Priestess of the White
Chapters (62)
Cover
TRUDI CANAVAN
Priestess of the White
AGE OF THE FIVE: BOOK ONE
Dedication
To Paul
Map
PROLOGUE
Auraya stepped over a fallen log, taking care that no crinkle of crushed leaves or snapping of twigs betrayed her presence. A tug at her throat warned her to look back. The hem of her tawl had caught on a branch. She eased it free and carefully chose her next step.
Her quarry moved and she froze.
He can’t have heard me, she told herself. I haven’t made a sound.
She held her breath as the man rose and looked up into the mossy branches of an old garpa tree. His Dreamweaver vest was dappled with leafy shadows. After a moment he crouched and resumed his examination of the underbrush.
Auraya took three careful steps closer.
“You’re early today, Auraya.”
Letting out a sigh of exasperation, Auraya stomped to his side. One day I’m going to surprise him, she vowed. “Mother took a strong dose last night. She’ll sleep late.”
Leiard picked up a piece of bark, then took a short knife from a vest pocket, slid the point into a crack and twisted it to reveal tiny red seeds inside.
“What are they?” she asked, intrigued. Though Leiard had been teaching her about the forest for years there was always something new to learn.
“The seed of the garpa tree.” Leiard tipped out the seeds and spread them in his palm. “Garpa speeds the heart and prevents sleep. It is used by couriers so they can ride long distances, and by soldiers and scholars to keep awake, and…”
Falling silent, he straightened and stared into the forest. Auraya heard a distant snap of wood. She looked through the trees. Was it her father, come to fetch her home? Or was it Priest Avorim? He had told her not to speak to Dreamweavers. She liked to secretly defy the priest, but to be found in Leiard’s company was another matter. She took a step away.
“Stay where you are.”
Auraya stilled, surprised at Leiard’s tone. Hearing the sound of footsteps, she turned to see two men step into view. They were stocky and wore tough hide vests. Both faces were covered in swirls and dashes of black.
Dunwayans, Auraya thought.
“Stay silent,” Leiard murmured. “I will deal with them.”
The Dunwayans saw her and Leiard. As they hurried forward she saw that each carried an unsheathed sword. Leiard remained still. The Dunwayans stopped a few steps away.
“Dreamweaver,” one said. “Are more people in the forest?”
“I do not know,” Leiard replied. “The forest is large and people seldom enter.”
The warrior gestured with his sword toward the village. “Come with us.”
Leiard did not argue or ask for an explanation.
“Aren’t you going to ask what’s going on?” Auraya whispered.
“No,” he replied. “We will find out soon enough.”