had seen the movement.

Then he heard his name whistled from above.

Looking up, he felt his heart jump as he recognized Drilli’s wing markings. He searched the sky quickly, but there was no sign of his cousins. His heart began to beat faster as she circled lower.

There was a broad grin on her face. “Tryss!” she called. “I think I lost . . .” Her gaze shifted away and he saw her smile change to a look of outrage. At the same time he felt another sting, this time on his cheek. He cursed in pain and put a hand to his face.

“Fools!” she shrieked. Tryss caught his breath as she dropped into a dive and landed beside the rock he had been heading toward. She disappeared and Tryss heard a slap, then a Siyee staggered out from behind the rock, arms raised to protect his head as Drilli swiped at him again and again.

Ziss! Tryss heard laughter from behind him and turned to find Trinn climbing up the rock shelf toward them. Drilli stormed over to him and snatched something out of his hands.

“I told you not to use them on Siyee!” she said. “What if you tore his wings? Stupid girri-brain! If I’d known you’d do something like this I’d never have made them for you.”

“We wouldn’t have got his wings,” Trinn said. “We’ve been practicing.”

“What on?” she demanded.

Trinn shrugged. “Trees. Rocks.”

“Girri?”

He looked away. “No.”

“It was you, wasn’t it? And you watched me spend half the night weaving string-reed mats to console Aunt Lirri. She thinks her girri died from neglect.”

“She was going to eat them anyway,” Ziss protested.

Drilli whirled around to glare at him. “You two disgust me. Go away. I don’t want to see you again.”

The cousins exchanged a look of dismay, though it was clear Ziss wasn’t as bothered by her words as Trinn. He shrugged and turned away, running a few steps then leaping into the sky.

“Sorry,” Trinn offered. When Drilli turned to glare at him he winced, then followed his brother.

Drilli watched them until they were small dark marks against the distant clouds near the horizon, then she turned to Tryss and grimaced.

“I’m sorry about that,” she said.

He shrugged. “Not your fault.”

“Yes, it is,” she replied, anger returning to her voice. “I know what they’re like. I shouldn’t have shown them what the pipes were for, let alone made them a set.”

He looked at the object in her hand. It was a long piece of reed. “Pipes?”

“Yes.” She smiled and held the tube out to him. “A blowpipe. We started using them in our village to hunt small animals. You put a missile in here and—”

“I know how they work,” Tryss said, then winced at his own terseness. “But I haven’t seen one used before,” he added in a more encouraging tone. “Could you show me?”

She smiled and plucked the tube from his hands. Taking something from her pocket, she slipped it into the pipe. He heard a faint click as it met with something else inside that must have prevented it from coming out the other end. She turned and pointed.

“See that rock over there that looks a bit like a foot?”

“Yes.”

“See the black stone on the top?”

“Yes . . .” He glanced at her doubtfully. It was a long way away.

She put the pipe to her lips and blew into it quickly. Tryss barely saw the missile, but a moment later the black stone bounced off the rock and disappeared over the other side.

Tryss stared at Drilli in surprise. She’s not just pretty and strong, he thought. She’s clever as well . She looked back at him and grinned, and suddenly he didn’t know what to say. He felt his face beginning to heat.

“So is this where you disappear to?” she asked, her gaze sliding to the harness.

He shrugged. “Sometimes.”

She moved over to the harness and gazed down at it. “This is how you caught the yern, isn’t it?”

So she believed he’d actually caught one. Or was she just saying so to be nice.

“Um . . . yes.”

“Show me how it works.”

“It’s . . . it’s . . .” He waved his hands uselessly. “I’m changing it. It’s all in pieces.”