I wasn’t completely taken with the idea, anyway, she told herself. He was much older than her–not just a few cycles, but hundreds. He would always place Valhan’s needs and desires before hers, and she hadn’t truly considered what that would be like. It was probably better that she wasn’t the gender, or the person, he was attracted to.
It could be worse. She could have fancied Dahli while he yearned for Valhan, and Valhan desired… No. Valhan doesn’t regard me that way. He said as much when he took me from the Travellers.
Noises outside the room drew her attention, and she was glad of the distraction. Somewhere down the corridor people were cheering. She resisted the temptation to scan for minds. The last time she had, she’d read some very unflattering thoughts about herself.
Her attempts to befriend the artists had been a great failure so far. They saw her as one of the Raen’s sorcerers, and nothing more. One he’d left to keep his house in order when he wasn’t around–which was most of the time. When she had explained that he had brought her here because she was an artist they’d smiled and nodded, silently groaning at the prospect of flattering her, no matter how awful her art. To convince them she was truly an artist, she needed proof of her skills.
The trouble was, her skills seemed to have deserted her.
She stepped back to regard her efforts. The nose was more nose-like, but not Sesse’s nose. Tired of fussing, she decided to leave it as it was for now. She took a step back, examining the whole painting, and felt her heart sink.
“What are you afraid of?” Sesse asked.
Rielle turned away and began cleaning the brushes. Now that Sesse, at Rielle’s urging, had abandoned formality, a confident, outspoken woman had emerged. She could be very perceptive. Which reminded Rielle of… Sadness welled up inside her as she realised who. Betzi. Memories of the weaving workshop and her old friend stirred, and while she had no longing to return there she did miss her friend. I hope you are happy with your Captain, Betzi, she thought. You’d never guess what became of me.
She looked up at Sesse. The servant was watching her, and raised an eyebrow in expectation.
“Only that I’ve lost all ability to paint,” Rielle admitted.
“Because you’re ageless?”
“Yes.” She paused in surprise. “That was a very good guess.”
Sesse shrugged. “I overheard what Dahli said to you in the dining room. I don’t know about being ageless and a Maker, but I do know there have been and still are ageless who are painters. Amazing painters. Does making magic mean a lot to you?”
Rielle set down the brushes. “No. Not really.”
“Then stop worrying. You’re out of practice. But you have all the time in the worlds to get your skills back.”
She’s right, Rielle thought. I do have all the time I need. I may never be a Maker again, but all it will take to regain my skills is work. Lots of work. She straightened. I can do it. I will do it.
A sound dragged her attention away. Hurried footsteps in the corridor grew louder, then a head appeared in the doorway. A young servant, Penney, flushed with exertion and excitement, dropped to his knees.
“Sorcerer Rielle,” he said. “The rebels sent out the call.” His head was lowered, but his eyes watched her anxiously from under his brows.
Sesse sucked in a breath, grimacing in sympathy as Rielle glanced at her. “Oh, Rielle. Don’t worry. I’m sure he’ll be fine.”
“How long ago?” Rielle asked Penney.
“Hours ago, I guess,” he replied. “This world is a long way from where they were planning to gather.” It was likely a battle was well underway, he was thinking. Or already over. He braced himself for her anger.
Interesting how everyone is concerned that I’ll be angry or worried, Rielle thought, yet I heard cheering before. Was it at this news?
“Thank you, Penney,” she said. “You may go.” He bowed, climbed to his feet and hurried away.
Pausing to regard the painting critically, she considered what to tackle next. Fix Sesse’s nose or start an easier painting?
“You’re not leaving to fight?” Sesse asked.
Rielle shook her head. “I don’t know how. I don’t even know how to travel between worlds.”
Sesse’s mouth formed an “o”, then as Rielle raised her eyebrows she returned to her pose.
Would I go, if I could? Rielle wondered as she resumed painting. Perhaps if she knew Valhan needed her help. Even if that meant going into battle? Would I risk my life for him? What a waste of effort it would be to learn how to avoid dying of age only to die in battle defending the one who had arranged the lessons.
Yet she owed him more than gratitude for having done so. He had said it was in return for her help in leaving her world, yet that did not seem an equal exchange of favours. He had done more for her than she for him.
Why else would she fight for him? The simplest answer was because she would for anyone she felt… felt what?
Respect? She respected many people but that didn’t mean she’d risk her life for them. Affection? The word was both too personal and too meagre. Adoration? She no longer felt the sort of awe she had felt for the Angel. Though what I feel is similar to awe. He was the ruler of all the worlds. She’d seen how he spent his time keeping them in check, and even if she did not like all his methods she respected that he expended so much effort in the task. He cared about the worlds. She could not help admiring him for that. Even if it meant he had to make harsh decisions. If I could, I’d help him and the people of the worlds so that those kinds of decisions were not necessary.
Help him? She paused. Work for him. Serve him?
A chill ran down her back.
Was this why Dahli served him, instead of walking away from someone who didn’t return his feelings? Could I be as loyal? As she pondered the question something stirred within her. Yes, I think I could. Once I loved Valhan as an Angel, with my soul. Is it such a shift to love him as a leader, with my mind? She smiled. At least it is not as complicated and pointless as loving him as a man, with my heart.
“Sorcerer Rielle,” a voice said, from the doorway.
She looked up. “What is it, Penney?”
The young man’s face was white. “The rebel who visited a few days ago has returned. He… he is telling lies about the Raen and… bothering people.”
Her heart skipped a beat, then started racing. Searching for minds, she found a group of artists clustered together on the floor below, and Gabeme. He was telling them about the rebels’ preparations before the battle with Valhan. Some of the artists were worried that Gabeme had come to cause trouble while the Raen was absent, others believed he would leave when he learned that not all the artisans had been happy to find their home possessed by the Raen. All thought that Rielle would deal with Gabeme if he caused trouble, though a few had heard how she had allowed him to escape last time and doubted she was up to the task of defending the palace.
“Take me to him.” She dropped the brush in the jar of thinners and strode out of the room, Penney hurrying before her.
Her pulse raced. What am I afraid of? Gabeme will vanish as soon as he sees me and discovers he can’t read my mind. But what if he didn’t? Dahli had taught her to shield herself against an attack, but not how to fight.
She hurried down the stairs and into the large room where the artists gathered for meals, meetings and celebrations. Gabeme stood leaning against the back of a chair, enjoying being the centre of attention and a source of fear. In the minds of the artists she saw the tale already told: the thousands who had responded to the call, the fighters who had taken the magic, bits of the speech the rebel leader–Baluka–had made: “He’s had a thousand cycles! That is more than enough!” “Together we are equal to the Raen.” Which surprised her. Baluka hadn’t believed in Millennium’s Rule. But others do, and what better way to convince people to fight for you than with an ancient prediction that says they cannot lose?
“I thought it was temporary,” one of th
e young artists was saying. “That he’d abandoned his old palace in order to set a trap there for you and your friends.”
“Not a very good one,” Gabeme replied. “Unless, of course, he was planning to die.”
Rielle stopped, frozen by the certainty in his mind that what he’d said was true.
Dead? Valhan is dead? He must be mistaken. He must have seen what he thought was—
His face turned towards her and he smiled.
“Rielle, isn’t it?” he said. “I didn’t get a chance to thank you for saving me, last time. I couldn’t exactly return. Apologies.”
This one may be strong, he was thinking, but… ah! She doesn’t know how to fight or travel between worlds!
Was he reading her mind? No, he had taken this information from a woman behind her. Rielle turned to find Sesse and Penney hovering in the doorway. She bit back a curse. Sesse had no idea she’d revealed Rielle’s weaknesses by worrying about her.
Rielle faced Gabeme and straightened. “So you think you saw him die,” she stated.
“I did,” he said. “Let me show you.”
He deliberately focused on his memory. She recognised the Arrival Hall of the old palace in his mind. Men and women stood in front, their backs to him. Many more were behind him. All were attacking the man on the dais.
Who burst into flame. Who burned to a pile of ash.
“It happened so fast.” Gabeme’s voice quietened with awe. “I hope I go like that. Nobody would ever forget you, then.”
Rielle stared at him. Stared into him at the memory replaying again and again, fractured as other memories were inserted and thoughts interrupted.
Ha! She wasn’t expecting that. Nobody was expecting that. (Valhan. Fire. Ash.) All the rebels boasted about what they’d do if we won, but they lacked ambition. (Valhan. Fire. Ash.) I want my own world. My own servants. Somewhere out of the way, so other sorcerers don’t bother taking it. Like this place.
Rielle was the only potential obstacle. She was more powerful than him, but maybe not by much. And she had helped him escape. He doubted it was because she had taken a liking to him. People never did that, especially if they could read his mind. That left two possibilities: she had lived a sheltered life and objected to violence, or she hated the Raen enough to support any rebel who happened along–even a cynical, selfish fool like himself.
“So,” he said. “What is it to be? Celebration or—?”
“Get out.” Rielle started walking towards him. “Get out of this palace. Get out of this world. It is not yours to take.”
He stopped and raised his hands, palms outwards. “Can’t we make a deal? I’m willing to share.”
“Out,” Rielle repeated. “I gave you a second chance before. I will give you a third, if you go right now and never return.”
“And if I don’t?” he asked. A third chance? Looks like my first guess was right. He laughed. “I’d wager you’ve never killed anyone in your short, sweet little life.”
Rielle’s whole body went rigid as the memory of Sa-Gest disappearing over the cliffs played before her eyes. For once she welcomed it. Accepted that it had changed her, even if for the worse, because right now innocence would not help her or anyone else here.
“You’d lose,” she told him, reaching as far as she could and taking all the magic out of the world. “I may not know how to fight, but I do know how to kill.”
His smirk vanished. He still held enough magic to leave. She watched as he focused on the world around him. She realised that she, too, could sense it in the same way. As he used magic to push against it she applied her own in the same way.
The sharp edges of the crystalline room softened. The sorcerer remained solid and sharp, only his face changing to alarm as he saw that she had not faded. He blurred and she sensed he had moved away from her, so she pushed harder to propel herself in the same direction.
The walls and artists disappeared into whiteness. She rushed towards Gabeme, reached him, and caught hold of his arm as the faint shadows of the next world began to emerge. She pulled him to a stop.
What now? she asked herself.
If Valhan was dead, would the rebels seek out his friends and allies and kill them, too? Would they punish those who served him? If she let Gabeme go, would he tell them where this palace was, and return with other rebels?
From what she had seen of his mind, the most likely answer was “yes”.
I cannot let him go. She didn’t know how to take him back to the palace, or keep him safely imprisoned until Dahli arrived to deal with him.
If Dahli was still alive.
She had all but made up her mind that she was willing to fight for Valhan. To kill for him. If she was willing to do that for him, why not for the safety of Cepher?
Yet while killing Sa-Gest had been accidental, she still agonised over what she had done. Perhaps killing in someone else’s defence is easier to live with. But… I’m not even sure how to.
As Gabeme tried to twist out of her grip unsuccessfully, in this place where only magical, not physical, strength mattered, she realised she did know how to. All she had to do was wait.
It took longer than she expected, but maybe only because it was the longest wait she had ever endured. Eventually his eyes lost focus, and the fear and disbelief faded from his face. She could not look away, horrified by what she had done, yet fascinated by the shift into lifelessness. And it seemed right that, this time, she faced the full reality of killing another person. Of deliberately killing someone.
Yes, but this time to protect others, not myself.
If it felt any easier, or more justified, she could not tell.
By then she had drifted closer to the next world. A stone circle surrounded her, a typical arrival place, and beyond that a field of tall stalks. She let the world drag her in and knew she’d arrived when warmth surrounded her. As Gabeme fell to the ground, magic swirled within her, repairing the damage from lack of air without her having to gasp.
Not sure what to do with him, she dragged him to the edge of the stone circle and left him there.
Pushing out of a world the second time was, to her relief, as easy as the first time. Yet she could see why Baluka’s lessons had failed. She had been taken between worlds often enough now that she understood what she was sensing. She propelled herself back along her path, arriving in the middle of the artists. They stepped back, allowing her room.
“He won’t bother you again,” she told them as she let go of the magic she had taken but not used. Sesse stood wringing her hands nearby. Rielle beckoned to the woman and walked out of the room, ignoring the murmurs behind her.
“What happened?” Sesse asked as they entered the corridor. “You said you couldn’t travel between worlds or fight.”
“I couldn’t. I can now. Mind reading is a handy skill sometimes.”
“Where did the rebel go?
She lengthened her stride. “He’s dead.”
“Oh. Good.”
Rielle winced. A hand touched her arm, pulled her to a stop. Sesse stared at her, her expression uncharacteristically serious, sympathy and gratitude radiating from her.
“You did a good thing, Sorcerer Rielle. A hard thing, but a necessary thing. He would have done terrible things to the people here.”
Rielle looked away. “I know.” And with Valhan gone, I may need to defend myself or others again. I will have to get used to it. Yet she did not want to stop being horrified. It was right that it shocked and sickened her, and that she would now question this death as well as Sa-Gest’s, for the rest of her life. I had better, because the day I stop is the day I deserve to die.
A voice filtered down the stairs to her from the next level. Her heart leapt as she recognised it.
“Dahli!” she exclaimed. He was alive. He had survived. She ran up the stairs and found him standing in the corridor. His expression brought her to a halt. Not because Dahli’s grief was visible, but because he looked so controlled.
He had s
omething in his hand, she noticed. The mechanical insect. He slipped it into his coat then strode to her and held out a hand. “We must go.”
She hesitated. “What of the people here? Who will protect them?”
“They will be safe for now. We will return later.”
She took his hand. “Where are we going?” She looked at him closely, resisting the temptation to look into his mind. “Is it true?” she asked softly. “Is he…?”
He did not flinch, and his voice remained level, so it took a moment longer for her to absorb what he said.
“It is true. The Raen has been defeated.”
His grip was painfully tight. The world slipped away.
CHAPTER 24
All she could read from Dahli’s face was determination. As they reached the next world she drew a breath to speak.
“What ha—?”
Her question was cut off as they entered the place between again. Dahli’s gaze was intense, but focused on the growing whiteness.
What happened? she thought at him, remembering how Valhan was able to hear her. It might have only been because he could read her mind, but it didn’t hurt to try.
Dahli’s gaze shifted to her. Air surrounded them, but this time she didn’t pause to draw breath.
“Where are we g—?”
“Don’t speak between worlds,” he told her. “You might be heard.”
“But—”
Everything faded to white. She clenched her jaw against all the questions crowding her mind and concentrated on the place between worlds. Dahli was following a well-used path. Other paths crossed it, including one that had faded to the point where only fragments remained. Then they left the path and Dahli began to forge a new one. The substance of the place between formed whirlpools and ripples in his wake. He reached another path and followed it to the next world.
During each journey between worlds he never stayed on a single path, instead crossing from one to another, or stopping and reversing. He’s creating dead ends. A world came into sight that she recognised from earlier in their journey. He’s circling around. Are we being followed?
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