Successor's Promise

by Trudi Canavan

  I have to warn him, she thought. But that meant interrupting his attempt to learn pattern shifting. What would he do once he heard the news? He’ll want to come back and try to stop the war. It might mean he’ll have to start learning pattern shifting again from scratch. She considered leaving him ignorant, but shook her head. It’s his decision to make, not mine.

  Would she join him in trying to stop the conflict? She frowned. Aside from threatening to strip both worlds of magic, what can we do? Perhaps Tyen will think of something.

  She looked at Timane. “Take another deep breath.”

  As the girl’s cheeks puffed from holding her breath, Rielle pushed out of the world.

  CHAPTER 2

  “It is his writing,” Tarran said. “And he was in a hurry.”

  Rielle looked down at the stone, smooth but for where glyphs had been carved into it. I am alive. I will return. She’d found it during a long, fruitless search after discovering that Tyen and his belongings had disappeared from the desert world. Paths in the place between worlds had led her around that world but revealed nothing, or headed away from it only to join with well-used paths leading to several nearby worlds, any one of which he could have taken. Heading back to the desert world, thinking that Tyen might have buried a message in the sand, she’d paused to search the arrival place in the neighbouring world and found the carved stone on the trunk of a recently felled tree.

  She realised she was grinding her teeth, and relaxed her jaw. “What do you think it means?”

  Tarran shrugged. “That whether he left willingly or not, and was successful or not, he is safe. That he will return, but when or to where he dares not reveal.”

  “He could mean here, the place I found the stone, or the desert world.” Rielle turned away and began to pace. “We’re only assuming the message was for us too. Perhaps he meant it for another.” She frowned. “Perhaps I should take it back.”

  Tarran turned so the light touched the stone from a different direction. “No, I think it is for us.”

  She returned to his side. “How do you know?”

  He pointed. “He’s added curls to the end of these lines—a habit from the writing of his own world. I called them antennae and made him rewrite every glyph he added them to. It became a little joke between us.”

  “So it was meant for us. Or you, at least. But he hasn’t returned.” An uncomfortable sensation began in Rielle’s stomach. “Can you guess how old it is?”

  The old man shook his head. “How fresh was the path?”

  “Not very. I assumed at first it hadn’t been used since I took him there. I found signs that someone had skimmed away from his campsite, but after stopping a few times the path led out of the world. It was old, too. I suppose he could have stayed longer, then concealed his path when he left.”

  “Not using either route out of the world, or he’d have erased all signs of earlier use as well.” Tarran put the stone on his dining table. “So either he left soon after you did using one of the two paths still detectable, or he left by a different route, which he concealed, perhaps later.”

  The discomfort inside Rielle was now a mix of nausea and dread. “The magic in the desert world was much diminished, but not completely removed. If he succeeded, surely he would have returned here?”

  “Then why leave a message?” Tarran added. “Perhaps it wasn’t safe to come here. Perhaps his enemies caught up with him and he didn’t want to lead them to us.”

  “If they found him, then they might have interrupted before he could complete the transformation.” Rielle sighed. “I thought that world was safe. Only the Travellers used it, and they had stopped visiting because the worlds on either side had become dangerous to them.” She paused. “Perhaps sorcerers from those worlds were tapping the magic there, and when they found it was reducing rapidly they investigated and found him, or started taking as much as they could before it was all gone.”

  Tarran shook his head. “He’d have returned here before seeking a new world to work in. No, something has prevented him coming here, and the simplest answer is his enemies.”

  She rubbed her stomach muscles as they tightened further. “Could they have followed my path? I’m not as good at hiding it as Tyen is.”

  “If they did, you can’t blame yourself, Rielle.” Tarran placed a hand on her shoulder. “You did everything you could to prevent someone tracking you. For all we know, he left for another reason.”

  “Then why didn’t he come here and tell us? Or send a message?”

  “He did: he left this.” Tarran held up the stone, then as he saw her expression he squeezed her shoulder. “We’ll find out when he returns. We can do nothing but hope and wait.”

  “Not search for him?” Rielle asked, though she knew the answer.

  “And risk leading his enemies to him?” Tarran shook his head. “Tyen can take care of himself. He’ll come back or find a way to send word when it is safe to do so.” He chuckled. “I’ve now become the message service for the both of you. This—” Reaching into his jacket, the old man drew out a slightly transparent piece of paper sealed with resin. “—came for you yesterday.”

  Taking it, Rielle broke the seal and unfolded it. The only people who sent messages to her were Lejihk and Ankari, but Tarran didn’t know that. To maintain the impression she was communicating with more than one source, the Travellers alternated between different materials and delivery methods each time they contacted her.

  The paper was made of a reed or grass-like fibre fused into layers of strips. Several words and numerals had been written on it in a hard, glossy paint. She counted them to find the ones to pay attention to, decoding a date and the number “4.”

  The words indicated the Travellers wanted to meet, and the number told her the location. The date indicated when they would arrive at the location, where they would stay for a few days at most. Working out when a date was in the Traveller cycle meant applying mathematics too sophisticated for quick mental calculation. She headed for Tarran’s timepiece.

  Before she’d met Tarran, when she needed to know the precise date in the Traveller calendar she’d sought out worlds with civilisations sophisticated enough that someone would be keeping track. Here she only had to consult the timepiece, which indicated Traveller time against that of an unknown world, saved from Liftre after it had been abandoned. She walked through the house to where it stood in a wall alcove. Tarran gave a small huff of amusement as she stopped.

  “Tyen made this,” he said.

  “What? Really?” She turned to stare at him, then looked at the timepiece again. Now that she knew, it was obvious. It had a similar look to the mechanical insect that Tyen had made.

  “Is it his world this measures Traveller time against?”

  “I believe so,” Tarran replied.

  She gazed at the hands and number, which indicated that it was night and winter in a place in Tyen’s world. That told her nothing useful, however. She turned her attention to the Traveller settings.

  “Five Traveller days ago.” She tossed the message up in the air, which she set vibrating fast enough to produce heat. The paper burst into flame and quickly turned to a fine rain of ash. “Tell Tyen—if he returns before I do—that I’m annoyed at him for writing such a useless message. Do you mind if I leave Timane here for a few days?”

  Tarran winced. “Must you? One of my students has decided he’s fallen in love with her.”

  “Already?”

  “She is rather attractive.”

  Rielle smiled. “I guess I’ve grown used to being surrounded by beauty. The Muraian Emperor expects all of his servants to be pleasant for the eyes. Does she share your student’s feelings?”

  Tarran’s eyebrows rose. “Not surprisingly, considering her maturity compared to his, she isn’t so eager or quick to fancy herself in love.”

  “Very well.” Rielle searched the house for Timane’s mind. She found the girl in a room at the end of the corridor, where she’d been hov
ering in anticipation of being summoned. “Timane!” Rapid footsteps followed and the girl burst into the room.

  “Welcome back, Rielle Lazuli,” she said in Muraian. “Was your errand successful?”

  “No, but I have something else to attend to now.” Rielle paused as she realised the girl was wearing different clothing. “You changed.”

  “I hate that uniform!” Timane shuddered. “I told Tarran’s servants to burn it.”

  Rielle resisted a smile. The servants’ clothes had been designed to flatter, but were uncomfortable and impractical. “Just as well they had something to replace it with.”

  “You had lots of nice things at the palace. Will you go back for them?”

  “No. I haven’t the time. It’s easier to travel with less, too. You will have to get used to owning only what you can carry if you want to travel with me.”

  Timane shrugged. “I’ve never owned much. Even in the palace. No point when other servants will steal it from you.”

  Rielle walked to the girl and held out a hand. “I will find a better home for you, where you can keep any fancy thing you acquire. For now, we only carry essentials. I’ll buy us both packs and a purse for you on the way to our destination. From now on, try to speak Traveller tongue. Thanks to their trading across the worlds for thousands of years, their language has become the most common, even if it’s only spoken by the traders and sorcerers of a world. I’ll keep teaching you as we travel.”

  The girl nodded, took Rielle’s hand and turned to Tarran. “It was an honour to meet you,” she said. Then, recalling the need to take a deep breath and hold it when travelling between worlds, she quickly inhaled.

  Not wanting to waste the girl’s breath, Rielle nodded a farewell to Tarran and pushed out of the world.

  Their journey, thanks to Timane, was slow. Every time they arrived in a world, Rielle waited for the girl to catch her breath. Remembering how she had once done so herself, before she had become ageless, roused memories of being taken by Valhan to see worlds he had influenced, trading favours with both the powerful and humble. She remembered his admission that he could never predict the result of his interference.

  Yet he still did it. She thought back to the mind she had glimpsed during the resurrection. She had sensed no great feeling of care or nurture for the worlds—only a drive to maintain his position as ruler of them all. She had not seen anything to explain why he had wanted to rule in the first place, or if he cared whether his subjects loved or hated him. I think he’d have preferred to be adored, though perhaps not for the sake of vanity. Willing obedience must make the job of ruling a great deal easier.

  This overall need he’d had to be in charge … That, she had come to see, was what made him the Raen, and her most definitely not the Successor. Was that the true interpretation of Millennium’s Rule? Could the prophecy still be fulfilled if someone with the ambition, and the power to achieve it, rose to power?

  Not much of a prophecy, she mused, if it has to be bent and shaped to fit the actual circumstances that arise.

  A market square darkened around them. It was night, but it never closed, and the crowds were only a little thinner than what she’d seen here before, during daylight. She led Timane along an aisle, trying to remember where the bag-makers were.

  Timane gazed around her in fascination. “May I ask where we are going?”

  “To buy packs.”

  “I meant after.”

  Rielle paused to look into the girl’s mind. Timane was curious, but she was also telling herself that she had put herself in a sorcerer’s hands and must accept not knowing what lay in her future.

  “I can’t tell you,” Rielle told her. “Not because I don’t want to, or don’t trust you, but because your mind can be read by sorcerers stronger than you—of which there are plenty here. We are safer if my secrets remain secrets even from you.”

  Timane nodded and shrugged. “As long as you don’t sell me into slavery or to cannibals, I’m fine with that.”

  “I promise I won’t do either. Also, you are not my servant now, Timane.”

  “What am I then?”

  “A travelling companion.”

  “I don’t get to decide where we go though, do I?”

  “I have something I must do first, but afterwards … I suppose you might, if it isn’t dangerous.”

  “I say we follow that man.” Timane pointed.

  “Ah … can I ask why?”

  “He also wants to buy a bag. I saw it in his mind. We should follow him.”

  Sure enough, the man led them to a row of shops selling shoes, bags, saddles of all shapes and sizes, whips, armour and furniture. Rielle chose two light packs and a purse for Timane that could be bound to a wrist or leg, as well as hung from the waist or neck. She liked the design so much she exchanged one for the fancy purse, decorated with precious metallic thread, that she’d bought in Murai.

  The bag-maker’s eyes widened at the gemstones and coins she tipped from the old one to the new, and he wished he’d charged her more. Fortunately, she’d already bartered and paid for their purchases. A couple of child thieves saw as well and began following them, so she took hold of Timane’s wrist, withdrew from the world and skimmed to another part of the market before resuming shopping for other necessities. Then, with them both carrying full packs, she took Timane on through the worlds.

  A few worlds away from her destination, she left Timane in a quiet forest glade in a peaceful, rural country.

  “I can’t take you where I’m going next,” she said. “I’ll be back in a few hours. If I don’t return, wait a day or two, then head for the road in that direction and follow it to the village. The people there are friendly and will help you.”

  Timane nodded, dismayed yet trusting. “Good luck.”

  “Thanks.” Rielle smiled. “Don’t worry: I’m not going anywhere dangerous.”

  Then, pushing out of the world, she watched the girl and her surroundings fade to white and hoped she was right about the safety of the locale she was heading to. She’d met the Travellers there before, but the worlds were changing and she could never be sure if anywhere would be the same on the next visit.

  Travelling on, she took precautions to confuse anyone who might follow. A few worlds beyond where she’d left Timane, she emerged next to a sheer cliff. An ocean crashed against the wall, the foam churning a few strides below her. Skimming left a trail, so to be sure she couldn’t be tracked she had to spend some time travelling within a world. Levitating was faster than walking, sailing or riding an animal, cart or other type of vehicle, so she had experimented with the method to find the fastest, most comfortable approach. Trying to stand upright on stilled air was tricky. It was easier to lie down.

  Creating a disc of stilled air under her, she leaned forward so she lay parallel to the ground then propelled herself out over the ocean, heading towards a star shining faintly in the bright sky. It was the closest she had ever come to flying, and for a while she simply enjoyed the exhilaration of air rushing past.

  Soon the salty air gained a sulphurous taint. A plume of black marked the horizon, and a conical peak from which the smoke belched emerged from behind the horizon. A vibration and rumble shivered through the air after each volcanic belch.

  It was a spectacular sight, and she was not surprised to find the village she headed for was now abandoned. Ash coated the houses. Some of the roofs had collapsed under the weight of it. In the meeting place, squashed into the bark of the immense old tree that the villagers had held gatherings around, she found a small scrap of leather. On it was written a message.

  Come to the Gathering place. The reason is urgent.

  She scorched the leather to remove the message and cast it into the ocean, which foamed around the scrap. Pushing out of the world, she decided to try Tyen’s method of hiding a path. Her efforts were clumsy, but the markings she left were shallower than a path, and would smooth out soon enough. With practice, she would be able to leave no trace
at all.

  The Gathering place was not far away. She’d not been back there since Lejihk’s family had brought her to it more than five cycles ago. Instead of dozens of Traveller wagons forming circles on the hilltops and canopies atop the small plateau in the centre, one small tent greeted her. A sole figure sat before it. Ankari, Lejihk’s wife. Rielle skimmed towards it and emerged in the world before the woman.

  Ankari rose and came forward.

  “Rielle. It has been too long this time,” the woman said, drawing Rielle into a tight hug.

  “It is always too long. How long is it exactly?”

  Ankari stepped back and chuckled. “A quarter cycle and more.”

  “I assume that no messages also means no trouble.”

  “Not exactly.” The older woman grimaced. “Come and sit with me.”

  Following the woman to the tent, Rielle kept her impatience in check. She resisted reading her mind, having agreed to never read the minds of anyone in Lejihk’s family in case she learned something that compromised Qall’s safety. Sitting on a thick quilted pillow, she waited while Ankari settled. Spread around the woman were the materials and tools of the Travellers’ bold and colourful style of stitching. Most of the garments were small.

  “Is there another child on the way?” Rielle asked.

  Ankari held up a tiny set of pants. “Jikari is expecting twins.”

  “Twins!”

  They discussed the news of the family, Rielle asking after those she had grown to love during the time she’d lived with them. “And how is Qall?” she finally asked. She braced herself for the answer. Ankari had mentioned no other major problems facing the family, so she suspected he was the source of the trouble. The fact that the woman hadn’t spoken of him yet also suggested that once they began discussing him, they might never return to more domestic subjects.

  “He is fine,” Ankari replied, giving Rielle a quick, reassuring smile. “The trouble is, he’s old enough, by Traveller standards, to be considered an adult. He could be seeking a wife, and leaving the family to start his own, if he wished. He will soon want what we can’t give him.”