They did not have long to wait. Each laden with two jugs, they headed back to the wagons. Rielle was uneasy now, knowing she was in a place the Raen had recently visited. Seeing the woman’s memory of him killing the man only convinced her that he wasn’t the Angel, despite the physical similarities.
As they neared the Travellers’ stall, Rielle saw a line of people standing outside it. Not until she had passed the strangers could she see that tables had been set up along the street and the people were examining the objects laid out on them. Some were in the midst of bartering. Looking closer, Rielle saw goods the Travellers had bought and sold since she’d joined them, and many others she’d not seen before.
Jikari noted her interest. “Markets are good places to sell what is left over. And what we have made.”
She pointed to the furthest table. Neat and colourful piles of trousers and tunics in the Traveller style had been set out, arranged by size. A customer was holding up a small tunic to the chest of a girl child.
Other items lay beside the clothing. Rielle moved behind the tables to get a closer look. Soft leather bags stitched with coloured thread, baskets woven of fine reeds of two colours combined in geometric patterns, and delicately carved wooden boxes of many shapes and sizes caught her eye.
“This is fine work,” Rielle said in Fyrian, to herself. The meaning must have been clear from her tone, however, as the Traveller serving customers near her smiled. She gestured to five intricately stitched vests hanging on a pole behind her.
“Ankari,” she said.
Rielle examined them, shaking her head in disbelief at the fine stitches. “How does she find time?”
“We…” Hari said a combination of unfamiliar words to Jikari, then turned back to Rielle. “We have travelled faster with you.”
Rielle frowned. So her presence had forced the Travellers to hurry along their usual path. If they’d intended to get some distance from the last world that they knew the Raen had visited, their hopes had just been dashed.
What would Lejikh and Ankari make of the news? The sooner they learned of it the better. She stepped away from the tables, and Jikari followed her into the gap between the two circles of wagons. Four strangers were sitting with Lejikh, Ankari and Baluka, but from their appearance and garb it was clear they were also Travellers. Baluka introduced Rielle to the visitors, while Jikari left to get cups and Hari joined those serving at the tables. Rielle could not make out most of the conversation with the other Travellers, but she understood enough to discern when one of the visiting women said something about the lom that would be happening soon.
Rielle had noticed in recent days that the Travellers had begun making frustrated exclamations around the lom. The beasts seemed resistant to commands, and when not hauling the wagons their right front legs were tied to their rear leg to keep them immobile. Yet they appeared to be happy, showing affection towards one another with nudges and rubbing cheeks. Baluka had said the Travellers’ cycles were timed to match the lom’s fertile ones, and nearing the time to breed would explain the animal’s behaviour. If she was right, they must be close to the world where the Travellers held their Gathering once a cycle.
She would not see it, however. Lejikh would be asking the traders here for recommendations on where she could find a new home, and perhaps a teacher.
The visitors rose and left. Baluka hurried after his father before Rielle had a chance to speak of the Raen’s visit. She looked at Ankari and considered how to communicate what she’d learned with the limited vocabulary she had picked up so far.
The woman smiled. “Yes, we know the Raen was here.”
Rielle blinked in surprise and checked that the block shielding her thoughts was still in place. Then she realised that it was unlikely the Travellers hadn’t heard already. News like that would have spread through the market like fire through a seed crop in the dry season and the Travellers would have also picked it up from the minds around them.
“Will we leave?” she asked.
Ankari shook her head. “Many days have passed.” She opened a basket set beside her and brought out a tunic similar to the one Rielle was wearing. She laid it across her lap, measured a length of coloured thread and began to add to a design stitched around the sleeve cuff. Rielle watched, fascinated by the deft movements of the woman’s hands and the speed at which the design began to emerge. It made her itch to weave, and not for the first time since she’d left Schpeta. Thinking back to the items the Travellers had made to sell, she wondered if tapestries would attract buyers in places like this. Would it be a way to contribute towards the Travellers’ costs without insulting them by implying their hospitality came at a price?
Ankari glanced up and smiled as she saw Rielle watching her.
“It is beautiful,” Rielle said, glad that she knew the right word in this instance. She’d picked up the Schpetan word for “beautiful” early on, too.
Ankari’s smile broadened. She spread the tunic out over her lap, pointing out different stitches, but the explanation used too many unknown words for Rielle to understand much.
Baluka returned. His eyebrows rose as Ankari said something to him, then he beckoned to Rielle. She stood and followed him out onto the market street.
“Mother says to help you find materials so you can paint or weave.” He gestured to communicate the meanings of the last words, brandishing a paintbrush first and then weaving an invisible bobbin.
She blinked in surprise, then smiled. I suppose it was obvious to another maker that I was longing to create something. But purchasing supplies would mean Rielle had cost the Travellers more.
“No, I don’t…” Rielle began, and faltered as she could not think of the right words to object. “I won’t find time.”
He shrugged. “We’ll be here three days,” he said. “Can you make something in that time?”
She considered. Not a tapestry or a large painting, but perhaps some drawings. The materials did not have to be expensive. Just some chalk and cheap paper.
“A small thing,” she said.
He nodded. “If Father finds no teacher you will travel with us longer. Would you like that?”
She smiled. “Yes.”
His answering smile faded quickly, and he regarded her thoughtfully, even a little warily. She began to worry that he had misunderstood, or she had used the wrong word. Then she remembered that while she didn’t believe the Angel was the Raen, and so the family were in no danger, in their minds they were taking a risk keeping her with them.
“Rielle,” he said, slowing to a stop. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. She felt a pang of sympathy. He liked her–she was fairly certain of that. It must be hard to tell someone you like that they are a danger to your family.
“Yes?” she asked, trying to communicate encouragement and reassurance in her tone.
He looked down, then at her, then away again. Finally he straightened his shoulders and met her eyes.
“You can stay with us and be safe–and learn to travel between worlds.” His gaze shifted from one of her eyes to the other. “If you and me…” He paused, then traced a line around his right wrist.
She caught her breath. Lines around the right wrist of a Traveller indicated marriages.
“Our laws and our agreements with…” He did not say the Raen’s name. “He would be breaking that agreement, if he killed you.”
For a long moment she was aware that her mouth was open and she was staring at his wrist. But she couldn’t make herself stop. Or think what to say. Of all the things she’d expected from him, a proposal of marriage certainly had not been the most likely.
A little thrill of flattery warmed her. He must really like me! And she liked him. He was a good man, and certainly an attractive one.
But do I love him? She tried not to frown as she considered. Not in the way I loved Izare. Of that she was sure. But did that matter? Her family had not cared whether she was treated well by the man she married, let alone whether she like
d him. Her aunt had told Rielle she might grow to love her husband in time.
Could she grow to love Baluka? Perhaps. Yes, I think so. Not in the same way as I loved Izare, but maybe a different way. Perhaps a better way. She had found travelling with him and his family constantly interesting and exciting, though she imagined it would be less so as it became more familiar than new. Still, I never had that option in Fyre, where the sons did all the importing and delivering.
To marry Baluka would be to marry his family, too. There would be no getting away from them. But so far she had found them more friendly and welcoming than her own family. Maybe that would change when she was not being treated as a guest. Expectations might be different of the wife of their future leader. She also knew that they believed he, as their leader’s son and a strong sorcerer, ought to find an equally worthy wife, who could produce powerful children…
She froze.
“But Baluka… I can’t have—”
“If you could before, you will again,” he told her, with fierce confidence. “There is a healer among the Travellers who can fix the damage that was done.”
“What if he can’t?”
“She can. Trust me in that.” He touched her forearm in a way that was both intimate and a gesture of reassurance. “We can wait until we know, if you want. You do not answer now, with the Traveller way, anyway. I must ask three times. Father must agree, too.”
She nodded. He turned and began walking again. Still surprised, she searched for something to say, but before she could think of anything he pointed out a group of startlingly tall people striding by gracefully.
“Oh! They are the Aproyt. They don’t travel outside their world much, since they are loyal to the Raen and uphold his laws strictly. I’ve only seen them once before, when I was a child. They live in a land with huge tides and the strangest sea creatures.”
CHAPTER 12
Sitting down opposite Ankari, Rielle took the sheaf of paper, rolled it the other way to take out the curl, placed it on the board she had found, and picked up the black sticks of charcoal that were the closest thing to chalk she had found in the market.
Ankari glanced up as Rielle began to draw and smiled briefly before turning back to her stitching. The sticks were darker than the chalk Rielle was used to but they made a soft mark on the smooth paper that was appealing and easy to smudge. Choosing Ankari’s basket as the subject, she experimented, seeing how dark she could make an area, or how light a stroke or smudge she could achieve. Putting her first attempt aside, she took another piece of paper and began to draw one of the wagons.
A familiar mood stole over her as she slipped into the state of concentration that drawing required. It was almost blissful at times, but could be as much frustration and determination. Whether it led to satisfaction or disappointment, it was, of itself, a wonderful place for her mind to be in, and such a relief to be finally drawing again.
Suddenly Ankari stood up and hurried away.
Startled, Rielle watched the woman go, then shrugged and turned back to her task. Memories of other artwork she had made passed before her mind’s eye as if she were walking before a wall hung with paintings. Art from lessons with her aunt, tinged with sadness and regret. The paintings she had worked on with Izare, exploring the oily paint he had introduced her to. The tapestries she had worked on in Master Grasch’s workshop, especially the last one, of the Angel.
A last few smudges and she was done. Propping the board up on a chair, she considered her work. Footsteps drawing closer drew her attention away, but instead of Ankari returning, it was Baluka, his eyes brightening as she smiled in greeting.
“Where is Mother?” he asked, glancing at Ankari’s chair, only her stitching lying in her place.
“She went that way,” Rielle replied, pointing.
He did not glance in the direction she indicated, however. His eyes had fallen on the drawing.
“That’s good,” he said, moving over to the chair to take a closer look. “What will you draw next?”
She looked around, but saw nothing that caught her interest. “I’d like to draw the market,” she told him. He had warned her against exploring on her own. Markets always attracted thieves, but few would dare target a Traveller since most were sorcerers.
He nodded. “I will go with you.”
She smiled. “Thank you.”
After putting her first two drawings inside Ankari and Lejikh’s wagon, Rielle picked up a few more sheets of paper, the board and charcoal. Baluka led her out into the street.
“How will you draw the market?” he asked. “It is too big.”
She chuckled. “Not the whole market.” She searched for a word. “Pieces.”
“Ah,” he replied.
He let her lead the way, and after considering a few stalls, she found a scene she hoped would remain the same long enough for her to draw it. A stone-carver had set up shop not far from the blacksmith’s tent they’d seen the previous day. He was working on a life-sized statue, a head and arms slowly emerging from the block.
“Could you ask him if I can draw him?”
Baluka strode away. The man looked towards Rielle, then shrugged and nodded. Assured that her subject wouldn’t take offence, she lifted the board and paper and began to sketch. Baluka returned to her side.
He hadn’t mentioned his proposal of the previous day, and she was more anxious to know if he’d spoken to his father than she had expected. Is it only that I’d like some sort of certainty about my future? That I’m tired of not knowing what will happen to me? Or am I excited about the idea of beginning something with Baluka? Suddenly she was all too conscious of his closeness, and had to resist glancing in his direction. She’d spent a while examining him the previous night, in the flattering light of floating magical flames. He did have a nicely muscled chest and arms. Not too bulky, but well toned from the general work of everyday tasks. She’d reflected that she had grown used to the Travellers’ broad faces, which had seemed odd to begin with.
She’d had the itch to draw him, too, but had decided that would be more enjoyable later, perhaps as a way to overcome the initial shyness of—No, don’t think about that now, she told herself. Besides, you don’t know for sure if he truly likes you, or has only offered to marry you to help you. She was mostly sure he did, but—
“Rielle,” Baluka said, his voice low and wary.
She looked up. He wasn’t looking at her, his eyes fixed somewhere to one side.
“Don’t move. There’s a man… no, he’s leaving.”
“What did he do?”
Baluka frowned. “Stopped and stared at you.”
Her heart skipped a beat. “He knew me?”
“No. But he…” He paused, then mimicked a look of astonishment and wonder.
Rielle looked over her shoulder. Perhaps it had been something behind her. Baluka followed suit, then shook his head.
“He is gone.” He shrugged, then looked down at her barely started drawing and nodded. “Draw. I will keep watch.”
She looked at the sculptor again, then set to work. Baluka scanned the crowd, looking for the man who had been so startled by her. After she had been working for a while he stepped away from her, turning back every few steps to check that no one harassed her. Before long, a woman paused and altered her course to walk behind Rielle. In the edge of her vision, she saw the woman push up onto her toes so she could see what Rielle was doing. The woman uttered a soft “ah” and continued on, her curiosity sated.
Baluka returned. “We have to go,” he told her.
“They want to see,” Rielle told him, shrugging and smiling to show it was nothing to worry about.
He hooked an arm around her and pulled her to one side. “Some do, some don’t.”
“But I’m not finish—”
“I know. I know. But we can’t stay here.”
A little annoyed, she let him guide her away from the area. When they had walked several hundred paces he drew her down the gap betwe
en two stalls into another street, leading her away from the Travellers’ stall. They stopped beside a small mountain of purple urns and pretended to examine the designs while Baluka checked to see if they were being followed.
“We are safe,” he said, though with a hint of doubt in his voice.
They returned to his family slowly, with several stops to admire goods and much glancing behind. When they finally reached the circles of wagons he drew her inside quickly. Ankari was back in her usual chair. She and Baluka conversed too quickly for Rielle to catch more than half of the words.
Rielle waited impatiently for them to explain, her drawing tools set aside and her arms crossed. Finally Ankari noticed Rielle’s stance and smiled.
“I apologise,” the woman said. “Sit and we will talk.”
As Rielle sat, Baluka took the chair beside her. Ankari opened her mouth, frowned, then looked at her son.
“Can you tell her?”
He nodded. “I will try.” Turning to face Rielle, he smiled. “You are a Maker. Someone who makes magic when…” He pointed at her drawings and Ankari’s stitching.
Rielle shrugged. “I know.”
Ankari waved her hands in a uniquely Traveller gesture that meant she hadn’t understood. “No. All people make magic.” She held thumb and forefinger a small way apart. “A Maker makes more magic.” She spread her arms wide in a dramatic gesture.
“People could see the magic you were making,” Baluka told her.
“Oh,” she said, realising why he had been worried. She had been attracting attention. “But… why? Is drawing different?”
Baluka shook his head. “No. It is you. You are a strong Maker.”
A hum came from Ankari, who was nodding, but her gaze was elsewhere. “No magic,” she said, then looked at Baluka. “She did not learn to use magic. A strong sorcerer’s time goes to learning magic, not making.”
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