Though she disliked Avorim she understood that she ought to learn Circlian ways from a Circlian priest. She loved the rituals and sermons, the history and laws, and counted herself lucky to be living in an age the gods had made peaceful and prosperous.

If I was a priestess, I’d be much better than he is, she thought. But that’s never going to happen. So long as mother is sick she’ll need me to stay here and look after her.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the opening of the Temple doors. Qurin and Avorim hurried inside and the villagers moved close.

“It appears these men are trying to stop the proposed alliance between Dunway and Hania,” Qurin told them.

Avorim nodded. “As you know, the White have been trying to form an alliance with the Dunwayans for years. They’re having some success now that suspicious old I-Orm has died and his sensible son, I-Portak, is ruler.”

“So why are they here?” someone asked.

“To prevent the alliance. They told me to contact the White to communicate their demands. I did, and I…I spoke to Juran himself.”

Auraya heard a few indrawn breaths. It was rare for priests to speak telepathically to one of the Gods’ Chosen, the four leaders of the Circlians known as the White. Two spots of red had appeared on Avorim’s cheeks.

“What did he say?” the village baker asked.

Avorim hesitated. “He is concerned for us and will do what he can.”

“Which is what?”

“He didn’t say. He will probably speak to I-Portak first.”

Several questions followed. Avorim raised his voice. “The Dunwayans do not want a war with Hania—they made that clear to us. After all, to defy the White is to defy the gods themselves. I don’t know how long we will be here. We must be prepared to wait for several days.”

As questions turned to matters of practicality, Auraya noticed that Leiard wore a frown of worry and doubt. What is he afraid of? Does he doubt that the White can save us?

Auraya dreamed. She was walking down a long corridor lined with scrolls and tablets. Though they looked interesting, she ignored them; somehow she knew that none of them contained what she needed. Something was urging her forward. She arrived in a small circular room. On a dais in the center was a large scroll. It uncurled and she looked down at the text.

Waking, she sat bolt upright, her heart pounding. The Temple was quiet but for the sounds of the villagers sleeping. Searching the room she found Leiard asleep in a far corner.

Had he sent her the dream? If he had, he was breaking a law punishable by death.

Does that matter, if we’re all going to die anyway?