“I fear what he would do if we refused him, and we do need all the help we can get.” Baluka set the chair swaying. “His claims about you are curious.”
“Why did you let him go?” Hapre asked.
Tyen sighed. “I couldn’t bring myself to kill him,” he confessed. “And he did decide, at the time, that he would do what I ordered.”
“Which was?”
“To not harm anyone. To leave the allies.”
“What would prevent him changing his mind later?”
All Tyen could do was shrug in reply.
“I am not bothered by a reluctance to kill,” Baluka said, “so long as that is what it is. I think it is time we knew that for sure, Tyen.”
A chill ran through Tyen. What Baluka was hinting at was clear in his thoughts. He wanted to finally see into Tyen’s mind.
Tyen doubted he’d live long if he let them. Their combined strength was considerable. Probably enough to defeat him. Unless he took all the available magic first… “More often than not, he who moves fastest wins,” Tarren had once quoted.
But sometimes he who spoke most convincingly won.
“Not yet.” Tyen had rehearsed this reply many, many times, knowing he would face a moment like this eventually. “You know I hold secrets that would endanger others if the allies read them from your minds. Wait until the last moment, when there will be no risk that what I know will be used against us.” He paused, reading resistance in their minds. “And I think I can risk showing you one thing…”
Concentrating, he brought up a memory of the rebels Resca had slaughtered, then opened his mind enough that they saw it. Like opening the pages of Vella briefly, before snapping the covers closed.
All four rebels flinched.
“I can only ask you to trust me as much as you trust him,” Tyen told them, with as much dignity as he could gather. Then he walked out of the house.
He had almost reached the place where they’d stepped off the canoes when he heard his name called. Glancing back, he saw Baluka hurrying towards him as quickly as anyone could who didn’t have the local knack of walking on the soft ground. The others weren’t following.
“Wait,” the rebel leader called.
Tyen stopped. To his relief, Baluka no longer wanted Tyen to open his mind. He’d convinced the others to do as Tyen had asked: to wait until the last possible moment. Baluka smiled as he reached Tyen, then stepped past to the water’s edge and beckoned to one of the many young men and women paddling around the islands hoping to earn some money transporting people from village to village.
“Join me,” Baluka said as he stepped on board. Tyen obeyed, settling on the woven seat. The rebel leader directed the young man to paddle towards the distant shore, speaking haltingly in the local language as it was the only one the man understood. Then he turned back to Tyen. “So. You made your point. I won’t demand you open your mind to us. Not until just before the battle.”
Tyen nodded. “Thank you.”
“Can you tell me anything of the book you thought of?” he asked, turning to Tyen.
A curse slipped off Tyen’s tongue. The rower glanced at him, not understanding the words but recognising the sound of someone swearing when he heard it.
“Is it so dangerous to know of it?” Baluka asked. He was curious, but also wary.
“Yes, but more to some than others.”
The rebel leader nodded. “I don’t need to read your mind to know you are not a violent man. And more important than the memory was the feeling behind it. Not just your horror at what he had done but your fear that letting him live will cause us more harm.” Baluka’s eyes narrowed. “Does the book belong to this woman named Vella?”
Tyen looked away, not trusting himself to speak.
“Well, my guess is the book is a memento. Something to remind you of her. I carry something similar.” Baluka drew back the sleeve of his coat to reveal a colourful plaited cord tied around his wrist. I doubt the memory will match the reality now. I have changed so much she wouldn’t recognise me, he added silently. And she? Will she be the same? He felt a stab of impatience. It doesn’t matter. What matters is getting her away from him.
“Well, we know the location of the Raen’s world now,” Baluka continued. “How long should we wait until we give the signal? How long until all the worlds know to watch for it?”
“If the number of worlds is infinite, a very long time,” Tyen could not resist pointing out.
Baluka chuckled. “We need only reach as far as the hatred of the Raen has spread. I guess we could be waiting a long time for that, too.” He ran a finger under his sleeve, probably tracing the braid. “Then we wait until we have enough fighters to defeat him, plus a few more to be sure.”
Tyen frowned. “How do we know how many is enough? And what if Resca changes his mind and tells the Raen we know the location of his world?”
“It will make no difference.” Baluka shook his head. “It is his world. If he does not defend it he will look weak and we will destroy an asset. That is the beauty of the plan: it doesn’t matter if he knows all of it. There are so many of us now that he and his allies won’t be able to stop the signal spreading, and we outnumber them so they can’t stop all of us gathering together. Once we are gathered and we face the enemy, numbers matter less than strength. We can’t know how strong we are, or he and the allies. We can only hope we are stronger. Still, we know his strength is not limitless, or he would not have been trapped in Rielle’s world for so long.” He smiled. “And we have a lot of support. I think we will win this battle, Tyen.”
Tyen managed a wan smile in return. Listening to Baluka, all confidence and determination, only made him feel sick. He’s going to die. The Raen, or his allies, are going to win, and the one person they’ll make sure they kill is Baluka. The knowledge was like a fist in his stomach, especially now that he knew Baluka considered him a friend.
When he’d let Baluka take over the leadership he hadn’t anticipated that he’d end up liking the Traveller. He couldn’t help admiring the man’s intelligence, determination and bravery. He sympathised with Baluka’s bleak view of the choices he’d made in the hopes of helping the woman he loved, even though he suspected she would not like the man he’d become.
Closing his eyes, Tyen concentrated on the faint pressure of Vella’s weight on the strap around his neck. A memory rose, old but much revisited, of Tarren in his rooms holding a calligraphy brush.
“… what are you prepared to do in order to fulfil your promise to her?”
He’d not known what he was getting into, when he’d agreed. He’d not had a great deal of choice, either. The Raen had caught him travelling between worlds and the only way to avoid punishment was to strike a deal.
He’d consoled himself with the hope his spying put him in a position to prevent the deaths of many people, but he knew now that the rebels were never going to give up and go home for anything less. Once the allies had attacked the first rebel base the future had been unalterable. Retaliation had to follow, and in return the allies had avenged Preketai’s death by killing Yira. He was surprised, in retrospect, at how long he’d managed to hold them back when he was leader.
But since Baluka had taken over the rebels they’d been moving steadily towards a major confrontation. Tyen could not see how he could have prevented it, either. The Raen had made it clear he wanted the Traveller in charge. Perhaps he wanted the inevitable confrontation over and done with.
Would revealing his true role as a spy for the Raen make a difference? Would knowing the ruler of worlds was aware of his plans make Baluka give up?
The urge to confess everything rose up like something rotten in Tyen’s stomach that he needed to purge. Then his throat tightened as he recalled Baluka’s words:
“That is the beauty of the plan: it doesn’t matter if he knows all of it. There are so many of us now that he and his allies won’t be able to stop the signal spreading, and we outnumber them so they can’t stop all
of us gathering together.”
Nothing he could do now would stop the rebels confronting the Raen.
Nothing I can do now. Perhaps another opportunity would come. He could only watch and hope.
The urge to unveil himself and the nausea faded. He could still help the rebels. Whether they won or lost, they would need someone to transport them to safety. It was the role Baluka had chosen for him. Though the Raen had suggested Tyen find a way to avoid being there, he hadn’t told Tyen not to attend.
Tyen would make sure as many rebels escaped as possible. After all he had done, it was a responsibility he would not abandon, not even, perhaps, for Vella.
PART SEVEN
RIELLE
CHAPTER 20
Dahli had chosen the most uninteresting place in all the worlds to teach Rielle pattern shifting. It was a room, as wide as it was deep and tall, with no decoration to relieve the grey stone walls. Even the door was dull–a slab of the same stone that formed the walls. Air circulated through small, unadorned holes in the ceiling, making no noise and maintaining an even, comfortable temperature. The only light was the spark she kept alive with magic.
At first she had welcomed the lack of features, as nothing could distract her from lessons, which required intense concentration. Then the sheer boringness of her surroundings began to fascinate her. She began thinking of ways it could be even more uninteresting, or how she might decorate it. Occasionally she woke from nightmares where the room had transformed into something sinister. Then, to keep away a lurking panic that threatened to overwhelm her, she concentrated on recalling or visualising every step of the creation of a painting or a tapestry.
A range of emotions had come and gone: anger at the room’s refusal to provide stimulus, fear that she would never escape it or go mad before she did, and a gloom that sapped her resolve. Eventually she found acceptance. Either she would succeed at her task and escape the room, or Valhan would decide she had failed and set her free. It was just a matter of time.
Not that she was imprisoned here: Dahli had made it clear she could stop the lessons at any time. Only her determination to do all she could to learn pattern shifting kept her there. If she failed, she, Dahli and Valhan–especially Valhan–would know she had put all her effort into trying to achieve it.
“You use magic unconsciously all the time,” Dahli had told her on the first day. “Your body uses it to heal, but it does only what is required to keep you fit enough to survive. When you consciously use magic, you are doing more than what is required. Your body will leave a scar, as that is good enough; you will go further and remove the scar if you can.
“As a sorcerer, you have a natural, instinctive ability to draw in magic and shape it to a purpose. You may feel it is conscious and deliberate, but it is only in the same way that you focus on the muscles in your leg when you deliberately take a step. We walk without thinking about it all the time. Just as the function of each muscle happens without you willing it, you use magic in ways that you are not aware of.
“To shift a pattern you must know it. You need to understand your body to the finest degree to change it. So to begin, concentrate on a muscle in your leg and study what happens when you move. Seek more detail and understanding. Do this long enough, strive hard enough, and your body will use magic to enhance your awareness.
“And throughout your time here,” he added. “I want you to lower the block that prevents me from reading your mind, as otherwise I won’t know when to set you the next exercise, or when you are ready to leave here.”
Then he had left her, only returning once a day when she required food and water and other necessities, each time taking everything away as soon as she was finished. At least, she assumed it was once a day. She had no way of knowing for sure. He always looked for and erased the marks she made on the walls to keep track. Once she’d gouged them in deeply with magic. The dust had left her coughing for hours afterwards. He’d simply smoothed the wall again.
She’d hated him at that point. She’d resisted a powerful urge to leave the room. If she’d been able to travel between worlds, she would have fought the temptation to escape that way. Only pride and determination kept her in place. Valhan wanted her to learn this, so she would do everything she could to achieve it, not give up when she’d barely begun.
Staring at her leg, she had flexed the muscles over and over, trying to actually see with her mind and not simply imagine what was inside. Her awareness gradually shifted and expanded. What she saw and understood was fascinating, and drew her to look closer, and one day she knew she had grasped what she needed to because the door opened and Dahli entered empty-handed, smiling.
He did not stay long.
“Now apply this level of awareness to another part of your body,” he instructed. “Not a muscle this time.”
She chose the bones in her hand. It was easier and faster the second time, as her senses were already attuned to this level of awareness. It still took headache-inducing concentration, but was growing easier. She slowly realised that she was using magic to sense instead of affect. Once she grasped this she discovered that, by using magic this way, she could gather information about locations outside of herself, too. She could judge that the temperature at a point in the room was slightly warmer than a point within the rock wall. She could find hollows in the rock beyond the wall. She could hear water trickling somewhere to the left of the door. The room was growing less boring.
But if you can’t sense and affect at the same time, how can you heal? she’d wondered.
The answer, Dahli taught her next, was that you could. It took even greater concentration. And like everything that required concentration, it got easier with practice.
He set her the task of changing her hair colour. It was safer than altering living tissue, he said. Since her hair hung well past her shoulders, Dahli had visited several times before she had changed the entire length of every strand.
“Blonde doesn’t suit you,” he told her. “Change it back.”
When it was all black again he brought a knife and told her to make a small cut to her arm, then repair the damage, leaving no scar. She didn’t manage it before the next meal. Dahli told her to cut herself again, as the old wound had begun to heal naturally. It was the third cut that she managed to heal.
He then brought a small animal with a shallow cut on its snout. This proved harder to heal than she expected. The animal was not a part of her body. She did not know its pattern. Though she had sensed things outside herself, nothing had been this complicated, and she hadn’t tried to affect anything. But it was more like learning to dance than to walk–most of the mental coordination was in place. She healed the cut within hours rather than days.
When she had, Dahli replaced it with a spiny creature with a broken toe.
“Now block the pain before you heal this one.”
That was easier than she had expected. The animal’s mind told her when she had succeeded. It wasn’t until much later that she realised she could now use magic to understand the minds of other creatures. When Dahli returned she asked him if she was right.
“Yes, you can.” He shrugged. “It’s not as useful an ability as you imagine. We don’t need animals for transport or to fetch things, and raising them for food or other products or uses is usually a task given to the people who serve us. I’ve known a few ageless who keep pets and find the ability adds to the entertainment and pleasure of owning them.”
He handed her a small animal with a pointy nose and white-flecked grey fur, then took the spiny creature and held it carefully as he explained what she must do next.
“What you have been doing is a simpler form of pattern shifting. Aside from when you changed your hair colour, you were helping living matter return to its original pattern. This is what it is inclined to do. What you must learn now is to alter the underlying pattern of a living creature to one that it never would have developed into. He nodded at the animal in her hands.
“Make h
is legs longer.”
“That seems… cruel.”
“Only if you make them very long. A little extra height will do him no harm–and other breeds of this animal are taller. If you were to increase your height you would have to maintain the change, because if you have magical ability your body will return to its original pattern.”
Not wanting to distress the animal unduly, she spent a little time soothing and playing with him. Settling quickly, he went to sleep in a corner of the room. It was easily enough to see that the creature was old, and a look inside him told her he had been recently fed.
Sitting cross-legged next to it, she slowly and carefully began to work. Remembering how the girl with the deformed leg had gasped in pain when Valhan had begun healing her, Rielle first numbed the animal’s limbs. He woke and examined his legs with puzzlement, then lay on his side and went back to sleep.
She realised soon after that altering the existing pattern meant inventing a new one. In this case, at least, she could take the information already there and enhance it. The work had a creative aspect that appealed to her, though the task itself did not.
Time stretched. She immersed her awareness in the animal’s body until she felt as if she had almost become one. Was that possible, too? Could she change into an animal? If she did, would her mind remain human, or would it change too, trapping her in a state where she did not have the ability to change back?
So long as she retained the ability to use magic she could return to her human form. It was too easy to imagine that happening in unpleasant ways, however, with different parts reverting to human at different rates. Yet if that were possible then it might be possible to change select parts of herself. Could she turn her arms into wings and learn to fly?
So many questions crowded her mind that she could not concentrate well enough for the task for some time. She stopped trying, letting her mind roam over the possibilities until she grew bored with the subject. The pause did, at least, allow magic to flow in to fill some of the void she had created with all her attempts to change herself and the animal. When she was ready, she returned to the task.
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