Angel of Storms

by Trudi Canavan

  “Do you have any valued possessions in your rooms?”

  Looking around, she realised they had reached the palace. Now devoid of magic, the quiet of the unpopulated complex of rooms and corridors seemed to thicken and chill the air. Dahli glanced at her, expecting an answer. She considered the objects in her room. All given to her since she’d arrived. She touched the pendant on the chain around her neck.

  “No. Why?”

  “We’re leaving this world,” Dahli informed her.

  “How long for?”

  “Permanently. Without people living here, this world will remain a weak one.”

  “No. You said I hadn’t ruined the palace.”

  “You didn’t. It wasn’t your decision to have you taught here.”

  “Then why not teach me elsewhere?”

  Dahli shrugged. “I guess Valhan decided it was time to abandon this place. He may as well use the remaining magic for something worthwhile.”

  His tone was light, but the line between his eyebrows had returned. She searched his face for clues, but as he noticed her scrutiny he looked away, quickening his steps. As he steered her towards the Arrival Hall she gathering up her scarf from around her neck and draped it over her head.

  “What about everyone else here?” she asked.

  “Already gone.” His back straightened as he passed through the archway into the Hall. “Raen,” he said, his voice suddenly heavy with respect and admiration.

  Rielle followed. Valhan stood a few paces away. A shiver ran over her skin. The ruler of worlds’ knowing gaze moving from Dahli to her, and back again.

  “Congratulations,” he said. “To both of you.”

  As Dahli somehow managed to stand even straighter, she resisted a smile.

  “He is an excellent teacher,” she said, happy to have been the reason for his pride.

  Valhan’s gaze returned to hers. “And you a worthy student.”

  “Ah… thank you for… for everything,” she said, abandoning the dignified speech of gratitude she had planned to give.

  His smile was small and brief, but enough to tell her he was pleased. “You must have many questions, but they will have to wait.”

  She doubted she had any questions left to ask after the long walk back with Dahli. Valhan extended one hand to each of them. Together, she and Dahli stepped forward to take hold of them.

  Valhan looked at her. “You no longer need to take a deep breath before travelling between worlds, Rielle, but you will have less damage to repair if you do, and avoid staying too long between them.”

  She took the hint and inhaled. The Arrival Hall brightened and faded to white.

  The now familiar combination of worlds flashed in and out of sight, followed by a stream of unfamiliar ones. Briefly she wondered how he could take them out of his world when so little magic remained within reach, then realised the answer was obvious: he had arrived holding enough to leave again.

  So when he came to my world, all those years ago, he must not have had enough left over to escape. I wonder… if someone else, or several others, had entered my world holding as much magic as they could, would they have been able to free him?

  “Yes.” His voice was clear but, as before, his mouth did not move. “But none of my followers or allies knew where I was.”

  “Not even the friends of the rebel who lured him there,” Dahli added.

  Rielle looked at her teacher, noting that his mouth did not move either. Colours and shapes formed around them, and as they resolved into objects she gaped in astonishment.

  They stood on a ledge built on the crest of a narrow ridge. Like an enormous vertical curtain frozen in place, the ridge interlocked with others to form a strange, lattice-like mountain range. Except this range was not stone, she realised, but the trunks of huge trees woven together, foliage bursting from the upper edge except where it had been cleared around the arrival place.

  Stretched between the living walls were thick, metal cables, and along these supports huge translucent structures were suspended, as if a giant insect had left behind a crystalline cocoon. Seeing movement on the cables she looked closer. People were walking along them, passing through a tiny doorway where the cable penetrated the structure.

  Each building could have housed a hundred people or more. The scale of it all made her dizzy even before she looked down, to where the living curtain wall disappeared into a gently swirling mist.

  “This is my new palace,” Valhan said.

  She could only nod. It was astonishing. Dazzling. Beautiful. It was more like what she’d expect an Angel’s realm to look like.

  The thought tempered her wonder, replacing it with discomfort. Had he chosen or made this place because of her? She hoped not. It didn’t seem fair that he could be changed into something he wasn’t by the expectations of others.

  “Make the arrangements,” Valhan said. Dahli nodded and moved to the edge. Only then did Rielle give the surface below her feet a closer look. Like the buildings, it was made of a crystalline material. It was covered in a random pattern of grooves. Dahli moved off the edge, floating on an invisible floor towards one of the crystalline buildings. Valhan turned back to her. She found she had recovered her ability to speak.

  “It is beautiful. What is it called?”

  “Cepher.”

  “Did you make it?”

  “No.”

  “Who did?”

  “The ancestors of the occupants. I have made many palaces, but it is always more interesting to see what other minds have invented.”

  “Have you always lived in palaces? What was your original home world like?”

  When he did not reply, she turned to see a slight frown marring his flawless forehead, and her heart skipped. He teaches me to never age and the first thing I do is make him frown. “Oh. I’m sorry if I should not have asked that,” she said quickly.

  He met her gaze. “There are no questions you should not ask, Rielle. I was remembering my home world. It is very different to this. I have not been there for some time.”

  “Has it changed since you were born?” It was oddly difficult to imagine him as a child, or a baby.

  “Parts of it have changed a great deal. Not so much the country I came from.” The frown disappeared. “Let’s see if it is still as I remember it.”

  He extended a hand. As she took it, she realised that she had not been gasping for air when she’d arrived. But another thought overtook that one as quickly. It is amazing he can recall his birthplace even after a thousand cycles. Does he remember everything? Can pattern shifting make that possible? Can the mind hold a thousand cycles of memories?

  “If you wish to retain a memory, you will,” he told her. “The difficulty is knowing which memories to retain.”

  And if I wish to lose one?

  “With effort, it is possible. I have never deliberately erased a memory.”

  But you could have erased the memory that you had erased one.

  “That is always possible. But the sorts of memories you wish to lose are the ones most likely to teach you not to make a mistake twice.”

  A gloom surrounded them. Worlds had been flashing in and out of sight, but she had not paid much attention. Now, as Valhan released her hand, a dry heat enveloped her. Dunes of a fine red sand stretched in all directions. Here and there stunted white trees clung to the sand with long, claw-like roots, their huge, leathery leaves like upturned palms begging for water.

  A desert? she thought. We were both born in the desert? He was staring into the distance. Following his gaze, she squinted into the dimness.

  “You can now improve your sight,” he reminded her.

  A little magic, a little flexing of will, and her eyes adjusted. Pale and thin men, women and children were walking a few hundred strides away. They were heading towards her and Valhan, moving with the steady, economical strides of people who lead nomadic lives. Equally spindly animals strode gracefully among them, large bundles bound to their backs. Each wa
s led by a rope that pierced their whiskery noses and made Rielle wince in sympathy.

  The group had seen her and Valhan. They slowed to a stop at the crest of the next dune. Rielle did not seek their minds, these being Valhan’s people.

  “You may read them,” he said quietly, then started forward.

  Stretching her senses, she detected apprehension and curiosity. Focusing on the closest man she learned he was the head of this group, and the people were his extended family. He was thinking that while good manners dictated he feed and entertain this stranger and his companion, he could not let them detain the group long as he already expected to arrive late at the market tomorrow.

  They are much like the Travellers, she thought. I wonder if the Travellers remind Valhan of his birthplace, and if that is why he allows them to move between worlds when he forbids it for others.

  Keeping to the tops of the dunes, Valhan led her on a short, winding journey to the group. A few steps away he placed the forefingers and thumbs of his hands together and pressed one pair to his forehead and the other to his chin, and spoke in a language of low, murmuring sounds. Rielle read the meaning from the leader’s mind.

  “I am Valhan, sorcerer, returned to see my homeland. May I walk with you a while?”

  The leader returned the gesture, pleased at the stranger’s manners but disbelieving of Valhan’s claim to be Limn since he had the fleshiness of a farmer or city-dweller. “I am Wayalonya, trader, heading to market,” he replied. “You are welcome.”

  Valhan glanced at her. “The women walk behind,” he murmured. “Give the same deference to Wayalonya’s wife. Do not speak to any man. Do not call out to me.”

  She nodded. As Wayalonya began to walk, Valhan fell in step beside him and the family followed suit. Rielle searched the women’s minds until she found Wayalonya’s wife, Naym, first among the women at the rear. A little older than Rielle, Naym was much younger than her husband. She did not smile as she met Rielle’s gaze–none of the Limn had smiled so far–but her mind was full of curiosity.

  Rielle copied the gesture Valhan had made. “I am Rielle, sorcerer, here to see Valhan’s homeland.” She noted that, for the first time, she had identified herself as a sorcerer, not an artist or weaver.

  “I am Naym,” the woman replied. “Second wife of Wayalonya. Welcome.” She indicated that Rielle may fall into step beside her.

  None of the other women spoke, or showed much expression, but when Rielle looked in their minds she was astonished by how much they were communicating with quick glances and small gestures.

  The stranger is very handsome.

  Yes he is.

  Is this woman his wife?

  I don’t know. She doesn’t have the marks.

  Why does she cover her head? Is she bald underneath?

  He is young enough for another wife.

  For you? Never!

  No, I can see hair. Long, straight and dark.

  He is a city-dweller. He is fat.

  I like it. I want a head cloth like that.

  He is not too fat. And he is rich.

  How do you know he’s rich? Because he’s fat?

  Because he is a sorcerer.

  Rielle held back a laugh and hoped her face didn’t betray her amusement. The women’s conversation, hidden from the men because they walked behind them, was as lively as the weavers’ in Grasch’s studio.

  I’ve assumed he didn’t have a wife, she mused, since there was none in the palace, but it’s not impossible. She might live elsewhere. I don’t think he’d be an easy man to live with. Or love. He hides so much of himself, and what he’s shown me hasn’t exactly been all sweetness and kindness.

  “Where are you from?” Naym asked.

  “Another…” Rielle paused, not seeing the word for “world” in Naym’s mind. She made a vague gesture at the horizon.

  “From the north?” Naym suggested.

  Rielle shook her head and made the same gesture a few more times, each time in another direction.

  “All over the world?”

  “No. Another world.”

  The woman did not understand. She had no knowledge of other worlds. Rielle considered trying to explain, then decided against it. She could not guess how the woman might react to the idea. Besides, Rielle was not here to teach the Limn about the worlds, but to learn about the Limn.

  Naym did not mind her questions, and asked plenty. She was so scandalised that an unwed young woman and man were travelling together that she began to herd her guest out of earshot of the younger women, until Rielle told them she was his niece.

  Rielle kept her questions to matters of trade and customs. Though the women made no decisions openly, in trade or the path of their own lives, in private they had more influence in the family’s affairs. It was permissible for women to ask questions of another man’s wife or female relative, but not of men. For men it was rude to ask questions of other men, so the men were now caught up in an elaborate constrictive game of extracting information from their guest, and he from them, without anyone asking a direct question.

  And he was not making it too easy for them, which Wayalonya was thinking could indicate Valhan truly was a Limnan man. Anyone could have been told about Limn ways; only a Limn understood the intricate frustrations of their method of conversing.

  Their surroundings darkened suddenly, then brightened. Looking around in surprise, Rielle saw that the tiny speck of sun had vanished. In its place was a sky glittering with stars, making night as bright as day. The Limn did not stop, but she read from their minds that they were nearing the well they would rest and sleep beside tonight.

  As the family crested a dune and began to descend into the valley between two bigger dunes, Naym’s thoughts became anxious. The well was covered with sand again. They’d have to dig it away, taking great care lest one of them fall through to their death. In the near future the northern dune’s advance would cover the well completely, and the family would have to carry more water or pay a tithe to use another route until, generations into the future, the dune released the well again.

  Wayalonya slowed as he neared the spot the well ought to be, gauging where to dig. Valhan strode forward, past the leader.

  The Limn caught their breath, or opened mouths to call a warning, but their leader gestured for silence. He had guessed what Valhan was about to try. He would rather the stranger didn’t, but then, it was impossible to stop a sorcerer when he had determined to do something.

  Head bowed, Valhan halted somewhere near to where Wayalonya reckoned the well’s opening was. Black lines flashed outwards, but none of the Limn could see them. All looked to the ground, expecting to see sand shifting.

  Instead, the entire northern side of the valley buckled, lifted and flew over their heads to pour down atop the southern side.

  The minds around Rielle froze in astonishment and terror. The Limn stood with mouths agape, eyes moving from the place the northern dune had been, to the now higher southern ridge.

  Valhan was not finished. He moved to the hole in the ground he’d uncovered and looked inside. As he took a step back, then another, the hole widened and smoothed, edges glowing red. Rielle felt heat wash over her. Then steam shot out of the hole. Cooling in the night air, it condensed and fell as droplets. The Limn grabbed at their heads and ducked. They had never seen rain before.

  “Rielle.”

  She turned back to find Valhan beckoning. Hurrying forward, she looked past him to see the glistening rim of a new well cooling to black. A stairway led down into the depths. Peering over the edge, she saw a perfectly round wall, and water glinting far below.

  He held out a hand. Taking it, she glanced back to see the Limn staring at them, faces betraying no expression but minds full of wonder.

  All faded to white.

  The memory of the dune flying over their heads repeated in Rielle’s mind. It had taken very little magic to do it, and to reshape the well, but the changes would make a great difference to the Lim
n. What could be done with more magic? What could she do with magic?

  Her heart, whenever they were within a world, raced with excitement.

  Soon the crystalline buildings of Cepher appeared again. To her relief, Valhan did not bring them into the world completely. He skimmed towards the structure Dahli had been headed toward when they’d left. As they plunged through the walls a confusing shimmer of refracted light dazzled her.

  When they emerged, a room of faceted walls surrounded them. A ring of people stood within. They dropped to their knees then pressed their foreheads to the crystalline floor.

  Ignoring them, Valhan turned to her. He drew something out of his coat. For a moment she thought he had somehow conjured up one of the desert creatures of her world from her memories, but as he held it out to her she saw that it was made of metal, once smoothly polished but now scuffed and scratched.

  A leg moved. Antennae twitched. He dropped it into her outstretched hands. For a brief moment wing covers sprang open and iridescent wings flashed, only to snap back out of sight when it landed in her palms.

  “Keep this safe for me until I can return it to its owner,” Valhan said. “Study it. You may be able to train it to perform simple tasks.”

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “The future.”

  He smiled, stepped back and vanished.

  CHAPTER 22

  Several days later, he still hadn’t returned.

  Setting chalk and paper aside, Rielle sighed and rubbed her temples. She had been constantly restless since arriving in Cepher, unable to focus on anything for long. Despite having all the materials she could ever require at her disposal, not even drawing or painting could hold her attention. She could not find the state of mind that made making art so fulfilling.

  Too much had happened. Too much to think about. She hadn’t seen Dahli since she’d arrived either, and while it wasn’t unusual for the ruler of worlds to be gone for so long, she couldn’t remember a day when she hadn’t spoken to her teacher since she’d left the Travellers.

  She wasn’t alone, though. She was surrounded by people. Like in any other palace, there were servants employed in fulfilling the needs of the occupants. Unlike in any palace she’d heard of, almost all of the occupants were artisans.