Jayim’s expression was guarded. Leiard sensed that the boy’s feelings were a mixture of relief, guilt and annoyance.

“What do you know of these Pentadrians, Leiard?” Millo asked.

Leiard shrugged. “Not much. Only what other Dreamweavers have told me. They are a young cult, only a few hundred years old at the most. They worship five gods, as the Circlians do.”

“Real gods, or dead ones?” Millo asked.

“I do not know. Their names are unfamiliar to me.”

“What are their names?”

“Sheyr, Ranah, Alor, Sraal and Hrun.”

“Perhaps they are old dead gods who had different names in the southern continent,” Jayim suggested.

“Perhaps,” Leiard agreed, pleased that Jayim would think of this.

The boy’s eyes brightened. “Or the same gods as the Circlians follow, known by different names.”

“That wouldn’t make much sense,” Tanara pointed out. “They’d be sending their own followers to fight their own followers.”

Leiard looked at her thoughtfully, then shook his head. “No, I can see no profit in it for them.”

She frowned. “You think they’d do that, if there was profit in it?”

“Possibly.”

“But that would be unspeakably cruel.”

“The gods aren’t as noble and fair as the Circlians would have us believe,” Leiard found himself saying. “We Dreamweavers remember what they have done in the past, before this charade of concern for mortals began. We know what they are capable of.”

Tanara stared at him in horror.

Mirar, Leiard thought sternly. I told you not to do that.

Yes, you did. But what can you do to stop me? the other voice replied.

Leiard ignored the question. What did you hope to achieve by frightening her?

Now another knows the truth.

And how will that benefit Tanara?

Mirar didn’t reply. Tanara looked away. “Then we’d best hope they continue to want to keep up the charade,” she murmured.

Jayim was watching Leiard through narrowed eyes. “What do these memories of yours tell you about the Pentadrians?”

“My memories tell me nothing. I have learned what I have learned from Dreamweavers in Sennon.”

“Through dream links?”

“Yes.”

Jayim frowned. He opened his mouth to speak, then sighed and shook his head. “What do they think of them?”

“That Dreamweavers have nothing to fear from the Pentadrians. The southern cult regards us with pity, not fear or dislike. Which proves that their gods are not the same as the Circlians’,” he added.

The boy nodded slowly and thoughtfully. “Will we join this war?”

“Dreamweavers do not fight,” Leiard replied.

“I know, but will we go as healers?”

“Probably.”

Tanara’s eyes widened. She glanced at her son and bit her lip. Millo frowned.

“We will be quite safe,” Leiard assured them. “The Pentadrians understand that we tend to all, no matter what race or religion. Our Gifts will protect us from mishaps or misunderstandings.” He looked at Jayim. “It will be a good opportunity for Jayim to hone his healing sk—”