Maker's Curse

by Trudi Canavan

  Looking at the city of Fyre, she asked herself yet again if she missed her home.

  No.

  Would she care if her world was invaded and enslaved?

  Yes. She had many reasons to dislike her world, but she would not wish such horrors on anyone.

  Not her parents, who hadn’t been particularly warm or caring towards her, their main concern that she marry for their social advantage even if that meant to a degenerate or cruel member of the city’s great families.

  Not the citizens of Fyre, who had rejected her for using magic, though she had been tricked into it by a “corruptor”.

  Not even the priests, who had sent her to an isolated prison where they believed she would be forced to bear magically talented children – and where she might still be if Valhan, posing as an Angel, hadn’t secretly taken it over many years before and sent the magic users to places where they could spend their lives generating magic in penance for their sins.

  And not all of the people she had known had been heartless. Not Narmah, her aunt, who had taught her to paint and provided love and support when Rielle’s parents hadn’t. Not Izare, her first love. Not his friends, who had welcomed her unconditionally to their circle. Not Sa-Mica, the priest who had helped her start a new life. Not Betzi, and the Schpetan weavers she had lived among for five years. Not the countless other people she had never met, who had never heard of her, who hadn’t even been born yet.

  She began walking. Slipping the straps of her pack off her shoulders, she unclipped them from the sides and linked them together into one handle, slung over her shoulder. She took her scarf from around her neck and draped it over her head, tossing each end, weighted with beads, over the opposite shoulder. The previous four times she had visited her home she had worried needlessly that she would be recognised. Her family had moved to another city, as had Izare. The priests who had cared for the city were gone. It was easy to forget that fifteen cycles had passed since she had been exiled, and while she had aged for five of them, the ten she had spent ageless had given her the health of youth without the adolescent softness. She was physically only about five cycles older than when she’d left.

  That, oddly, provided the best disguise. Once, two cycles before, Rielle had passed one of the girls she had attended temple classes with. Now a mother of two young children, Tareme had looked twice when she’d seen Rielle, then shook her head and averted her eyes politely. Curious, Rielle had followed her to a house, then released enough magic to imbue the building so she could read the woman’s mind. She saw that Tareme was thinking that the stranger had reminded her of the dyeworker’s daughter, but couldn’t be. Rielle would be much older, if she hadn’t died years before.

  That, and the absence of anyone Rielle had been close to, made it feel as though the city of her childhood was now populated by strangers. Though it was a melancholy place to her now, at least this made it easier to visit. The distance it gave her allowed the part of her that had been wounded by the rejection of her people to heal.

  She’d heard other rumours about herself from Qall, many of them amusing. Sa-Mica had returned to his homeland with tales of an Angel who took a Fyrian woman with him when he returned to his realm. Some priests thought it nonsense, and that Mica was half-crazed. Others thought the Angel hadn’t taken Rielle with him but had torn her soul apart as was supposed to happen to users of magic. In a few places in her world, people believed Rielle had become an Angel. Considering that Valhan had never been an Angel, but a powerful sorcerer, that could be considered a truth of sorts.

  Her shoes met the start of stone pavement. A bridge stretched before her. She crossed, as always feeling a chill as she remembered when she had walked the other way in chains, covered in bruises and rotting matter from the citizens who had gathered to see off the latest “tainted” magic user. On the other side lay the main road that spiralled inwards to the city centre. She followed this for a short while, passing the location of the dyeworks that had been her home, now demolished and replaced by housing.

  Turning off the main road, she entered the artisan quarter. Little had changed here since she had walked these streets as a young woman caught in a secret, and then defiant, love affair with a famous artist. The area she headed for was nowhere near the vibrant one she had lived in, however. Closer to the houses of the merchants, it was a place where a woman in exotic, fine clothes would not be out of place. Here she found a little temple, barely bigger than her family’s shop had been, and stepped inside.

  The shadows within were cool and welcoming. She moved to a seat and settled down. The priest would soon notice her and bring her a message from Qall letting her know where she would find him.

  It did not take long. The man emerged to greet the visitor, stopped as he recognised her, then inclined his head respectfully and retreated.

  She waited.

  And waited.

  She was about to rise and seek him out when someone entered from the main door. Turning, she saw an old woman hurry into the temple and look around. As this visitor saw Rielle, she gasped.

  “It is you!”

  At the voice, Rielle leapt to her feet. “Narmah?”

  “Yes!”

  Her aunt hurried forward. She had aged significantly, but her eyes were bright with vitality. Rielle stiffened as Narmah threw her arms around her, then she relaxed in the woman’s embrace. It had been a long time since anyone had been this close and familiar. Too long.

  “Sit,” Rielle urged, gently pulling away. Narmah obeyed, her gaze never leaving Rielle’s face. “Tell me, what have you been doing?”

  Her aunt laughed. “Nothing as exciting as your life since you left here!” When Rielle paused to consider how to respond to that, Narmah tilted her head to one side. “Not all exciting, I suppose. You can fill me in on the details in a bit.” She patted Rielle’s arm and grew serious. “First I can tell you your parents and brother are doing well. Rumours of scandal still cling to them, but the people in Palper don’t know the details and they like your family’s products too much to shun them. Your family isn’t as rich as it once was, but it’s comfortable enough.”

  “Including you?”

  Narmah scowled. “Not at first. They blamed me, you know. I blamed myself for a long time, but when I got the message from your friend last year, he told me the truth. I wasn’t able to tolerate your parents’ scorn any longer, so I took up his offer of a home in Fyre in exchange for watching for you.”

  “You mean Qall?”

  “Yes. He arranged a small apartment for me so that I could be here when you returned, as he wasn’t sure that he would be.”

  “I see. And what were you to do once I arrived?”

  “Tell you where to find him. Tell you he is ready to leave this world.”

  A thrill ran through Rielle’s body, part excitement, part fear. She would no longer need to worry about him, trapped here with little magic to call upon for his defence. Unless Valhan’s memories had somehow overwhelmed his personality in the last cycle. How could she be sure they hadn’t? She would not know for sure until she looked into his mind. Would he let her?

  If he did, and Valhan hadn’t taken over his mind, what then? What would Qall do next? If he wanted her help, she would give it. If he didn’t, she would let him find his own way in the worlds. Either way, she thought ruefully, I will still worry about him.

  “So… where is he?” she asked.

  “Dothu,” Narmah replied. “Though that’s where he expected to be three days ago. You are a little late.”

  “Yes.” Rielle scowled. “I was delayed.”

  “I suppose you must go straight away, as a result.” Narmah sounded sad.

  Rielle shrugged. “I’m sure he can spare us a little time to catch up.”

  Her aunt’s mouth stretched into a broad smile. “I have wanted this meeting for so long, and more so since Qall hinted at your adventures. Tell me everything!”

  “That would take too long.” Rielle chuckled. “So le
t’s start by you telling me what Qall has told you, then I’ll add what I can to that.”

  Nodding, Narmah drew a deep breath and began.

  CHAPTER 7

  Despite Qall having already told Narmah tales of other worlds and what sorcerers could do, the woman’s eyes widened with astonishment when Rielle began to fade from sight. Surprise was definitely better than horror, Rielle mused. She had always expected Narmah would, at the least, disapprove if she heard that her niece had not only learned to use magic, but embraced it. Whatever Qall had told the woman had overridden the repulsion that people of this world felt towards the “tainted”.

  When Rielle judged herself far enough away that people would have to concentrate hard to see her, she gave her aunt a final wave, then propelled herself up through the roof of the temple. Once she was high into the sky, she brought herself closer to the world so that she could see it better. Getting her bearings from the landmarks below, she skimmed north.

  Dothu was a small village on the other side of the mountain range in which the Mountain Temple was located, where she had been sent as punishment for using magic. It had grown up around another isolated temple, but one in which priests received training in magic. Learning that Qall had taken her advice and found a more secretive place to live had brought her a great deal of relief. He had made some unwise decisions when he’d first settled in her world, and always seemed to be scrambling to survive the consequences.

  When she had first left him, four cycles before, he had headed into Fyre. Having changed his appearance so he looked like an Angel, his presence had caused quite a stir. He’d admitted to Rielle later that he’d had nothing more than vague plans for what to do next, but had assumed that if Valhan could pass as an Angel then so would he.

  He was right, but he’d underestimated the complications of appearing as an Angel to an entire city of believers. As he’d arrived, the citizens of Fyre had been too astonished to do more than follow and stare, none daring to approach him. He’d arrived at the temple unmolested. The priests were frozen by astonishment and terror, unsure what to do with him, so he’d requested quiet rooms for contemplation. They gave him the Head Priest’s surprisingly luxurious quarters, where he’d had time to consider what to do next.

  He’d decided belatedly that announcing his presence to all had been a mistake. With little magic to call upon, he could not perform the miracles the people would expect. He was vulnerable, too. He’d assumed the priests would protect him without question, but when he let out enough magic to allow him to read minds, he saw that some were sceptical, believing him to be a faker.

  But they left him alone, which gave him time to come up with a story that the doubters would go along with. He told them that the Angels had decided that one of their number must live among humans every few generations to best judge whether this world was ready to be restored to full magical strength. This was supported by the Angel who had visited previously – Valhan – who they believed had found the world unworthy and stripped it of all magic before leaving. Now Qall added a warning: the Angels would destroy the soul of anyone who deliberately harmed him or stood in the way of his task.

  This the priests accepted. Some realised that full restoration of the world’s magic would rob them of the power they had over people. They dared not obstruct him, but instead tried to show him the worst of the world to convince him it was not ready. Some showed him criminals and the state of the poor; others introduced him to the wealthy and powerful; both meant to show him how corrupt humans were.

  The sceptics expected him to seek power. Instead he spent part of his time observing the world and the rest in “contemplation”. He gave equal attention to all that he was shown, be it humble or sophisticated, virtuous or corrupt. During the time he spent alone, he accessed Valhan’s memories and knowledge – which had been transferred from the man’s desiccated finger to Vella, Tyen’s sentient book. He had discovered his true identity – the boy he’d been before Valhan had removed his memories in preparation for imprinting his own. He learned he had been nobody significant despite his strong magical ability, since he’d been too young to have made an impression on his world, let alone all the worlds.

  Rielle had assumed he’d seek everything Valhan had known about her, since he needed as much insight into the people of her home world as possible. But what the Raen had known about her was of limited use. She had not truly lived among the rich, powerful families of Fyre who sought Qall’s attention now. Neither had Valhan. Qall could only learn about them through his own experiences.

  He soon discovered that mingling with them had risks, and as hard as he tried, he could not always avoid being drawn into political games. He’d eventually decided to escape by travelling the world – something the priests were all too willing to facilitate by then. This did not make it difficult for Rielle to find him, as he’d always ensured that he sent a message to the priest of the little temple containing his expected location on the day she arrived.

  Rielle paused to breathe at the base of the mountains, then pushed on. As the jagged peaks passed below her, she wondered if Qall was truly ready to be released from her world. During her visits they had talked about devising a test to confirm that Valhan hadn’t taken over his mind, but they had never settled on what it would involve.

  Among the many obvious reasons to hope he was ready to leave was her discomfort with him pretending to be an Angel. It wasn’t that it offended her beliefs, since she had cast them aside, but it was still a deception. Given the choice between honesty and his safety, however, she would always choose to protect him.

  Deep, winding valleys twisted back and forth down to a scrubby plain, the river that had shaped them converging into three main arteries that emptied into a flat blue sea. One contained a small lake and it was to this that she headed. Walls ringed the edges of the largest island within the lake. Inside them lay hulking stone buildings in a cluster at one side, and cultivated lines of greenery on the other.

  Rielle did not descend into the temple grounds, but instead veered towards the small village that squeezed itself between steep valley walls and the lake’s edge. Both village and temple were known as Dothu, so Qall could be in either. More likely the temple, though, if he was still pretending to be an Angel.

  Habit had her searching for a quiet, out-of-the-way place to arrive unnoticed. She found it in a shelter for domesticated animals, currently empty as the occupants were out on the steep slopes behind it, grazing. Air surrounded her, heavily fragrant with dust and animal smells. Her breath caught in her throat and she resisted the urge to cough. When she had recovered her composure and her lungs were refreshed, she let out a little magic and searched for minds.

  The closest were the couple who owned the barn and animals, working in a house nearby. Next nearest was their son, watching over the beasts. As her magic spread, she caught the minds of several more villagers. One, a middle-aged woman of means, sensed the wave of magic wash into the area and grew both curious and wary. She did not know what it meant, but it had happened several times in the last half-year.

  Something the priests are doing, on their island, the woman guessed. Though this time it’s not coming from the direction of the temple. She’d wondered if the occurrences had been the doing of that strange young priest who’d arrived about the same time. The unnervingly pale one – though very handsome despite that. The young women think he looks like an Angel.

  But he was gone now, so it couldn’t be him. Maybe it never was. The woman wanted to get up and seek out the source, but a well-honed sense of self-preservation kept her sitting in her chair, fingers automatically guiding the fibres of the animal fleece in her hands as it was drawn and twisted into the spinning wheel.

  Rielle frowned. The face in the woman’s mind looked much like Qall’s, and people of his colouring were unusual in this part of the world, yet this strange priest was not here. How long he had been gone, Rielle couldn’t see. The woman’s thoughts had not been precise on
timing. Several days was the only impression she’d given.

  Stretching her senses out further, Rielle let out enough magic to reach the island temple. Sweeping across several minds, she noted a general feeling of calm and boredom after a time of excitement. One mind stood out, the misery and anger within it a stark contrast. The owner was a young priest named Gere. Rielle concentrated on his thoughts.

  And nearly shied away again. Memories of moments with his lover flashed between angry, heartbroken resentment at those who had parted them. Watching recollections of lovemaking always felt as rude and inappropriate as secretly doing so in person. A few facts were immediately clear: Gere’s lover, Sa-Kal, was a man, was handsome and an Angel…

  Sa-Kal? Kal? Qall?

  Rielle blinked in surprise. Was she mistaken? Watching the priest’s spiralling thoughts, she became ever more certain. Nobody else here looked anything like Qall.

  The last time Qall showed interest in anyone, it was a rich young woman, Rielle recalled. It was one of the reasons the priests had been happy when Qall decided to travel. Though the family knew their daughter was not chaste, they wanted her to settle down and marry, and a dalliance with an Angel who would eventually return to his realm did not suit their plans at all.

  Gere was revealing more as he stewed on Sa-Kal’s departure. He had been told his lover had left, but he nursed a suspicion that it had not been willingly. Something in the manner of Gere’s superior had suggested it.

  Now Gere was worrying, and Rielle in turn could not help joining him. What would the priesthood do to Sa-Kal? Surely nobody would risk harming him. He was an Angel. He’d warned them that the other Angels would destroy the soul of anyone who did. But Gere could see ways around this. Someone whose soul was already forfeit, perhaps because they had used magic, might be persuaded to kill Sa-Kal if the reward was attractive enough. Whoever arranged for them to harm Sa-Kal might still attract the Angel’s punishment, but perhaps not if they didn’t know that Sa-Kal was an Angel.