Successor's Promise

by Trudi Canavan

  All the time, Qall kept his hood up, his face hidden in the shadows and his shoulders hunched in a manner that could be fearful or sullen. All Rielle could see of his eyes was a faint gleam now and then as he lifted his head to observe each new, increasingly grand location.

  Then abruptly the spectacle changed. They arrived between two halves of an immense stone roof, split down the centre. One half sloped towards them, its far end raised on an unseen prop. The other, behind Qall, had been flung outward to rest against the pedestal of an enormous statue.

  Rielle looked up and her blood froze. Qall glowered back at her, a thousand times larger than his living form. She heard Timane gasp and, looking down again, saw that the girl was staring at the statue, her mouth agape. As was Qall, his hood slipping back as his head remained tilted. He let go of Rielle’s hand to catch it.

  Timane tore her eyes away. Her gaze moved to Qall. He met it; then they both turned to stare at Rielle.

  She bit back a curse. What were the chances we’d pass through so many worlds without him seeing something like this? Paths tended to end and start in important locations, and none were more important than where the ruler of worlds was worshipped.

  “This Hero, this Raen … he is a god in many worlds, isn’t he?” Qall asked.

  “Yes.”

  “And he is dead.”

  “Yes.”

  “So a lot of people would like him to return.”

  “Yes, but more do not.”

  “But the ones who want to find me, do.”

  “Yes.” Then she added, “You are not him, Qall. Your body was changed to look like his, but they didn’t have a chance to replace your mind.”

  He turned away from the statue and she caught a fleeting, reproachful glance sent in her direction before he lowered his head and retreated into the hood. His voice, quiet and shaken, emerged.

  “Is there anywhere he isn’t known?”

  “Lejihk believes so. I believe so. Nobody, in all the thousands of cycles of human existence, has ever mapped out a limit to the worlds.”

  He said nothing.

  “We will find a safe place for you,” she assured him. “I will explain more when we—”

  “Just go.” He sighed and shook his head.

  “What is it?” she prompted.

  “Just … go. There’s no point staying.” His head lowered further. His words were nearly inaudible. “I can never come back.”

  Her heart twisted. Timane’s hand moved, squeezing his in sympathy. Which was admirable considering what the young woman had just learned about him. She looked at Rielle. “Is that true?”

  “No,” Rielle told them both. “Once we have found a safe place to live, I will teach Qall pattern shifting. He will be able to change his appearance, and then he can go wherever he likes.”

  His head rose. She caught twin flashes of reflected light within the hood. He said nothing, but nodded and extended a hand.

  His grip was firm. After the others had taken a deep breath, Rielle pushed out of the world and sought the next path. Qall had somehow retreated further into the hood of his coat, so she could only see his face below his nose. He did not look up and around, or at her or Timane. For a while his withdrawal distracted her, but she resisted the urge to try to draw him out, or at least reassure him. Part of her was still shocked by the statue of Valhan. She could not help seeing him in Qall’s firmly pressed lips and tense jaw. She was too conscious of the touch of his hand. It wasn’t anger at Valhan that discomfited her, but the echo of the admiration and fascination she’d once felt. It would have been easier to forgive her foolish gullibility if it had been simple infatuation, but she had come to approve of him, even agree with him.

  None of the Raen’s memories had been imprinted in Qall’s mind. Only his body had been changed and memories removed. She’d wondered who he had been before then many times since leaving Qall with the Travellers, but resisted the temptation to try to find out. If Dahli knew where Qall had come from, his people would be there watching in case someone started making enquiries about a missing boy with particularly strong magical ability.

  How strong was an interesting question. Qall might be stronger than her now, but had he been before? Or had changing his body to match Valhan’s pattern made him more powerful? Either possibility was significant. If it hadn’t, if he had been as strong as Valhan, perhaps he was supposed to have been the Successor. If changing him to look like Valhan had made him as powerful, the implications were frightening. It meant she could do it again using Qall as the source of the pattern. She could make lesser sorcerers as powerful as the Raen had been, with the only penalty being that they would look like him until they learned to pattern-shift and change their appearance.

  She could do it to herself. The thought that she might look like Valhan, no matter how briefly, was a very strange thought indeed.

  So she turned her mind to traversing the worlds, and resolved not to think about it again until they had found somewhere safe to build a new home. Pushing on from world to world, looking for signs that the Raen was loved, feared, worshipped or merely known of, she must eventually find a place where they could make a home, safe and free from the danger that Qall would be recognised. A world far from his family, but also far from Dahli and his schemes.

  In the meantime, she would have to watch Qall closely, in case he hadn’t learned his lesson from the encounter with the islanders. The three of them would grow weary of constant movement, and the sense of danger would lessen with time and distance. The temptation to stop where the people were friendly would grow more powerful the longer and further they travelled. She could not slow their pace or compromise on the need to travel beyond the Raen’s influence, however. They must, at the least, settle in a world where nobody knew who the Raen was.

  CHAPTER 6

  As she searched minds, Rielle felt a now-familiar dread. Every time she had thought she’d reached a place where the Raen was not known, she had heard his name in someone’s mind. Though she always checked the minds of those in power, it was usually in the markets that Rielle found the evidence that propelled them onward. Twice already they had moved on from a world that looked promising. Each time she’d pushed them on for at least fifty more worlds before she stopped again. After an eighth of a cycle’s travelling and passing through what felt like thousands of worlds, had they finally moved beyond the limit of the Raen’s influence?

  Perched on a doorstep, with a scrap of old fabric covering her head and a dirty, tattered blanket wrapped around her shoulders, she let her mind drift over the thoughts of stallholders and customers. Ah! There! The Traveller tongue was being used somewhat clumsily by a local merchant to communicate with an otherworld sorcerer selling exotic trinkets.

  Rielle watched. When the women parted, Rielle ignored the merchant and watched the sorcerer’s thoughts. People tended to reflect a little on a conversation before their next task distracted them. The woman was digesting the news the merchant had told her. A civil war. Strife in a nearby world. Prophets in the sorcerer’s home world would no doubt claim a distant civil war was more proof that the strange circles of light in the sky, several cycles ago, warned of the end of the universe. They had ordered the sorcerers from their world to look for such signs. She snorted at that. They’d said nothing about looking for evidence the worlds were not ending. They never did.

  As the sorcerer turned her mind to finding the next merchant interested in her wares, Rielle brought her full awareness back to her surroundings. The overcast sky looked no different to when she’d arrived, but the people around her knew instinctively that evening was drawing close. Watching them, she waited until nobody was looking in her direction before pushing out of the world.

  White surrounded her. She retraced her steps through four worlds, circling back to the one in which she’d left Timane and Qall. As she travelled, she considered what she had learned about the worlds neighbouring their prospective home. None worshipped the Raen, and neither the
general populace nor ruling elite appeared to know of him. A few traders and sorcerers had heard of him, but only as a powerful figure important to distant worlds that didn’t matter to them.

  They do to me. Thinking of the people she’d left behind sent a pang of sorrow through her. She had not had the chance to bid Tarran farewell properly. She hoped her message had reached him. Had Tyen come back? Was he annoyed at her for disappearing? Well, he left me with no explanation. She shook her head. She had no claim over him. They’d been lovers, no more. She had vanished from so many people’s lives in the past that she had no right to complain when someone disappeared from hers. He probably had as good a reason as she to leave without explanation.

  But she hoped he felt as guilty about it as she did.

  Night shrouded ruins surrounding her as she arrived in their potential new home world. It was raining. Heavy cloud hid the stars. Once she had searched for minds nearby and found none, she created a light. Wet, blackened wood glistened like the molten iron. It lay in piles where houses had once stood. Occasionally, a skeletal wall remained. Moving into the recently abandoned city, she made her way down to the rubble-strewn remains of one of the larger buildings. Mostly made of stone, more of it remained standing than the wooden structures, though the interior was charred. She slipped inside and made her way to a tower at the centre, and pushed through a half-burned door into a darkened stairwell.

  Brightening the light, she descended.

  Four hundred and sixteen steps later she emerged to find a murky dawn filtering through the clouds. Gentle hills stretched before her. Swapping the old scarf for a newer one and bundling the blanket up, she made her way down the slope. By the time she had reached the narrow muddy track that passed for a road, the hidden sun was up. She started along it.

  As she walked, she searched for minds and found Timane angrily washing up dishes in the abandoned cottage they had repaired and adopted. Qall hadn’t come home the night before, or the two previous. Rielle’s heart skipped a beat. So where is he? She quickened her pace, at the same time looking for human minds in the hills around her. She found none until she reached the small village in the next valley. Nobody there was thinking about the white-faced young foreigner. The path took her out of the trees and up to the cottage door.

  “He’s up at the cave,” Timane said from the doorway. She too had adopted the local habit of wearing a scarf tied around her head. “Been there since you left—three days now. He sneaks in for some food when I’m asleep.” She scowled. “I think he must be reading my mind. Last night I sat in a chair in the hopes of catching him, but I fell asleep and when I woke up the food was gone. I guess he figures if he’s not here when I’m awake, I can’t tell him to do anything.”

  “Why do you think he’s doing it?”

  The girl shook her head. “If I didn’t know anything about him, I’d say he was being lazy—avoiding work like the male servants his age at the palace. Which is silly when he can use magic to do it. Maybe he doesn’t like taking orders from a former servant.”

  “He won’t have learned that from the Travellers.”

  “No, but he’s not among the Travellers now, and he’s just learned that he looks like someone people will obey without question.”

  Rielle frowned. “Has he been officious? Cruel?”

  Timane grimaced. “No. Just disobedient.” She let out a long sigh. “I guess he’s struggling to adjust. When I remember that he’s lost his family and learned people want to kill him, I can’t stay angry with him for long. I wish he’d talk to me. Maybe he’ll talk to you.”

  “Maybe.” Rielle started along the side of the cottage, where the track up to the cave began. “I’ll see if I can persuade him to join us, at least.”

  She climbed slowly, considering what his behaviour could mean. He probably wanted time alone to think over the changes in his life. That was understandable, but they also needed to clean up the cottage and find a way to earn a living or acquire food. She had hoped being involved in making a home here might help him accept it more easily.

  When she had nearly reached the cave, she looked up and stilled. The cave was more of an overhang where wind and rain had washed away the earth below rocks embedded in the hillside. Silhouetted against the clouds, Qall sat with his back hunched, his elbows on his knees and his head supported on his hands.

  Every part of him expressed misery.

  Taking a deep breath, she looked down and moved on, deliberately making noise to let him know someone was approaching. The shape against the clouds moved abruptly, and when she glanced up again he was sitting straight, gazing out at the darkened valley with a lofty expression.

  “Qall,” she said. “I hear you’ve been sulking.”

  He turned to regard her, his eyebrows rising. “Not sulking,” he said defensively. “Thinking.”

  She sat down beside him, on a lower boulder.

  “What have you been thinking about?”

  He looked away. “Nothing you’d be interested in.”

  She crossed her arms. “Have you read my mind?”

  He frowned. “No.” A hint of softness in his voice sent a chill down her spine. Was he lying?

  “Then how do you know whether I’d be interested?”

  His frown deepened. “Because … I’m thinking about things that only matter to me.”

  “If they matter to you then I am interested.”

  He glanced at her then looked away.

  “Is there anything I can help with?” she asked.

  “No.”

  He’d answered reflexively, without thinking. She watched him, waiting. His eyes shifted in her direction; he pursed his lips, scratched at an ankle, then sighed.

  “I don’t like this world. The people here hate foreigners and otherworlders. They think we brought the plague. What if the plague returns?”

  “If it does, if you and Timane catch it, I will heal you.” She looked down the valley at the distant lights of the village, visible at this height. “The people will accept us, if we don’t give them cause to fear us. If we trade with them, and obey their laws, they will grow used to us. Their suspicions will alert us if someone comes looking for us.

  “But we need something to trade with them. Something ordinary. They don’t have much use for precious metals and gemstones—and my store of those won’t last for ever anyway.”

  “So we sow crops and raise animals?”

  “Yes, and we learn useful skills. Nothing too fancy.”

  “Can’t we go to the cities and buy things to trade with them?”

  “Not yet. If that’s what you’d like to do, then you can do it once your training is finished. For now, we have to live simply.”

  “So when will you start training me?”

  “When we …” What? Have something to exchange for food? They didn’t need to wait. Crops took time to grow. Raising animals was not done in an instant. Between these tasks, she could make time to teach him. “… have eaten. Later today,” she said. “Then tomorrow we will clear some land and plant the seeds I bought at the market. Does that suit you?”

  He met her gaze, face smooth but hope shining from his eyes.

  “Will you teach me how to travel between worlds?”

  “It’s more urgent that you learn to defend yourself,” she told him. She stalled his protest with a raised hand. “I know the Travellers taught you some defensive fighting, but they can’t teach you how to fend off very powerful sorcerers, or hundreds of attackers.”

  His mouth closed with a snap and he nodded. “Will I learn here?”

  “No. It will frighten the locals. We’ll have to find a suitable place. Perhaps up at the ruins. Not now, though. First I need to test your knowledge and skill, and we can do that without using much magic.”

  He swivelled on the rock to face her. “When?”

  She shrugged. “Now, I suppose. If you’re ready.”

  “I am.”

  But where to start? Her first lessons in magic aft
er leaving her world had been with Baluka. He’d tested her reach and tried to show her how to travel between worlds. The latter had been a disaster. He hadn’t been a particularly good teacher, but then he had probably taken the same approach that his teacher—most likely Lejihk—had used with young Travellers already accustomed to using magic and familiar with the concept of world travelling.

  Dahli had been a better teacher. He too had tested her strength before giving her many exercises to develop her reflexes and concentration. She would do the same with Qall.

  “First, let’s try to establish how strong you are,” she said.

  As Baluka had with her, she instructed him to reach out as far as he could with his mind and tell her what he sensed. She was not surprised when his senses encompassed the whole world.

  “That’s amazing!” he gasped. “The world really is a globe! And magic … it’s like a fog that can penetrate everything—even the ground.”

  At first, his reaction startled her. She’d assumed the Travellers would have tested his strength this way. Perhaps they had done it in a way that didn’t reveal to him how powerful he was. Fortunately, his eyes were still closed so he didn’t see her surprise. She smiled at the wonder in his face. Not an expression I ever saw on Valhan’s face, she couldn’t help thinking. After living a thousand cycles, perhaps nothing could impress him any more.

  “It’s denser and lighter in places,” Qall said. “Why is that?”

  “Most likely it’s stronger around cities, where more people live and create.”

  He nodded. “There are two thinner parts opposite each other.”

  “The poles, perhaps,” she said. “On some worlds they are too cold for humans to live. In others there’s a central band that is too hot. Sometimes a world has a side that is too cold or hot, because one side always faces the sun or suns.”