Dyara nodded. “The others will be at the Altar by now. We should not keep them waiting.”

Auraya felt her stomach flutter with both anxiety and excitement. For the first time she would sit with the other four White as they discussed their duties and responsibilities. They might give her a task to perform. If they did, she expected it would be a minor responsibility. Even if they didn’t, it would be interesting to hear what worldly matters they were involved in.

Dyara’s circ flared as she turned on her heel and strode to the door. Auraya followed. The cage was waiting for them. As they descended Auraya considered the “scouts’ Dyara had spoken of. She was disturbed by the news that strangers were watching her, but wondered if they truly had done so voluntarily. What was worse: that they had spied on her out of their own initiative, or that someone had asked them to?

Are my fellow White keeping an eye on me? If I arrange to meet Leiard again, will they try to discourage me? Should I let them? As the cage settled at the bottom of the stairwell, Auraya followed Dyara out. The gods chose me. They knew everything about me, including my friendship with Leiard and sympathy for Dreamweavers. If they hadn’t approved, they would have chosen someone else.

Or would they? Perhaps they tolerated that one aspect of her character in order to make use of others. However, until they told her not to, she would continue associating with Dreamweavers.

She shivered. When the news of her mother’s death had arrived she had feared the gods were making a point—that they were making it clear they disapproved of her use of a Dreamweaver’s services by killing her mother.

Ridiculous, she thought. The gods don’t work that way. When they want something, they tell you. Despite knowing this, she hadn’t been able to shake the fear until Leiard had assured her that her mother’s illness had been the cause of her death.

The air outside the Tower was warm and the sun’s heat promised a hot day to come. Dyara’s pace quickened. They reached the Dome, entered it and strode toward the dais and Altar at the center.

The other three White were waiting for them, seated at a circular table. Auraya felt her pulse racing as she drew closer, and memories of the Choosing Ceremony flashed through her mind. She followed Dyara onto the Altar.

“Welcome, Auraya,” Juran said warmly.

She smiled and nodded. “Thank you, Juran.”

As Dyara slipped into a seat, Auraya took the remaining chair. The five sides of the Altar began to move, hinging upward until their triangular points met. The walls glowed with a diffuse light.