She crossed her arms. “How old are you?”

He paused and frowned. “About forty, I think.”

“You think? How can you not know exactly how old you are?”

His frown deepened. “Arleej believes my loss of memory is caused by me not linking with other Dreamweavers for many years.”

Sensing his distress, she decided to change the subject. It was clear his loss of certain memories bothered him.

“How many years has it been since you joined a link?”

“Not since before I lived in the forest near your village.”

She drummed her fingers against her arm. “How long were you in the village before my family arrived?”

“A few years.”

“Then you haven’t linked for nearly twenty years. How old are Dreamweavers when their training is finished?”

He looked at her oddly. “Twenty, if they start young.”

She nodded. So he was right: he was about forty. For some reason that disappointed her. Maybe because the older he was, the less time she would know him for. He would only grow older while she stayed the same physical age. It gave her an uncomfortable feeling that time was running out. A few more decades and his soul would be gone forever.

“Have Dreamweavers ever served the gods?” she found herself asking.

“No.”

“Do you think they ever would in the future?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because we don’t want to.”

She looked at him sidelong. “Because they had Mirar killed?”

“Partly.”

“And the other part is?”

“Because being powerful does not give someone the right to tell others how to think or live, or who to kill.”

“Not even if that someone is older and wiser than you? Like a god?”

“No.” He looked away. “People should have a choice whether they worship the gods or not.”

“They do.”

“Without punishment or penalty?”

“So you expect them to take your soul whether you worship them or not?” she asked in return.

“No. I expect my people to be free from persecution.”

“That is in the past.”

“Is it? Then why do Dreamweavers still fear to walk the streets of Jarime? Why are they forbidden to practice their skills in order to help people?”

Auraya sighed. “Because of what happened a century ago. And I don’t mean Mirar’s death.”

He said nothing to that. She was both relieved and disappointed. While she did not want to argue with him, she did want to hear his view on the events in the past that had led to the Dreamweavers’ situation now.

According to records she had read, Mirar had been both admirable in his work and self-indulgent in his habits. He had taught his people everything about medicines and care for the sick or wounded. His Gift of healing had been unique and he’d been generous at applying it.