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Trudi Canavan: Priestess of the White

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Trudi Canavan Priestess of the White

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Priestess of the White Age of the Five

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“She offered herself in exchange,” Sen replied in Hanian.

“Why didn’t you refuse?”

“She knew the ritual words. I was honor-bound to—”

Bal’s eyes narrowed. “We are the Leven-ark. We have abandoned all honor. Take—”

A warning was shouted. All turned to see a priestess standing in the gap in the wall.

The priestess was beautiful. Her gold-blonde hair was arranged in an elaborate style. Large blue eyes regarded all serenely. Auraya forgot all else but the fact that she was looking at Mairae of the White. Then Sen took her wrist in an iron grip and pulled her after Bal, who was marching toward the woman.

“Stay there, or she dies,” the Dunwayan leader barked.

Mairae regarded Bal intently. “Bal, Talm of Mirrim, Ka-Lem of the Leven-ark, why are you holding the people of Oralyn prisoner?”

“Did your priest not explain? We demand you stop your alliance with Dunway. If you do not we will kill these villagers.”

“I-Portak does not sanction this action you have taken.”

“Our argument is with you and I-Portak.”

Mairae nodded. “Why do you seek to prevent the alliance when the gods want our lands to unite?”

“They did not proclaim that Dunway should be ruled by the White, only that our lands be allies.”

“We do not wish to rule you.”

“Why, then, do you ask for control of our defenses?”

“We do not. Your land’s army is and will always be for I-Portak and his successors to control.”

“An army without fire-warriors.”

Mairae’s eyebrows rose slightly. “Then it is the dismantling of the Sorceror Clan that you protest against, not the alliance itself?”

“It is.”

She looked thoughtful. “We believed dismantling the Sorceror Clan had the support of its sorcerers. I-Portak saw great benefits in sending Gifted Dunwayans to the priesthood. There is much that we can teach them that they would not learn in the clan house. Healing, for example.”

“Our fire-warriors know how to mend a wound,” Sen snapped, his voice loud in Auraya’s ear.

Mairae’s attention shifted to him. “Not how to cure a child’s illness, or assist in a difficult birth, or clear an old man’s sight.”

“Our Dreamweavers tend to those duties.”

Mairae shook her head. “There cannot be enough Dreamweavers in Dunway to tend to those needs.”

“We have more than Hania,” Sen said stiffly. “We did not seek their deaths as Hanians did.”

“A hundred years ago Dunwayans were as eager to be rid of the Dreamweaver leader, Mirar, as Hanians were. Only a few misguided Hanians sought to kill his followers. We did not order it.” She paused. “Dreamweavers may be Gifted healers, but they do not have the power of the gods to call upon. We can give you so much more.”

“You would steal from us a tradition that we have kept for over a thousand years,” Bal replied.

“Would you make yourself an enemy of the gods for that?” she asked. “Is it worth starting a war? For that is what you will do if you execute these villagers.”

“Yes,” Bal replied heavily. “It is what we are prepared to do. For we know that it is not the gods who demand the end of the Sorceror Clan, but I-Portak and the White.”

Mairae sighed. “Why did you not speak out earlier? The terms of the alliance might have been altered, had you approached us peacefully. We cannot accede to your demands now, for if others were to see that you had been successful, they, too, would threaten innocents in order to get their way.”

“So you will abandon these villagers to their fate?”

“That is on your conscience.”

“Is it?” Bal asked. “What will people think of the White when they hear they refused to save their own people?”

“My people’s loyalty is strong. You have until the end of the day to leave, Talm of Mirrim. May the gods guide you.”

She turned away.

“Our cause is just,” Bal said quietly. “The gods see that it is so.” He gave Auraya a disturbingly impersonal glance, then nodded at Sen. Auraya went cold as she felt Sen’s hand grasp the back of her head.

“Wait!” she gasped. “Can I speak before I die?”

She felt Sen pause. Mairae stopped and looked over her shoulder at Bal. The Dunwayan smiled.

“Speak,” he said.

Auraya looked from Mairae to Bal and drew up the words she had practiced silently for days. “This can go one of four ways,” she said. “Firstly, the Dunwayans could give in and let the White have their way.” She glanced at Bal. “That’s not likely. Neither is it likely that the White will give in and wait for a better time to make an alliance, because they don’t want anyone copying you.”

Her mouth was so dry. She paused to swallow.

“It seems like the White have to let the Leven-ark kill us. Then either the White or I-Portak will kill the Leven-ark. We’ll all be seen as martyrs to our land or cause.” She looked at Bal again. “Or will we? If you die, the Sorceror Clan will still end. You fail.” She looked at Mairae. “There must be another way.”

Everyone was staring at her. She forced herself to look at Bal once more. “Make it look as if the Leven-ark failed. You cast aside all honor and came here prepared to sacrifice your lives to save the Sorceror Clan. Are you prepared to sacrifice your pride instead?”

Bal frowned. “My pride?”

“If you let the White escort you out of Hania in shame— if you appear to have failed—then we need not fear others will copy you.” She looked at Mairae. “If he agrees, will you change the terms of your alliance?”

“To allow the Clan to continue?”

“Yes. Even I, living in this tiny village, know of the famous Dunwayan Fire-Warrior Clan.”

Mairae nodded. “Yes, if the Dunwayan people wish to keep it.”

“Alter the terms of the alliance—but not straightaway or others will still see a connection between the Leven-ark coming here and the change. Arrange for something else to prompt the change.”

Bal and Mairae looked thoughtful. Sen made a low noise, then said something in Dunwayan. At Bal’s reply he stiffened, but said nothing more.

“Anything else you wish to say, girl?” Bal asked.

Auraya bowed her head. “I’ll be grateful if you don’t kill my family and neighbors.”

Bal looked amused. He turned to regard Mairae. Auraya fought a growing suspicion that she had just made a fool of herself.

I had to try. If I thought of a way to save the village and didn’t try it, I’d . . . I’d end up dead.

“Are you willing to let the world believe you failed?” Mairae asked.

“Yes,” Bal replied. “My men must agree, though. If they do, will you change the terms of the alliance?”

“If my fellow White and I-Portak agree. Shall we consult our people and meet again in an hour?”

Bal nodded.

“You will not harm any of the villagers before then?”

“I swear, in the name of Lore, they will remain unharmed. But how can we trust that you will change the alliance after we have left?”

Mairae’s mouth relaxed into a smile. “The gods do not allow us to break our promises.”

Bal grunted. “We must be satisfied with that. Return in an hour. We will give you our answer.”

As Mairae entered the Temple the villagers fell silent.

“A peaceful solution has been found,” she announced. “The Dunwayans have left. You may return to your homes.”

At once the Temple filled with cheers.

Auraya had followed Mairae, Avorim and Qurin into the room. “You little fool!” a familiar voice cried. Her mother rushed forward to embrace her tightly. “Why did you do that?”

“I’ll explain later.” Auraya looked for Leiard but he was nowhere in sight. As her mother released her she suddenly realized that Mairae was standing beside her.

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