Reivan nodded, and thought of the small, dark room she’d been given after becoming a Servant-novice. “I’ll look forward to that.”
The Second Voice chuckled. “Yes. In the meantime, it may be useful for you to know how ordinary priests and priestesses live.”
And now I know how the Voices live, Reivan thought as she looked around the room again. What is this room telling me about them? That they are powerful and wealthy, but in a dignified rather than excessive manner. I guess they need to impress any rulers that come here, and reassure their own people that they are in control. She looked at Imenja, remembering her previous unanswered question.
“So why don’t you become the First Voice?”
Imenja laughed. “Me?” She shook her head. “There are many reasons, but the foremost is strength. We need someone to replace Kuar who is as magically powerful, or more powerful than Kaur. That would make the new Voice more powerful than me, and it wouldn’t do to have a less powerful Voice ruling over the rest, would it?”
Reivan shook her head. “I guess not.”
“I don’t fancy the position either,” Imenja admitted. “I prefer to be less direct in my methods.” She moved to a small gong. As she struck it a pleasant ring filled the room. “Now, I need to deal with a few matters I used to leave to Thar. Stay and listen, for you will be taking on these tasks soon.”
Following the Second Voice to a set of reed chairs, Reivan resolved to learn as much as she could.
I may not have magic, but that’s not going to stop me from being a good Companion when the time comes, she told herself.
Mirar closed his eyes and slowed his breathing, letting his consciousness sink until it hovered between wakefulness and sleep. In this state it was easy to become distracted, to wander into dreams. He kept a part of his mind set on his purpose. It was like the game he had played as a child, where one had to stay in contact with a tree or a rock with one hand while trying to “kill” the other children by touching them. They’d circle around him, darting in and leaping away. He’d stretch out, just one finger touching the tree…
The tower dream, he reminded himself. I must see this dream Emerahl insists is mine.
He called out to her, and felt her stir from sleep into dream.
:Mirar?
:I am here. Show me the dream.
:Ah. Yes. The tower dream. How does it begin …?
The White Tower appeared. It loomed over her/him, as did a sense of impending danger.
:Have you been to Jarime in the last hundred years? he asked, gently and quietly so as to avoid disturbing her recollection. Have you seen the White Tower?
:No.
That was interesting. For her to have dreamed so accurately of something she’d never seen… but then she did believe this was not her own dream.
The dream was not as accurate as it first appeared. Clouds were cut apart as they passed the top of the tower; it was higher than it truly was. He felt dream fear wash over him. The urge to flee, but also the paralysis of fascination. The dreamer wanted to watch. Wanted to see, though it was dangerous. If he stayed too long they would see the dreamer. Discover who he was.
‘They’? Who were ‘they’?
The tower seemed to flex. Cracks appeared. It was too late to run away, but still he tried. Looking back, he saw huge stone bricks falling toward him.
Why didn’t I run sooner? Why aren’t I running sideways, out of the way of the long length of the falling tower?
The world crashed around him. The noise was deafening. He felt his body covered. Crushed. Bones cracking. Flesh squashing, bursting. Chest collapsing under an enormous weight. Lungs burning as he slowly began to suffocate. No breath to cry out. Not even to give voice to the pain. He fought a numbness that was encroaching upon his mind. He tried to reach for magic, but there was none. The space around him was depleted. Despite that knowledge, he reached further, felt a trickle of it, drew it in. Used it to protect and sustain his head, his mind, his thoughts.
It isn’t enough.
Not enough magic to repair his body. Not even enough to lift the rubble of the House piled atop him. Definitely not enough to face Juran again, which he would have to do if he managed to free himself.