She moved forward and looked down at the man. “A chest wound. His lungs have been penetrated.”

As she kneeled before the soldier, Tauken turned away. He took a few steps then stopped as the woman gave a piercing whistle. Looking back, he saw a younger Dreamweaver hurry to her side. She took bandages from him, and lifted a small bowl for him to fill with water from a pitcher. As the young man hurried away again, answering another whistle, she took a small jar from her vest and tipped powder from it into the water.

Tauken knew he should move on, but curiosity kept him still. Her hands moving with practiced speed, the Dreamweaver bathed the wound then put the bloodied cloth aside. She paused. Tauken saw her shoulders rise and fall as she drew in and let out a deep breath, then she placed a hand on the wound and closed her eyes.

There was something wrong about all this. Seeing her using her Dreamweaver magic, Tauken finally realized what it was.

“You did not ask if he wanted your help,” he said.

She frowned, opened her eyes and turned to regard him.

“He is unconscious.”

“And so can hardly decide for himself.”

“Then you must decide for him,” she said calmly.

He stared at her. Once he would have told her to leave. Better the young soldier die than risk his soul by being healed by a Dreamweaver. But he knew he would want to live if he was the young man. If Juran could lift the ban for a day then the gods must intend to forgive those who chose to use Dreamweaver services.

Who am I to deny this man life? Accepting a Dreamweaver’s help does not mean a man or woman becomes one. And we could learn a lot from them.

He just hoped the young man agreed.

“Heal him,” he said. Beckoning to his helpers, he led them away.

“Gods forgive me,” he muttered to himself.

The Circlian camp was lit by a thousand torches. It ought to have been a cheerful sight, but those lights illuminated a grim scene.

Toward the end of the battle vorns had attacked the camp, killing defenseless servants and animals. Auraya could see survivors doing their best to tidy up the mess. Some were carrying corpses away, others were seeing to the wounded. Reyer that had lost their riders had been caught and were being used to carry others less fortunate to the edge of the camp.

Seeing this, Auraya almost wished she and her fellow White had finished the Pentadrians off.

The gods were right to let them live. I don’t like unnecessary slaughter. I don’t like necessary slaughter either, but killing a defeated enemy is too much like cold-blooded murder.