Giving me no time to rest, The Artist summoned The Trader with almost precognitive speed. Which, of course, it had been. They stood beside each other in a way that suggested they were comfortable that way. Despite only seeing each other once a year for five centuries, they seemed to speak as one.

"My role during our preparations is to design emblems and armour that will make the generals the most intimidating of the entire army." The Artist was using 'our' and 'we' now. The thought that the immortals were counting me as one of them so immediately terrified me beyond belief.

"When it actually comes down to the battle, the two of us will be planning the army's movements and strategies from the sidelines." Her brother took over. "For now, my purpose is to call in favours from the most powerful people among the cities of Ithania and hire every soldier I can.

"And also transporting you." He had a glint in his eyes that suggested to me that he might actually just throw me in a tarn and leave me there until we arrived at – whatever our destination was.

"We have arranged your journey in a way that should take you on a trip around Ithania to the other immortals in their realms all around the continent." The Artist spoke as if the two Immortals had rehearsed their speech. "From here, in the centre of the continent, you will travel with The Trader to the port of Nor, where The Seafarer will pick you up."

"From there you're headed to the Sorcerer Lands and The Sorceress. After that you'll be travelling around Northern Ithania to The Empress in Avven." The Trader seemed to look upon this leg of the journey with some sympathy to me, and I knew why. The Sorcerer Lands were to the far north, and the lands of The Empress were in the depths of Southern Ithania. There really was no way to cross that distance easily.

"Hopefully that will be the only incredibly long part of your journey." Once again, The Artist picked the plan up as her brother became distracted. "We have arranged for Mir- The Healer to meet you in Glymma and take you to Si to meet The Bird last. Hopefully I won't be hearing of your death or hers just before we mobilize." Not likely, if we were matched in power, I thought.

"I'm going to ignore that particular visit until I arrive, I think," I pointed out, doing my best to be tactful.

"Very good." The Trader rubbed his hands together in anticipation. "Well, we have to get going as soon as possible, since we only have a few weeks to catch up with The Seafarer in Nor."

"We all agreed that we would keep this moving at a moderate pace," The Artist pointed out patiently. "I need to take his measurements for the armour before you run off for another year."

"Fiiine." The Trader sighed and pouted like a child.

For the next half hour, I watched as some of The Artist's colleagues raced around me with measuring instruments, taking measurements down to the most specific details, like the angle between my hips and underarm. Meanwhile, The Trader and The Artist bickered lightly about small issues. There didn't seem to be any actual disagreement between them, but their extremely different views of the most trivial issues were slightly disconcerting.

As the last of the servants scuttled out with sheets and sheets of my every measurement, the two immortals started on goodbyes. "Be safe. Keep well." All of those common goodbyes passed by.

Then, The Artist mentioned something that brought my head up from where it had been slowly sliding down the back of my chair. "Don't sleep with too many young girls," she said firmly.

The Trader grinned slyly. "How am I supposed to know how many is too many?" he asked, as if he was totally innocent.

"When I start yelling at you while we link," The Artist retorted. So that was how they always moved in concert all across Ithania. Dream links.

"You do that after the first girl visits me."

"Because I know it's the first of the thirty or so you'll be bedding over the course of a year."

"Now that's a bit extreme," The Trader was looking surprised. "You know it's more like fifteen."

"The point still stands. You're going to get yourself sick." Apparently this was a real argument that the two of them had been having for the last few centuries, and part of me told me not to interfere. However, my brain was fast approaching a point of severe exhaustion, despite my magic's best efforts, and the lack of logic that comes with tiredness overruled my sensible side.

"Are we going to leave soon?" I asked, and then I blushed. I hadn't intended to sound so much like a whining child.

The Trader burst out laughing at my voice, and The Artist smiled. "We do tend to argue a bit much," she told me. "We don't realize how much we hold up the conversation, so I apologize.

"Remember, all of us are going to be in contact throughout the year," The Artist continued. "You'll hear of any major change in our plans from whichever immortal you are staying with at any time. I have also had The Healer contact your superiors in Jarime with news of your impending journey."

I was quiet at this. I had not thought of returning to Jarime like I was supposed to yet, and I supposed that that was due to the sheer excitement of the journey ahead. From what I knew of the leaders back home, they would probably allow me to travel as long as it provided the Circlian religion with more power in the Council, but I couldn't be sure. There were always pesky naysayers in the ruling body, and I had always tried not to bend such powerful people to my will. Of course, I would deal with them however necessary as long as I could travel for the year.

I stayed quiet as The Trader led me out a side door of the Seat, and we entered a waiting platten. Once we left the city we were joined by a group of tarns driven by some men who were apparently The Trader's colleagues. I was quick in noticing that each one of the other tradespeople was travelling with a younger woman, probably a daughter or niece. Apparently, The Trader was just as promiscuous as his sister said, maybe even a match for the White's weakest member, Mairae.

I kept my thoughts to myself for at least another hour before The Trader apparently satisfied himself that everyone else was running smoothly and turned to me. As he told me later, I snored in his face.

When I woke up, I was in a tent on the morning of the next day. Even arems need rest, though I didn't see why we hadn't just slept in the tarn. Wait, yes I did. The Trader probably preferred his 'privacy.' Worried about what I would see outside, I pulled out my extra circ and cleaned the one I had accidentally slept in.

"You sleep like a hibernating roale," was how The Trader greeted me as I stepped outside. "I wasn't certain I would be able to sleep myself with you snoring in the next tent over."

"For an Immortal charged with protecting Ithania, you're surprisingly rude," I muttered. The Trader smirked, which was not quite the response I had been hoping for.

I'd woken up earlier than usual, so I was told by The Trader to help pack up the elaborate tents before we got going. With my adult life having previously been dedicated almost entirely to learning about the gods, it was a steep learning curve for me to have to pack up all those tent poles. But The Trader insisted that a minimum of servants travel with his caravan, so his regular travellers – all merchants – were entirely self-sufficient.

After what I considered an entirely unnecessary exercise in physical labour – the tents had spells woven into the fabric to prevent magical use upon them – we were underway again. Almost immediately, The Trader handed the reins of his arem to his assistant, a thin man named Han, and beckoned me into the back of the tarn, where he had a circular space cleared among all of the artistic pieces he had collected in The City of Artisans for selling to the most affluent members of Ithanian high society.

"Of the living Immortals, my power is the closest to yours," he began, diving right into conversation as usual. "My sister and I can work together to know and understand mortals and how they will react under certain conditions. This is how we earned our reputations long ago.

"Your abilities are more personal. You can instinctively use magic to make people think the way you do. While I can only know what humans will do, you can change what they will do." I knew that already, so why was I getting this speech?

"As my sister pointed out yesterday, we think that you can also learn to understand how people think at a glance. This would let you convince them of your opinions without magic, which I know is one of your goals." Obviously. Who really wants to be entirely dependant on brainwashing people to get everything?

"How does that prove I am a match for the Immortals?" All I had heard so far was that I was especially talented compared to normal people. That was exactly what the Circlian priests all were.

"There is one test we can do," The Trader said, his eyes glinting. "One trait that all seven of us share is an unprecedented ability to draw on the magic around us. We can store and use much more magic than we would ever need. We try to avoid wasting magic like that, but I'd like you do draw as much magic as you can. If you need to let some of it loose, convert it into light."

Simple enough. I swept my brain clear of extraneous thoughts and concentrated on the magic around me. The Trader probably felt my senses expand to seek magic, because he looked puzzled. As I opened myself to the power in the air, something in my brain clicked, and it all rushed at me.

I sucked it all in as fast as I could, glad of the movement of the tarn to bring fresh magical territory into the range of my senses. As I neared what was my usual threshold, I didn't slow down my drawing and continued to let the magic to flood into the place between my eyes where I stored it. Just as I felt like I would burst with all the power in my body, something shredded deep in my mind and the magic kept flowing in, a huge amount. Like The Trader said, it was more than I could ever use. Unable to see a clear limit to my new powers of storage, I stopped absorbing the energy and let it flow out of me in a stream of light.

The Trader was staring at me. "That was … unusual," he said quietly.

"How?" I was exhilarated by my abilities, unable to keep a straight face, so I grinned like a fool.

"Does every Circlian have to search for the magic in the area before using it like that?" Apparently, what was instinctive to us was unusual for him.

"Of course."

"It's a liability. If you take too long to start blasting your foe, they'll just run you through with a sword." What a wonderful thought.

"When I was young, using magic was something we learned until it was as automatic as breathing. I can see I'll have to train you to do that as well, now."

"But you couldn't spellweave like we can now back in your youth," I commented snidely. Put it down to stress, but I still wasn't ready to defer to the immortal.

The Trader laughed. "No, but that strategy would never have been discovered without The Sorceress." I had to give him that point.

The weeks of the journey to Nor passed in a blur of training. The Trader was a surprisingly driven teacher for having seemed so cavalier at the Council. He also had endless patience whenever I took hours to understand something he explained, which happened often, sadly enough. I suppose when you have endless time on your hands, patience is taken for granted.

As I said before, my learning at the White Tower had been limited to godly rituals and history. The magic lessons were few, and always only basic defenses and some survival spells. I also had, to my detriment, a certain talent for leaving my lessons without receiving any punishment. My poor teachers probably got blasted with so much magic that they couldn't think for themselves anymore.

The Trader determinedly showed me how to continuously sense the magic surrounding me, and pull it in at will. Once I had that down – it only took four days – he began teaching me how to use my talent. Despite his continued insistence that my 'immortal skill' was something for me to perfect myself, I learned a lot from The Trader during our journey.

I also discovered that my talent, when I used it properly, was a lot more personal than the predictions The Trader was always throwing about to help me.

On one of the last days before our arrival in Nor, for example, The Trader pointed out a ragged little man standing on the side of the road as we packed up to leave. "That man is going to try and steal from us in a few minutes," he said, nonchalant. I could immediately tell that this was another lesson for my powers. The Trader was always pointing out the future actions of people around the caravan, slowly moving up from the most predictable actions to more complex works of motivation and reaction.

I focussed on the man, and my power unleashed the barest tendril of magic to stroke past his mind. I saw his sad little life, living on a failing farm with no food for his family, and how all the nobility processed past each year with not a care in the world for him or his dying children. This year, he had decided that he deserved a share of the wealth paraded by his property year after year. He was still agonizing over the decision, however, and I saw in full the images of starving children and the past year's failed crops. Without help, he and his family would almost certainly die.

The Trader eyed me quietly. "Can you see why he's going to steal?" I asked him.

"No. I only judged it from the way he's standing there waiting by our food stores with little tendrils of audacity and caution humming around his head. When they get ready to pack away all their equipment, he'll just sidle up and take some of our rations."

"Which there are more than enough of."

The man shrugged. "Do as you like, but do it fast. If he threatens anyone, I have every right to let my guards kill him." A common enough practice among the rich who were not vowed to any religion, and many who were. I had never heard it referenced so cavalierly, though.

I rose from my position in The Trader's tarn and hurried over to the food tarn. I haggled a bit with some of the staff, and in the end they got a few coins off of me, but I retrieved more than enough food for some time for the man. I trotted over to him after packaging it all in a large sack.

"Here," I told him, tossing it off my shoulder and handing it to him. "The charity of the Circle from the gods to you." The man gaped at me; without him even asking, I had out and out given him several weeks' worth of food.

"I wish you luck," I told him, and made the sign of the circle to him.

With a shaky bow, the man ran off to his home.

When I arrived back in the tarn, The Trader laughed a bit. "Very kind of you," he guffawed. "The only Circlian in my convoy, and apparently the only compassionate person as well. I'd say you have a family of converts."

"Some I know would say that, yes." To be perfectly honest, the speech about the gods was just part of the general formality of the priests. I knew no other way to give gifts to strangers, really.

The Trader laughed again. "Don't worry, I know you wouldn't try to undermine us." He shook his head at me. "Oh no, you're too kind for that. And far too interested in our power."

"Has anyone ever told you," I huffed, "that you know too much? It's difficult to talk to someone who has the power to know you better than you know yourself."

The Trader suddenly looked pensive, maybe even a bit hurt. "Rulers in several countries once tried to kill my sister and I for the same reason," he said quietly. "The only beings who could hide their minds from us at our height were the gods, and we could guess what they were doing by the process of elimination.

"Knowing what everyone around us was doing all the time is not the gift you would expect it to be, Corin. How could we socialize with a great king when we deduced from his impatience and secretive manner that he was about to go out to a brothel? Well, my sister could do it, but I've never had that kind of tact," he admitted, entirely without shame. "We couldn't even hide our minds from each other; from the time we first found our power until only recently. They became so enmeshed that we may as well have been one very schizophrenic person." I wondered at what The Trader meant by 'recently,' since a life of thousands of years lent him a very unique view of the world.

I could tell that The Trader was on a roll now, so I let him talk and sat quietly. In my whole time with the man, The Trader had never revealed anything about his past until now. He was always gregarious and cheerful, but he very specifically never talked about anything outside of the last couple of years. "My sister became accustomed to that after some centuries, but the reliance eventually began to irk me. We couldn't think separately sometimes; we just argued continually, as you saw in the Seat. Our only escape was telling the future for some other person, because we would always eventually agree on something for once. We always cared for each other, but being bound to another person so tightly you can never be away from them becomes very dull.

"Then the gods, beings who we had told the future for on occasion, turned on us en masse and ordered their followers to kill us on sight. By the time we realized that this was one of the terms the gods had agreed to follow in their war, it was too late for us to seek safety anywhere in society."

"Wait, what?" The Trader jumped and turned to me like he had forgotten I was there. "The Gods agreed to terms in their war? According to the scrolls in the White Tower-"

The Trader interrupted me with a tired tone. "Yes, I've seen that history. The Circle told Juran that the other gods had gone mad and wanted to kill the humans. All I can tell you is that they lied." Why would they lie to their humans?

"You're wrong." I pouted for a moment. "I can't believe I believed you for a moment. The Circle is benevolent; they would never do anything like that."

The Trader closed his eyes for a moment, thinking. "Then why did they order you into a battle with the Pentadrians? Thousands of loyal followers to both religions lost their lives during that war, and the gods had told you they were on your side." He spoke to me softly, placatingly, in a sweet tone that made me want to stop arguing and listen to him. I, of course, wasn't ready to back down.

"The Circlians won that battle, though."

"Aur- The Bird won that battle, and only because of her status as an Immortal."

"How? Drifting over her foe would hardly help the traitor against those Southern beasts." Immediately, I knew I'd misspoken. There was hardly anything I could do about how I was raised, though.

The Trader blinked. "Don't let The Empress hear you talk like that. I've watched her vapourize Circlians for less. If you weren't such a hinge for us, your mind would no longer be the same safe place, either. Under other circumstances, I would have reached through your mind and eviscerated your happiest memories in my sleep tonight."

Ignoring the rather terrifying mental image The Trader provided me with, I focussed on the training I had received and looked to read his mood. Cold, calculated, and almost alien rage flew into my mind from him, burning me on its way.

"Foolish, trying to understand someone so many hundreds of times older than you," The Trader hissed dispassionately as I gasped and keeled over at his feet. "You'd do well to remember that an Immortal of my age and experience is hardly human anymore. I will talk to you when we arrive in Nor." And just like that, he closed himself entirely from me, like he'd never talked to me as an equal at all. It made the rest of the journey very uncomfortable. Eventually, I moved myself into a separate tarn entirely and ignored the man's anger.

I LIIIIIVE! Well, I've been working on this the whole time, alongside other projects and many, many distractions. But the chapter's up now, and that's all that matters, right? Right?

Rereading Voice of the Gods, I realized that Surim must have had a very good reason for splitting himself from Tamun, and so we have a reason.

Any reviews, even one's raging at me for the long wait, are greatly appreciated and I will try to respond to any relevant, non-spoilerific questions in a timely manner.