Eta Vananari

The lesser Aeta looked up at Dorayaica. It did not speak at once. “I am your slave,” it said at last. “I have ever been your slave. But the others! They do not believe as I do. There have been talks! Before you arrived, I heard Iamndaina and the others! Vanahita!”

Dorayaica hissed, one hand snatching the trailing hem of the Imperial toga it wore over its fasciated armor. “Speak not to me of the others. They are shadows, Peledanu. Creatures of the Lie. Are you constant to the old ways?”

“Eka iyadar ba-osun,” it said again. “Always! I have been! Ever since you drove the Eta Vananari from this place! By the Dreamer, I swear it: you are Elu come again!”

I pressed my forehead against the side of the Prophet’s throne to stop my head swimming. “Eta Vananari?” I mumbled the words. They were more of Dorayaica’s old words, of that I was certain, for I could not divine their meaning.

Peledanu had spoken of an oracle, a message Dorayaica had sent. On Dharan-Tun, the Prophet itself had said it had called this Aetavanni, this meeting of the clans. What had it said? What word, what message could summon so many disparate clans? Did Dorayaica have the power to compel their obedience? Might it have threatened to hound them each across the stars? I did not think so, though its horde was vast and pitiless as the sun.

Kingdoms of Death, Chapter 36: The Suppliants